FRANCE'S MONSIEUR CULTURE...  

     When I met him for hard-boiled-eggs over breakfast, he smiled above his red bow-tie like a mischievous schoolboy. He showed me the main question on that year’s national high-school literary exam. It offered two texts for analysis. One by Molière. The other by my pleased-as-punch host.
     His day-job was running France's most listened-to radio station, RTL, a success over two decades. But he had a more lasting heritage. He had transformed the Gare d’Orsay, a long-derelict railway station, into one of the world's top ten art museums. He had invented cultural philanthropy in the French business sector. He had advised every minister of culture for the past thirty years, mentoring several including the legendary Jack Lang, father of the summer-soltice Fête de la Musique.
    Once the youngest sub-prefect (provincial administrator) in France, he still held the ear of politicians of all backgrounds. He created and ran theater and music festivals all over France. He wrote like an angel: wise, wide-ranging books on, well, just the meaning of life and culture -- for him the same thing. It was only natural that he run UNESCO for three years as its deputy director-general.
    A modern Montaigne, he carried all France in his head, from literature to music to art. A fine bouche, he delighted in good food and wine, saying burgundy was all right for teenagers, but for adults only bordeaux would do.
    Above all, he taught many of us the deeper meaning of friendship. He won us by following Seneca’s ancient advice: “If you wish to have a friend, be a friend.” He reached out to new as well as old acquaintances, enquiring of their health, their work, their dreams, their needs, asking how he might help.
    When Jacques Rigaud died a few days ago, it was national news. At his funeral, his home parish, l’Église Notre-Dame-des-Blancs- Manteaux in Paris’s Marais district, overflowed with his friends and admirers. These included the entire top tier of France’s culture establishment, as well as hundreds of less known people of all ages he had guided. Over twenty insisted on speaking personal testimonials to his contributions and kindnesses.
     As the hearse bore him away, a throng of TV cameras and journalists silently watched. A light rain began to fall. In every mind lingered a last vision of Jacques’ gently ironic smile and his trademark red bow-tie.
    A rich, joyful and generous life. Ponder it next time you visit his majestic Musée d’Orsay.  
                                                                   K.S.