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Expect Miracles
Expect Miracles is a recently released memoir by one of Canada’s best-known business leaders, David M. Culver, former chairman and CEO of Alcan. A man of many interests and talents, Culver reflects on his long love affair with architecture – and his efforts to restore and preserve Montreal’s heritage by creating Maison Alcan – and how music and sport helped shape his life.
Listen to Culver’s interview with Jeanette Kelly on CBC’s Cinq a Six
In the following excerpt, Culver reminisces on the best business trip he ever had:
I love Dixieland music, and I love good jazz. Above all, I love a good piano player who doesn’t hit too many notes. And I even love a few who do, like Oliver Jones and the late Oscar Peterson. When I celebrated my eightieth birthday a few years back, my dear friend Herbie Black threw a lovely party for me at his home in Westmount, with Oliver Jones providing the entertainment. Talk about a dream gift! My longtime interest in jazz prompted me to have Alcan sign up as one of the first corporate sponsors of the Montreal International Jazz Festival, which has become a well-loved institution in the city and a cornerstone of its summer festival scene.
I didn’t have to go beyond Alcan to find one of the best jazz piano players I’ve heard anywhere. Patrick Rich was above all a first-class manager, but he has real talent as a musician as well, and, strangely enough, that came to the fore when we were on a business trip together in the 1980s. We were working to expand Alcan’s business and heard of a German steel company that was interested in investing in aluminum. One Thursday morning, we called the firm and asked to see them at their headquarters close to the Dutch border. When they responded that they could see us the next day, we jumped on a KLM flight that night from Montreal to Amsterdam, dressed in our business suits and carrying nothing but our briefcases.
With the multi-talented Patrick Rich, 1984. (Courtesy of Rio Tinto Alcan)
We rented a car and drove to Germany to see them. Our plan was to get back to Amsterdam later that day in time to catch the 5 p.m. flight back to Montreal and be home for the weekend. But, sure enough, we missed the flight. Stranded in Amsterdam, we decided to stay over and take a plane home on Saturday. We booked a room at a downtown hotel, took a shower, got back in our business suits, and headed down to the hotel bar. While sitting there, I asked the bartender whether there was a place in Amsterdam that played Latin American jazz, which I knew was Patrick’s specialty. The bartender reached down under the bar and handed me a thick directory with a long list of jazz clubs. I found a page that listed Latin American clubs, put my finger on a random spot on the page, and took down the address. When we gave the address to our taxi driver, he responded straightaway, “I’m not allowed to drive you there. I’ll take you as far as I can, but you’ll have to walk the rest of the way.” Arriving at the club in the middle of Amsterdam’s red light district, I pushed open the door and was engulfed by a strong smell of marijuana. I could hear a small band playing Latin American jazz at the far end of the room. We took off our ties, ordered a couple of beers, and sat down next to a fortyish guy with a beard and who was dressed in denim decorated with lots of flowers – shades of San Francisco in 1968.
As the band came to the end of its set, the piano player exclaimed, “Pat! Is that you, Pat?” Patrick Rich turned to me and explained, “You won’t believe this, but I used to play in New York with this guy.” Patrick took off his suit jacket, stepped on stage, and sat down at the piano at which point the guy with the beard said, “Pat? Well, I know all the jazz pianists, but I don’t know any Pat. Where does he play?” I responded, “He doesn’t. He’s an amateur.” The guy pressed on, “If he doesn’t play, what does he do for a living?” I responded in deadpan, “He’s the president of a multinational company.” Those were the days when it wasn’t exactly popular to be a multinational executive, particularly in a jazz bar in inner-city Amsterdam. The guy took a long look at me and said, “Hey man, what are you on?” Patrick and I spent the next four or five hours in that seedy bar having the time of our lives. The music was fantastic, and Patrick played half of the sets himself. I still tell him that was the best business trip I ever had.
Read: Excerpt & images from Culver’s childhood memories in La Malbaie
To learn more about Expect Miracles, click here.
For media requests, please contact Jacqui Davis.
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