Saving the Light at Chartres Read online

  SAVING THE LIGHT AT CHARTRES

  How the Great Cathedral and Its Stained-Glass Treasures Were Rescued during World War II

  VICTOR A. POLLAK

  STACKPOLE

  BOOKS

  Guilford, Connecticut

  Published by Stackpole Books

  An imprint of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc.

  4501 Forbes Blvd., Ste. 200

  Lanham, MD 20706

  www.rowman.com

  Distributed by NATIONAL BOOK NETWORK

  800-462-6420

  Copyright © 2020 by Victor A. Pollak

  Maps created by Mary Lee Eggart

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote passages in a review.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information available

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data available

  Names: Pollak, Victor A., 1948– author.

  Title: Saving the light at Chartres : how the great cathedral and its stained-glass treasures were rescued during World War II / Victor A. Pollak.

  Description: Guilford, Connecticut : Stackpole Books, [2020] | Includes bibliographical references and index. | Summary: “The cathedral at Chartres survived World War II thanks to the efforts of French citizens and an unrecognized American officer. In a book written in the spirit of The Monuments Men, Victor Pollak describes the efforts to save Chartres Cathedral”—Provided by publisher.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2019038528 (print) | LCCN 2019038529 (ebook) | ISBN 9780811739016 (cloth) | ISBN 9780811768979 (epub)

  Subjects: LCSH: Stained glass windows—France—Chartres. | Cathédrale de Chartres. | Art treasures in war—France—Chartres—History—20th century. | Cultural property—Protection—France—Chartres—History—20th century. | Griffith, Welborn Barton, 1901–1944.

  Classification: LCC NK5349.C5 P65 2020 (print) | LCC NK5349.C5 (ebook) | DDC 748.50944/51240904—dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019038528

  LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2019038529

  The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992.

  For Elizabeth Russell Pollak

  CONTENTS

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Contents

  Preface

  Prologue—Reims, a Burning Symbol of Hope for Preservationists

  PART I: WORLD WAR I CHAPTER 1: Chartres Cathedral and Its Windows

  CHAPTER 2: Groceries: Quanah, Texas, 1914–1918

  CHAPTER 3: Risks: Paris and Chartres, 1915–1918

  CHAPTER 4: Griffith Faces the World: Texas, New York, Manila, and Shanghai, 1918–1935

  CHAPTER 5: Warming Cauldron: Paris and Chartres, 1919–1936

  PART II: THE INTERWAR YEARS CHAPTER 6: Spy Hap: Shiojiri, Japan, 1935

  CHAPTER 7: Zay Transcends Confrontation: Paris and Chartres, Spring 1935–1937

  CHAPTER 8: Griff in Training . . . But for What? Wyoming to Georgia, August 1935–January 1940

  CHAPTER 9: Jump-Start: Chartres, September 1938–January 1940

  CHAPTER 10: Removal: Chartres, August 1939–January 1940

  PART III: WORLD WAR II CHAPTER 11: Fort Hood and Leavenworth Faculty, with Nell: Texas, Kansas, and California, Fall 1940–1942

  CHAPTER 12: Stunned into Action: Chartres and Paris, September 1939–June 1940

  CHAPTER 13: Transport: Chartres and Berchères-les-Pierres, June 1940

  CHAPTER 14: To Quarry or Back to Crypt, for a Long Wait: Fongrenon and Chartres, June 1940

  CHAPTER 15: Maneuvers: Kentucky to New York, April 1943–February 1944

  CHAPTER 16: Goodbye to Both: New York City, Early February 1944

  CHAPTER 17: War Hits Again: The Dordogne and Chartres, June 1940–May 1944

  CHAPTER 18: Collared at HQ: Marlborough, UK, and Normandy, Spring 1944–July 1944

  CHAPTER 19: Race across France, Resistance Meetup: Normandy, July–Early August 1944

  CHAPTER 20: Battle Prelude, First Probe of the Cathedral: La Ferté-Bernard and Chartres, August 1944

  CHAPTER 21: Clearing the Church: Chartres, August 16, 1944

  CHAPTER 22: In Command at Lèves: Chartres and Lèves, August 16, 1944

  CHAPTER 23: Aftermath—Snipers and a Scrappy Lieutenant: Chartres, August 16–19, 1944

