I Remember - Peter Gzowski

Somewhere around 1992 or 1993 I found myself in the studio with Peter Gzowski. Having been interviewed many times on various media – as a musician or as an investment analyst – I was accustomed to less. Less knowledge, less congeniality, less preparedness. But Peter knew all about me. He knew of my strange past, music and finance in an odd tryst. He knew about the music I was there to promote – my new CD was all cued up and ready to be played.

I can recall vividly my first glimpse of Peter. It was an image that would turn out to be prophetic. He was encased in what looked like an aquarium with cloudy water. In fact, it was cloudy air... a glass office filled with cigarette smoke. Peter’s office was probably the last permissible smoking area in the CBC building at the time. There he was, hair wild and jacket rumpled, swimming around in that smoky aquarium, circling what looked like an old Remington manual typewriter. Peter would one day succumb to smoking-related illness.

But not on that day.

On that day Peter was alive and well and very present. He opened the door of his tank and emerged, eyes twinkling. He seemed genuinely interested in little old me. There wasn’t a hint of cynicism. He was simply like a curious kid, investigating a new toy. His guest.

The show started with a cut from the new CD “Just Duet”, a collaboration between myself and (bassist) Kieran Overs. Peter obviously liked the music. He was genuinely curious about my rather odd life and careers. After all, how many Bay Street analyst musicians did he know? On air we chatted easily. The show finished with another cut from the CD.

I’ll remember Peter for the many interviews I heard while listening to the radio, but mostly for that day in the studio… watching him work. Like a true master, he performed a difficult task while making it seem like the easiest thing possible. Peter was well-prepared for the interview. Questions were never posed in a confrontational way. He laid no traps. It was just innocent. And honest. At the end he wished me well, then re-entered the cloudy aquarium once more, to puff on a cigarette and contemplate his Remington and his notes.

Innocent and honest. That’s how I remember Peter Gzowski.