We Love the 80s

  Memories are funny things, and especially for those of us who grew up without video cameras, social media & cell phones. We just lived, we didn't document. The problem is the memories become fuzzy dreamlike visions in our cobwebbed brains. I strain to remember names & details, but the feelings of the experiences remain. And so I recount those dreamy thoughts in the recesses of the brain, that if not retold or photographed or videoed stay just dreams. Which might be the only reason I feel compelled to tell my stories, like an elder in the village who passes on cautionary tales & legends to the village youth.

 So I last wrote about Ali Babas. That Hollywood den of iniquity. I stayed until the day it closed its doors. For some reason I was good about keeping my jobs until a place folded. Ali Babas continued to produce incredible music, and many new dancers were showing up. One noteworthy nutcase was a fabulous creature named Lorena. Lorena was working the London clubs, and came to Hollywood with a few musicians and a few kick ass new songs. She had hair to the floor, and it was the first time I saw a dancer throw on a thobe and do a Khaleegy number during her set. I loved it & I was taking notes.

   The most significant dancer who showed up was Nabila. Nabila's reputation preceded her - she was the dancer's dancer, the musician's dancer - the girl who really connected to the feeling, the music and the culture. Surprised I was to see she was a nondescript, soft spoken young girl with straight hair and little makeup. She was a departure from the tarted up dancers who usually graced the stages. Her movement was so understated you strained to watch every nuance - and everyone was captivated. It was like watching music, she just embodied it. Her dancing looked the way a violinist plays. Serious & transcendental. In my mind I vividly remember one of the many shows of Nabila's I watched. She danced to a new song I had never heard, and it was damned good. I was secretly hoping she would get stumped by its many rhythm changes, but no... she nailed it. It was the first time I heard the now popular "Mashaal" which we first knew as "Al Aroussa". I couldn't have done what she did. She was great, and I was average. She was the artist and I was the imposter.

   I think I didn't even know how to dance the way I really wanted to. I didn't have the training, and to be honest I didn't have the desire. I was happy to be making money with little effort, and to train seemed ridiculous when I was already successful.

  During this time period I also worked on some TV shows. I was still operating in my confidence mode, knowing I was young & had the look - I would go to auditions knowing they would want me. It was always fun being on the set. As Guy Chookoorian said, it didn't matter who the star was, when the Belly Dancer came in she was the center of attention.

                                                    Kamala in the mini-series "Casablanca"

  Ali Baba's wasn't the only place I was working. I managed to work 6 nights a week, rotating between Arabic nightclubs, Greek tavernas and Armenian restaurants. Things were good, but there was one dance job I really wanted. I wanted to dance in London, since I was a punk, ska, new wave enthusiast who went to London every chance I could for its music & fashion scene. The thought of dancing at night to great music, and spending the day roaming King's Road was just the ticket I was looking for, and I had to nab one of those tough to get British work permits. I had many offers to dance in the Middle East from a fast talking agent, but none of them panned out since they were all 6 month minimum contracts. I was not one who enjoyed being holed up in a fancy hotel for months at a time. The boredom and loneliness was debilitating. I liked the dual life of Middle East by night, western world by day.

  So I had the good fortune one night at Ali Baba's to meet someone who knew a nightclub owner in London. The owner regularly brought dancers over from other countries since there were not many native British Belly Dancers at the time. We talked, negotiated and I filled out forms. And soon I was back on a plane headed for London, but this time I was going to dance.

Next: London Calling

Ali Baba's School of Raqs Sharki Part 1

   It was the early '80s & my life was a blend of excitement and extreme loneliness. I was working nights & sleeping until early afternoon, then I would take a nap in the late afternoon & prepare for the evening's work. A lot of wasted time sleeping for a girl in her prime.

   Koko's International was my main job at the time, but the nightclub world was transient, & there was a buzz about a few new dancers in town. Intuition told me my nights were numbered at Koko's & when Ali Baba's asked me to come in I knew the timing was right to make the transition.

  The buzz was about a dancer named Nabila, & it was clear she was the new "It" girl. I hadn't met or seen Nabila, but it was hard for me to believe someone could live up to the hype. Seeing the writing on the wall, I slipped out of Koko's before they could fire me & headed over to Ali Baba's where the lovely owner George Dabah welcomed me with open arms. Ali Baba's was the real deal. A dark & dank club with Middle Eastern men smoking at booths, a nice raised stage & kick ass music.

  Omar Khayam's was barely breathing, & the musicians were making the exodus to Ali Baba's. We had Adel Asfour on the keyboard - this fabulous sound like a church organ at Notre Dame - just magnificent. Different oud players rotated, but often we had Maroun Sabah. Henri was on the kanoun - a gorgeous sound. I honestly don't remember the violin player's name. There was the smiling Galal singing & playing def. We had an accordion player & of course a tabla player - often Yousef Mustafa who was awesome, but the dancers had a crude joke about him having to do with beating that drum like a jackhammer. I'll say no more. But who could complain? This music was top of the line. The musicians were going back & forth to London - the mecca of Middle Eastern entertainment at the time & Egypt, & we were getting the latest music hot off the charts.

