Happy Sunday!
This week’s reading whetted my appetite to reflect on my first trip to Paris 30 years ago. I was delving into the French Revolution of 1789 where 231 years ago on Saturday, 12 October 1793, Marie Antoinette - former wife of King Louis XVI - was charged with treason as part of the ongoing Reign of Terror. It didn’t end well; she was beheaded a few days later.
Luckily, my memories of Paris are probably a little fonder than Marie Antoinette's. My first mental picture of the capital starts with the Sacré Cœur Basilica, perched on the city’s highest natural point at the top of the hill of Montmartre.
The dome of the Sacré Cœur provides a breathtaking panorama of Paris. From that vantage point, you can see the city's major landmarks. Among them are Place de la Concorde, the spot where Marie Antoinette met her fate at the guillotine on 16 October 1793.
On that trip, I took the short walk from thef Sacré Cœur down to Place du Tertre, the heart of the Montmartre artistic quarter. In the 19th century, this area was a creative arts magnet buzzing with artists, writers, poets, musicians and the oldest profession of all… prostitutes.
Montmartre residents around that time resembled a who’s who of artists: Monet, Renoir, Degas, Van Gogh, Picasso.
As I strolled around the square, it was still alive with that Bohemian energy, although I think the style had gently morphed over the years to accommodate the needs of tourists.
A slight man with a determined gaze of astonishment bounced into my path. In one hand, he held a black piece of card; in the other, a pair of scissors.
Without introduction or approval, he lunged at the card with the scissors. His smile remained fixed, tongue extended over lower lip. His eyes wandered across my face, scarcely looking down as the scissors flashed with relentless precision.
After a couple of minutes, the flashing stopped. I was handed a silhouette of my face. Only then did my new friend seek approval. This was the money shot, after all.
I stared at it for a moment. It was pretty damn good, actually. I quipped, “I don’t like the double chin much.”
Stroking his coiffured goatee between thumb and index finger, the profile artist reflected. Then he replied in perfect English, “Well, I can remove the double chin. It just won’t be you.”
That evening, another trip to the end of the 19th century - the iconic Moulin Rouge, nestled in the heart of the vibrant Pigalle district at the foot of Montmartre.
Moulin Rouge translates to 'Red Windmill', a historical reference to rural Montmartre of the 17th and 18th centuries with its many windmills and meuniers.
The cabaret club, complete with imposing red windmill, first raised its curtains 135 years ago today, 6 October 1889.
This was the same year the Eiffel Tower was inaugurated as part of the 1889 Paris Exposition. Construction of the Paris Metro had started the previous year on 4 October 1898.
By the 90s, Pigalle was still a red-light district but transitioning to the more stylish and trendy rendezvous I believe it is today.
While the walk through Pigalle prepared me for something a little unorthodox, stepping inside the Moulin Rouge… that was time travel.
The Belle Epoque (“Beautiful Era”) defines the period between the 1870-71 Franco-Prussian War and the outbreak of World War I in 1914. France and Western Europe experienced a period of relative political stability. In Paris, arts, literature and innovation blossomed. It is remembered as a period of optimism, a golden age where people learned how to have fun again.
The Moulin Rouge personified Belle Epoque. Warm red carpets, vibrant red curtains, lavish red murals, soft red table lamps, red, red, red.
We were seated in the front row, a comfortable 20 feet from the boards. Moments before the curtains went up, the stage unexpectedly extended forward to within a few inches of our toes.
The improved proximity would have been a bonus. However, considering that a pirate had appeared on stage (imagine Asterix the Gaul's friend Obelix meets Popeye) wearing little but an 8-foot Burmese python around his neck and that my companion was terrified of snakes... it was a disaster.
When I turned to see if she was alright, she had already vanished.
My absent companion also missed the stage fascia lowering to reveal a vast aquarium full of crocodiles. The fearless pirate had parked the python offstage and, without a pause, leapt into the tank to wrestle the reptiles for a minute or two. The crocodiles seemed quite obliging.
And so on. An evening of uplifting madness.
For a couple of hours, our senses were delightfully assaulted as we breathed in the history surrounding us. You can’t help but think of the great, the good and the not-so-good who had watched or performed there over the years.
Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec was a regular whose poster of La Goulue, the dancing star of the Moulin Rouge in the 1890s, launched his fame as an artist.
The stage itself had hosted global stars such as Ginger Rodgers, Jessye Norman, Liza Minelli, Dean Martin, Tony Curtis and Frank Sinatra. Let’s not forget the global home-grown talent of Charles Aznavour and - not least - Edith Piaf, who died 61 years ago this week, on 10 October 1963.
