If You Can't Go To Versailles … Go Here

Photo: colincowieweddings.com.

On my lunch break one day this week, I dove into a little-known museum called the Jacquemart-André in the 8th arrondissement. (If my boss happens to be reading, I did in fact accomplish this feat and eat a salad at Jour within my 1.25 hour official Paris lunchtime.) 

I felt victorious, because I vowed (oh so many years ago) to become a member of the museum, just so I could pop in and out for a short visit. Without buying a 12 euro ticket and feeling that strange need to ''get my money's worth'' and stay the whole day.

You see, this Versailles-like mansion is just two blocks from work. There's no reason in Paris why I should whine about not having time to enjoy the city's treasures, with this museum on my office's doorstep.

To see why I say it's like Versailles, just look at milady’s bedroom. The lady was artist Nélie Jacquemart, who married French banker Edouard André, and together they built this home, and traveled the world collecting art to fill it. To decorate her room, Mme. Jacquement took inspiration from the rococo style of Louis XV, who was born and reigned at Versailles in the previous century.

It's a style we Americans think as “typically French.” And yet, the French were heavily influenced by Italian culture.

I clearly saw that influence in the museum's latest exhibition, “Florence, Portraits of the Court of Médicis,” that just opened Sept. 11. It was my first just glance at this exquisite exhibit spanning from 1492 to about 1600.

Most of the portraits in the first room were like Mona Lisas: They were Italians dressed in black, eyes staring at the onlooker, thin hints of smiles. (Eerily, the ID photo on my museum pass looks a lot like that.) The exhibit is not all like that. One hundred years later, the Medicis are definitely into wearing their wealth.

The Florentines commissioned portraits of themselves to basically tell others (and remind themselves) of their superior place in the world. Their family bred dukes, kings, and popes—and a lot of rivalry and war. The Medicis would've loved today's selfies.

Mr. and Mrs. Jacquemart-André continued the tradition of pomp and circumstance, but it ended with them. They had no children. Faithful to the plan agreed with her husband, Mrs. Jacquemart bequeathed the mansion and its collections to the Institut de France as a museum, and it opened to the public in 1913.

I hope you'll get to enjoy this gift from Mr. and Mrs. Jacquemart-André. Especially if you don't manage to get to Versailles. You'll also appreciate this: no lines at the door, and a restaurant with some of the lightest lunches and densest desserts in town in a lavish, gilt setting. You'll eat like royalty.

Photo: Jacquemart-André Museum.

Mighty Joe: Faketale or Folktale?

Ever since I spent a summer working at J&L Steel Co. in Pittsburgh, I've wanted to find out more about steelworker Joe Magarac. He's to Pittsburgh what Paul Bunyan was to the American West. Faketale or folktale, the story of Mighty Joe tells you a lot about my native city's pride, work ethic, and ethos. Here's my take on the tall tale:

Now Joe was a real saint, the saint of all steelworkers in Pittsburgh, born in the old country, deep in the mountains of Croatia. Well, he wasn't an official saint, because he never went to mass on Sunday. He worked all the time, triple shifts--morning, afternoon, and night turn--didn't even stop to sleep.

He did stop to eat, though. Mrs. Horkey's daughter, who still has the boarding house in the South Side, says he ate 6 meals a day there, but never laid his head down to rest! He had to eat that much, especially because he was about 7 feet tall, and biceps as big as my waist. Yes you believe me, he was the strongest, fastest, kindest of them all.

From Croatia.org

He was so strong because he was made of steel! But he wasn't cold to the touch, no sir. You know why? Because his heart was made of the finest molten steel, it never cooled, and kept him warm day and night. During the worst Pittsburgh winters with the deepest snow. He didn't even have to wear a coat that Joe! He was so strong he could bend steel into pretzels, and squeeze molten steel through his fingers to make train tracks. 

Now I never met Mighty Joe, but I met a foreman whose dad knew him when he started at the mill. Joe saved his life! Let me tell you what happened. It is about 4 o'clock in the open hearth, that's where they cook the steel. One of the furnaces is ready to tap. Everyone is in their places, ready to add this or that to keep the molten metal flowing into the ladle. 

The ladle is starting to fill up. But something groans and creaks. The iron stops flowing. Then all of a sudden the furnace splits open and the white-hot steel comes pouring out like a waterfall onto the ladle. It's just too much, the ladle jams and starts to overflow.

The men scream and turn to run, and but in that second, there comes a huge black shadow over everyone--Mighty Joe. He takes the split seam of the furnace like it was a piece of cloth he was sewing, and seals up the crack with his bare hands.

And then he's gone just as fast as he came. If he hadn't come, in another second the whole heat would have been lost, and all the men too. They check themselves to see if they are all there, and watch the ladle move on, as if nothing happened. There wasn't even a spill on the ground, just a faint mist rising up from the floor where Joe had stood. Yes, you could always count on Joe.

Poor Joe Magarac. He came to a bad end. You see he worked so hard, so fast, that one day the boss says they're shutting down the mill early Saturday for a nice long weekend. They're way ahead on production because of Joe! Everyone was happy, but not Joe—he liked to work all the time.

Now when they came back on Monday, they can't find Joe. The melter boss looks all around. He finally finds him in the ladle, with boiling hot steel up to his neck! The boss is so scared. He says Joe, better git outta there! But Joe says, the only way I can work all the time is to make myself into the best steel there is. To make the best mill there ever was. And with that he says goodbye and dunks his head under. And that's the last time anybody saw Mighty Joe. And that's why in Pittsburgh we had the best steel mills anywhere, and the best steel in the world. And that's the story of Mighty Joe Magarac!

(Adapted from Carver, George, “Legend in Steel,” The Western Pennsylvania Historical Magazine, Vol. 27, Nos.3-4, pp. 129-136, 1944.)