The beautiful Yasmin onstage at Ali Baba's

   Ali Baba's was a tough job. There were two dancers a night - one dancer did 2 shows & the other did 3. Since we were working 5 or 6 nights a week together we usually worked out who did how many shows, but it often got muddled, & some disgruntled dancer got the fuzzy end of the lollipop. Nobody wanted to do 3 shows because each show was 40 - 45 minutes & it could be grueling.

  We had a nice dressing room behind the kitchen, & often the dancers were college students who were studying backstage. When it was showtime you made your way through the kitchen & waited in a hallway for your cue. There is nothing like hearing a magnificent orchestra play the dramatic opening chords of the magenci, or opening song. I never asked for music, but the musicians could tell what I liked dancing to & often played it. There were a trio of songs called Hamouda 1, 2 & 3, & better belly dance music you will never hear. I later heard the songs came from a religious Egyptian movie but I'm not sure that's true. Hamouda 1 was my favorite, but I liked the others too. Songs like Sahara City & Maharajan were also played. this was complex music & it would bring a chill down my spine.

  I was working with Yasmin a lot, & I continued to learn from watching her ethereal style. She was a delight. Then Rebaba came to town after touring the world & I often worked with her. She was amazing - still one of my favorite dancers. With short hair & an exotic face, she was an Arabic crowd favorite. Totally embodied the Egyptian style of dance. Many other dancers rotated through. Maroun Sabah's American blond girlfriend Shahira (aka Lauren) was a character to beat all characters. A ditzy acting young girl with a wicked temper, she could converse in Arabic for hours. As she told me, she ate, slept, dreamed & spoke Arabic. She made all her costumes - beautiful creations dripping with long beads. She spent all day beading.

Kamala, Shirin & Rebaba, Hollywood club dancers at private party

   I could really kick myself that I have no photos from this time in my life. There may be some out there somewhere, who knows, but no one gave me any, & I really didn't seem to care. I thought this lifestyle would go on forever. I thought there would always be a plethora of clubs to choose from.

   So there were clubs all over Hollywood. Dancers & musicians from the various places would meet after work at one of the few all night restaurants. I would stop in the Sahara & watch Jacqueline Lombard do her hot show, or Aladdin, a new club further east in Hollywood to see whoever was there & we would all trek over to some greasy spoon for a 3am breakfast.  The famous 7th Veil was across the street from Ali Baba's & before it closed its doors for good I even ran across the street sometimes to do a show there.

  Now I was really motivated to dance well, but still my education was studying my fellow dancers. I knew no teachers & I was a fairly good mimic, so I stole bits & pieces of the others' repertoire, with varying degrees of success. I knew the music alright, every joyous beat was imprinted in my head.

    I hadn't changed my mind about not being attracted to Middle Eastern men. They still arrived in the clubs in their bell bottoms & polyester shirts, when I was into the new wave looking guys, which made it all the easier not to get involved. But the other dancers sure did. I would bring various rock musicians I was dating in & they were blown away by the music. It was a seedy scene, but I was proud of it - there were real artists in those clubs.

  We all owned a few Egyptian costumes, but a girl needed a lot of costumes for the many shows we did. We found ways to make our costumes on the cheap, so that they still looked good on stage. "Sobo" fabric glue was used to tack big appliques on bras & belts. A simple straight skirt was easy to sew. Egyptian costumes cost upwards of $800 at the time & were hard to come by. That's one price that's gone way down through the years.

  So I settled into Ali Baba's comfortably. I was still working Stox II & a few other jobs. Even the Gypsy I think. Those years are very muddled in my brain so I'm not certain. We drank a lot at the clubs, I'm not going to lie. And substance use was not unheard of. The cigarette smoke would be so thick you had to wash your hair several times before bed & rub your skin almost raw to get rid of the nightly stench. So I think my brain was a little pickled at the time, like most everyone else's in the late '70s, early '80s club scene.
  Next up: Ali Baba's Part 2

Early '80s - Hooray for Hollywood!

 So I was flying high after my work in the film, & my solo career was still going strong. Mish Mish & Jacqueline from the Bogart movie came to see me do my cabaret thing at Stox II, & they urged me to join them at Ali Baba's on Sunset Blvd in Hollywood to check out the scene.

  When you arrived at Ali Baba's you were greeted by a gargantuan Ali Baba statue standing sentinel over the tacky Arabian nights style building. Upon entering through the curtained doorway the first thing you noticed was it was dark, & of course the usual 1970s cigarette smoke created a thick haze that permeated your every pore. So I entered what felt like a different country - all vestiges of the western world outside disappeared without a trace. I stood looking at the stage before me like a wide eyed innocent. My senses went into overload. I don't know who the dancer was onstage but I'll never forget the costume. It was gold, encrusted with saucer sized paillettes. She sauntered around the raised stage with ease, none of the frantic spinning & fancy tricks. The audience vocalized their appreciation & raised their arms in social dance swaying, snapping fingers or clapping along, showing approval of the dancer & the music. And what music to my ears it was! An Arabic orchestra, & I'm not certain I remember what instruments, or who they were. I do remember the fabulous tabla & that there were at least 5 musicians onstage. At that moment the realization hit me, that I had no idea what I was doing. I could no more go on that stage & entertain this audience than the man on the moon. But I was smitten. This scene was edgy & appealed to the rebel in me. I was ready to leave my world behind & get lost in this den of iniquity. 

