80 years of "Nice-Matin": with Robert Yvon, jazz never tires

"That year, I sang for the first time..." Claude François's imitation is approximate, but the message is received five out of five: Robert Yvon was born in 1962. "My parents divorced when I was 13. I followed my mother, who joined her family in Antibes. That's where I discovered jazz."

The sentence is delivered with a hint of emotion. The former journalist adjusts his hat, nods, and dives back into "his" seventies: "At the time, I listened to The Police, Wings, Elton John, the Bee Gees. My uncle Robert Amoyel introduced me to Jazz à Juan, where he felt right at home. On July 17, 1976, for my very first concert, I found myself sitting next to Ella Fitzgerald to applaud Ray Charles! She signed my autograph." The first of a very long series.

The teenager was captivated by the syncopated rhythms, brassy notes, and passion that emanated from the jam sessions . He discovered the pleasure of "browsing behind the scenes" – one of the markers of his future career. Robert Amoyel also opened the doors to the Grande Parade du Jazz organized in the Cimiez arenas. And – an absolute privilege – allowed him to delve into the six thousand LPs in his collection.

"Jean d'Ormesson encouraged me to pursue journalism"

This might have been enough to fill the young man's spare time. But his other uncle, Émile, also passed on his love of the 7th Art. "He allowed me to run the Antiboulenc film club with him, an Antibes association that published a quarterly magazine. Quite naturally, I began writing interviews. The first was with Jean d'Ormesson, who encouraged me to pursue journalism."

Robert, however, hesitates. After repeating his first year and "without panache" obtaining a Bac D, he enrolled in science school in Nice. "A disaster," he admits with a laugh. Especially since his mind was elsewhere. At the dawn of the eighties, independent radio stations were proliferating. The student voluntarily hosted a program on cinema, which served as his means of transportation for the Cannes Film Festival.

"In May 1982, I met Jacques Tati and Steven Spielberg. The former, disillusioned, felt rejected by French cinema. It was probably one of his last public appearances (1) . I bumped into the latter at the Carlton, by chance, after missing his press conference... because my moped had broken down! He gave me five minutes, then offered me a ticket to go see ET the Extra-Terrestrial ."

The screenwriter of "Valerian"

This experience convinced Robert Yvon to follow in François Chalais's footsteps. After a "completely useless" year of law, he passed the entrance exam for the IUT journalism school in Bordeaux. At the start of the 1983 academic year, he was welcomed by the director of studies – a certain Pierre Christin. "Having the screenwriter of Valérian among his teachers was crazy," he roared. A novice when it came to speech bubbles, the student would be introduced to the treasures of the 9th Art by the master.

In 1986, with his diploma in hand and his military service discharged, he tried his luck at Nice-Matin . But the graft didn't work. He turned to the competitor, Var-Matin République , which took him on in 1987 and gave him a permanent position two years later.

"It was only after the two newspapers merged in 1998 that I was able to return home to Antibes," he emphasizes. He remembers "difficult beginnings" and "banana skins" slipped under the soles of his shoes. "People from the Var region weren't welcome," he euphemistically puts it. "For me, who had spent my entire youth here, it was a real shame!"

The editor was transferred to Cannes, to the magazine department, then back to the city of Remparts in 2008. This time, the planets were aligned: his offbeat, unusual side appealed to the new management, who gave him free rein.

"I'm a free agent, " he pleads. "If they let me work, I'll bring back exclusive information. But to cover the budget at the city council, it's better to send someone else..."

Everyone calls him Bob

At the dawn of the 2010s, Robert Yvon became "Bob", a somewhat eccentric character, the putative heir of Pierre Richard and... Jacques Tati.

La Formule du jour , a weekly gastronomic column, becomes La Formule de Bob . In it, the journalist recounts his culinary wanderings, not hesitating to point out "the poor food" served in one restaurant or "the deplorable state of the toilets" in another. He then takes it upon himself to respond to readers in the indescribable Courrier de Bob , a masterpiece of (sometimes) unintentional humor.

In July, with his headgear in disarray, he takes up residence at Jazz à Juan . Jeff Beck refuses any interview? Bob waits for him for four hours at the entrance to the Pinède-Gould, accosts him as he gets off the bus and wrings thirty minutes of interview from the guitarist! No artist can resist his mixture of candor, enthusiasm and erudition.

"It's all thanks to my uncle Robert," he repeats with a smile. "In 1996, I had the pleasure of returning the favor by introducing him to his idol, Tony Bennett, with Phil Collins. I tell myself today that he would be proud of my career."

His retirement in September 2021 marks the end of a chapter in the history of Nice-Matin. It's the story of singular "figures ," atypical personalities, and notorious "loudmouths," sometimes unbearable for their colleagues but 100% dedicated to their work. These small hands with big hearts have also written the legend.

1. The director of Jour de fête died on November 4, 1982.