Paris' Amazing Telescopic Street Lights – A sad tale of ingenious design, French pluck, invading Nazi's & lights upon the Seine (...almost).
Created by famed iron-smith/sculptor Raymond Subes the majestic lights on the Pont du Carrousel tell an amazing, if sad, tale (And .....there's a Brooklyn angle)
Wrestling over what Parisian stories to share is like being a kid who inherits a multi-national candy store chain. You are ashiver with too many tempting, too good options to choose from. Today the task is straightforward: There's an amazing bridge in Paris with an equally fascinating, if hidden, history. Among other things, it connects France and Brooklyn, New York – in a way that may make you wonder. Here we go....
Paris' Amazing Telescoping Lights – A sad tale of inspired design, French pluck, invading Nazi's and lights upon a bridge (...almost).
À vaillant coeur rien d’impossible. -Jacques Cœur - “For a valiant heart nothing is impossible.”
A nice sentiment, but possessing a valiant heart is no guarantee of success with city hall – especially in Paris. Case in point: The bridge lights adorning the Pont du Carrousel, just south of the Louvre.
If you've been to Paris, visited the Louvre or just sauntered along the Seine, you may have strolled past one of the lampposts anchoring the Carrousel bridge. There are two on the left bank (Rive Gauche) and two on the right (Rive Droite). And, oh, what a tale they could spin would that they could speak!
(Pro Tip: Always look up while walking in Paris!)
Completed in 1935, the current Carrousel bridge replaced a predecessor plagued with structural problems: it was too low for navigation, swayed, and was too narrow! Great assets for a limbo dancer, but less so for a bridge. With the new bridge realized, the only final touch remaining was the addition of overhead lighting. Simple, yes?
Ahhhhhnon!
That's because the design of any proposed lighting was a major concern for Paris's city hall. (My Pet Theory is the prospect of bridge lighting probably ruffled some well-connected rive gauche feathers, meaning owners of those stratospherically pricey Seine-fronted maisons with eye-watering views of the Seine and, just past....the Louvre. As I say, just a theory).
So, to allow the installation of any bridge lightening, Paris issued specific criteria (again, perhaps part of its de-ruffling feathers strategy). First, the new lighting couldn't be too modern, and had to blend in with the style and classical look of the quartier. An odd request, you say? Not really, consistency of style is an admirable urban virtue. (If you need proof, just look at how seamlessly the 59 story Montparnasse tower/Monstrosity meets that criteria. You barely notice it).
Criteria two stipulated that a) any new lighting could not mar views of the Louvre, which meant a maximum daytime lamppost height of 12 meters (40ft), the height of the Louvre Palace roof. And that b) and sort of inversely related to the first: any new lighting also had to rise 22 meters (72 ft) at night to prevent dazzling pedestrians and drivers while also ensuring a large enough light-footprint for both bridge and adjacent quai area.
What to do?
Enter one Raymond Subes, a legendary French metal (iron) worker of the Art Deco & Art Nouveau styles. Subes wasn't intimidated by eccentric technical design demands. His brilliant solution was four telescoping, or upward rising, lamps which functioned via a sophisticated, if fragile, motorized elevating mechanism. In daylight the lamps would sit at a non-offending 12 meters/40ft height, thus meeting the Thou Shall Not Mar (anyone's million-franc Louvre view) requirement. (Feathers thus calmed). Come darkness, the lampposts would telescope up to 22 meters (72ft.), satisfying the second condition of not blinding hapless motorists and passerby while still emitting ample lighting.
Genius solution and problem solved?
Yesaaaahhnon!
Subes spends some three years on his imaginative undertaking, but no sooner than his lights are nearing completion then World War II looms from the east. (Yes, La Guerre! again and, again, Germany). Fearing his inspired lights with their huge amounts of soon to be highly desirable war metals will be cannibalized to feed Germany's war effort Subes et. al., arranges, at great risk, for the materials to be hauled into hiding beneath the bridge. Think about the determination: Tonnes of copper, steel (and bronze) had to be ferried into safe keeping. Away from greedy Nazi clutches.
Doughty and daring don't begin to cover Subes' cunning resolve, which while impressive wasn't flawless. The hiding spots, beneath the bridge, were prone to flooding, and over the course of Germany's prolonged occupation, did so often. Seine river water seeped into the delicate motorized lifting mechanisms, which took its toll. (Though better water damage than a fate as repurposed materiel for enemy war production. But, still....).
Post liberation, the lights were unearthed, and the serious damage that had occurred required intensive repairs. Ones never realized. Today the lights adorn the Pont du Carrousel bridge. But Subes' gracefully imagined, fragile telescoping mechanisms never recovered from their wartime safekeeping. They await repair either by the city, or perhaps some benevolent, deep-pocketed financial backer (“Bonjour Elon Musk”!) or maybe a celebrity Francophile (Jodi Foster, John Malkovich, ...or you?) or some altruistic university engineering department.
Click below to view the tale on a You Tube post from my 60seondparis channel.
