Getting the jazz. The “Degenerate Music” exhibition of the “Reich Music Festival”, Düsseldorf, 1938 © Ullstein Bild
“Strictly prohibited is the use of instruments alien to the German spirit – so-called cowbells, flexatone, brushes, etc – as well as all mutes which turn the noble sound of wind and brass instruments into a Jewish-Freemasonic yowl – so-called wa-wa, hat, etc.” (Step 5 in Nazifing Jazz, as recalled in Josef Skvorecky’s ‘Bass Saxophone’)
The day the Nazis rolled tanks into Paris – the land of “Americano, nigger, kike, jungle music” (Goebbels, 1939) – the cave-clubs of Saint Germain dimmed. Montparnasse went quietly. Pigalle’s cosmopolitan nightclubs folded and the Champs-Elysees muted the footlights. In fact, two million Parisians had already left town. Many jazz-junkies, gypsies, peddlars of swing, negres – all now in danger of being freighted to their death – considered catching the A-Train elsewhere. Paris was preparing to go underground. But the Gestapo went straight to work. Loudspeakers declared a curfew of 8pm. Arrests began.
“It is better to be frightened in your country than another one” said Django Reinhardt – the most famous jazzman ever to live in the alphabet city. He had good reason to be nervous. A member of the Manouche ‘gypsy’ family – part of the French speaking Romany tribe – over one million of his kin would be gone by 1944. Reinhardt would try to escape Paris twice, but be turned back. Instead of escape, his gypsy legend grew and in the heart of Nazi Occupied Paris the enduring spirit of jazz took another turn.
Django Reinhardt spent his time during the Nazi Occupation oscillating between a suite on the Champs Elysee and gypsy encampments. In hotel room circa 1945 with gypsy singer Sonia Dimitrivich. Getty Images.
“You who have been to Paris, just imagine this picture” wrote LIFE Magazine in 1940. “At the Palace de la Concorde no such merry-go-round of honking autos, screaming news vendors, gesticulating cops, gaily chatting pedestrians. Instead depressing silence, broken only now and then by the purr of some German officers motor as it made its way to the Hotel Crillon, headquarters of the hastily set up German commandery. On the flagstaff the swastika fluttered in the breeze, where once the Stars and Stripes had been in the days of 1919 when Wilson received the cheers of French crowds from the balcony”
Hitler’s Propaganda Minister Joseph Goebbels had his own plans for the weekend. He’d drafted a scheme; a schedule to reopen Paris as a jaunty, gay, bustling showroom for New Europe. During the war it would be a recreational city, if only to draw a breath. Within weeks of bagging the Hotel Crillon, theatres and nightclubs would begin to reopen. The city’s cinemas and opera houses, draped in swastikas, would refill and brothels reopen. Soldiers, Officers, SS, wary Parisians; all mingled at tables. The caviar tones of Johnny Hess continued. Edith Piaf performed, Coco Chanel entertained Nazis.
It was a strange reconcile. Paris was a hot bed of bona-fide jazz-loving, leaf-smoking, jew-friending ‘degenerates’. And while Hitler’s army were arresting musicians, shutting down swing-joints, storming cabarets that housed the “rhythms of belly-dancing negroes”, Django and the Hot Club of Paris were reinventing it as a gypsy-slang.
During the 30s the success of The Hot Club Quintet transformed jazz from a WW1 Americano import into the lingua franca of popular jazz. Their groundswell of popularity would lead to a residency in the celebrated clubs of Montparnasse, with a fanbase that included jazz greats Louis Armstrong and Coleman Hawkins. The clip below shows the original line up bunkered in a bar setting, a vitalised core in situ, 1939.
They would all follow very different paths during the war.
Django himself might have been top of the Nazi hit-list. He had risen from the obscurity of a ‘gypsy’ camp. He liked billiards, he liked to gamble. He liked making friends, he liked music, his lifestyle was seen as vagabond. Hot Club collaborator and violinist Stephane Grappelli told The Guardian that when they got offered their first recording in 1934 by Charles Delauney (France’s supreme jazz expert), Django didn’t even appear – Grappelli found him in a billiard hall.
Hot Club clarinetist Hubert Rostaing said the best way to hear Django Reinhardt was to wait after the concert, and on the other side of the street. It was a minor miracle the Hot Club existed. But by the time war broke in 1939 Django’s new, taut ‘small string’ sound swept the city with colossal results. A powerfully quick improvisor, Django pioneered and defined new territory as a modern guitar soloist.
Michael Dregni best sketches the itinerant genuis: “His story was told like a fairy tale on the café terraces and in the fashionable salons. It was repeated in reverent tones among jazz acolytes. He was spoken of in awe as a child prodigy who never grew up, an idiot savant of jazz, a noble savage let loose in cultured Paris. His was the kind of modern fairy tale that Paris loved – even demanded – of its celebrities. “
But Paris was now dangerous turf.