  PART IV: POSTWAR CHAPTER 24: Light Returns to Its Shrine: Fongrenon and Chartres, Winter 1944–1945 to November 1950

  Epilogue—Chartres and the United States of America: Spring 1944–1995

  Afterword: Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Notes on Sources

  Bibliography

  About the Author

  I

  II

  III

  IV

  V

  VI

  VII

  VIII

  IX

  X

  XI

  XII

  XIII

  XIV

  XV

  XVI

  XVII

  XVIII

  XIX

  XX

  XXI

  XXII

  XXIII

  XXIV

  XXV

  XXVI

  XXVII

  XXVIII

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  27

  28

  29

  30

  31

  32

  33

  34

  35

  36

  37

  38

  39

  40

  41

  42

  43

  44

  45

  46

  47

  48

  49

  50

  51

  52

  53

  54

  55

  56

  57

  58

  59

  60

  61

  62

  63

  64

  65

  66

  67

  68

  69

  70

  71

  72

  73

  74

  75

  76

  77

  78

  79

  80

  81

  82

  83

  84

  85

  86

  87

  88

  89

  90

  91

  92

  93

  94

  95

  96

  97

  98

  99

  100

  101

  102

  103

  104

  105

  106

  107
/>
  108

  109

  110

  111

  112

  113

  114

  115

  116

  117

  118

  119

  120

  121

  122

  123

  124

  125

  126

  127

  128

  129

  130

  131

  132

  133

  134

  135

  136

  137

  138

  139

  140

  141

  142

  143

  144

  145

  146

  147

  148

  149

  150

  151

  152

  153

  154

  155

  156

  157

  158

  159

  160

  161

  162

  163

  164

  165

  166

  167

  168

  169

  170

  171

  172

  173

  174

  175

  176

  177

  178

  179

  180

  181

  182

  183

  184

  185

  186

  187

  188

  189

  190

  191

  192

  193

  194

  195

  196

  197

  198

  199

  200

  201

  202

  203

  204

  205

  206

  207

  208

  209

  210

  211

  212

  213

  214

  215

  216

  217

  218

  219

  220

  221

  222

  223

  224

  225

  226

  227

  228

  229

  230

  231

  232

  233

  234

  235

  236

  237

  238

  239

  240

  241

  242

  243

  244

  245

  246

  247

  248

  249

  250

  251

  252

  253

  254

  255

  256

  257

  258

  259

  260

  261

  262

  263

  264

  265

  266

  267

  268

  269

  270

  271

  272

  273

  274

  275

  276

  277

  278

  279

  280

  281

  282

  283

  284

  285

  286

  287

  288

  289

  290

  291

  292

  293

  294

  295

  296

  297

  298

  299

  300

  301

  302

  303

  304

  305

  306

  307

  308

  309

  310

  311

  312

  313

  314

  315

  316

  317

  318

  319

  320

  321

  322

  323

  324

  325

  326

  327

  328

  329

  330

  331

  332

  333

  334

  335

  336

  337

  338

  339

  340

  341

  342

  343

  344

  345

  346

  347

  348

  349

  350

  351

  352

  353

  354

  355

  356

  357

  358

  359

  360

  361

  362

  363

  364

  365

  366

  367

  368

  385

  Guide

  Cover

  Title

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Contents

  Preface

  Prologue—Reims, a Burning Symbol of Hope for Preservationists

  Start of Content

  Epilogue—Chartres and the United States of America: Spring 1944–1995

  Afterword: Author’s Note

  Acknowledgments

  Notes on Sources

  Bibliography

  About the Author

  Chartres and Vicinity

  Western Dordogne and Fongrenon Castle (Château de Fongrenon)

  PREFACE

  IN MAY 2013, MY WIFE AND I DROVE A GOOD PORTION OF THE ROUTE of what would be that year’s Tour de France, its hundredth running, taking a path through a countryside abundant with landmarks of historical significance to the race, to France, and to the world: Nice, Marseilles, Ax 3 Domaines, Saint-Malo, Mont-Saint-Michel, Lyon, Mont Ventoux, Alpe d’Huez, and of course the fabled cobbles of the Champs-Élysées in Paris. There was so much to see in this beautiful country, so many treasures like the Bayeux Tapestry, châteaus and vineyards and mountains and cathedrals—all of them jewels to our eyes—but something in Paris struck me as particularly poignant: I remember standing inside Sainte-Chapelle in Paris, with its medieval stained-glass windows that transformed daylight into lilac. We were bathed in majesty and from this feeling coming to a profound understanding: a cultural monument—a cathedral, a statue, a bicycle race—is a jewel for the world to keep and to cherish for as long as humans live on this earth.

