reminisces about his fabulous career but don't think he9s retiring.
That's why I was so heartbroken three years ago,
when she died in Paris at the age of 82.
Next to Mistinguett, a good share of the credit
for my success should go to my straw hat. When I
started in show business, I was what is known in
my country as a "low comedian." I wore a funny
wig, a big red nose, and baggy trousers. One day a
woman from the audience came to my dressing
room after the show and said, "Why do you make
yourself ugly, monsieur? You'd be a far bigger
success if you looked better."
So I got myself tails and a top
hat, but the hat didn't feel right.
I wanted something gayer.
Then I remembered an English
man who looked very good in a
tuxedo with a straw hat, so I got
myself a straw hat, too. It has been
my trademark ever since, even
after it went out of fashion. For
years I was the only entertainer in
the world who wore one except
for the people who imitated me.
All this time I have used the
same hat maker in England, who
makes up a half-dozen hats for
me every year. At the end of each
year, I give them to charitable
groups which auction them off.
My career came to a temporary halt for army
service in World War I. Although I was seri
ously wounded and taken prisoner by the Germans
in 1914, I can't consider the war years completely
wasted so far as my career was concerned.
I had always known that my future would be
limited unless I spoke English. Fortunately for
me, one of my British fellow prisoners was a
teacher in private life.
He was just as anxious to learn French as I was
to learn his native language, and so we agreed to
give each other lessons. When the war was over, I
spoke English with only a trace of an accent.
The study paid off. In November, 1918, 1 left for
London to co-star with Elsie Janis in "Hello Amer
ica." And because I spoke English so well, I was
able to come to the United States in 1928, to star in
such wonderful motion pictures as "The Love
Parade," "The Smiling Lieutenant," "Love Me To
night," "The Merry Widow," and many more.
I returned to France in 1935 and kept appearing
in films, musicals, and night clubs till one day I
told myself: "Maurice, maybe you should retire.
You are one of the old generation. They know you
and like you in Paris, but most likely they have
forgotten you in the United States. Certainly the
young people don't even know who you are."
Suddenly it struck me that I should come back
to the United States to see where I really stood. If
I still had something to say, if my style meant any-"
thing at all and I'm a stylist, not a singer then I
would continue my career.
I put on a two-and-a-half-hour show in New
York, which was so successful that I took my revue
on tour, even to Las Vegas, where I performed
before a type of audience I never knew existed!
People seemed interested in me as a person, and
in my opinions on subjects ranging from rock 'n'
roll to the difference between French and Ameri
can women! Incidentally, to the first question, I
usually answer that I don't think it stands much of
a chance to last in its present form. No one can do
a double somersault every second!
If the rhythm is to survive, it must calm down
considerably. Only natural artists stay in vogue.
As to how American girls compare with French
ones, all I can say is that no woman should be
compared with those in another country. What
counts is how she is brought up, what kind of heart
she has, how good she is inside. And that has noth
ing to do with the country of her birth.
Not long ago I received a wonderful opportunity
which has given me a brand-new interest in
life. When director Billy Wilder offered me my
first non-singing role in an American film, that of
" W V Alw.
n aM iJhfc, 1 1 Iia WAN
a hero to his mother (above),
medal in World War I (left).
Audrey Hepburn's detective father in "Love in the
Afternoon," I knew I had found a new love acting.
I don't know when I enjoyed anything more
than working with Audrey, or with Leslie Caron
in "Gigi," or, just recently, with Deborah Kerr and
Rossano Brazzi in "Count Your Blessings."
People often ask me whether it's my career that
keeps me young, or whether I have any special
gimmicks. I tell them that any mental stimulation
keeps a person alert. Beyond that, I have no
secret formulas.
For instance, I don't watch my diet other than
restricting myself to two meals a day and I have
done that most of my life to keep down to a com
fortable 160 pounds. I go for walks every day
because I enjoy walking, not to exercise. I never
have done that!
True, when I'm not working, I usually stay in
bed until two in the afternoon, although I'm awake
at seven every day. But not for reasons of health:
I love to read and write in bed, and there's no
better time for it than when one is fresh. Besides,
what else can a man like me do in the morning?
I think one of the reasons people think I'm
lonely is because I have no wife or children. I've
been. divorced for many, many years, and my wife
and I had no children but I do have a family.
First of all, there's my brother Paul, who lives
with me in Marnes La Coquette. Also some neph
ews and grand-nephews, and a few great friends.
Then I have Francois and Madeleine Vals, my
secretary and his wife. They travel with me
wherever I go and couldn't be closer to me if they
were my own children.
So you see, there is no reason for anyone to feel
sorry for me, because I have been very lucky all
my life. Although I was born into a poor family, I
was blessed with a very wonderful mother who
inspired me even when we had little to eat and I
had to stuff paper into the holes in my shoes.
I have been able to follow my profession with
some success, and I have enjoyed the friendship of
some fine men and beautiful women. I feel very
thankful for everything.
At 20, he was a seasoned per
former in French night spots.
T n miM ' ii'ittf i ii ii rVii ii mum' 'i
Chevalier was a trim athlete at 26 and after
44 years still weighs in at only 160 pounds.
ii.m . ijiiu,5iiyii.-i( nyjgymit yt ; ''
: . i - Ji
r r '
V-jf A
11
fck- J J
. if "AIT
r1'
1 v -v. .is :
. - t' I . '.V IS 11
Francois Vals, the entertainer's secretary,
and Mme. Vals are like his son and daughter.
Family Weekly, March J, 1959
1