An isolated city. André Zucca took these colour photos for Nazi magazine ‘Signal’, using rare Agfacolor film supplied by the Wehrmacht. Controversy over the depictions of ‘Parisian life as usual’ continues to this day.
Cinema Parisiana, colour photos of Paris under the Occupation by André Zucca.
Hats and coats, Paris occupied. June, 1940. Image by Roger Schall.
“Paris is dark at night now. Probably not until the war’s end will the great red lights of Moulin Rouge turn again. The small nightclubs that used to fill Montmatre and Montparnasse are also dead or dormant. Parisians have no theatre yet, no cinema, and one of the most frequent questions asked us is: when are we going to get American films? (LIFE Magazine correspondent Charles Wertenbaker, on the Nazi’s ultimate legacy in Paris, 1944)
German soldiers outside a Paris cafe on the Champs Elysees, Bastille Day 1940.
Entartete Musik – meaning ‘not of our kind or race’ – or more figuratively ‘abnormal, depraved’. The poster advertising the Degenerate exhibition of 1938.
The popular ‘Degenerate Music Exhibition’ of 1938 left little to the Nazi imagination. The Nazis had seized a huge assemblage of artworks; anything that might have been Jewish, Bolshevik or abstract – compiling them as an example of ‘degenerate art’. Graffiti trained above the exhibits, scrawling its way past the ‘negroid’, the Jew-infused classical or ‘popular’ music. Jazz was depraved jungle-junk. The New English Weekly more eloquently explained; the Nazi ‘felt the Hebrew uses jazz and like methods to iron out racial differences and produce a general neurasthenia in which Hebrew influence may ascend among peoples.’
Paris remained under blackout orders for a while after the Nazi arrival; streetlights painted blue. Many of the African American musicians who played the jazz clubs had sailed from Le Havre, expecting the worst. Not surprisingly, the original Hot Club Quintet were amongst those to disband. Django’s other half, Stephan Grappelli, sailed for England, guitarist Marcel Bianci was soon interred by the Germans, bassist Louis Vola bound a boat for Argentina. Other illuminaries also joined the exodus.
Guitar Oscar Aleman headed for Spain, hoping to catch a ship home to Buenos Aires. He was halted at the Spanish border, his tricone guitars confiscated, melted down for the war effort. German-born singer Eva Busch was arrested by the Gestapo the third day of her show at the Paris ABC Music Hall, and made a prisoner of Ravensbrück for three years. “The hatred kept me alive” she said.
Django would try to leave twice during the Occupation, only to be turned back. In the early days he and other Romanies simply left the town, avoided the road, stayed in hiding. They retreated to the depths of la zone, bordered by forests and mountains.
Palaise de Reinhardt, with the family. Django and son Babik.
Django teaches his son Babik some guitar.
Jewish refugees from Germany holed up in the cellar of an abandoned factory, chez violin and guitar.
“After the German patrol passed by and we believed the coast was clear the tables were pushed back and the dancing began. As soon as the alarm was given the tables were set back in place and everything became orderly again” (Pierre Fouad on the Nouveau Hot Club’s early gigs under the Occupation)
As time went on there was little choice but to work. In need of a living, Django made his way back to Paris. On October 4th 1940 he was offered work playing guitar at the Cinema Normandie on the Champs Elysee, between Nazi approved films. He had to submit his song programs to the propagandastaffel before the guitar was propped.
Despite the challenges, it was here Django unveiled the Nouveau Hot Club Quintet de Paris. It comprised a sound that Michael Dregni describes as ‘light and airy and held to earth by Egyptian drummer Pierre Fouad’. Reinhardt had replaced Grapelli with Hubert Rostaing, who himself had been tuning his craft in the cabarets of Morroca and Tunisia. They soon picked up a new following.
To avoid Nazi suppression the French had dropped the term ‘swing’. Jazz standards were re-titled in French. ‘St Louis Blues’ became ‘Tristesses De St Louis’. ‘I Got Rhythm’ became ‘Agate Rhythm’. Tunes were often given titles that would not betray their origins, such as ‘Blues in C Sharp’. They began playing, with composers’ names changed to French ones.
In his book ‘Bass Saxophone‘ Josef Skvorecky also recalls the rules that were set out to purify the music if it had to be performed.
Parisian Jazz – “La Revue Negre au Music-hall des Champs-elysees” with Josephine Baker.
Nazi nightlife in Paris. Image from Patrick Buisson’s book ’1940-1945, Années érotiques’.
Nightlife in Paris during the Occupation. Image from Patrick Buisson’s book ’1940-1945, Années érotiques’.
- Paris under the Occupation. Image by Roger Schall.
