Agent Josephine, page 37
The show had taken everything out of her. As the curtain closed to hoarse yells of delight, she all-but collapsed onto the stage. She had tears in her eyes. To truly perform and captivate, you had to allow yourself to be overtaken by the music, to be possessed by it, Josephine would declare. In the quiet between two beats, when silence rings out, when each member of the the audience feels as if they are holding their own breath, awaiting whatever is coming next – achieving that was a truly wonderful thing, one that it took a lifetime to perfect, while ensuring that it didn’t kill the special magic. Tonight’s show hadn’t quite killed her. But she had to lie down right away.10
One of those present at the performance was the foremost French Resistance hero known by his nom de guerre, Colonel Rémy. His real name was Gilbert Renault, and he had founded the Confrérie Notre-Dame – the Notre-Dame Brotherhood – one of the most important Resistance networks in all of France. Rémy and his agents had played a key role in the February 1942 Bruneval Raid – Operation Biting – in which British paratroopers had seized a top-secret German radar from the Normandy cliff-tops, and in Operation Chariot shortly thereafter, the daring March 1942 raid on Saint-Nazaire.
Rémy had sat in the auditorium enraptured, as ‘Josephine’s appearance… was greeted by thunderous applause. The make-up did not prevent her face from appearing emaciated, and her legs, once so admired, were as thin as a stork’s… The announcer thought he had to ask for the indulgence of the spectators, but his voice was drowned out by the shouts and the whistles, which, on the other side of the Atlantic, are evidence of supreme enthusiasm.’ Rémy was suitably impressed, and this would be the start of a life-long friendship between the Resistance hero and the special agent.11
Once Josephine had recovered her strength, she was asked to join the soldiers for apple pie and coffee. The Newsweek reporter Ken Crawford was there. In among the gladhanding, she gave him an interview in which she stressed how, if she’d run from the war in France, it ‘would have been like leaving a sinking ship. I am no rat. I have to be as good as I can for these American soldiers. I hope they’ll like me.’ If Crawford’s view was anything to go by, they sure would. He would write of her performance that ‘It was obvious after the first song that the old time magnetism was still there.’12
Her walkabout done, she was joined backstage by General Clark, who proffered his congratulations and extended a special invitation. He had placed a personal plane at the disposal of Si Mohamed Menebhi and Moulay Larbi El Alaoui – the Sultan of Morocco’s cousin – to fly them to tonight’s performance. He wanted Josephine to bring herself and them to an after-show reception in one of Casablanca’s glitziest hotels. All the top military and diplomatic leaders would be there.
Under Clark’s persuasion, Josephine agreed to go. It was a showy gathering, the dinner jackets, sequined dresses and gaudy decorations reminding her of the countless high-society functions she had attended in the pre-illness days. So long had she been sick and locked away, she had to steel herself to do what she did best – to make ‘an entrance’, flanked by those two foremost Moroccan leaders, and with the imposing bulk of Ferdinand Zimmer on one side and Abtey on the other. With all the world’s press there, few would be able to claim that Josephine Baker was ‘half dead now’.13
She rubbed shoulders not only with senior French dignitaries, but also with the top Allied commanders in North Africa: Generals Clark and Patton were there, but so too were the British Generals Harold Alexander, Alan Cunningham and Kenneth Anderson, the last of whom had orchestrated the British end of Torch. ‘That night, Josephine was reborn to life,’ Abtey would remark of her remarkable comeback. ‘Her life as a star.’14 But the cumulative exhaustion had taken an inevitable toll. Upon being introduced to General Patton, she fainted into his arms.
That evening Josephine had been seen to perform what would increasingly become her role in the war, acting as the glue that held together the coalition of the willing in North Africa – Berber leaders, Rif chieftains, Arab dignitaries, American troops both black and white, (former) Vichyites, plus the Free French forces now mustering. She possessed an extraordinary ability to mix with and to charm all.15
Typically, the day after her performance she refused the offer of a flight back to the Red City, courtesy of the US military. ‘I’d take it, if it were work,’ she demurred. ‘But I’m going to Marrakesh to rest… Besides, see: I already have my ticket for tonight’s train.’16
Jacques Abtey and Ferdinand Zimmer escorted her to the railway station. They saw her off jammed into a crowded carriage, masking her extreme fatigue with a bright smile, on ‘a journey that would last all night, standing, with her scar not yet closed’.17 Josephine had an unquenchable spirit and fire, Zimmer commented to Abtey, as they watched her leave. ‘I would like to work with her. I get the impression we would make sparks fly.’18 They would, and Zimmer was about to get his chance.
