Shotgun Wedding

In the village of Big Heartbreak, Crevecoeur-le-Grand, about 50 miles from Paris, nervous chickens went to roost, hysterical cows were herded into their barns, and the town's leading citizens put away their shotguns last week after such a wedding as the village will not soon forget. Josephine Baker got married and became a French citizen at the same time.

Few U. S. entertainers have ever had the success on Continental stages of honey-skinned, good-natured Josephine Baker. Born in St. Louis 30-odd years ago of an allegedly white father & a colored washerwoman, Josephine's education stopped with grade school. At the age of 14 she was already hoofing in second-rate St. Louis vaudeville houses, where she met and married one Billy Baker, a tap dancer who brought her to New York and eventually found her a job in the chorus of the No. 2 road company of Shuffle Along. In Philadelphia, fame came to her one evening when she lost her shoe, did an impromptu cooch dance with her eyes crossed. It brought her back to New York and a two-year job in the Broadway company of the same show. In 1925 a Mrs. Reagon, vaudeville booking agent, offered Josephine $250 a week to go to Paris. With the exception of a disastrous attempt to reinvade Broadway in 1936, Josephine Baker has remained in Europe ever since. Parisians loved her shrill, piping soprano, her lacquered hair and extravagant clothes, her habit of dancing nude but for a girdle of artificial bananas. She paraded the streets of Budapest with two swans on a leash, kept a perfumed pig in her Paris nightclub. In 1937, Josie Baker announced to the world her marriage to an Italian count, one Pepito di Abatino. Research proved first that the count's title was bogus, next that they were not married. But married in earnest was Josephine Baker last week to Jean Lion, wealthy French manufacturer and amateur aviator. Crevecoeur-le-Grand was chosen for the nuptials, the village mayor, six-foot Jammy Schmidt performing the ceremony.

When not mayoring in the village, Jammy Schmidt serves as clerk of the Chamber of Deputies in Paris. To honor the wedding, local hunters formed a shotgun guard of honor, blazed away with both barrels as the happy couple left the town hall. The rest of the day they spent throwing percussion caps under the legs of terrified horses and cows, drinking free toasts.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.