23 - 29 August 2001
Issue No.548
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Al-Ahram Weekly Online 23 - 29 August 2001 Issue No.548 |
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Now the party's over
Without much fanfare, one more Cairo landmark has bitten the dust. Last week, writes Fayza Hassan, the famous Auberge des Pyramides, witness to almost half a century of Egyptian nightlife, was razed to the ground
Opened in the summer of 1943, the Auberge des Pyramides became an immediate favourite with the British officers and the cosmopolitan elite intent on having as much fun as possible during the troubled years of the war. "It had a large open air courtyard with a dance floor in the middle," writes World War II historian Artemis Cooper, "and was judged the most pleasant night spot in Cairo, becoming a frequent venue for charity galas and... a favourite haunt of the king's [Farouk]." The Auberge soon had much more to offer, and in time featured an indoor area with a dance floor that could be electrically raised to double up as a stage, artificial waterfalls and a décor equaling in flamboyance the best international establishments of its class. In summer, Egyptian and foreign artists and troupes performed on an open-air stage facing the swimming pool, on both sides of which the patrons' tables and chairs were arranged. After the spectacle the revelers proceeded to La Salle Dorée (the golden room) in the basement, which remained open until 4.00am and where artists could sit with the clients, drinking champagne. The Auberge also included lunch and day use with changing rooms for the swimming pool users.
DANCING DAYS: above, the winter nightclub;
below, the Auberge in 1946; 1986, fire damage after the Central Security Force riots
Cooper recounts that when it opened, the new nightclub became an instant favourite of Lord Killearn (then Sir Miles Lampson), who on two memorable occasions arrived while King Farouk was already seated at his table by the dance floor. The first time, the ambassador's niece Betty, who amused the king with her forthright humour, accompanied him; His Majesty left at ten, and an astonished Killearn was told that Farouk had picked up the tab. The second time, Killearn brought Noel Coward to the Auberge and was led to a table next to that of the monarch, who was there with Air Marshal Sir William Sholto Douglas and Connie Carpenter, "an actress who had been the first to sing Poor Little Rich Girl in the United States." Killearn introduced Coward to the king, who again left early, and again paid their bill. "Coward rather regretted having ordered a beer and two packets of Gold Flake," adds Cooper.
Egyptians escorting beautiful women shunned the Auberge as they did any of Farouk's favourite haunts, for fear that he might take a fancy to a wife or girlfriend and create a most embarrassing situation, for the king was well known for his wrath when refused the companionship of a woman he coveted. His Majesty's arrival invariably provoked the precipitous exodus of the pashas and their fair partners.
The Auberge des Pyramides was a favourite venue for some of the most glorious fetes given during the war by members of the royal family. It was chosen by Princess Shevikar for her magnificent Christmas Stocking Ball, which she hosted dressed entirely in black velvet -- "the better to display one of the most stunning diamond necklaces [Lampson] had ever seen. [in Lord Killearn's Diaries]" The magnificent Coptic ball that followed was another Auberge event that was not soon forgotten by those lucky enough to have been invited.
In his memoirs, Farouk Kama Araftuhu (Farouk as I Knew Him, Dar Al-Shurouq, 2000), journalist Karim Thabet recounts that he met King Farouk for the second time in the summer of 1943, while dining with the undersecretary of the American State Department, Simner Wells, and a Lebanese friend, in the garden of the Auberge des Pyramides: "King Farouk walked in with Ezzeddin Atef, his naval chamberlain. He chose a table distant from the dance floor and close to ours. Ezzeddin spotted me and told the king, who asked me to join them for a while. Our encounter lasted till 1.00am and my guests were so upset by my absence that they left. As we were leaving, the king asked if I patronised the Auberge often. I told him that I came every now and then. 'I like this place,' he commented. 'I intend to come here frequently. I prefer to meet with you here rather than at the palace. Make sure you come regularly.' " Thabet adds that, in the following years, the king always visited the Auberge for the première of every new show. If he was detained at the Automobile Club gambling, he would call the Auberge and asked them to delay the show until his arrival.
After the war, compared to London or Paris, Cairo had undergone little change: life was easy and nightclubbing thrived. The British continued to maintain a force of 80,000 men in Egypt, but many of them were off duty; clad in civilian garb, they just enjoyed the weather, sports and the elegant and beautiful women they found no trouble dating. There was still polo and racing at the Gezira Club and the dancing at the Auberge des Pyramides and the Kit Kat in Imbaba had never been better. Belly dancers performing there became famous overnight and were rewarded for their skills by the enthusiastic male audience pushing ten-pound notes down their décolletés (the traditional way to show appreciation to a belly dancer), while foreign artists were lavishly wined and dined and often acquired a rich protector (maybe even the king himself) in the process.