The Nazi version of Eddie Cantor's 'Makin' Whoopee'. This rare Nazi jazz recording was made exclusively for shortwave broadcasting to Great Britain, USA and other enemy countries.
Ludwig “Lutz” Templin, bandleader of the jazz ensemble who also recorded as “Charlie and His Orchestra”, rearranging American jazz hits with revised Nazi-approved lyrics.
Despite musical cleansing, Goebbels couldn’t compete with demand. German soldiers overtook the clubs, where the lights were warm. For their own pleasure German Officers cordoned off the Russian Casonova and Sheherazade cabarets, where the Ferret brothers played (another band of accomplished gypsy jazzmen – and Django’s biggest rivals). Amid war and food shortages Pigalle and Montmartre came to life once again.
In early 1943 the famous Abbaye club also reopened as Le Chapiteau. The previous owner’s burlesque styled parodies of Hitler meant he was now enjoying an extended holiday in Monaco to avoid the Club’s new Nazi patrons. Le Chapiteau had become a favourite hole-in-the-wall for many Gestapo and pro-Nazi French.
Goebbels, meanwhile, pegged jazz as an opiate. He put commissioned Charlie and His Orchestra (or “Bruno and His Swinging Tigers“) to swiftly begin recording and performing Nazi versions of popular jazz hits, a sanctioned Reichsministerium. Charlie were broadcast in medium-wave and short-wave bands across the Channel and Atlantic – the sonic equivalent of letter drops in jazz.
Despite the lyrics written by the Propagandaministerium, the group was Germany’s leading swing outfit and a competent group. They made over ninety recordings between 1941 and 1943. Their band leader was permitted by Nazi command to travel to neutral and occupied countries in order to collect jazz and dance music. He also knocked around in the rarefied dens of Paris, mixing with the bands of the day.
Meanwhile, the Hot Club had also been busy. Its three-story headquarters had become a meeting place for the French resistance.
La Place Blanche café (in 1940) opposite the Moulin Rouge cabaret. Reserved for the exclusive use of German soldiers during the occupation of Paris.
“Anything that starts with Ellington ends with an assassination attempt on the Fuhrer!” (Gestapo SS-Sturmbahnfuhrer Hans ‘The Fox’ Reinhardt, interrogating teenage swing fans 1944)
Luftwaffe Officer Dietrich Schulz-Köhn (aka “Doktor Jazz”) had been a long-time follower of the Hot Club’s music. It was known that other Germans would spend hours in his room listening to this variety of “Americano nigger kike jungle music”. During the German occupation he provided a temporary shelter of sorts – simply by frequenting the Hot Club as a patron.
For the years of occupation many people had relied upon the power of protection. But things were becoming increasingly uncertain. A person could easily be shot at whim. They could easily be included in a deportation order. Those offering protection could easily lose their power or be deported. Survival couldn’t be guaranteed, and the gap was closing.
Luftwaffe Officer Dietrich Schulz-Köhn (aka “Doktor Jazz”), Django Reinhardt, four Africans and a Jewish musician – outside La Cigale, a jazz club in Paris.
“The Officers of the Club liked me coming there” said Schulz-Köhn in later years. “Especially in uniform as they were sometimes raided by the Gestapo. (The Gestapo) would find the place full of letters, magazines, records with labels – all in English and this was no laughing matter at the time. So they could use me as a signboard to prove their innocence and reliability”.
But in in October 1943 the Gestapo made a definitive raid on the Hot Club headquarters. They took into custody Charles Delaunay, his secretary and the Hot Club President of Marseilles. “They wanted to know where to find our resistance leader” said Delaunay. “I was fortunate enough to know enough of the German that was spoken preparatory to each question. Never have I talked so much or so well.” Delaunay was eventually released a month later – with a shadow of Gestapo not far behind. His secretary and the Hot Club President were not as lucky.
They were sent to the camps. Both perished in the gas chambers.
Nouveau Hot Club Quintette de Paris. Date unknown.
In the isolated city, jazz broke further from its American roots. While continuing to tread carefully for their own survival, players such as Reinhardt had charged the music with new potency and, despite the best efforts of Goebbels the his Charlie cohorts, jazz remained an undefined danger zone.
The Zazou fad was the first youth ‘movement’ to openly claim a patch and square itself against the hooks of German occupation. Its battle issue was non-conformity. In 1942 the Nazi-run mag L’Illustration attacked the Zazou style; men wore a ‘lumber jacket, which they show an unwillingness to take off, even when it’s soaking wet. The women wear cheap furs, turtle-necked sweaters and very short pleated skirts. They are armed with vast umbrellas that remain obstinately folded whatever the weather’. By 1944 seventy-eight anti-Zazou articles were published in the pro-Nazi Vichy Govt press. Zazous were lazy, vain, ‘Judeo-Gaullist shirkers’.
Their beating came highly recommended.