 And as fate would have it, not much later I danced at the wedding of a friend of a man named Koko. Koko thought I did a decent job apparently (or more probably thought I was young & hot) because he got hold of me a few days later with the perfect proposition. He was opening a nightclub on Vine, just south of Hollywood Blvd & he wanted me to be the opening dancer. I visited the newly built club to meet the manager, a friendly Egyptian woman & former dancer named Hoda (rumored to be Koko's mistress). The place was enormous. A beautiful raised stage, large enough for a band & a dance troupe, & a fabulous dressing room to boot - glamorous Hollywood style. This was to be Koko's International & Koko meant for it to be the hottest club in town.

Promotional flyer for Koko's International

  So I showed up for work & was greeted by a beautiful Arabic orchestra. I don't remember all the musicians, but I do remember Maurice Saba was on violin & Souhail Kaspar was on tabla. I loved hearing the loud "tack tack" that would announce the beginning of the song. It was all new to me. I was invigorated & this felt like a valid art form. I went onstage with my finger cymbals & wrapped veil & cabaret style, & they seemed to think I was OK. So I settled into a few nights at Koko's, on top of the Gypsy, Stox II & a few other places I really don't remember (I have my old calendars & one place I seemed to work on a weekly basis was called "El Baron". For the life of me I have no idea where "El Baron" was located & I have no recollection of what the club or restaurant looked like!) Hajji Baba's, the 3 ring circus in Inglewood had closed its doors, going the way of most nightclubs - it had just run its course. 

  So Koko's - let me try to paint a picture: The evening would start early with an Armenian band. They would play the usual pop favorites & were super nice guys. To digress a bit - we would discuss how there was a hierarchy amongst the entertainers. The Arabic musicians were at the top. Then came the folk dancers from Arabic countries. Then came the Armenian band, & last & least were the American Belly Dancers. At the end of the night the piles of tip money that had been thrown on the stage for the various acts was pooled & sequestered away by the Arabic musicians. While they were behind closed doors deciding our monetary fate, the rest of us waited & grumbled about possible unfair dispersion of the cash. I'm sure the underlings didn't always receive our fair share.

  

  So back to scene: After the Armenian band played, the Arabic musicians would set up. Usually another act would come on like a Tannoura dancer, or Vivianne from Lebanon & her two male debke dancers. Marvelous performers all. There were always 2 or 3 guest singers. I was loving this new atmosphere. There were two Belly Dancers a night. I worked with various ladies, but usually with Shirin Burton. Shirin was a blond woman, not the best dancer, but with such a fun personality & sense of humor that she was popular. She & Hoda would exchange banter & as is sometimes the case in these situations - the meaner Shirin would be to the club owners, the more they loved her. I however didn't have a mean bone in my body, & I'm sure they saw me as a pushover. Since I had been Koko's first choice I remained in good standing for a while.

 When you walked into Koko's the first thing you came upon was a large bar. You could usually find Shirin & me there, drinking mixed cocktails & laughing riotously with a few of the club regulars. The crowd was predominately Arab, with a few scattered Armenians. I don't think one Western or American patron ever walked through those doors. Vivianne was good friends with Hoda, & she put on a good show. She would do a debke number with two guys, & later come out to do a bit of Oriental, then a Khaleegy. I was mesmerized, & started practicing the head rolls. Why didn't I ask her to teach me? Stupidity. Vivianne also decided to create a Saiidi choreography with sticks. Shirin & I performed this dance once a night, along with our Oriental solos. 

  I loved working at Koko's. It was a late night & a long show. I was still doing the 5 part cabaret style format, but my dancing was changing as I observed the patrons dancing & the other performers. We still played finger cymbals - objects of fascination to Vivianne & Hoda, who had never played them. When the club closed for the night we would often go out for pancakes - a large group of us chattering & laughing at some awful Hollywood all night joint. There weren't many places to go out to. LA was a ghost town. I remember driving home alone in the wee hours of the morning, blasting my cassette tapes of Elvis Costello or the Clash. Outside of my Arabic world was my New Wave, Punk obsession.

 So there was nonstop action on Koko's stage. He really did create a marvelous nightclub. Now that I had my foot in the door in the Hollywood scene, I got a call to work at a divey spot in east Hollywood called Omar Khayam's. At some point in those early '80s there was a huge change afoot, and I was about to be thrown into the fire. I remember getting a primer from Shadia (of Hajji Baba's & Guy Chookoorian Belly Dance Review fame). She had landed at Omar Khayam's before me & had no idea how to perform there - so she had one of the regular dancers sit in front of the stage gesturing when to enter the stage, ditch the veil, when to leave the stage, etc. So what was different? Everything! An Egyptian dancer named Sahar had come to town & was already stirring up the pot. We all looked at this whole new style & tried to mimmic the movement. Then Nahed Sabri from Egypt appeared at Omar Khayam's with an Egyptian orchestra & a folkloric group, & LA Belly Dance was turned upside down. This must have been 1979 or 1980? Not even sure. 