For the finale, the troupe of Doriss Girls reappeared from everywhere, cavorting across the stage as Offenbach’s operetta Orpheus in the Underworld gathered momentum.
In a final flourish, the orchestra belted out The Gallop in the style of a runaway train. This is the Moulin Rouge’s signature piece, known affectionately as the cancan.
The sequined, feathered ladies, now lined up in front of us, were high kicking, throwing their frillies left and right, smiling and whooping as if their lives depended on it.
We left mesmerised, enthralled, exhausted. That is the joy of the Moulin Rouge.
Podcast episode... a look back
Episode 14. Edmund, Churchill and Thatcher
Prime ministerial titan Margaret Thatcher started her journey towards the pinnacle of British politics 65 years ago on Tuesday, 8 October 1959. She won a seat for the constituency of Finchley to become a member of parliament for the first time.
She had first come to notice in part by the intervention of a certain Winston Churchill, who wrote to the Dartford constituency back in 1950...
I ask you to give her your votes in the full confidence that she will discharge her parliamentary duties by combining the care of your interests with the interest of the British nation.
It has been disputed, until recently, whether Margaret Thatcher met Sir Winston. In 2023, I spoke to the son of Churchill’s bodyguard - Edmund Murray - who was the only person to witness a meeting. It’s a fascinating story that you can hear in Episode 14. Edmund, Churchill and Thatcher.
Listen now on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, Overcast, Pocket Casts, Amazon Music or just about any other podcast player of your choice. Check out the show notes for the links and transcript to learn more.
My favourite quote from the episode...
Edmund Murray was a keen oil painter. Churchill’s painting prowess is well-known, and his paintings are still sought after today. However, he was a realist as to the intention behind most of this popularity, as I heard from this clip:
On one occasion, just after Edmund had had three of his paintings rejected by the Royal Academy, Churchill said that he would like to see them. Edmund brought them in and leaned them against three chairs in the room. Churchill looked at the paintings one at a time.
He looked at the first..."Very good".
He looked at the second. "Very, very good".
He looked at the third," Excellent. You know, they are much better than mine".
Then he sort of giggled and, with his eyes squeezed up and shining impishly, said...
"Mm-hmm, but yours are judged on their merit".
Dates with History...
Tomorrow...
Crime fiction has seen a massive revival in recent years; the airwaves in the UK seem forever awash with murder, mystery and menace.
Tomorrow marks the 175th anniversary of the death of American writer and poet, Edgar Allan Poe, on 7 October 1849. Poe’s obsession with the melancholy and macabre was best seen in his poem The Raven.
His style paved the way for future crime genres such as Sherlock Holmes and the endless wave of crime publications and productions we see today.
In true Poe fashion, 100 years after his death in 1949, a mysterious admirer paid tribute to Poe by leaving three roses and a bottle of cognac on his grave.
This practice continued each year until, equally mysteriously, it ceased in 2009. The admirer was never identified but is remembered today as the Poe Toaster.
Later this week...
Friday marks 140 years since Eleanor Roosevelt was born, 11 October 1884. Best remembered as the United States’ 32nd First Lady to Franklin D. Roosevelt, Eleanor was also a formidable woman in her own right. She worked tirelessly in the cause of human rights, work which extended long after she vacated the White House in 1945.
Question of the week...
Oskar Schindler, the Czech-German industrialist, died fifty years ago on Wednesday, 9 October 1974. Schindler’s journey during World War II from Nazi capitalist to Holocaust humanitarian, saving up to 1,200 Jews from the gas chamber, was brought to the world’s attention through the film “Schindler’s List”.What was the name of the book by Thomas Keneally on which the film was based?
(answer at bottom of newsletter)
And finally...
Clive James, journalist, writer, broadcaster and poet, was born 85 years ago tomorrow, 7 October 1939. James must have been one of the most gifted wordsmiths of his generation.
His dry wit was only matched by his lovable, engaging charm. The written word has been the poorer since his death five years ago.
I am, at least, afforded the excuse to resurface one of my favourite Clive James quotes:
Apart from bank robbery, murder and rape, there’s nothing much that I disapprove of that I didn’t try first.
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Thank you for joining me. Have a great week!
Steve
HOST & CHIEF STORY HUNTER
P:S: Incidentally, I am always keen to receive your feedback to help me continuously improve this newsletter and the podcast. Just hit reply to this email and...... let it rip! I respond to every email that I receive.
Thomas Keneally: Mosman Library from Sydney, Australia, CC BY 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
NEXT WEEK'S BREEZER
…coming soon
LAST WEEK'S BREEZER
Václav Havel: The playwright who scripted a revolution
Attribution for cover image: Giovanni Boldini, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
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