Talk about turning back to our lost past, that miracle was accomplished on Saturday night at the Napa Valley Opera House. Who among us could ever forget the incredible sounds and imagery of Cab Calloway and his hot jazz orchestra of the 1930s and ’40s?

C. Calloway Brooks, eldest grandson of the one and only Cab Calloway, brought his orchestra into old Napa town in a celebration of his grandfather’s 100th birthday on a “CAB 100” tour, and the years just melted away as “C.B.,” as he calls himself, treated us to a wild and memorable evening.

C.B. in that two hour and 15 minute performance wasn’t Cab Calloway’s grandson, he became the man himself, great band leader, master of ceremonies, expert guitarist and the “Hi De Hi — Hi De Ho” guy in the flesh. C.B., trained at both the New England Conservatory of Music and by the master himself, let it all hang out on Saturday night.

With his smooth style, a young Cab Calloway was on stage once more, backed by an incredibly gifted jazz band, and we “graybeards” and our “dolls” came alive, clapping and chanting to the up-tempo sound of the jazz we once loved and somehow lost.

The show opened with a rarely used touch. An old movie tape flashed on to the theater’s south wall of an infant, C.B., in good company, held by his mom, Cab’s daughter. Mom was being interviewed by, of all people, Edward R. Murrow, a newsman of great renown. The short film ended, and C.B. in a zoot suit, wide-brimmed hat, a jacket down to his knees and baggy pants, took it from there.

The band opened with “Besame Mucho,” “Way Down in Georgia” and “Gotta Get Back to Charleston,” and if you didn’t know what C.B. was saying, then you never heard jive talk. But the audience did know, and as the first act played out, staid grandmas and grandpas began stomping and waving arms into the air and shouting, “Come On — Come On,” following C.B.’s example. Somehow, we were kids again with adrenaline coursing through our veins, and that rush was welcomed back. That first act was a blast!

After intermission, an eager audience on the edge of our seats was suddenly reminded of the dark days of World War II, with the Calloway arrangement of “Don’t Get Around Much Anymore.” After that bit of nostalgia, the tunes were mellow until C.B., with smooth jive talk, led us into “Hey Now.” He  pumped his hands and fingers into the air twice during the song and, as instructed, we followed with shouts of “Hey Now” and three pumps each time. Now, the joint was really jumping.

Then, C.B. laid down his maestro’s baton, picked up his guitar and favored us with “Honeysuckle Rose,” a number beautifully enhanced by the music of Dave Bass on piano, Wally “Gator” Watson on drums and Al Benton on bass.

The great orchestra was up-tempo all night and C.B., emulating his grandfather in manner and dress (a white zoot suit, hat and shoes), talked, sang and played as he led us back to all of our yesterdays for just a little while.

Of course, Grandpa’s biggest hit, “Minnie the Moocher,” was held for last and, in a foot stomping finale, C.B. had performed a miracle. He had transported us back in time and place 3,000 miles and 60 years to the Cotton Club on Lenox Avenue and 125th Street in uptown Manhattan, where the show closed to standing ovations.

How he did it, I’ll never know, but somehow we were “hep cats” again who sure could “cut a rug” and “jive” with the best of them “cats” — yuh dig?

Kudos to C.B., star and director of the show, and what can you say about his wonderful orchestra? Fine musicians that I tried to track down after the performance. I did catch up with Dave Bass, a great pianist; Al Benton on bass; Wally “Gator” Watson on drums, who almost stole the show and is the best of the best; plus Cleve Gayton on alto sax; Kristy Reed, baritone sax; Ken Stout, alto sax; Mel Harden, brass; along with Robbie Kwak and the never-to-be-forgotten Tanya Darby, who plays an out-of-this-world trumpet.

When we filed out of the doors of the old Opera House onto Main Street in a town that had gone to bed, our parting salutations weren’t “Goodnight.” They were “Hi De Hi — Hi De Ho” and, by some miracle, there was spring in our steps once more.

Ev Parker can be reached at evjenpar@mailbug.com or 224-9956