Bigwigs Salut Montmartre
Grape Harvest at Fête

Too Soon for Harvest, Last Year's Vendange Consumed at Annual Fête

The villagers of France parade in the village of Montmartre.

Vineyards were widespread on Montmartre in the 10th century and were first mentioned in 390 B.C. The wines produced had an unusual reputation, "Makes you jump like a goat," as it was put. Later, when diet became a concern in the 17th century, somebody spread around the following ditty, "C'est du vin de Montmartre, qui en boit pinte en pisse quarté." How serious this slogan was is unclear, because at the time a 'pinte' was 0.93 litre and a 'quarté' was 67 litres. On Saturday, many other things were unclear, as I stood behind a police barricade right at the corner of the two streets, on the vineyard side, and waited hours for something to happen. South, up the rue des Saules, the sun gradually disappeared behind overlooking apartments. Behind me, in the vineyard, no harvesting was happening. It will be soon - but not today. Grapes are ready when they are ready; and are generally indifferent to the schedule of the Mairie de Montmartre which has decided that the 'Fete de Vendange' is appropriate today.

Not today, but soon this Paris plot will be bottled.

I have seen vineyards from time to time and believe it or not, this one on a north slope, inside the city of Paris, looked very good. Although this 'fete' seems to be more fictions that mere facts, the grapes on the vines in the protected vineyard are real. I swear it.

For a lot of these reports, I come not knowing the least thing; except to come early. A lady beside me at the barricade lent me a propaganda sheet put out by the Mairie. According to this document, this location was inaugurated by the President of the (whole) republic, Albert Lebrun, on the 7th of October 1934. The land had been seized a couple of years before by agents of the 'Republique de Montmartre' and transformed within 48 hours into a nice little illegal park with stuff for kids and 500 bushes and plants - to save the property from the Mamut Insurance Co, the skyscraper builder. After initial enthusiasm, the park fell into disuse. What follows is vague: Montmartre had been well-known for its wines, among them the 'Piccolo de Montmartre' and the 'Clos de Montmartre,' cited in 1929. The park was converted into wine terraces and the 'Fete' began. The initial problem was that the vineyard produced no grapes for five years so three tons were brought in. Each year? Anyhow, years pass, an old tradition gets revived, and here we are today, with, as I said, a very real vineyard.

By now hours have passed and I have lots of company at the barricade. This is when I realize that I should be diagonally opposite to where I am, but it is too late to cross. Citizens come first, then scruffy colleagues from the photo press crew. Invited guests arrive; reporters without press passes try - and often succeed - to cross the barriers. There are a lot of cops; really a lot of them. Famous people arrive who I never saw before. Somebody famous from the 70's, dressed exactly as in the '70's (was it Barbara?), arrives and disappears. The deputy mayor of the 18th arrondissement - Montmartre - arrives with his guests, which are just a little less scruffy than the photographers as they are local 'celebs' - that is, artists, or important people who can afford to look raffish in public.

Meanwhile, on a stage set up in the rue Saint-Vincent, at the side of the 'Lapin Agile,' a series of performers do numbers that probably debuted in the cabaret behind them. Mind you, this is in the village that is the 'Republique de Montmartre,' not downtown at the Hotel de Ville and most of the audience are local residents, so the entertainment is in its proper element and is not really regurgitated nostalgia.

Downstairs winebar; upstairs vineyard - only in Montmartre.

The deputy mayor is impatient. After two and a half hours defending my place at the barricade, so am I. The sun is gone. 'Look, they're coming,' whispers through the crowd, which by now is thoroughly jammed in to every available corner.

Drums, brass, big drums, fifes, and the Republique de Montmartre marching band made up of kids big and small, all colors, dressed in revolutionary garb: red and white striped trousers, dark blue cut-away jackets, white waistcoats, gold braid, appear. They are followed by 'Madame la Presidente' of the often-mentioned 'Republique de Montmartre,' riding in a perfect 1922 cream Renault touring car. And she was followed by a cavalcade of drum bands, majorettes, pom-pom girls, more marching drum bands - 'Les Compagnons de Montmartre' - 'fanfares,' the 'Clos de Clamart,' other 'republiques,' 'Compagnons de Deux Sevres - Cite Libre!' and Breton bagpipes from Ministere; this wasn't just Montmartre, this was another manifestation of 'France villages.'

Somebody announced that the parade that we were seeing had already passed a refreshment stand; and quite a few of them looked like it - the ones that didn't look simply exhausted after banging on their drums and cymbals for hours, and still hours to go, because this place was not the finish line. In fact, when I looked around for a way to escape - I had empty cameras - I saw that all the groups that had passed so far were in a holding pattern, stacked up in the rue Saint-Vincent, plugged there, waiting to reverse out. So I reversed out that way and had to turn around and fight my way back to the corner and up the rue des Saules to get out of it.

This had been the focal point of Saturday's 'Féte de Vendanges' in Montmartre. But the fete of the citizens, and friends of Montmartre had started much earlier in the day, and continued no doubt well into the next.... just as it has no doubt been going on annually for.... how many years?

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Updated 09/95