The Walk Page #2

Well, thank you.

Annie, may I buy you a glass of wine?

No, I don't think that's a good idea.

Yes, then I will make you an arrangement.

If you let me buy you a glass of wine,

I will never hang my rope anywhere in the

Latin Quarter ever again.

You don't give up. Do you?

No. No, I'm very, uh, persistent.

My dream.

- And this is you.

- Yes.

It will be the most glorious

high wire walk in history.

And how high must this wire be

to make so much glory?

Over 100 stories high.

Where do trees like this grow?

These are not trees.

Two magnificent towers.

One hundred meters taller

than the Eiffel Tower itself.

I see.

What do you think?

I don't know. It looks so...

- So...

- Beautiful.

Beautiful, yes.

And dangerous.

And completely insane.

And you're a mad man.

Yes, I am mad, but this...

This is my dream.

Then, if it's your dream, you must do it.

But even if everybody tells me I'm mad?

Well, you shouldn't care about

what other people think.

Okay, but I care what you think.

I love your dream, Philippe.

- Yes?

- Yes.

Do you want to know what I think about you?

- No.

- No?

- Not even a little bit?

- No, no.

Okay, but I'm going to tell you anyway.

You can tell me, but I won't care.

I know a place where

there are two beautiful trees.

I didn't realize it at the time

but Annie had become my first accomplice.

- Annie.

- Yes?

I was thinking

you should come up here with me.

No, I don't think so.

Yes.

It will be your baptism of the wire.

No.

Come on, Annie.

You must trust me.

Okay.

And breathe

and step.

Indeed, there were two beautiful trees

growing in the park of Annie's art school.

So, she arranged for me to

be able to hang my wire there.

It was perfect,

'cause I could practice every day

and I could see Annie as well.

Then, one day, while I was on my wire

I was approached by a very

serious-looking young man.

Do you mind if I take your photo?

Perhaps.

I am Philippe.

Jean-Louis.

Jean-Louis,

do you speak English, Jean-Louis?

Yes. Why?

Because I must practice.

I'm going to America.

To perform?

Exactly.

But my performance will not just be a show.

It will be a coup.

Yes.

I intend to rig my wire in secret

on the most spectacular stage in the world.

And then, without warning,

I will appear.

And I will perform a surprise

and illegal wire walk.

If it works, it will be the

artistic coup of the century.

Wow.

Well, you, my friend,

can see my photographs any time.

They're very rebellious.

So, you are not just a photographer,

you are an anarchist as well?

All artists are anarchists to some degree.

- Don't you agree?

- Yes.

And you, my artist, anarchist friend,

can be my

official photographer.

And so this is how

I make friends with Jean-Louis,

my second accomplice.

If that were to happen during your coup,

it would be the artistic disaster

of the century.

I need to know more.

Don't you know

how to knock on a door?

I need you to teach me

how to rig a high wire.

High wire for what?

You're a street juggler.

But I need to know

how to tie the correct knots.

I need to know what kind of cable to use, the

weight, the thickness, the load strength.

So, you want me

to just give you my secrets.

Secrets I've spent a lifetime learning.

Secrets I've only given to my sons.

You want me to just hand them over to you.

I can pay you. I have money.

I don't care what it costs.

Meet me at le cirque

at sunrise.

Bring your juggling money.

Place wood blocks between

the cable and mast.

Okay.

The wood blocks act as buffer,

so when masts flex, the wire won't snap.

And always, always

check the rigging yourself.

Never step on a wire

if you've not checked

all of the rigging yourself.

- Capisce?

- Okay.

There was this great Polish guy,

wire walker, Roman.

He said he could tell

when cable was at correct tension

through his ass and through his ear. Ah!

Underneath,

through the ring,

lock it off.

Tighten.

And pay.

Philippe, you give me broken money.

- No, it works.

- It's broke.

So, Papa

Rudy let me travel with his troupe.

Of course, I never did any performance.

But any time the big top was empty,

I would practice on the wire.

Most wire walkers, they

die when they arrive.

They think they have arrived,

but they're still on the wire.

If you have three steps to do,

and you take those steps arrogantly,

if you think you are invincible,

you're going to die.

This one, I give to you for free.

Merci.

A few weeks later,

I did my first official public walk

in this tiny little village.

It's so small, it's not even on a map.

But the mayor of this village,

every spring he puts on a festival.

And Papa Rudy convinced him to hire me

to do a walk over this little lake,

which was more like a swamp.

Is it okay?

No. Through your ass

and your feet, you tell me.

Annie came,

she set up a turntable for music.

And Jean-Louis came to take pictures.

So, I begin my performance,

and everything's going very well.

But then I start to hear this murmur of

some laughing and giggling,

and it turns out, there is also a

fishing contest that afternoon

on this lake, more like a swamp.

And the fishermen, they're drinking wine.

They're yelling insults at me.

They're laughing at me

while I'm trying to work.

Now, walking on the wire

is as much mental as it is physical.

If you lose your concentration,

you lose your balance.

Philippe!

So here I am,

in the mud to my knees

doing the Papa Rudy compliment.

This was my first performance.

A failure.

And after this, I didn't feel so good.

Then one day,

I was walking along the Seine,

feeling sorry for myself.

When I look up,

and I saw the towers of Notre-Dame.

And I said,

"This is where I must put my wire."

"This is how I will redeem myself."

And so, under the cover of darkness,

and with a false key,

Jean-Louis and I sneak into the cathedral.

I attach some fishing line to

one of my juggling balls,

and I throw it across to the other side

where Jean-Louis is waiting.

Then, we attach this fishing line

to a small rope,

and we pass that between the towers.

Then we pass a larger rope.

Then, we attach this larger rope

to the steel walk cable.

So, Jean-Louis and I stay up all night

installing a wire between

these two ancient towers.

And when the first tourists

start to arrive in the morning,

I begin.

And I succeed.

I perform my first surprise,

illegal high wire walk.

This is also the first time

I get the taste of this sensation.

This feeling that I'm crossing into a...

A truly different world.

And I was redeemed.

Or so I thought.

These Parisians,

they know nothing but contempt.

They refuse to appreciate beauty.

Every other country, Germany, Spain,

England, even Russia, they salute me.

They call me a maestro.

They call me a valiant young poet.

But no, not the French.

They call me "delinquent."

They call me "vandal."

- Philippe.

- Vandal!

Look.

This is a sign.

In the same newspaper

as my Notre-Dame story?

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