The Paris of Georgia
Atlanta, GA
June 3, 2019
Years ago, as Freshman at Georgia Tech, I walked into a friend’s dorm room and saw on the wall a poster of a beautiful blonde biting into a peach in front what was then an Atlanta skyline of about four notable buildings. In bold text across the top were the words: “Move Over Big Apple!”.
I cringed.
I am from the South and think highly of Atlanta, but this was trying way too hard…like Eddie Murphy trying to sing or Elvis trying to act. This poster was just itching to get sand kicked in its face.
It’s proclamation, and much Atlanta boosterism before and since, reminds me of Chesterton’s assessment of Kipling…that he admired England, but he did not love her; for we admire things with reasons, but love them without reasons. Kipling admired England because she was strong, not because she was English.
Atlanta often comes across as a city seeking approval of modern Kiplings, who value only what is new, strong, and bold, while dismissing tradition, character, and charm. It seems to crave admiration rather than adoration.
Much as we love our families not because they are powerful but because they are ours, we love our city for the innate features, whether great or grating, that make it unique.
And Atlanta has many of those…albeit fewer than before “progressive” civic leaders tore them down and paved them over.
That doesn’t mean Atlanta hasn’t retained or accumulated worthy attributes. Only that she shouldn’t try in vain to be something she isn’t, and thereby end up being not much at all…like Phoenix or Dallas, only with four seasons, more trees, and better topography.
But…if you do pretend to be something you’re not, at least don’t try to be an amalgamation of snooty, stuck-up, arrogant, pretentious Yankees on an island in the Hudson.
Much better to emulate a collection of snooty, stuck-up, arrogant, pretentious Frogs on an island in the Seine.
After all…show some class. Some dignity. Some savoir faire when stealing another town’s identity.
Granted, there is not much originality in this either.
What aspiring city has not at one point in its trajectory proclaimed itself to be “the Paris” of whatever region it claimed to lead?
San Francisco was the “Paris of the West”. Buenos Aires the “Paris of South America”. Saigon the “Paris of the Orient”. Odessa the “Paris of the Ukraine.”
So, naturellement…Atlanta: the Paris of Georgia!
Of course, Atlanta and Paris do have a few connections, one tragic and several superficial.
Air France opened its Atlanta office in 1962, and on this date of that year its inaugural flight from Orly to the Paris of Georgia never made it off the ground…barreling thru the village of Villeneuve-le-Roi in the largest single-aircraft disaster to that time, and the first to kill more than 100 people.
Most victims were Atlanta notables and art patrons, returning from a tour of Europe’s artistic treasures. The Atlanta Memorial Arts Center rose six years later to honor the dead. Eventually re-named for Coca-Cola chairman and philanthropist Robert Woodruff, it remains Midtown’s Parnassus for the city’s artistic Muses.
The disaster and its impact on Atlanta is among the engrossing stories relayed at the Atlanta History Center. This impressive facility hosts perennial and periodic arrays of exhibits, Shutze’s Swan House (of which Mansart would approve), and the panoramic Cyclorama depicting the 1864 Battle of Atlanta.
In its commendable way, this museum does for almost two centuries of Atlanta…albeit with less history and grandeur…what the wonderful Musée Carnavalet achieves for almost two millennia of Paris.
At first (and perhaps every subsequent) glance, these analogies between two very different cities strain credulity. But let’s pull back, rub our eyes, adjust the microscope, and have another look.
We did so this weekend, settling for two nights at the Whitley Hotel in the high-end Buckhead district, featuring shops that could be (and are) at home in the Second Arrondissement.
Slightly west rise the mansions of Georgia governors and foreign consuls, beside the châteaux of Atlanta elite, in neighborhoods recalling the upscale exclusivity of the Seventh, Eighth, or Sixteenth Arrondissements.
The High Museum…within Atlanta’s cultural analog to the First Arrondissement…may not be the Louvre, but from 2006-2009 it did house collections from that illustrious museum while donating a considerable sum to restore several of its venerable galleries.
That was not the first artistic exchange between the two cities. To commemorate the 1962 Orly crash, the French government donated the Rodin sculpture The Shade to the High Museum, before which it still stands, head perpetually bowed, as if in eternal reflection on the tragedy that prompted its passage from Paris.
Atlanta is circumscribed by its Perimeter, Paris by its Périphérique. Within hours of each lie the towns of Mâcon and Macon, which no doubt bear considerable resemblance to each other…probably as much as the old wine regions south of Paris have to the new appellations north of Atlanta.
Both cities have hosted the Olympics…Paris for the second modern games in 1900 and for the Chariots of Fire version 1924, Atlanta the Centennial celebration in 1996. Paris will do so again in five years.
The French are offended to hear all sparkling wine described as “champagne”, just as a local Atlanta company winces when every soft drink is referred to as “Coke”.
In Paris the illustrious dead find eventual peace among large crowds touring or entombed within Père Lachaise cemetery…tho’ many, like La Fontaine, Moliére, and Abelard, required some extra post-mortem effort to relocate their remains to what is now the most visited graveyard on Earth.
In Atlanta, Margaret Mitchell, Bobby Jones, and a host of Atlanta mayors, Georgia governors, and Confederate generals lie beneath the marble and stone that lend a dignified grace to the quiet grounds of Oakland Cemetery. It is much more modest and reserved than its Parisian counterpart, but such a place often speaks loudest when it lowers its voice.
A decade ago, in Atlantic Station, the city raised the volume. The Millennium Gate crowned Atlanta with the largest classical monument since the Jefferson Memorial cast its reflection across the DC tidal basin.
Inspired by the Arch of Titus, it is an obvious analog to the Arc de Triomphe, but also boasts an interactive museum and series of galleries displaying Georgia historical and aesthetic contributions while commemorating Man’s peaceful pursuits since the time of Christ. Tho’ not quite the relics scattered across Parisian churches, the museum does house papyri containing the oldest written gospels of Luke and John.
The Galleria and La Defense, Little Five Points and Le Marais, Virginia Highlands and Le Quartier Latin, Piedmont Park and Les Jardins Luxembourg…the analogies flourish!
Or flounder.
With only a couple days to enjoy life in our city before we returned to living in it, we were reminded that we do not love a place because it is great; it is great because we love it.
Atlanta may, in fact, not be Paris…or even the Big Apple. But it is no small pommes de terre.
JD
