The Forgotten Treehouse Barsof Bygone Summers in Paris
There was once a place that drew crowds of Parisians away from their grand boulevards and sidewalk cafés to rediscover their inner child, wine & dine in chestnut tree houses and celebrate summer like Robinson Crusoe.
He created a restaurant perched in an old Chestnut tree he called the Grand Robinson. It was an instant success and competing taverns and restaurants multiplied quickly, adopting the same Crusoe theme along the Rue Malabry. In 1888, “Le Grand Robinson”, not to be confused with “the Grand Arbre”, which set up shop just opposite, had to change its name to “Le Vrai Arbre de Robinson” (the Real Tree Robinson”), in order to set itself apart from the competition.
In this unusual forest setting, dance halls and bars entertained Parisians in exotic island huts, adults and children alike amused themselves on rides, swings and various attractions and participated in donkey races (after a little too much wine).
Customers in chestnut treehouses were served lunch of roast chicken and champagne, their meals hoisted up to them in baskets via rope pulley systems. In 1855, a food critic wrote that ‘lavish tables were set and lovebirds without feathers but forks in hand exchanged happy kisses in the breeze, witnessed only by the foliage’.
For Parisians who couldn’t flock to the seaside during the summer months (but could now escape the city thanks to the expansion of the “suburban” railway lines around Paris in the late 1850s), Les Guingettes de Robinson provided a uniquely enchanting and exotic summer adventure. For over a century, this Robinson Crusoe Village was a Parisian paradise.
During the Second World War however, the spirit of the guingette fell out of fashion and after the war the Robinson dance halls and taverns began closing one after the other. In the 1950s, one of the popular dance hall pavillions was sold to a Renault factory, before giving way to private homes.
In an attempt to revive the original “Vrai Arbre de Robinson” in the 1970s, notable backers, including French singer Johnny Hallyday invested in the Robinson Village, but to no avail. The last true tavern, Le Grand Arbre closed in 1976. The spirit of Robinson Crusoe was then replaced by an American Far West saloon universe, Indian village, western show and disco, only to close a few years later.
Pictured above, before & after at 32 Rue de Malabry, hidden behind a disused building, no one passing by would give it a second look today. One of the original Robinson Crusoe statues that once stood outside to attract customers still exists however, currently standing in a nearby public garden.
Of the dance hall taverns where the sound of music, laughter and tapping feet once echoed out onto the leafy streets, only a handful of structures remain in tact, such as the Pavillon Lafontaine, saved from decay in the 1990s but never revived for its original purpose, looking out of place and from another time in this affluent suburban neighbourhood. I found it on Google street view here.
If you use Street view to navigate the peaceful rue Lafontaine, running parallel to Rue de Malabry, you’ll quickly realise that the heyday of the Robinson guinguette is well and truly over and its vibrant party spirit has vanished long ago.
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