There were also a few cats at school who could always play for real. The best of 'em was Joe Lee Lawrence. He was one of the big boys. And I'm here to tell you that he could play the piano. Joe Lee was blind, and so was his brother Ernest, a teacher of mine and also a piano player. (Mrs. Lawrence, my music teacher, was Ernest's wife.) Course Joe Lee couldn't play exactly like Art Tatum-- who could?--but he was able to approach that amazingly fast style, and, man, I was impressed. Anyone who could sound a little like Tatum had my vote. For my generation, Art Tatum was the main cat on piano. He was our hero, and I still haven't heard anyone who could do so much with two hands. Must say that even later, when I got fairly good at the piano, I knew that I couldn't even carry Art Tatum's shit bucket. The man was alone and no one could touch him. I loved how he played standards, and I also knew that he could play very filthy blues if he wanted to. He could do anything. Over the years, my respect for Art Tatum has grown. There are other pianists I like. I admire Oscar Peterson tremendously. In fact, I love Oscar to his drawers. But Oscar will be the first to tell you that he ain't Tatum << less