  So when I arrived at Omar Khayam's I knew I was supposed to enter holding the veil, swish around a bit & ditch the veil. I was not to wear finger cymbals. I knew they played 3 parts - a long Magence (opening), a taxim with beautiful solos from the violin, kanoon, oud & organ, & of course finishing with a popular song that segued into a drum solo. But that's about all I knew. I watched a stunning dancer named Yasmin go on first. My jaw dropped to the ground. She floated effortlessly & knew the details of the music that seemed to stop on a dime out of the blue & change rhythms & time signatures every few minutes. Thankfully she was as kind & sweet as she was a beautiful dancer. I'm sure she must have thought I was God awful, flailing away up there trying to anticipate when the music would abruptly stop & change rhythms.

Yasmine arguing with owner Majed at Omar Khayam

  Now I was working at the two Hollywood clubs, as well as the Gypsy & various other places. I was completely taken by the Egyptian style dance & music, but there was still no one to teach it. I watched Yasmin & whatever other dancer with the style I could find (Jacqueline Lombard & Mish Mish were very adept). Slowly I started to familiarize myself with the Egyptian music at Khayam's. There were no recordings & I was too shy to ask the musicians if I could come to their rehearsals or to give me tips. I think I was ashamed to admit I knew so little, though I'm sure it was pretty obvious when I was onstage. Khayam's was a riot - literally. Women didn't patronize Khayam's. It was an obstreperous crowd full of men from various Middle Eastern countries. The club itself was rough around the edges, kind of an Arabic version of a saloon. A long shallow stage & no decor to speak of. The owner, Majed had been in & out of jail, & often would come in with cuts & bruises, as if arriving from a day of fisticuffs. So the dichotomy was intriguing - this seedy club with the most glorious music - a large orchestra playing the latest Egyptian pieces from the world stage of Arabic nightclubs & Egyptian movies. So if it was heaven to be onstage with such glorious music, it was hell offstage. It wouldn't take much to start a full scale riot - someone calling someone else's mother a goat, or insulting a country of origin. Yasmin & I would cower in the dressing room, which was really a closet off the main room while the clamor of breaking bottles, shouting & tables being overturned could be heard. The band played on - reminding me of the band playing while the Titanic was sinking. After the noise died down, inevitably Majed would knock on the door & demand a dancer come perform to get things back on track. So you would tiptoe out, carefully avoiding broken glass & slumped beaten bodies to climb the stage & do a ridiculous show for guys licking their wounds, brushing off the dirt & uprighting the tables. I had attained the glamorous life of a Hollywood nightclub dancer, & truth be told, I was loving it!

A Little Background & Civilian Life

  The '70s were coming to an end, & the '80s seemed to hold so much promise. So much happened to me in those few years as a budding professional dancer, it really was a dream come true. I had been an only child born to teenagers, a narcissistic alcoholic, drug/gambling addicted father & a young mother trying to keep it all together. The two of them enjoyed the party life, & as a child I would ultimately be shoved into a bedroom at some friend's house & told to go to sleep. It was me, my transistor radio & my imagination. With very little money from my father's sputtering acting career, we struggled. While gazing at photos of my favorite pop stars, I dreamed of being an entertainer of some sort, though I didn't have any talents to speak of. I would examine maps for hours, dreaming of escaping the little world I lived in.

  So Belly Dance was my ticket out of a humdrum life - and it was my education.  Behind the costumes & eyelashes there was still an unsophisticated, frightened & shy girl those first few years. It wasn't long, however before I began to blossom. I became comfortable straddling two cultures, and I began venturing out into the world, visiting foreign countries for the first time. Belly Dance was opening up the world to a girl who could have easily become a recluse. Small talk still didn't come easy, but expressing myself through dance felt natural, & it gave me a confidence I had always longed for.

   I did have a life outside of dance, & in fact it was quite the distraction from taking dance seriously. Friends, boyfriends, concerts, parties - somehow I made time for it all. And everyone knew better than to call me before noon, a dancer needed her beauty rest. I couldn't believe my good fortune, as I was caught up in a whirlwind of activity. Sleep all day, dance & then party all night.

  So what was happening with my "art"? How was my dancing developing? Truth is I'm not really sure. I know I loved entertaining, & would often throw things in my show that would make people laugh. I learned from watching the other dancers, trying to dissect their technique & mannerisms. Translated to my own body, the dancing never looked the way I wanted - never was quite right. But it developed into my own style, & somehow I was able to stay very employable & in demand. As soloists, we all still did improvisation. Choreography was unheard of for a solo Belly Dancer. I had the good fortune to be very flexible & I more than supplemented the hip movements & undulations with back bends to the ground, splits & other jazzy tricks. This was in keeping with what I later came to realize was the Turkish style of Belly Dance. What did I know? Not much. Without videos, teachers, books or any info - we were all just winging it.

