Muguette Béroud
written in the small village of Lalley-en-Trièves, French Alps, July 2002

I just cannot remember how I met Varda.
Was I impressed? Amused? Bewildered, maybe? Since I was so “new” in the Sausalito of 1960, was I taking things and people simply the way they were? Varda was, and still is - Sausalito - (the Sausalito of the sixties!) He is so vivid in my mind and —- in my home in Grenoble, France. The big collage has faded a little; its colors are softer and the three personages: a Spanish « douairière », a young virgin and his little brother (a funny little page) live now with me and Zoé my cat , a peaceful life. Once a week, I dust them very carefully, a pin is still fixed in the middle of the girl’s skirt - and I can see Varda running around, very busy and talkative.

I traded this collage for my first American car, a huge white Buick convertible. I was then teaching French at the Sarah Dix Hamlin School in San Francisco and I guess I did nt have the $500.00 it cost (the price is still written on the back of the collage). I guess Varda needed a car. We were both happy with our deal. However, I was almost hurt when I saw my car later on. Varda had painted it all over with wild colors. "That way, when I go to L.A. on these huge parkings I can find it!" he told me.

I went back to Sausalito looking for « des traces de Varda » in September 2001.
Not far from the Vallejo I met one of his old friend, Roger Packer, who told me that « my » Buick had ended as a trailer for Varda s sail-boat (he had removed the top!). Once, Varda was stopped by the police while, together with some young men, he was pushing « the all thing » on the road, slowing down the traffic. Of course, he got away with it. His special charm always worked out told me Roger Packer.

Yes, Varda always found a way - he was so confident in himself and in other people - knowing and needing the essential in life.

His legendary sail-boat!
He had bought it from the army for $50.00. He had painted it with bright colors with an eye on the prow. He had sewn together strong pieces of cloth to make the sails (also in colours); the pole itself was homemade. Of course there was no motor - it was replaced, when needed, by some young men muscles. Varda, “cheveux au vent” was the captain and was just magnificent! The legend says he was sailing mostly with young and beautiful hippie girls and boys. I can remember times when, the tide and the strong men muscles were not enough to take us back to the Vallejo and we had to be pulled by some nice motor-boat.

Varda had a special talent to tell stories, sometimes in fluent French.
While listening to them I was often amazed. They were very much like his collages - with a sense of marvelous, with wandering meanders which kept us fascinated. Once, Evan S. Connell, the writer was listening to him. Later on he told me : I’d like to write a book :”Varda’s stories to Wagadu” (Varda’s daughter). Of course I told Varda about it. With a malicious smile Varda said : “ Well if he does, I’ll make a disc - a silent disc - all the women in love with Evan Connell will buy it - they’ll listen to it - “there, there, it’s when he....” Everybody knew that Evan Connell was very handsome and ...very silent.

Varda had the reputation of loving young girls - of having wild parties but this is much exaggerated.
I agree with Anais Nin who, in her diaries, says about some writings mentioning “outrageous parties”: ”The comment on Varda was absurd.” Personally, I went to some of his parties, usually Varda would go to bed quite early and left his guests to what they were up to.

Varda loved natural beauty in women and could not stand an ugly woman. I had a friend, a very bright girl who wanted to meet him and he always refused: ”She has a mustache! She tried to talk to me on the boat coming back to America! Never, never!”

Once, we were on the Vallejo and there was a young girl, very plain, hippy type. She was resting on the deck and Varda was playing with her hair and saying to me “It’s just like gold!” I marveled at the fact that he could see beauty and I could only see dirty red hair!

Another time, I was invited in a Pacific Height home to a friend’s party where Varda was supposed to come to. He came and... left right away. Later on when I asked him why he had left, he told me “All the women were dressed in black, just like for a funeral.”

Varda’s bath tub was right in the main room. One evening we were having a gathering when a beautiful girl with very long hair, took a bubble bath. She had started dancing and while dancing had removed all her clothes, but there was nothing really indecent since one of her friend had hidden her (more or less) with beautiful color fabrics.

Of course sometimes some of these people seemed a little weird to me, like Wagadu's boyfriend who spent a lot of time standing on his head on the right corner of the entrance. When I asked why he enjoyed so much having his head down, I was told that it was his way of relaxing.

Varda was a gentleman.
When I broke my leg on KT22 in Squaw Valley he insisted to come to my place and cook for me. I’ll never forget the way he tossed the salad in a big salad bowl - with his fingers(clean?) - and with many leaves springing on the floor. I had a cast up to my hip on one leg and I was thinking:” how am I going to manage to pick up these leaves without breaking the other leg?” Varda was an excellent cook. I still enjoy cooking chicken his way. It is delicious.

We also gave Varda beautiful parties, especially on his birthdays (September 14th, I believe).
At the last one we rented some huge dry docks and people would come by boat since these dry docks were away from the bay shore. Some of us had written a play and Varda was enjoying it, sitting on the wicker throne we had offered him. At least two dozen guitar players were playing Flamenco. At each corner of the dock there was a huge barbecue . Varda was happy.

We accompagnied him for the last time on January 31,1971, giving his ashes to the sea, sharing bread, wine, fruit & cheese.

In the sixties, part of the ferry-boat the Vallejo was occupied by Dr. Alan W. Watts, a philosopher scholar.
I visited Alan Watts once. His part of the boat was the exact “contraire” of Varda’s part, it was sober, stern and monastic.While Alan Watts, a leading figure in the consciousness-expansion movement was investigating the nature of the self: ”The Book” - “The Way of Zen” etc., Varda “knew it all”! He was simply enjoying life tremendously and he wanted to make people around him happpy ; he was not only good, witty, he was also a “sage” he had found a way to transform beautiful mirages into real life, around him and on his collages.

“You can call me Yanko!” (Jean Varda)
When Agnès Varda, well-known cineast of art movies, came to California in 1967 she met Varda, her “almost” uncle for the first time and she fell in love with him! she made a short but beautiful movie “Oncle Yanco”. She had only three days before returning back to France, in such a short time she was able to truly understand all the beauty of Varda’s soul and she ends the movie with these words:

“Oui, Varda était tout cela.” —- Muguette Béroud