Liberation.

We were at the Ritz Bar. I was on my third martini and Hemingway was on his fourth when the bartender made a speech.  Though the accolades were directed at him, Hemingway leaned into my ear and said, “Bartenders should stick to what they do best – bartending.” I had to agree. The acoustics weren’t conducive to formal speeches, especially long ones.  Besides, our cocktails were getting warm.  We chinked glasses, exchanged nods and sneaked sips during the toast.

1929? 1949? Nope: Aug. 24, 1999.  The Hemingway in question? Jack Hemingway, son of Ernest and Hadley, father to Margaux and Mariel. The occasion?  An exclusive party to celebrate the 55^th anniversary of Ernest Hemingway’s “liberation” of the Ritz.

For those of you who don’t know this particular footnote in Hemingway lore, just after the Allied troops declared victory on Aug. 24, 1944, Hemingway, with a band of irregulars just outside the Paris periphery, sped straight to the Place Vendome.

Their self-appointed mission was to relieve the Nazi officers of their occupation headquarters: the Hotel Ritz.  That night, as word spread that the war was over, Papa and crew played host to one of the most jubilant parties the Ritz has ever seen. Fifty-five years later, people were still celebrating, and still remembering.

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