Because it always takes me so long to find my cummerbund, I am
grateful the Black & White Ball occurs every two years. By then, it's
typical that I still haven't learned to handle a bow tie properly. But
the occasion reminds me that a new pair of black & white Chuck Taylor
high-tops is in order. The sneakers go well with the tuxedo.
What I like about the Black & White Ball is how the hoi polloi may
mingle with the haughty. But everybody gets to dress up -- sometimes
with catastrophic result. But it's still the best opportunity for
people-watching in San Francisco. It's all cleavage and cuff links and
I confess, I like it. It's the great egalitarian costume ball.
It's all terribly democratic, if you have the money. You can't have a
democracy without an entire class of people believing they deserve
better and want more.
David McCullough, perhaps our greatest living historian, was in San
Francisco the other day, talking about his new book, "1776." The early
Americans wanted more out of the government that abused them. They were
willing to go to great lengths to ignite a series of events that turned
out to change the world.
"The more you learn about the Revolutionary War," McCullough told the
Commonwealth Club at the Hotel Nikko, "the more you know what a miracle
it was. I cannot believe we won it. The victory combined circumstance,
fate, character, ability but -- above all else -- the refusal to quit.
If it weren't for these people (who led the uprising against the
British), all of those high ideals in the Declaration of Independence
would be nothing but words on paper."
The rebellious colonists had to give up their Black & White Balls
(the standard of living was very high in the American colonies before
the Revolution) for the right of self-determination. They felt betrayed
by their King when he hired mercenaries to crush the colonists. "I hope
that those who come after us appreciate the hardships and sufferings
we've had to endure," wrote Abigail Adams. At the outset of the
fighting, her husband, John Adams, predicted correctly, "More people
will die from dirty pots and pans than from musket fire." About 1 per
cent of the population was killed or died from disease. That's the
equivalent of 3 million Americans today.
"Even without the war, life was a struggle every day in the 18th
century," observed McCullough. "Planning for the worst was how to get
through the day. That's why there were no plastic surgeons or
orthodondists."
Now, 229 years later, the plastic surgeons and orthodondists were
filling their plates and their glasses at the Black & White Ball
without a though for dirty pots and pans. Thank you, Abigail Adams and
all of your brave and brilliant contemporaries this July 4th.
McCullough pointed out the Revolution would not have been won without
the French: "The French Fleet arrived to save the day at Yorktown."
The Black & White also owes much in its traditional panache to the
French. Bastille Day also approaches again this month. It's
Independence Day for the French -- perhaps the most independent people
on earth.
You might recall that on July 14, 1789, an angry mob stormed the
Bastille prison in Paris, subdued and dispatched the guards, and freed
all of seven prisoners.
But the symbolism was enormous. The French are crazy about symbolism.
It sparked the French Revolution.
Louis XV was well-liked. But his son, Louis XVI, saw his ratings drop
precipitously. This sort of thing happens quite a lot among property
owners in the Marina. The recent generation doesn't seem to have the
savoir faire -- that generosity of spirit -- that their parents, who
actually worked to acquire the property, demonstrated. As for Louis
XVI, who got his house the old-fashioned way -- by the divine right of
kings -- also inherited a very unpopular mistress, Marie Antoinette.
She is now considered the patron saint of spin doctors, who are trained
these days to remove Maud Frizon shoes from one's mouth. But a
Versailles is still a Versailles.
The much-maligned Marie is still remembered for the infamously
condescending crack, "Let them eat cake." It went over well with the
baker's guild but it bombed with just about everyone else living under
the yoke of the House of Bourbon. They
might have preferred the bourbon to the cake. After a fashion, of
course -- or, as Groucho would say, after an old-fashioned.
The era of "noblesse oblige" came crashing down. The weather had
changed. A hard rain fell. A reign of terror followed.
Today, the guillotine is gone but the celebrations continue. You
can always find a guillotine being auctioned these days on eBay, I
suppose.
The French are an odd lot. They find the lining of a cow's stomach
palatable and Jerry Lewis funny.
They're a little on the xenophobic side. For example, there's Brigitte
Bardot. The former, sweet sex kitten keeps her claws out for foreigners
-- seeking their expulsion from France. La Bardot is still a stooge for
the ultra-right-wing La Penn Party. She's the perfect free-thinker:
loves animals, hates people.
Beauty and the Bigot.
Ah, but who doesn't love French food and French wine? Or Fernandel;
Charles Boyer; Piaf; Aznavour; Truffaut; Jean Lafitte; Jacques Pepin and
Claudine; Dumas, Kiki of Montparnasse; Voltaire, Juliette Binoche; the
brioche at the Chestnut Bakery; Cocteau; Madame Curie; Madame La Farge;
Madame Tussaud; Johnny Hallyday; Rimbaud; Cezanne; Flaubert, Capucine;
Jean Reno; Rousseau, Florence Aubenas; le Comte de Lautrémont; Renoir,
the painter; his grandson, Renoir, the filmmmaker; Manet; Monet; Louis
Malle; Montmartre; the Citroen Deux Chevaux -- or Jean Luc Godard? Oh,
that's right: he's Swiss. Never mind.
The French gave us wonderful expressions: "bon vivant" (drunk);
"beau monde" (a bunch of drunks); "bete noir" (a nasty drunk); "au
naturel"
(a drunk who takes his or her clothes off at the company Christmas
party);
"a votre sante" ("Oh, good, we have another case of beaujolais"); "carte
blanche" (drinks are on the house); "bon marche'" (a discount liquor
store); "bonhomie" (finding a former acquaintance who'll pay for the
next
round); "raconteur" (a verbose drunk); "coup de grace" ("Zoots alors:
We're out of wine!") and "bon voyage" ("You've had enough. Go home.")
The French gave us the Statue of Liberty. Rodin's "The Thinker"
ruminates at the windswept entrance of the Palace of the Legion of
Honor out by the ocean. There's a replica of the Arc de Triomphe in
Washington Square in New York's Greenwich Village. The French
titillated us with French Ticklers, lent us a French Quarter, provided
a French Connection, taught us the French Horn and invented the French
Kiss. They even managed a way to combine their use. And gave us a term
useful for both kissing and horn-blowing, "embouchure." Anything that
involves the tongue seems to be French, including cooking it. The
French snickered while sending the English a bundle of "French Letters"
-- postage due. "French Letters" is a quaint old Brit term for condoms.
Yes, it appears the French invented sex, if you believe the brochures
--
which is also a French term. And, if you're not in the mood for sex,
there's always French Toast. That's usually less complicated.
At any rate, Happy Bastille Day and July 4th, too. To France and to
the USA, two cultures and two nations that still have something in
common: a refusal to give up.
Bruce Bellingham is the author of "Bellingham by the Bay." He's
observing his own holiday, that is, his 35th year in San Francisco. "My
timing was off," confesses Bellingham. "I missed the Summer of Love and
got here just in time for The Summer of I'm OK, You're OK. That's not
quite the same thing. The Sexual Revolution is over. It's still unclear
who won." ... Bellingham's e-mail is bellsf@mac.com ...