  One Tuesday night at Stox II I began my evening the usual way, going to the bar for a glass of water to take to the dressing room. Sitting at the bar were two very fresh faced young men, very different than the usual clientele at the club. One with curly brown hair caught my eye, & I caught his too. This guy was cute, & just my type. My usual mode of operation was to avoid men in clubs like the plague, but this time I was chomping at the bit to get out on the dance floor to get the attention of this good looking guy, who didn't know yet that I was one of the performers for the evening. Long story made short, he was most definitely interested after watching me dance & we ended up talking after the show. He had arrived that day from Montreal, Canada. He wrote a note to me on a napkin saying something like "if you're ever in Montreal look me up - my name's Maurice Mischook & my number is blah blah blah...". I remember at that moment looking at his name & thinking, what is this "if you're ever in town" business - I'm going to have your last name one day! So love at first sight across a crowded room does happen, & a few years & a few thousand miles later we did get married, and since this is a blog about my dance career & not my personal life, suffice it to say we are still married. Now back to Belly Dance and onto my next chapter...

1978-1979 The "It" Girl

Stox II nightclub Kamala with Yaya Jassim & John Belezikjian

  There is that time in a professional belly dancer's life that she becomes the "It" Girl. You can be a big fish in a little pond or a big fish in a big pond, but you feel invincible and pretty damned sure of yourself. You know you're going to get hired, you know everyone wants you. It's that moment when all forces come together - you are young, have the right look, you know how to put on a show & you have supreme confidence. 

  In the late 1970s this required no business acumen on the dancer's part - the work was plentiful, you made a name for yourself by your performances alone. The nightclubs, restaurants & tour promoters set everything up. You just showed up and voila - the band, the stage and the audience were waiting for you to show your stuff. 

   I continued to work at Hajji Baba's Supper Club and The Gypsy, as well as The Darvish in Pasadena. Both The Gypsy and The Darvish had afternoon shows so I was busy dancing both afternoons and evenings. Private parties filled in the rest of the time. Stacks of money were being rubber banded in hundreds and placed in a dresser drawer.

  Now I was going back on the road with Guy Chookoorian, but the tables had turned. The two dancers, Shadia and Shalimar who had intimidated me my first tour had respect for me now, and I did my best to be the audience's favorite dancer. We danced on stage in many Hotel/Casino type venues in the USA. Guy and son Arshag Chookoorian provided the vaudeville style banter, and educated the audiences a bit about the oud, the dumbek and Oriental dance. I must say that Guy did the most gorgeous Chiftatelli on oud - this mysterious, deep spellbinding sound that I've never experienced since, and I so wish there were videos of those performances. Shadia and I were the main dancers, and the third rotated between different women who would join us at different times on the road. The reality was 3 grueling hour long shows per night, 6 or 7 nights a week. We would rotate between other acts - hokey comedy routines, Osmond style family shows, country western bands and everything in between. 

  Living and working together, the dancers became very close, and we shared so many laughs and good times. We would stay at a place for weeks at a time, and would have our regular fans - men who would stare at us up on the stage with transfixed smiles and dreamy eyes - we were the Oriental fantasy in coins and flowing chiffon. 

  One of the acts we worked along side with was a country band, and I honestly can't remember the name of the leader, who took a real shine to me. He wined and dined me and obviously was looking for more than a dinner partner, but somehow I was able to evade his advances, since he wasn't exactly my type. He was close friends with Willie Nelson and decided he wanted to hire two of us to perform for Willie's birthday. I went back to LA for a while, and this man whose name I don't remember hired myself and another dancer whose name I don't remember either, except she was one of Aisha Ali's dancers and was the first girl I met who wore the garish (in my mind) Egyptian costumes of the time - bright orange and pink, when the rest of us were all coins and black lace and animal print. We flew up with Rick Nelson's (of Ozzie & Harriet fame, later a country rock singer) band and had a rough ride into Reno Nevada. The guys in the band were all jittery as the plane was bashed about by turbulence and bad weather. Turns out a year later they would all die in a tragic plane crash. 

  So upon landing we were whisked into a waiting limo and housed in a beautiful hotel suite. We watched Willie's show from backstage (he was in his Outlaw heyday back then), and proceeded to the apres show party, where we were to perform in Willie's grand suite. Of course there was a big dark brick of hashish, and various beautiful young girls had been brought in to lounge around and look alluring. We brought our cassette tapes with us, but for some reason ended up dancing to Willie's honkey tonk pianist and drummer. Probably the weirdest show I've ever done. Willie and band looked at us like lions admiring their prey before the kill. 

  Now the trick was to get the hell out without having to "put out" so to speak. The unmemorable guy who hired us was getting frustrated that he wasn't getting any action, and when he brought us to Willie's bedroom, Willie was on the bed with several young women. I remember him saying "why don't you come roll around with us". I guess it was supposed to be an orgy, but I was just out of my teens and these were old farts and an orgy was just beyond what I was willing to do, even in those free love hippy days. Somehow my fellow dancer and I said "no thanks" and got the hell out. The man who hired us was livid. Thank God we had our plane tickets, and left the next day.