General Clark had been so impressed by Josephine that he invited her to a gala dinner, at which she would be the guest of honour. Hosted by Clark, along with US President Roosevelt’s personal representative in North Africa, Robert Murphy – the chief of the 12 Apostles – it would have particular resonance. While Josephine and Abtey’s clandestine work remained top secret, it was an opportunity to offer quiet thanks for the role that Josephine had played, plus those key Moroccan dignitaries that she was closest to. The dinner was held at the sumptuous Villa Taylor, Apostles Canfield and Pendar’s famed Marrakesh residence and the site of some of their most colourful adventures. After their arrest on General Noguès’ orders, at the height of the battle for Casablanca, the Apostles had been locked up under harsh conditions and duress, but they were freed once peace was declared – just another chapter in their picaresque North African adventures.19
A few days after Josephine’s Liberty Club triumph there was a gathering in Marrakesh. Major Donald Wyatt, who worked with the USO (United Services Overseas) – the US military’s troop entertainment unit – came to visit Josephine Baker, plus Jacques Abtey and Ferdinand Zimmer. So close would that triumvirate grow – Abtey, Zimmer, Wyatt – they would become known as ‘The Three Musketeers’. But for now Wyatt came bearing a particular proposition for Josephine, having witnessed ‘the almost miraculous impact she’d made on the audience’.20 Even if she didn’t have the energy or the strength to dance and sing for long, the very fact of her rubbing shoulders with the troops had worked wonders.
Wyatt was himself black, and painfully aware of the growing anger and frustration among African-American GIs. They’d volunteered to fight fascism, in freedom’s cause. They’d been trained as combatants in the US. But once they’d arrived in Morocco they’d realised they were being confined to logistical duties, or as drivers and the like. They were being denied a front-line role, which didn’t make the slightest bit of sense, especially as they were the direct targets of Nazism due to the colour of their skin. The sentiments that Josephine had shared with the GIs as she’d mingled with them – let’s win the war on racial segregation, but let’s win the war against the Nazis first – had truly hit home. Wyatt wanted more – much more – of that.21
Donald Wyatt and Josephine Baker made a special connection. In time, their relationship would come to resemble that of brother and sister. Wyatt had first seen Josephine perform in 1935, during her short and bruising ‘comeback tour’ of America. She’d travelled over from Paris, the crucible of her stardom, with high hopes. In short order they had been shattered. Her performances had got panned, a Time magazine critic proclaiming, ‘Josephine Baker is a St. Louis wash woman’s daughter who stepped out of a Negro… show into a life of adulation and luxury in Paris… But to Manhattan theatre-goers… she was just a slightly buck-toothed young Negro woman whose figure might be matched in any night club show, whose dancing and singing could be topped practically anywhere outside France.’22
Her co-star was the American singer and actress Fanny Brice, and from the outset they really did not get along. One day in rehearsals Josephine made a remark in French. Brice turned on her: ‘Ah, you n*****, why don’t you talk the way your mouth was born.’23 By contrast to Josephine, Brice’s performances garnered widespread acclaim. That same Time reviewer declared: ‘With Fanny Brice, on the other hand, there is practically never cause for complaint.’24 According to the Time reviewer Brice’s performance was a triumph, Wyatt for one had begged to differ, and he did so again in the early spring of 1943. In Casablanca, it had been very much Josephine Baker’s evening, and it was going to be very much Josephine Baker’s war.