It was not until 26 January 1952 that the population, fed up with the occupation and the corrupt regime, set fire to the city "that the British had known and loved and which was largely created for their benefit and enjoyment," writes Cooper. The Auberge des Pyramides did not escape; nor did any of the nightspots along Pyramids Road. Only the Mena House was spared, because it is said that the camel owners and souvenir peddlers around it begged the demonstrators to preserve the source of their livelihood.
The departure of the king and the advent of the new regime did not seem to dampen Cairenes' love of entertainment. The king gone, life simply resumed. In their book Under Egypt's Spell, Mursi Saad El-Din and John Cromer recount that Laurie Devine, an American who returned to Egypt to document a novel (Nile, published in 1983), found Cairo little changed since the war: "After midnight they finally reached l'Auberge des Pyramides, the gaudiest nightclub in Cairo -- and by the looks of the limousines and taxis parked outside, the capital's most popular cabaret. Everywhere on the walls and the dance floor were silver tinsel, and purple cutouts of cupids, and flashing neon. A forty-piece band was playing, it seemed, at least three different tunes, and at the same time a red-faced comedian was bawling bawdy jokes into a squealing microphone."
Wafiya El-Fransawi, who performed at the Auberge with Fernando Rego's Ballet Argentin during this period, recalls that film stars Rushdi Abaza, Ahmed Ramzi, Mahmoud El-Guindi and Soheir El-Babli were among the regulars. Belly dancers Shoushou Amin and Soheir Zaki performed nightly. "The artists had a lot of trouble with Mohamed Abdel-Nabi, the owner, who was chronically in arrears in payment of the performers' cachets. Abdel-Nabi had been the Auberge's headwaiter when it belonged to the original owner, Soussa. He took over the management when Soussa fled in 1956. No one knows what sort of arrangement was worked out between the two men, but soon thereafter Abdel- Nabi's star began to rise." According to El- Fransawi, Abdel-Nabi, broken by personal tragedies, ceded the management of his interests some time ago to one of his sons.
One of her most vivid souvenirs is the fire that damaged the Auberge during the uprising of 1977. "All the other nightclubs went up in flames, but when we went to see what was left of the Auberge we noticed that the damage was superficial. A few curtains and the carpeting had been damaged. The fire had not reached our changing rooms, but they had been ransacked. All our costumes were gone. We went to the police. At first no one would tell us anything but finally someone spoke: the culprits were the inhabitants of Kom Al-Akhdar, a village across Pyramids Road. Our informer told us that the police would not help because the village omda's son was an officer. We went to meet the omda and bought almost all our costumes back, including the guitar of our main musician, for which we paid LE50. He couldn't believe his luck. In those days, a new one cost at least LE600."
The Auberge des Pyramides was closed in late 1986. after it was set on fire once more by the rioting Central Security forces. Today, behind grey-tiled walls and iron doors, the nightclub that witnessed one of the more tumultuous periods of Egyptian history has been pulled down silently and rapidly, an indication that something is amiss. The site is heavily guarded by a number of men who speak through the padlocked doors. They refuse to answer questions except to say that the property now belongs to Misr Insurance Company (a large billboard over one of the doors tells passersby as much). "The furniture has been put in storage, and Abdel- Nabi has removed the fixtures," we are told rather abruptly.
"Is he still the owner, then? Did he sell or didn't he sell?"
"Go away."
"Does the company have a permit to pull down the building? Why isn't the permit displayed? Where is Abdel-Nabi's son?"
"Go away." The voice is rising menacingly. Men at work inside have stopped and are approaching. "Why are you looking for trouble? Who are you?" they ask. A man who was loitering on the footpath pretending to be an onlooker is walking towards us. It is time to go.
Egyptians have always had mixed feelings about nightclubs, suspecting them to be linked somehow to institutionalised prostitution. Since the first "theatre" was opened by Bonaparte in the Azbakiya Gardens in 1798, an initiative the chronicler Abdel-Rahman El-Gabarti commented upon most disapprovingly, various rulers have attempted to regulate or simply abolish these establishments. Mohamed Ali went so far as to banish to Upper Egypt dancers, singers and other women who peddled their charms or talent. Contrary to his expectations, tourists followed them there, but at least the capital was spared the debauchery. More to the point, in the modern period, whenever the country has experienced a period of unrest, the population's first act of defiance has been to set bars and nightclubs ablaze, thus eliminating the most obvious symbols of Westernisation: the consumption of alcohol, lack of segregation and indecent acts performed in public. Few will mourn the passing of the Auberge des Pyramides; it is far more likely that its disappearance will go completely unnoticed.
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