She was for a long time the first reader of Nice-Morning. Logic: the press was a stone’s throw from Maison Icardo in Nice-Ouest. The newspaper arrived hot. The news was fresh. Although night still enveloped the city, the famous family establishment, located on Route de Grenoble, had been lit since 3:30 a.m.
France Icardo was there. In front of customers. Behind the bar. Loyal to the post. Until 7 p.m., she would serve, smile, direct and move from one room to another with as much elegance as discretion.
It leaves behind a fragrance. That of a breath of Shalimar and the image of a strong, hardworking and respected woman. France Icardo has left us. She was 79 years old. She was born on June 28 in Nice. It was a sunny Thursday. After studying at a vocational high school in Magnan, she decided to join her parents François and Anne who ran what was then called a trucker known to everyone for its generous, traditional cuisine and its lively atmosphere. She very quickly mastered the stove, the codes, the pissaladière, the ravioli and the chard pie. An outstanding cook. After the disappearance of a beloved father in 1977 and a beloved mother twelve years later, it was she who took charge of the business with an iron fist in a velvet glove.
“I owe him everything”
Management, management, projects, development, she looked after everything and everyone. Without ever falling into showoff and showing off. France Icardo received the tie-wearing business manager and the worker in overalls with the same words and the same gentleness.
She formed, with her brother Jean-François – a tornado who made five coffees and three bills while selling a carton of cigarettes – a duo of an efficiency that would leave an army of hyperactive soldiers speechless. Watching them anticipate the slightest command was a stunning spectacle. Just entered, already served.
“She was the one who ran the business. I owe her everything”said Jean-François, devastated by this departure that he feared so much. If he is a character, she was a temperament. Upright, dignified, standing even in the face of a robber who smashed her nose with the butt of his gun one night of anguish and terror. In 2008 after the sale of Maison Icardo, she was able to enjoy life, her sister Rose-Anne, her nephews Anne-Carole and Jean-Christophe and her house in Cros-de-Cagnes where she felt so GOOD. You could meet her on rue des Oliviers, on the seaside, or at Charlot 1is seated at a table in front of a beautiful sole or a soufflé. She had also taken up bridge and sometimes treated herself to a getaway to a beautiful European city.
Finally, France Icardo always read Nice-Morning and lingered, with pleasure, on the local pages and articles by Christine Rinaudo. She loved people and stories. Hers is rich and unforgettable.
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