Wyatt’s proposal that she perform for the troops struck a powerful chord, but there would have to be conditions. First, while Josephine would accept transport and provisions from the military, she would absolutely not accept any form of fee. Just as she had done when serving as a special agent for French, British and American intelligence, she would only do so for free. Plus she would need to remain at liberty to sing and dance for all troops, not just Americans. In due course the US military would try to sign her up exclusively and for the remainder of the war. Despite the offer of a lucrative contract, she refused. She would sing for her brothers and sisters in arms, to lift their spirits, regadless of their nationality as long as they served in the Allied cause. For them, she would never ask for money.25
From Château des Milandes she had dispatched some of her choicest jewellery and gems. She intended to use the proceeds from their sale to bankroll her North African tour. Even so, her funds were far from inexhaustible, and when she joked about surviving on mouldy bread and rancid jam, it wasn’t entirely in jest.
The deal with Wyatt agreed, she needed a tour manager and a supporting cast. Zimmer – an unusual and volatile character, but who was generous to a fault, and blessed with boundless energy and extraordinary courage – volunteered to serve as the former, while out of the shadows stepped her long-time dance partner, Fred Rey.26 Rey’s fortunes during these past months had been grim. Having made it to North Africa, the Vichy authorities had seen fit to arrest him and send him to one of their deep-desert internment camps. Abtey had managed to extricate him, and now here he was, volunteering to join her morale-boosting tour for the Allies.
With Eisenhower’s blessing the coming venture was green-lit. Josephine was expected to hit the road in a fortnight’s time: two weeks in which to muster her strength. It was a Herculean task. Thankfully, several dozen trunks of Josephine’s costumes had survived the long months she had spent in the Comte Clinic, and all thanks to Si Mohamed Menebhi’s protection and care. All through Josephine’s sickness he had never wavered, keeping them safe in Marrakesh. Now, his daughters – Josephine’s ‘sisters’ – got to work under the star’s skilful guidance. As her gowns were dragged from their trunks, it was clear how the moths had got to them. No matter: Fela, Rafet and Hagdousch ‘wielded the needle’, patching and darning wherever necessary.27
Fred Rey also tried to make himself useful, lending a hand to jazz up her tour costumes. The dancer had been appalled when first laying eyes upon Josephine, and spying her gaunt, strained appearance. How the war had cost her. When he queried if she was truly ready for such an undertaking as this, she told him: ‘I’m made of iron.’ Even so, he feared she was returning to the stage too soon. He knew it was pointless to argue. ‘When Josephine got an idea she stuck to it! The war effort came first.’28
Before the tour group set out, Si Mohamed Menehbi and Moulay Larbi El Alaoui decided to throw a lavish farewell party, as only they could. It was the kind of evening that would never be forgotten, a night defined by oriental splendour, spectacle and panache. Berber warriors – ‘straight from the mountains’, each sporting a ‘magnificent silver dagger’ – guided guests to their tables, the seating plan chosen with infinite care.29 With the great and the good in attendance, Josephine had insisted things needed to be done just right. This would need to be a celebration of American-Moroccan-French friendship, and of the values shared by all. Accordingly, they’d made sure that individuals from all nations and races were seated freely across the tables.
‘The evening has to be a success,’ Josephine insisted. ‘I want to show that Arabs, blacks and whites can meet as brothers.’30
Josephine was painfully aware of how unsettled Moroccans were by the segregation they had witnessed in the US military. At every turn she was being challenged on how America could sponsor the Atlantic Charter and its supposed freedoms, yet not even manage to practise what it preached among its own armed forces. It was the cause of a huge amount of tension. Tonight, she intended to show them another way; to be the glue that melded all together, united against the one common enemy.
