No Regrets - Carolyn Burke [84]
La Petite Lili opened on March 10 to an audience in evening dress, a striking contrast to the A.B.C.’s surroundings. The sets evoked familiar Montmartre scenes, from the artisanal hat shop to the hilltop square where Piaf had sung in her pre-môme days. In a wink at the audience, a character remarks that Lili’s life is like “those street songs in which love and death hold hands.” Piaf was outstanding as an early version of herself, the critics wrote: “[She] is a fine comic actress.… Of course the play was written for her, but she also had to like it: it’s clear that she does.” What was more, Constantine’s physique suited his part. The musical was a triumph for Piaf, another wrote: “She proved that she is one of our most sensitive and moving actresses.” Her own songs were applauded, especially “Du matin jusqu’au soir,” which conjugates the verb aimer in each of its tenses, and “Demain il fera jour,” with its promise of new dawns.
Ten days after the opening, the star was rushed to a private clinic for the first of a series of urgent hospitalizations. She recovered from the intestinal problems that would continue to plague her, in time to return to the A.B.C. in April, and to record the songs from Lili—already a popular success thanks to Achard’s nods to Piaf’s, and Montmartre’s, legends. “Demain, il fera jour” became a hit as soon as its inspirational lyrics were heard on the airwaves: “C’est quand tout est perdu / Que tout commence.” (“It’s when everything seems lost / That it all begins again.”) Piaf sang each night for the next three months, interspersing performances at the A.B.C. with more recordings, gala events, and visits to the theater to watch her understudy play Lili. Just when it seemed that she was successfully conjugating the verb aimer in her private life, Constantine announced that he was bringing his wife and daughter to live with him. Edith went into a rage. It was her role to dismiss lovers, not to be left by them.
Years later, after Constantine had established himself as a singer and the star of French films noirs, he admitted that Piaf had helped his career. But he said little about their rapport and did not mention his presence at the séances in which the spirit of Cerdan voiced his approval of Constantine as his successor. The American had taken part in the table-turning “to console her,” one of Piaf’s friends said, “manipulating the table in secret as much to please her as to win her confidence.” Others were less forgiving. He cared only about his success, one of his songwriters said: “Edith never knew about his role at the séances. We did what we could to keep it that way; it was best for everyone.”
When La Petite Lili closed in July, Piaf went on tour with Aznavour and a vivacious young woman named Micheline Dax, whose talents included comedy and whistling. “Edith liked to laugh almost as much as she liked to sing,” Dax recalled. Although the star let on that she had thought of entering a convent after Cerdan’s death, “I could always make her laugh,” Dax added: “There was a complicity between us that outlasted the cast of characters that went in and out of her life.” Along with Chauvigny, Barrier, and the rest of Piaf’s musical family, she also brought on tour a man named Roland Avelys, who performed in a mask as the Nameless Singer. A fixture at her Boulogne house, Avelys became Piaf’s court jester and, like Momone, found ways to fleece his patron. Piaf pretended not to notice when money disappeared. “She wanted him and the others to be happy,” Dax said. “She didn’t mind being robbed as long as those who were doing it amused her.”
Their summer tour was magical, especially evenings in the Roman amphitheaters in towns like Arles. “Edith