( Yes! I actually did misspell my You Tube name, omitting the ‘c’ …and its too late to change it now!) This channel is soon to be updating regularly.
Today, the lamps do not rise, nor do they fall. Subes died in 1970 never having witnessed the magic of his creations performing as he imagined.
Maybe someday. Maybe.
CURIOSITIES: #1 Who Was Raymond Subes? Born in 1893 Subes was a legendary French metal worker of the Art Deco period as well as creating incredible artworks in the Art Nouveau style. His work can be found across France and some of his outstanding efforts were the wrought-iron elements adorning the majestic ocean liners Île-de-France, the Lafayette, the Atlantic and the Normandie. His achievements include Commander of the Legion of Honor, Commandeur des Palmes Academiques and Commander of Arts and Letters.
Much of Subes ocean-liner work met unlucky fates: some ships capsized, suffered fires and or were generally destroyed as a result. Which leads to……
CURIOSITIES: #2 Subes in Brooklyn? Interestingly at least one of Subes dazzling ocean liner creations, the bronze medallions from his 20ft tall doors of the SS Normandie's dining room (see below) are currently gracing the doors of the Our Lady of Lebanon Roman Catholic Church in Brooklyn, N.Y. The fate of the actual 20 foot/6 meter high doors seems unknown, but six of its original 10 medallions can be seen on the church doors, and depict well-known French regions. (You have to wonder if there’s any sort of explanatory plaque giving worshipers the history of that door)?
Sehttps://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Normandie_doors.jpge Source
These regions being: Upper left: Cathédrale Saint-Pierre in Lisieux. Upper right: Église Notre-Dame in Saint-Lô. Middle left: rue de l'Horloge and tour de l'Horloge in Évreux. Middle right: église Saint-Pierre and the place du Marché-au-Bois in Caen. The Lower left is shows the Tour du Gros-Horloge in Rouen. And lower right, Montagne and fort du Roule in Cherbourg.
Doors with 10 original medallions as seen on the SS Normandie
see: History and images of the SS Normandie
CURIOSITIES: #3 (Also Brooklyn) - Final thought: The Normandie's Captain's Table is also in that Brooklyn church. Hmmm? Curious about how both these historical artifacts ended up there?
Interested in that Brooklyn angle? The Brooklyn Blog with the story of the door medallions
Subes in Paris: You can see examples of Subes work across France. To name two in Paris, in the 14th at the annex across from the Mairie you can still see his gates and ramp at the main staircase. In the 6th just steps from Metro Odeon, enter the L'eglise abbatiale, and look for the porte en fer (narthex) & and du choeur (choir) de l'ancienne abbatiale.
Trivia: Why is the bridge called Pont du Carrousel, as opposed to Pont du Louvre, given its proximity?
The Scoop: The new bridge kinda’ lines up with the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel (not that other Arc) which was commissioned by Napoleon and imagined as a grand entrance-way to the Tuileries palace (itself consumed by fire during the Paris Commune (1871). Back in the day, this was the area where nobles in bespoke regalia rode around to celebrate the birth of the dauphin (dauphin = name given to oldest son or heir apparent of a king of France). And, that riding around equestrian display is called a carrousel. Ergo, Pont du Carrousel.
That’s a Wrap amigos & amigas. What might the future bring?
Stories for upcoming 60secondparis newsletters: STRANGE CONNECTIONS! What is the one odd thing connecting Joan of Arc, Napoleon, David's Marat Sade painting, a part of the actual Bastille and a book made with human flesh (e-yuck) plus a few other famous persons and things? FAMOUS FRENCH AVIATION FIRSTS: France has some amazing aviation firsts, which may include the actual first airplane flight (gotta read the fine print!) …and many other world firsts that I’m still gathering and writing about.
Upcoming Story Element - France’s Clement Ader, Life and Times and Flight
Okay Mateys, before weighing anchor, let me offer an ocean-liner full of merci’s for reading this. Also, you know the drill: please share! If this missive has mysteriously popped into your possession Houdini-esquely, subscribe. It's not magic!
Have a question about Paris you’ve always wondered about? Send it along and let's see what we can learn!
A bientôt - David
In the book I am writing about my great-aunt Marie, based on her diaries from 1930-1941, there is a story of Marie and her mother returning to Long Island from NYC via Brooklyn and passing a big celebration of two French pilots. My explanation of Marie's diary entry on Sept 2, 1930:
...two French aviators landed that day at Curtiss Field in Valley Stream after making the first nonstop trans-Atlantic flight by plane from Paris to New York in 37 hours. Marie and her mother saw the crowds and celebration on their way home, though Marie got the name of the navigator wrong, calling him Delonte. It was actually Maurice Bellonte, and the pilot was Dieudonne Coste, who had the year before broken long-distance flying records by covering almost 5,000 miles from Paris to Quiqihar, China, and another flight later from Paris to Hanoi.
I believe that those lamps are less than 12 meters high. 12 meters is roughly 4 storeys high… 22 meters would be about 7 storeys high!