Round-ups began in bars. Zazous were roughed up on the streets. The Fascist youth organisation Jeunesse Populaire Française adopted the slogan “Scalp the Zazous!” – perhaps this sounded better in French. Zouzous were set upon with hair-clippers by squads of young fascists. They were beaten, arrested, sent to the country to work the land. Before long many Zazous went underground, ducking for cover in basement clubs and jazz halls.
By 1944 seventy-eight anti-Zazou articles had been published in the pro-Nazi Vichy Govt press targeting the louche phenomenon of work-shy Zouzous.
‘Work for Germany? I’d rather die!’ ‘Bravo! Young man, don’t you like Germany?’
And as the Allies began bombing closer to the city, the Nazi round-ups increased. In 1943 the German Kommandantur of Paris requested that Reinhardt and the Nouveau Quintet of Paris be summoned to Berlin to play for the Nazi High Command. Django made excuses. The Kommandantur insisted. Django decided to hit the road.
Filling his Buick from a wad of gas coupons, Django skipped town with his wife. They headed to the German-Franco border, with the plan to escape to Switzerland. When the car ran out of gas, they sold it and brought themselves tickets for a clandestine truck to take them across. That night, passing through the border, the truck was subjected to a search. They were found and turned back with a warning.
While he planned his next step, he moved his family to Thonon, where they lived near the Savoy Bar. This place was the genuine melting pot – full of jazz-loving Nazis, gypsies and Zazous who had left Paris. Django began playing here, as well as various parties around the area. He became a regular at functions thrown in Chateau La Folie owned by the Schwartz family and set on a leafy acreage. But the Occupation continued to tighten its grip. The Schwartz family were denounced by the gardener’s son as Jews – they were deported and perished in the camps.
The Gestapo took over the estate.
Django decided to try and get to Geneva via the West. Again, the venture failed. He was also told not to try and escape France from the North because of German U-Boats. Instead, he and his pregnant wife decided to hike the Alps to freedom. They met their guide at a cafe. They were overheard by a German officer. They were all arrested.
Under interrogation, his British Performing Rights Society card was confiscated and he was declared a spy. Finally the officers brought in the local kommandant to continue the questioning. The kommandant was a jazz fan; Django and his wife were released.
They returned again to Paris.
Paris, 1944. Sniper fire shortly after the liberation. LIFE/Time Images.
On June 6th 1944 The Allies invaded France at Normandy. The German occupation of Paris ended on August 25th, 1944, when General Jacques Phillippe Leclerc’s Second Free French Armoured Division, supported by the US Fourth Infantry Division, entered the city. Only days before the liberation the Nazis murdered several thousand Roma and Sinti ‘gypsies’ at the Zigeunerlager in the Auschwtiz-Birkenau concentration camp.
As the Council of Europe described it: “Germans who took part in the slaughter later described it as the most difficult moment in the war for them, as Romani women struggled to hang on to their children. The crematorium burned all night”. Around 600,000 to 1.5 million Roma were exterminated during the Holocaust. One of Django’s cousins had faked his identity as Django in an attempt to save his own life – without success.
Paris itself only barely escaped destruction. Hitler had ordered German commander, General Dietrich von Cholitz, to leave the city in ruins. Cholitz turned fate and disobeyed – he left it intact.
As the world struggled to recover Django reunited with Grappelli. Together they toured the US with Duke Ellington. In 1949 he eventually sold his Paris apartment, bought a Lincoln, attached a trailer and hit the rural back-roads of France. He later hooked up a larger caravan for his mother, who had been living in an old converted Citroën. Reinhardt would occasionally visited Paris for a show – getting by on the wad of banknotes he kept under the pillow.
The basement of the Caveau de la Huchette, one of the first clubs to open after the war. It filled instantly with soldiers – mostly Afro-American.
Despite Goebbels best efforts the music could never be contained, quarantined or owned. The music leaves a legacy – as well as a brilliant but haunting accompaniment to the uncertainty, terror and mass obliteration that tore through those years.
Check out the fascinating but graphic clip of Europe on its knees by 1944, to the gilded music of Lili Marleen - a wartime favourite on both sides of the front. Django’s melancholy war-inspired Nuages, below (here recorded on electric) was another track that walked the lines, elevating him beyond the divisions – and onto stardom – during his years in Occupied Paris.
“He did more for the guitar than any other man in jazz” Stephane Grappelli told Melody Maker following Reinhardt’s death in 1953. “His way of playing was unlike anyone else’s, and jazz is different because of him. There can be many other fine guitarists, but never can there be another Reinhardt. I am sure of that.”
I highly recommend LeoTaurus1975 on youtube for a comprehensive look at the music of the times, along with some great clips of the time. Michael Dregni’s book on Django is also worth a delve, as well as a great gypsy-jazz homage site at http://www.paulvernonchester.com.