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French partyers had a better chance of hearing Bo Diddley at Golf Drouot from 45-rpm singles brought into the country by Americans than on the France Musique radio station.Īnd whereas Johnny Hallyday felt free to mimic Elvis, where were the black French who might’ve copied the Ike & Tina Turner Revue? People like my wife’s family-originally from the French West Indies of Martinique-made up the population of black France, along with Africans from French-colonized countries like Senegal, Algeria, and the Ivory Coast. Record companies’ global distribution lacked the proper reach. But the soul music of black American labels like Stax and Motown was still largely the stuff of cult followings. Some (like Hallyday) imitated the rockabilly style of rock & roll from the U.S. Practically speaking, to be in France back then meant that local radio mainly supported hits like “Les Mauvais Garçons” by Johnny Hallyday and other homegrown singers like him. I am old enough to recall the days before streaming services, broadband internet, digital file sharing, and international cable networks-all things that subsequent generations of music lovers have long been used to. Musically, the world of the mid-’60s takes of bit of imagination to conjure. ‘Twist and Shout’ by the Isley Brothers, it was sung in Morocco before the Beatles covered it!” “And there, they brought the records that came from America on the week of their release. military air bases in Sidi Slimane and Kenitra. As a teenager in Morocco, he encountered the music that formed the foundation of rock & roll while partying at U.S. “I was going to the grunts’ dances every Saturday,” the singer told Agence France-Presse thirteen years ago. The lanky nineteen-year-old with the relaxed afro had rechristened himself Vigon. This went on for almost a decade before an African greengrocer on vacation named Abdelghafour Mouhsine made his way to the stage in November 1964, covering Little Richard songs like “Long Tall Sally” and fronting a local band called Les Lemons.

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Installing a Seeburg jukebox full of seven-inch vinyl records brought in by American soldiers stationed in the city, Golf Drouot was soon alive with the sounds of Sam Cooke, Ray Charles, Jackie Wilson, Fats Domino, and more. Inspired by Whisky à Gogo over in the sixth arrondissement, a bartender floated the idea of attracting a cool crowd with American rock & roll. The horseshoe-shaped area currently occupied by kids unboxing Happy Meals once housed an indoor mini golf course in the ’50s (hence its name).

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Sunglasses and sport coats, mod cuts and miniskirts. Casting my mind back to black-and-white pictures from the early ’60s that I googled the day before, I imagine the corner of the block crowded with young adults, all waiting in line underneath the red neon sign reading golf drouot.

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I cross the street and photograph Pause Corée alone, then with adjacent McDonald’s in the frame, as Parisians zip by on rented electric bicycles or wander the sidewalk absorbed in their smartphones. Picture the Paradise Garage mashed up with CBGB, and voilà. Climbing a forty-step staircase once led clubheads to an expanded space above the current-day McDonald’s (formerly Café D’Angleterre) to a dance floor area with a small stage. I arrange my camouflage cloth mask and walk into the restaurant, looking past colorful banners to the exposed brick walls they hang from: the original walls of Golf Drouot. A quaint Korean bistro called Pause Corée now occupies the address-once a hangout spot for David Bowie, the Who, and the Moroccan soul man I’m specifically in search of, Vigon. Tracing Southern soul music’s international migration led me to 2 rue Drouot in the Opéra district. Where Boulevard Montmartre meets the rue Drouot, I finally notice the small plaque I came searching for, marking this McDonald’s as a former “temple du rock” from 1955 to 1981: Le Golf Drouot nightclub. On the corner, an older woman wearing a hijab sits outside underneath an olive umbrella, feeding her child pomme frites. Six weeks after the French capital ended an eight-month-long COVID curfew, cafés, coffee shops, and fast-fooderies still pronounce to the public they’re open for business. A forest green sign hanging above globally familiar golden arches announces ouvert, on the first level of an Haussmannian-style building in the ninth arrondissement of Paris.