Pierre on "Combat" |
It seemed odd to many that one of our favorite TV shows was Combat! It ran from 1962-67, and featured a squad of American soldiers in France after the D-Day invasion. We watched the show because we thought the actors were cute. And my favorite was Pierre Jalbert.
Pierre was my “type”: under six feet tall, dark,
lean. The French accent didn’t hurt. It was a great, long-distance
fantasy…until we met.
The night we met |
Pierre’s life was nothing short of amazing: Canadian
ski champion, Olympic captain, friend of movie stars, ski instructor, sound
editor, actor, writer. He built his house in Beverly Glen and was a talented
wood carver. He was obsessed with the life of the Marquis de Lafayette. “He was
19 when he fought in the Revolutionary War!” he’d tell me again and again.
He told me because I visited him a few times in
recent years to record the stories of his life. We’d sit in the dining room of
his beautiful home, scanning old photos, taping our conversations.
During one of my visits |
I wrote last week that I learned a lot from him in
his last year. I didn’t just learn about Lafayette, or why he was brought in to
help with The Godfather (Pierre’s
responsible for the iconic baptism/mob hit sequence at the end of the movie).
I learned that he gave full credit to his friends
for everything that happened to him in his life. A new one would appear at a
crucial moment, offering him an opportunity that would change his life: the
actress who invited him to Paris, the businessman who sponsored his immigration
to the US. “I wouldn’t be where I am today without my friends.”
I learned that he missed them terribly. “All my
friends are dead,” he insisted, when we first sat down to record his stories.
“Not all of us,” I countered. His stories about his friends were told without a
trace of envy or disapproval. He loved them for who they were, and though he
didn’t always understand or condone their behavior, he loved them nonetheless.
I learned that with every setback – rheumatic fever,
the shattered leg that left him in constant pain for over 60 years, deportation
when he failed to secure a work visa – he bounced back. He had a resilience
that was remarkable. “Weren’t you depressed when you couldn’t ski in the
Olympics?” “Sure,” he agreed. “For a week.” Then, Norma Shearer invited him to
Paris, and he moved on to the next adventure.
I learned that it’s possible to live your life
without regrets. When he insisted he had no regrets about his life, I was
skeptical. I tried to bait him, frankly. Maybe it was Buddhism that gave him that peace. But just as he saw his friends
impact his life, he saw each twist and turn as something ultimately better.
Everything happened for a reason.
I feel like I learned a lot from Pierre. I still
have my notes and my tapes. Next year I’ll transcribe them and put
them into a coherent tale about one of the most remarkable men I’ve ever known.
I can hear his voice sometimes. If I close my eyes I
can feel his hand in mine as we walked through the parking lot to lunch. When
my car windshield is dirty, I think of him insisting I pull into the gas
station in Santa Monica so he could clean it.
Finally, Pierre, I’m writing about you. Don’t give
me that typically French shrug, as if you don’t care. I know better. So
wherever you are, pour yourself a scotch on the rocks and settle back.
Allons-y.
2 comments:
Oh Vicki, I posted over at yahoo but I must post here also.
I just need to tell you merci for the small incite ito Pierre's life.
Like I said over at yahoo, I came so close to meeting him I hurt. And now, to have you letting me in (so to speak) to see the man I so much admire, well all I can say is you are a remarkable women. I know this walk for you must be
painful and for you to relive that wonderful time and to share with us...oh mon Dieu
Encore mon cher...merci.
Donna LaVigne-Kearns
I'm confused. If you only saw him in 1984 and then again a year later, when did you spend time with him at the age of 88?
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