Hemingway was an erratic character – one we associate with the greatest novels of course. His short, precise prose about his image of manhood are thick within the canon of American literature: women, hunting, liquor, and fishing. So you know that story about old Hem liberating the Ritz in 1944. The one where he famously rolled up in a Jeep with some friends, guns ready and set to blaze, probably a little sloshed. Hemingway was, at the time, a war correspondent in World War ll with a French resistance group. He had requested that they “free” the Ritz; a complicated and tall order for a group which wasn’t even military. When he was denied by the chief he went rogue. But would we expect anything less? He burst into the hotel lobby ready to fight for his favourite Parisian hotel clubhouse. At this point however, the Nazis had already fled and Hem was told he was welcome into the hotel as long as he and his buddies left all guns at the door. This was the infamous evening where he ordered a round of 51 dry martinis for all his comrades to celebrate the liberation of Paris from German occupation. It’s likely this was also the soiree that kindled his life long friendship with Charles Ritz – the only son of César Ritz and heir to the Ritz hotel and family fortune.
The thing about Ritz is that he was tied to the duty of his family namesake, while Hem was more or less a social pariah – ready to chase bulls, fight like a mercenary in the wars of Europe and of course spend his free time near a stream, fishing for trout. But as different as the men may have seemed, the two wanted the same things; to exist on the fringes of high society, indulging in fine dining and drink while chasing the freedom of the great and wild outdoors. Hemingway was the anti-establishment poster child – bull headed – and yet existed within the same fabric as those who made up polite society, those like Charles Ritz.
Before having returned to Paris, Ritz was a man of the American West. He fought in the first world war in his youth. The two had this in common. When he finished his duty, he spent his time perfecting his craft in fly fishing. When it came time, Charles returned to Paris in the ‘30s to fulfil his role as hotelier at Place Vendôme. This is where the two men existed in similar circles for nearly a decade. By this time, Charles was already an accomplished fisherman and a pioneer in the field who managed to bridge the gap between the upper echelons of Parisian society with rugged outdoors sports. He invented the parabolic fishing rod, which made it easier for fishers to cast bigger flies, thus catching bigger fish in smaller bodies of water. Think trout fishing. This would make him exactly the kind of pal we’d imagine Hemingway to have.
Although Hemingway was already an experienced fisherman himself, Ritz influenced the American writer’s casting style. Ritz introduced Hem to new sorts of angles and methods like the “high-speed/high-line” casting technique that completely transformed the world of fly fishing. Ritz, arguably, single handedly elevated the sport to something refined and desirable among the members of upper crust society, both in Parisian and American circles. It was clear Hemingway respected his craft and regarded him as a true peer.
Ritz, being highly involved in the sport, was also the founder of the Fario Club, which at one point, was one of the most exclusive fishing clubs in the world. It continues today, albeit a bit smaller now, and awards members who actively care to improve and maintain the health of their local fishing spots in his memory.
In all of his innovation, perhaps most interestingly, Charles was a writer too – in his own right. In 1959, he authored A Fly Fisher’s Life, which became one of the most beloved and renowned titles in fly fishing literature. In the book’s foreword, Hemingway writes, “Charles Ritz is an iconoclast who never hesitates to destroy an idol in order to deal with true and important facts.” He further wrote that, “In today’s world very few people will ever have the opportunity to fish as much as Mr. Charles. Even if they did, even fewer will ever be able to fish as well.” A true testament to the kind of friendship and respect that existed between the two. And despite the responsibilities of being an heir to one of the grandest fortunes in the world, Charles managed to make the time to mentor Ernest’s son, a young Jack Hemingway, in the art of fishing.
Ritz took over the responsibility of the family business and assumed presidency of the Ritz in 1953, while still finding time to take a fishing trip or two with old Hem until the end of his life. They remained close and faithful friends until Hemingway passed in 1961. Charles Ritz ran the Ritz hotel until his passing in 1976.
“When I dream of an afterlife or of paradise, it happens at the Ritz in Paris.” -Ernest Hemingway
In 1994, what was once the “ladies bar” at the Ritz became what is now known as The Bar Hemingway. Memorabilia that nods to Hemingway’s life, and perhaps less obviously, his friendship with Charles, hangs on the wall. On the menu, you can even find drinks that they were probably sharing in their day – including “Death in the Afternoon”, a cocktail Hemingway himself invented.
It’s as if the great friendship between them still echo inside the walls of the Ritz – where you can have a drink and feel as if you’re listening to them discuss angles and trout flies.
Speaking of trout flies – we have a pretty special and unusual collection at the Cabinet in Paris closely tied to the friendship between Ernest and Charles…
Yes, those are Ernest Hemingway’s actual trout flies in a box. Yes, they are for sale.
Words by Jessy Brewer.
