57 - The Caldwells Come to Paris

HOTEL LAUMIERE, Paris

An unchanged Parc des Buttes Chaumont, Paris 2013

      When I first settled in Paris I officially lived off the Champs-Elysées, but I worked in the 19^th Arrondisement on the edge of the city in the more village-like ambiance around the Buttes Chaumont Park.

     My office was in the apartment of Jean and Nancy, and as I explained in an earlier musing, I connected with far more people around my work address than on the more impersonal Champs-Elysées.

     Though I was barely making minimum wage, and it was never enough to quite see me through until the end of the month, I --like most all the other single people I knew in those days-- ate all my meals out.  Workdays found me generally at the Laumière, a huge, teeming, dirt-cheap restaurant within the neighborhood’s unique hotel.

Lunchtime at Hotel Laumiere 1970

     It was there that I learned the rudiments of what French food was all about.   The menu changed daily, and I remember that most of the main courses cost three francs.  It’s hard to imagine just what that would be worth today, but at the time it was about a half a dollar.  For that amount, I could choose between stuffed cabbage, beef bourguignon, grilled chicken, cow’s liver, etc.  

     Edith Caldwell had been my second grade teacher, and her son, Frank, a friend back in Aberdeen.  Frank brought his mother on a vacation to Paris in 1971, and I served as guide.

     The Caldwells stayed at the Hotel Moscow, which was ironically located on the rue Leningrad (unless it was the other way around, my memory being a little hazy on those details).

     It was still the cold war, and I recall Edith (who had a strong personality and was not above a bit of provocation) commented with a certain humor that she’d hate to see some of the Aberdeen townspeople’s reaction if they learned the name of her hotel.  The insinuation being, it didn’t always take too much to shock in a small southern town in those days.
 

Edith behatted for the Stoneybrook Races, Southern Pines 1972

     Although I had been in Paris for over a year at the time, my French was still far from accomplished.  I was fiercely motivated, however, and carried a little blue English-French dictionary around with me at all times.   It was unfortunately of limited efficiency, as it was ultra abridged, and the translations sometimes misleading.

     Jean and Nancy, who were wonderful employers and very good people, proposed I bring my friends by for a coffee at their home after lunch at the Laumière.  I was thrilled to be able to share with the Caldwells a glimpse into real Parisian life and to show how well I was integrating into the French world.  

Jean and Nancy Gauthier, rue Cavendish 1971

     Before arriving with my guests, I looked up “school teacher”, so as to introduce Edith in correct French.     The normal translation for a small child’s teacher is “maitresse d’école” or school mistress.  Only my little dictionary just left it at “maitresse"!

     A very young child just might call his teacher “Mistress”, but never, never would a grown man present a much older lady as I did: 

     “Nancy, je vous présente ma maitresse.”    

     Nancy was a professor at the Sorbonne and a no-nonsense lady.  She didn’t show any surprise, just smiled warmly, shook Edith’s hand, and without missing a beat said discreetly in French to me, “Oh, most assuredly not!”

     I immediately blushed with the realization of my faux pas, but the Caldwells were undoubtedly  never the wiser to what extent my French was so lamentably lacking.

Me (about a year away from a haircut) with Edith at the Buttes-Chaumont 1971

 

SIDEBAR:  Back to the second grade with Edith and Little Polly

Aberdeen School before the fire (photo by E.S. Eddy)

     I have particularly vivid memories of Edith Caldwell as a school teacher, because it was at the beginning of my second grade in 1949 that the Aberdeen Elementary School burned to the ground.

      It was in the dead of night, so there were no casualties.  My father was a volunteer fireman, and I remember waiting for him to return, standing outside our home with other neighborhood children at three in the morning watching the sky lit up from the blaze on the other side of town.

       Little Polly, who was also in Edith's class that year, had a much better view, as she lived just around the corner from the schoolhouse.
  

Edith at school 1950

 

Little Polly

     After the fire, Edith's second grade settled into an annex to the Baptist Church on Main Street until a new school could be constructed a year later.

     I sat on the front row next to Little Polly, and the clearest memory I have today of Edith's class is of Polly and me singing at the top of our lungs, "Frère Jacques."

     I doubt if I even realized it was French at the time, and it certainly  was not until about the time of Edith and Frank's Paris visit twenty years later that I actually began to understand the words. 

 

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

"Little Polly" and Aberdeen were also mentioned in blog No. 26 "Babe Ruth's 60th Home Run"   (to access, click on title).