  So back in LA I was still working the clubs, and a new opportunity arose in a club that became a life changer for me. Stox II was an American disco. A Belly Dance fan from Baghdad, Yaya Jassim had the idea that he would start a Tuesday night Middle Eastern show. He would pound away on two drums while Guy Chookoorian played oud, and he would have two glamorous Belly Dancers to be in charge of. It was one show a night. Two dancers had a 45 minute set each on a large disco floor. Lots of room to do your best veil, your Turkish drops and fancy floor work. Yaya rotated several dancers, but somehow I stayed in the mix. One night I met a stunning woman. This club was in Orange County and I was meeting the OC ladies for the first time. She danced before me and as I peeked through a backstage door I was totally blown away by the artistic and entertaining show this gorgeous woman was performing. How the hell could I go on after that? The dancer was Sahra Saeeda (Carolee Kent) who is now an international superstar. I had the pleasure of working there with her a lot. She was always humble, nice and a blast to work with. To watch her dance was a game changer for me. Her creativity inspired me. This was the beginning of a lifelong friendship and often dance partner. 

  Somehow I kept my job there, as an ever rotating roster of amazing dancers worked in the 2nd spot. Another memorable moment was when Sultana from San Diego was hired. I had never seen a dancer walking in with an entourage - they carried her bags and followed behind like minions serving the queen. And she delivered the goods. What an amazing dancer and brilliant zill player. Like no other I've heard since. She was a voluptuous whole lotta woman & I had been put back in my place. A regular patron put it to me aptly - "you are like a young colt, all arms and legs and immature movement. She dances like a real woman".

  We had great audiences at Stox II, Middle Eastern, American, men, women, and many other dancers would show up to watch as well. At one point Guy transitioned out and John Belezikjian transitioned in. I had the American Cabaret style down, and though I loved the style, there always seemed to be something missing. The drumming was mundane. All the clubs I was dancing in played a mix of popular Arab, Armenian, Turkish and Persian music for the dancers. The music and dance was high energy. Yet deep down I still didn't have the respect for the art form that I did for jazz and ballet dance. I didn't think I'd ever have that deep love and respect. It was frothy, sensual and fun, but not deep and serious. Later I discovered what I had been looking for.

  In the meantime I went with Guy and two of his dancers, Stasha and Nanette to an audition for a movie called "The Man With Bogart's Face", after a book of the same name. A few weeks later I found out I was in and the other two for some reason were not. I showed up on the set and met two more people who would change my life. The other two dancers they hired were out of the Hollywood Arabic Club scene, a scene I had vaguely heard about, but felt intimidated by. Jacqueline Lombard and Mish Mish were well put together, chi chi, sophisticated and womanly. They talked about their Arabic boyfriends and the Hollywood clubs. It all seemed exotic and mysterious. I don't think they even needed hair or makeup done, but as for me, the hair and makeup people fussed, tsk tsked and tried to turn me into a sexy bombshell with ratted up hair. We spent several days on the set, and even though the other two were the true divas, they put me in the middle and had me do extra parts. It was a long scene with a Bogart lookalike and Michelle Phillips of the Mama's and the Papa's as the love interest. They were in an Arabic nightclub with a stereotypically dastardly Arab played by Franco Nero. His girlfriend played by sex kitten Sybil Danning had to strip to bra and panties and was forced to dance awkwardly while we danced around her, taunting her. It turned out to be the longest Belly Dance scene on record in an American movie and attracted some weird fetishistic guys who practically stalked me by phone wanting details of filming, as if we all got working into a passionate frenzy and ended up in a wild sexual orgy. That seemed to be the fantasy they wanted to get off on.

  So the movie gave me even more hubris and I continued in my American Cabaret paradise of restaurants and parties. But I had been invited by Jacqueline and Mish Mish to check out the Hollywood scene, and reluctantly I took them up on it. Little did I know that when I walked into Ali Baba's Nightclub on Sunset Blvd in Hollywood and peered through the dark smoke filled room at the stage, I saw and heard what had been missing for me, and what I was looking for. So I would soon segue into my next incarnation, to be told in my next chapter - The Golden Age of the Arabic Nightclub - early 1980s.

Stox II nightclub. Always packed.

Still Shot of The Man With Bogart's Face

The Cast of Man With Bogart's Face. MishMish, Sybil Danning, Robert Sacchi, Jacqueline Lombard & Kamala

Advertisement for Stox II with Sahra, Guy, Yahya & Kamala

Here is a video of me in the late 1970s. This was a typical sample of what one would see in the clubs or restaurants at the time.