The setting was truly magical. Josephine would describe guests mingling beneath vines thick with ruby-red flowers, as Arabic music drifted evocatively around the gardens, which were bathed in a soft, velvety light. With Berbers from the Atlas mountains performing the Guedra – the blue dance, so called due to the distinctive, night-sky-blue robes the female dancers wear – fountains murmured, and streams of water tumbled onto the lilies below.’31
Apostle Pendar described it as ‘the-party-to-end-all-parties’. Praise indeed, especially coming from the man who had presided over lavish cocktail gatherings at the Villa Taylor. Just about ‘every American in North Africa, including most of the generals, received… gilt-edged invitations to dine and “to meet Miss Baker”.’ Indeed, Pendar had played a hands-on role, drawing up guest lists and seating plans, and guiding individuals to their tables. ‘It would have done some American politicians a great deal of good to see how free… natural and simple an atmosphere was created amidst the fusion of races,’ wrote Pendar of the gathering.32
Among the esteemed guests were Major Wyatt, Robert Murphy, prominent US war reporters, plus a host of senior Allied commanders, including the US president’s third son, Lieutenant-Colonel Elliott Roosevelt, who served in the United States Army Air Forces (USAAF), commanding a reconnaissance squadron that had deployed as part of Torch.33 At one point Josephine ushered Abtey to Elliott Roosevelt’s side, announcing proudly: ‘Colonel, please allow me to introduce you to my chief and brother-in-arms.’ That done, she guided them to their table.34 There was seating for eight and Abtey noted that as they tucked into the mechaoui – slow-roasted leg of lamb – the drink flowed freely.
As the night wore on a white officer remarked, drunkenly, that it was the first time he had ever ‘eaten at the same table as n*****s’.35 Seeming to think he’d cracked a fine joke, no sooner were the words out than he was grabbed by the collar and frogmarched away by an irate American diplomat, both individuals looking as ‘white as shrouds’.36 Even so, the words had been spoken and those Moroccan figures within hearing were aghast. The man who’d made the comment did not return. The diplomat did, arm-in-arm with one of those who had been most offended.
That diplomat was William Douglas Read, the newly installed US vice-consul in Morocco. He confided in Abtey that the man he’d ejected was a drunken ‘moron’. Seated near by, Moulay Larbi El Alaoui - the Sultan of Morocco’s cousin – had turned ‘ashen grey’.37 As Read pointed out, something needed to be done. Abtey hurried to fetch Josephine. It would take all of her charm to convince those present that the offending individual was an aberration and not the norm. Her efforts were boosted by the arrival of a fine jazz band, and the fact that the music and dancing lasted until dawn.
Partying done, the final, frenetic tour preparations were completed. Things kicked off on 30 April 1943 with a benefit show in Casablanca’s Rialto Cinema, to raise funds for the Red Cross. It was a warm spring evening as Josephine stepped onto the stage, Fred Rey the dancer at her side, a curtain covering the cinema screen behind them. For the show – her official comeback – the stage was bedecked in greenery reminiscent of a jungle, dotted with a kaleidoscope of Allied flags. To either side ranged a phalanx of Spahis – local troops, resplendent in their ceremonial uniforms, swords flashing in the light. As she swayed and sang, Josephine transformed herself from Brazilian ‘native’ to traditional Asian dancer and finally to Breton villager. For her final number – ‘J’ai Deux Amours’ – she was cloaked in a red, white and blue crepe gown, reminiscent of the flag of France. The show was a sensation.38
Between the November 1942 Torch landings and the spring of 1943, the Allies had strengthened their positions in North Africa, before driving east and west, in an effort to encircle the enemy. Those campaigns had involved many months of brutal and hard-fought struggle, particularly as the American-led forces had pushed east across Morocco, consolidating their hold over that nation and neighbouring Algeria. Josephine’s forthcoming tour was designed to follow in the wake of the advancing forces, stiffening their fighting spirit and their morale.
From Casablanca they would depart for Algeria, where she was scheduled to perform several times daily for the hundreds of thousands of Allied troops based there. She intended to use an army tent as her dressing room, and to dance and sing upon whatever makeshift stage might raise her up high enough so all could see. When performing after sundown, she’d get searchlights to illuminate the stage, in lieu of proper showbiz lighting. She intended to round off each show with a rendition of the national anthems of the three key Allied nations: ‘La Marseillaise’, ‘God Save the King’ and ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’.
Josephine’s repertoire was designed very deliberately to deliver a powerful show of unity. But this was not a journey that Jacques Abtey, Josephine’s rock, was going to be able to share with her. Right now, in the spring of 1943, their union was about to be broken. In North Africa and London certain queries were being raised; dark aspersions cast. Just who was this Captain Jacques Abtey character, voices demanded? What was the true nature and allegiances of the man who had cast himself as Josephine the superstar’s protector, and her partner in their secret wartime espionage missions?
