Viva Las Vegas?!

I was back to working in LA clubs which seemed pretty anticlimactic. It was sad to see the empty streets of Los Angeles when one was accustomed to the Euro street life.

I can't say exactly where I was performing at the time, but my guess is most of the clubs were sputtering and my guess is this was about 1982. I know I was fully employed since dancing was my only source of income and I had rent to pay.

Somehow I was asked to audition for a job at the Aladdin Hotel and Casino in Las Vegas. This was the old Aladdin Hotel - with a slight nod to the Arabian nights but otherwise just a big ugly box of a hotel/casino at the very end of the Vegas Strip. After auditioning I was contacted that the job was mine. Which brings me to the subject of auditioning (I will digress a bit here). I think the times I auditioned could be counted on one hand. It was something we didn't do in the day - again because we felt if we performed we got paid. Period.

So I was off to Sin City, settling into the Airport Motel which was where a lot of transient entertainers resided during their contracts. Lodging was not provided by the hotels and casinos in those days, which was the same as when I went on the road with Guy Chookoorian. Always searching for the cheapest digs.

This was not the best job by any means, but I worked out a decent week's wages (I remember the other entertainers being annoyed that I was paid more than they were, certainly more than the showgirls or dancers in the big rooms). I was to dance in what I believe was called the "Sinbad Room", a lounge in the middle of the casino where acts rotated 24/7. I had to do 6 shows a night (I think they were only about 10 minutes in length, but still!) 6 nights a week, and I was basically the act taking up time on the stage while the bands behind the curtain changed equipment. I brought a few cassette tapes with me, but way too few. Don't remember what they were but I was so sick of that music by the end of the run that I wanted to jump off a roof.

So here I was again, counting down the days until I could get out of there. Las Vegas at the time was a cowtown - again, deserted streets and a load of beehived country folk pulling the slots, who looked like they'd stepped out of an Elvis era time warp. I'm not a big Vegas fan, but it has

changed a lot for the better.

Because there were so many musicians backstage (mostly country or wannabe Wayne Newton type groups) I had a lot of people to talk to. Mostly we talked about how we could hardly wait to get out of there. There were a lot of ridiculous shenanigans going on - this one dating that one and all the intrigue that went with it. Again I stayed out of the whole thing.

And yet again, no photos of the time. If it would have been this day and age there would have been a million, but I don't think I even took a camera with me. I remember I grabbed a napkin as a souvenir, and even that got lost somewhere.

This was a very transitional time in my career, my life and my dancing itself. I was in love with Egyptian style, and though I had been dancing to Egyptian music in clubs with Egyptian musicians and dancers I still had no formal training in this style. My dancing was a hybrid of faux Egyptian and American Cabaret. I felt like I had two left feet. I was fortunate to take a few workshops from Bobby Ibrahim Farrah but this only shed light on how much I needed to learn. When a dancer works every night it's easy to get lazy about taking classes, and let's face it - not many who knew about Egyptian dance were teaching in those days. In a setting like the Aladdin Hotel, one needed all the bells and whistles of AmCab - veils, zills, swords, etc.

There was a sordid feel to this place. I remember one lone Middle Eastern man who would come to all my shows night after night. He was a high roller who was always bringing gifts, and took groups of us entertainers out to expensive shows. He didn't try hitting on me, more like he wanted to look impressive. As the weeks went on he started looking rundown and nervous. One of the final nights I saw him he offered me his fancy watch, asking me to buy it off him for a discount. I bought it and gave it to my future husband who was coming to visit me there. It was evident he had a gambling addiction and had blown his wad at the casino. I hated gambling, hated the sound of the slot machines and I was again itching to get out. I didn't renew my contract, even though my agent begged me and offered a raise. LA was nothing special at the time, but it still beat Vegas and I was ready to go home.

Next up: Escape from Acapulco, Mexico

London Calling

London was where it was at in the late '70s early '80s if you were a fan of Middle Eastern entertainment. Club after club, restaurant after restaurant, like LA, but these clubs were classy. Their proximity to the Middle East, and the money from the Gulf Countries guaranteed that the best music and dancers would be performing, the best champagne would be flowing (and sometimes not into mouths - a bit on that later) and the spending would be on overdrive.

My love of London at the time was more the theatre in the streets, courtesy of the Brits themselves - the clothes, the music. Trendy trendy trendy, changing season to season. LA was a deserted wasteland at the time, and so I loved seeing people in the streets in their creative get-ups. I was an observer, a little out of place, but like any Bellydancer at the time, walking into an Arab nightclub was like coming home. The music, the food, the smells, the ambience was familiar. We were all outcasts in this country.