1977 - My Inauspicious Beginnings

   Bellydance was the dance du jour for American women for a short time in the '70s. It was the Macarena, Zumba, Lambada & Gagnam style rolled into one. It appealed to the hippie, express yourself & do your own thing ethos of the time. In a way it resembled the Tribal Dance movement of today, in the sense that we considered it an American thing to do. I didn't have an interest in impressing a people from a distant land. It just seemed like this groovy, earthy movement to get involved in. I know there were American Bellydancers who did begin with an interest & passion for the culture & music, but for me it was about the motion, costuming & showing off.

  Yes, I am sad to say that I started my Bellydance career for vain & shallow reasons. I wanted to sleep late, & I wanted attention.  I've had enough therapy to know I needed to be seen, admired & validated after a childhood of feeling invisible. Plus I was having limited success getting jazz dance jobs, often because I was told I didn't look like the girl next door, a little too exotic looking. My best luck was working for Disney, dancing in 50 pound animal costumes (try echappe's in an Ostrich suit)! I figured in Bellydance no one would accuse me of looking too exotic!

   I found a second class to attend at the YWCA in Pasadena, CA. Marta Schill was the teacher & she seemed to be more in tune to the Middle Eastern side of the dance. She worked at the Seventh Veil on Hollywood Blvd., & when I went to see her, she did this electrifying booty shimmy thing that totally confounded & amazed me. I don't think she taught that move, or maybe I just didn't stick around long enough to learn it. I did start to take class a little more seriously when another student & I had a kind of healthy competition going on between us, pushing me to learn new steps & make up a few of my own, including a variety of head rolls. I had no idea at the time there was a thing called khalleegy, & thought myself clever.

  My first private party job was a psychic & tarot party. I made a whopping $10. A psychic stopped me after my dance & said "You will be very successful & have a long dance career. Just remain a solo dancer. Avoid dancing in a group". Her predication was true, & her advice sage.

   Guy Chookoorian came into my life at this point. Guy is a lovely person & a good musician. An oud player who had a long running road show, he was a good family man, very humble & kind. Guy was on the lookout for new dancers, & he sent a statuesque dancer named Jennifer to Marta's class to scout new talent. I guess I fit some criteria, so she spoke with me after class about traveling with Guy, & about starting a new dance job at Hajji Baba's Supper Club in Inglewood, CA. where Guy's band played. 

   This was the catalyst for chucking my radio job, throwing caution to the wind & starting a career in Bellydance. I still had my Friday night gig at the Gypsy, & now I was at Hajji Baba's several weeknights. I was working with live music & we all did improvisation. There were three dancers a night at Hajji Baba's, & two per night at the Gypsy. Hajji's was a three ring circus - the main room housed the band & the stage, & two smaller dining rooms created a circle in which the three dancers rotated. 

   The American Cabaret style was a five part format. With the opening (fast) music the dancer, wrapped up in various creative ways with a veil, entered & began spinning, followed by fast footwork & more turns. Then the musicians would play a bolero & we would do "veil work" (my least favorite because I was terrible at it). Then a fast tune & run around the tables before the dancer spun & went splat on her back in a Turkish drop. The Chiftitelli rhythm was then played while the dancer did "floor work", sometimes with a sword, candelabra (small, not the Egyptian Chamadon variety) or often balancing a glass taken from someone's table, to their delight. Last but not least the drum solo. The drummers at Hajji Baba's played the Dumbek either on a stand or between the legs, and there was often a trap drummer as well. So whichever of the five parts you landed in the main room of Hajji's, you did on stage, while the girls in the other rooms mostly ran around collecting loads of money. The dancer always kept her finger cymbals (zills) on.

   I was nervous my first night of work, not knowing how good or experienced the other dancers were. We enjoyed a large dressing room upstairs with its own shower & wall to wall mirrors.  I do remember one of the dancers that night, this glamorous blond walked in with bedroom eyes, & in a deep voice proclaiming "I am Shadia". I was impressed and intimidated. She had worked at The Fez, one of Hollywood's most famous clubs & had been on many tours. I was the new kid on the block.

   Diane Weber, LA's most popular teacher's advanced class was the feeder for dancers at Hajji Baba's. They were well disciplined & had a specific technique. They were good & I tried to learn from imitating their moves. I took one class from Diane who blasted me, saying I looked like "a little girl dressed in her mother's clothes". It was my first & last class. Stupid, because I needed direction & training.

   There was Shira, a young fair skinned blond with hot floor moves. There was Mahara a hard working & driven dancer. There was Danielle who was the oldest, but looked the youngest. She was great at balancing, but her dancing was so-so. Never-the-less she was always the favorite, to the chagrin of the rest of us. Getting tips was always a contest. When we went up to the dressing room & removed the dollars that bulged out of our costumes, we would eye the others' catch. Donna would have $50 & $100 dollar bills more regularly than any of us, & there were a lot of big bills floating around.

   While Hajji Baba's had American & American/Armenian patrons, & Turkish or Armenian music, The Gypsy was all Arabic or Armenian patrons, & though the band played the five part show for the American Cabaret style performance, the music was mostly Arabic, with some Armenian thrown in. 

