• This is a terrific piece, Jerry. I had no idea the museum (or wines) existed. You have me wanting to see these films, now, and I am hoping they are available on Netflix! Thanks for a good read!

    • Jerry

      David,
      Good luck with Netflix. They are both worth watching, though I would give the edge to Morocco because of the magic of Dietrich under the guidance of Josef Von Sternberg. The ending is especially captivating. Do you have a DVD player?

      • Jerry – Beau Geste is available on DVD to rent on Netflix (yes, we have a DVD player) and is in our queue. Morocco is on their list to acquire, don’t know when. I will keep trying other outlets to see if I can find it. Thanks for your thoughts!

  • Mary Norcross

    Thanks, Jerry. What an informative article! I did not know that the Legion was still operating. The ax wielding engineers–who knew?! And the leather apron symbolizes the pragmatic French. I assume you gathered a bucket load of post cards.

    • Jerry

      Mary,
      Curiously they did not sell any postcards at the museum. Had they I would have happily gobbled them up. Same for the Place des Etats Unis in Paris, of which I will write considerably more in my follow up article.

  • jenny wade

    Great piece, Jerry. Definitely a museum worth a visit for those of us who grew up with Beau Geste and Morocco. The former inspired me to read all of Percival Christopher Wren’s series of “beau” novels, Beau Ideal and Beau Sabreur, completing the set. Although his writing is quite dated now, the pulsing valor and high-minded ideas of the time can still thrill. Some of the poetry coming out of WWI, like I Have a Rendezvous with Death, is fabulous. Thanks a million for publishing this.

    • Jerry

      And thank you Jenny for letting me know of the other “beau” novels. I wonder if they led to film sequels back then? In doing the research on Alan Seeger it seems he did have a following before he perished on the battlefield. I am not sure his poetry stayed in print very long. I think he got himself to Paris a couple of years before 1914, which is considerably earlier than most American writers.