No Regrets - Carolyn Burke [114]
Piaf was too distraught about Monnot’s death to pay attention to the increasing civic unrest. On October 17, the Algerian separatists called on their compatriots in Paris to demonstrate against recent curtailments of their rights. Many demonstrators were beaten as they marched down the Champs-Elysées; those who died as a result of their injuries were thrown into the Seine. Even if Piaf knew of the massacre (it was not officially recognized until 1997), it is unlikely that she would have joined the artists and intellectuals who protested the police actions along with the increased presence of the OAS. Still too weak to do much but rest, she sought guidance in the work of Teilhard de Chardin, a Jesuit philosopher whose attempt to reconcile religious faith with science, The Phenomenon of Man, became required reading for her friends. Not sharing her enthusiasm for the book, they were heard to mutter that it was too esoteric, or to joke about having to take “tea in the garden,” a play on the author’s name.
During Edith’s enforced respite, Coquatrix wrote that he missed her: “I spent a tête-à-tête with you one evening recently. Alone at my place, I kept playing the old records you made after the war—marvelous. And then I listened to the latest songs—even more marvelous. I’m waiting for the new ones, and then more; they are so badly needed, we all need you so much. If you knew how dull the ‘profession’ (our profession) has become without you!”
In actuality, the French music scene was far from dull that year. The National Assembly almost managed to ban rock-and-roll concerts altogether, then gave up the attempt. In the autumn, Coquatrix hired Johnny Hallyday to sing at the Olympia for three weeks, despite his doubts about the French Elvis. Resplendent in a dinner suit, the eighteen-year-old danced the new trans-Atlantic craze, the twist, sang a French version of “Let’s Twist Again,” and generally took young people’s minds off the crisis (men his age were being sent to fight in Algeria). For some, Hallyday’s blend of agitated syncopation with the emotional urgency he had absorbed from Piaf created a new style in popular music, one that appealed to teenagers craving a culture of their own. For others, it was a betrayal of the great chanson tradition. Piaf was the end of music-hall, Noli believed. After her, there was only show business.
Soon after a national radio program entitled Rock Has Landed in France ran a debate on the subversive new music, Hallyday’s performances were banned in several provincial cities. When he was allowed to play, the police used tear gas to control the crowds. Within a few months of these disturbances, the OAS, oddly attuned to the younger generation’s rebelliousness, would launch a violent attempt to sabotage De Gaulle’s plans for a cease-fire under the code name “Operation Rock and Roll.”
The year 1962 began with Dumont’s disgrace. After fourteen months of devoting his life to Piaf, he needed a vacation. A trip to the Alps would restore his health, he believed. If Edith joined him, both would benefit from the air and the healthy way of life. Reluctantly, she made plans to accompany the composer in January but changed her mind at the last minute. The Paris air suited her perfectly, she told Noli; now that Dumont had left without her, he was not welcome at the Boulevard Lannes. Up to this point, the composer had exercised a positive influence over Edith, despite what she saw as his most serious flaw—the family he refused to sacrifice to be at her service.
A few days after Dumont’s departure, Claude Figus wangled his way back into Piaf’s good graces. As her protégé, Figus had been promised a gig at Patachou’s Montmartre cabaret, where the well-known singer and her friends—Aznavour, Brel, Brassens—all performed. Knowing that the best way to Edith’s heart was through music, Figus sent her a