   At the Gypsy, besides myself, there were 3 main dancers. There was a bubbly & popular dancer named Pearl. I admired the ease in which she worked the room, often pulling patrons to the stage, feeding them grapes & doing backbends & floorwork around them. Helena Vlahos did her killer quarter tricks, & then there was my my teacher "Candi".  Because it was the swinging '70s I didn't pay much attention to Candi's provocative behavior, & was oblivious to the fact that she was taking the free-love business a little too seriously. I was told by musicians later that they would join her in the dressing room for "activities". The Lebanese musicians were young, & very willing to take part in this California lifestyle, growing their hair long & embracing the liberal mores. Two of the musicians, brothers John & George are good friends to this day. It's fun to reminisce & hear their side of the story. I was actually pretty clueless.

   I am proud to say I never dated a musician, club owner or patron from a club (with one big exception which I will go into later). To this day when I run into musicians they say "You were the nice girl, the good girl." But this wasn't a case of virtue as much as a case of being more attracted to Rough trade curly long haired Aussies & Brits, & corn fed American looking boys (No Omar Sharifs for me). But it saved me from entanglements that were problematic for many of my dance sisters. Instead the Middle Eastern men became my friends, & they were wonderful friends.

   It wasn't long before I was summoned to Reno, Nevada to do a month long show with the Guy Chookoorian Bellydance Revue at Harvey's Hotel & Casino. The intimidating Shadia would be there to meet me, as well as a certain Shalimar, who I had been warned was a temperamental artist by Jennifer, who taught me the routines the night before I left. Sure enough Shalimar, who looked like a frumpy bookworm in baggy jeans, t-shirt & hair in a bun, wouldn't acknowledge my presence & was peeved that she had to rehearse with me since she had been doing this show for years. I could hear her complain to Guy, who tried in vain to calm her. I was in hostile territory with both dancers.

   So the first night of performance I was nervous, but confident that Shalimar couldn't possibly be very entertaining with her mousy looks, making me feel better about my own inexperience. But when she came on stage she was transformed. Glorious long thick hair, an hourglass figure & a drop dead gorgeous face. She proceeded to do a jaw dropping drum solo & had a few signature moves I haven't seen since & wish I had asked her to teach me. So at that point I was a total fan, & I cowered in her haughty presence. I endured the competition between the two dancers, the temper tantrums & diva attitudes. I was the runt who was criticized for my dowdy coin costumes & flat hippie hair. This was a Vegas style casino & I was supposed to more resemble Priscilla Presley than Janis Joplin, so I was dragged to the local wig store to find something big to plop on my head.

   On my return to LA, I had more confidence coming back to the clubs. The Gypsy started a lunchtime show, & a Persian club in Pasadena, The Darvish, started a lunchtime show as well. (lunch time was recorded music, so we hauled our vinyl around - titles by Eddie Kochak & George Abdo). That added to my busy dance schedule, as I had picked up more nights at Hajji's & was now the Gypsy's featured Friday night dancer. 

   Enter Candi to Hajji Baba's, & a new round of shenanigans. We carpooled the 45 minute drive many nights, & how we lived to tell, I'm not sure. She would seem more focused on lighting joints than keeping an eye on the treacherous winding Pasadena Freeway, & regaled me with stories of sexual conquests including details more explicit than a hard core stag movie. I realized this woman was more of a sexual deviant than any human I had known. So working with her was a challenge. She would often put a thick veil over some guy's head in the audience & spend way too long doing God knows what under that cover. Since we had to rotate rooms, it would often lengthen the show to ridiculous lengths, since we couldn't get her attention to get out from under the veil & get moving to the next room. Then afterwards I waited around while she was with some guy, sometimes the restaurant owner. But there were a lot of laughs in that dressing room. She was comfortable being the butt of many jokes about her sexual proclivities. Actually we all liked her & were amused by her matter of fact attitude about her "interests". 

   But the final straw happened while dancing at a yacht party with Candi. After we docked I waited & waited for her. I returned aboard to look for her & saw a line of men waiting at a door. Sure enough she was in there having the time of her life. I hollered for her to come out so we could leave. I kept hearing giggle giggle giggle, "just a minute" giggle giggle giggle.  I was disgusted, & it finally hit me how sleazy she was, & the guilt by association possibility. I was open minded & figured live & let live, but it was all becoming too much, & I distanced myself from her. Eventually we totally parted ways, though on friendly terms. I didn't want to be associated with her behavior. 
    
    The club scene in LA was booming. Where I lived in Pasadena there were several clubs nearby - The Gypsy, The Darvish, Sayat Nova, The Grape Stakes, Burger Continental & others I can't remember. All over town were Persian, Greek, Armenian & Arabic restaurants & clubs, & they all included live music & multiple bellydancers. Then there were the storied Hollywood mega nightclubs that I had heard about but never visited. There was a fairly small group of professional Bellydancers who made the rounds of these venues, & we all knew each other. We all made money - it seemed to be flowing from a never ending faucet ... and so there was the cash piling up in a drawer, & yes I did file my taxes!

   Next up: The 1978 "IT" girl...

    

Kamala on The Main stage at Hajji Baba's Supper Club 1977