  A year later, I was in my living room watching a CNN newscast when crackles of an explosion resounded from my TV. A stone building erupted in the Iraqi desert from a bomb blast deep in the ground, sending a shock wave of black-gray dust and smoke over a dry field. Cannonballs of sandstone fragmented in all directions. The voice-over reporter spoke: “More than three thousand years of history obliterated in seconds. This video was released by ISIS. CNN cannot independently verify its authenticity, but it purports to show the radicals destroying Nimrud, one of the most important archaeological sites in Iraq.”

  In the video, I saw a bearded youth wielding a sledgehammer and smashing it into a stone wall covered with relief carvings. Pieces fell to the floor. He struck again and shoved it off the wall. It crashed onto the stone floor and scattered fist-sized chunks and dust.

  Another man on a ladder swung a hammer and severed a white plaster sculpture from a wall. It was a man’s face, flat and round, with prominent forehead, Roman hair, and dark holes for eyes, which looked straight forward, almost smiling. When th
e blow struck, the eyes looked down despondently, while the face ripped loose and crashed to the ground, breaking into chips and dust.

  Again, the voice-over: “These are remnants of the ancient Assyrian civilization. Nimrud used to be its capital. They’ve stood since the thirteenth-century BC and survived many wars but were destroyed by the militants—probably in less than a day.”

  ISIS had posted this video within weeks of the destruction.

  The following year, in the public square under the ancient Arch of Triumph in Palmyra, in Syria, built in the second millennium BC, ISIS publicly beheaded Khaled al-Asaad, a university professor and Palmyra’s general manager for museums. He had spent his life preserving antiquities. “His crime,” according to a Syrian official, “was refusing to pledge allegiance to ISIS and refusing . . . to reveal the location of archaeological treasures and two chests of gold” that ISIS thought were in the city.

  ISIS claimed that it destroyed the antiquities out of religious duty, but its real motivation was purely financial and hypocritical: “looting archaeological sites to support its thriving illegal trade in antiquities.” When I saw the CNN video, a sense of loss and anger welled up inside me. Elise Blackwell wrote, “It is a tragedy when human gifts that have survived across generations are disrespected for any reason short of basic survival. To loot artifacts for spending money—or to allow that to happen—is a violation of history.”

  Around the same time, I’d also been listening to some lectures about great cathedrals, including Saint-Denis, Notre-Dame de Paris, Reims and Rouen Cathedrals, and Notre-Dame de Chartres. In World War II, the lecturer noted, Chartres’ stained-glass windows had been removed and hidden in the countryside to protect them from war damage.

  I was amazed. I wondered how a project of such magnitude could be accomplished. I imagined scores of French workers in 1939, under threat of German invasion, working through the night—hoisting cranes, scaffolding, cables, and packing cases from trucks into the cathedral, and then craftsmen dismantling and removing thousands of glass pieces to be packed and transported. Where did they hide them? Who planned the project, and who did the work?

  Unconnected in space and loosely connected in time, these three experiences are how this book started.

  Over the years, I’d heard of cultural monuments and artworks under attack during World War II. Yet hearing of Chartres in the wake of seeing that ISIS video propelled me to learn more about what’s been done in the past to protect cultural treasures. How have people prepared to avoid such destruction and looting?

  Chartres’ 176 windows are the largest collection of twelfth- and thirteenth-century stained glass in one place on Earth, consisting of twenty-seven thousand square feet of glass. Many individual windows are more than a dozen feet wide and twenty feet tall and have as many as fifty panels. The collection comprises 5,500 panels.

  But among the thousands of books written about the nine-hundred-year-old Chartres Cathedral—and the many about its windows—none describes this story of the windows’ removal during the war.

  What better demonstration of reverence for the distinctly human achievement the windows represent than to dismantle, pack, and transport them to secret locations to protect them? That task, I later learned, had also been accomplished in World War I at Chartres Cathedral, another chapter in the nine-hundred-year story of the windows’ survival through religious wars, fires, and revolutions.