The Arab clubs were an entity all their own - starting late in the evening and going until the wee hours of the morning. Lebanese of wealth and elegance (at least they appeared that way), and Gulf gentlemen arriving by cab or sometimes limo. The doorman always made sure no riffraff were allowed inside.  I worked at El Nile on New Bond Street, a nice address to be sure, but by the time I was there it was a bit of a faded shadow of its former grandeur. Our publicity photos were outside on the street. I was told mine was billed (in Arabic) as "The Star from Hollywood". I could have sworn I snapped a photo of me in front of that display case, but maybe it was taken by the boyfriend I had at the time, and lord knows where he (or the photo) ended up.

El Nile Entrance Pass

As the new kid in town I was the first dancer of the evening, which was the most lowly slot. The dancers got better and the musicians multiplied as the night went on, but I was more than thrilled to be done early. Other dancers might have been offended, but I felt this was the perfect spot for me to get my bearings. All the dancers were of the new and popular Egyptian style, from the dancing to the costumes. I had a few fancy Egyptian costumes, but not enough. My homemade costumes that I could get by with at home weren't good enough, but there were no places to buy costumes. Occasionally a woman I knew would come in from the Middle East with a bounty of bedazzled costumes at close to $1000 a pop. I did spring for a few of them. Many of the dancers I met at the club didn't speak English, were aggressive and not too interested in making my acquaintance. This wasn't the "we're all dance sisters" atmosphere of today. This was work. My MO was to be so easy going, nice and naive so that I would be left alone. This was very calculated on my part, but I was going for the wide eyed innocent American ploy which for some reason worked and I kept my reputation as the "good girl". The musicians and the owner took me under their wing like the protected little sister.

I found a little one room flat in Pimlico and would take a cab to and from work. One cabby asked why in God's name was I going to a place like this.  Must have thought I was a prostitute all tarted up in wig and eyelashes, naively going to a place full of swarthy foreigners. For my call time (I believe around 11pm - it's honestly all a blur) I would arrive at a fairly empty place. There were more people on stage than in the audience. A few B-girls getting ready for the long night of "drinking" bucket loads of champagne (more like secretly pouring it out and then ordering another bottle which a johnny-on-the-spot waiter would gladly produce with a flourish). At the end of the night I can only imagine the tabs that were wracked up, not that these wealthy patrons cared.

Aside from the few hours I spent at the club, I lead a life of solitude. I didn't want to hang out at El Nile all night so I rarely saw the other acts. To go to another club was an expensive ordeal and usually required an invite from a fellow dancer to get out of being sat at a table and receiving a suspiciously bloated tab. I once went to see Mona Saiid dance since word was she was the toast of the town, and I believe it was at a swanky club called L'Auberge. Or was it The Empress? I know I saw my LA co-worker Lorena at Empress. Boy was she in her element - no qualms about drinking champagne with the wealthy patrons. I later heard she claimed to have married a Greek prince and was now Greek royalty. Anyway, impressive place with amazing music -  I think Aboud Abdel Al was playing there, but maybe that's just wishful thinking. Back to Mona - I remember her swishing in, all statuesque with fur and jewels - just totally Miss Thing. I didn't dare approach her. Nothing like a true diva to make a girl feel like Miss Frump USA. What a performer. A jaw dropping drum solo I'll never forget. There was a current of sexiness in that woman that could electrify a room.

Back to the solitude - being horribly shy, I didn't take London by storm. I really struggled with what I now recognize as depression and low self esteem. So as wonderful as it all was in retrospect, the reality was not all that glittered was gold.

 The big dancers were having their music written for them. Since I was not an A-lister I would get the generic music in the repertoire including great songs like Hani, Mahrajan and Sahara City. There was always an intoxicating taxim with the various instruments,  topped off with a drum solo. Because people were just starting to drift in, I was more a part of the ambience. But there were those nights where champagne or gifts were brought to the stage, along with piles of pound notes. I have no photos of the time. I don't think we were allowed to take photos, I don't know. It would have been awkward to ask someone to snap a picture. Throughout my '70s and early '80s career - when I should have been taking lots of snapshots, it just didn't seem to cross my mind! As the decades went on there were more and more photos to share and now people document their every move. I had no phone so all correspondence was done by letter, and the frequent visits to the public phone.

So I settled in to British life by day, Arab life by night, and one day blurred into another. As usual, being on the road to me meant counting down the days on the calendar. I admire dancers who stay with contracts for years. I suffered from a "my hat don't hang on the same nail too long" syndrome. As Merle Haggard poetically articulated my plight "Every front door found me hopin' I would find the backdoor open..." And so it was a fabulous dream come true job, but I was anxious to move on and head over to the continent to do some traveling and meet up with some friends. Then I would head home and come back to England. I thought it would all never end, that the clubs would always be there, that I would always be young and employable and could come and go as I pleased, but naturally that was not to be. It seems as quickly as the clubs proliferated, they also began to close down. Now the dancers left their beautiful Arabic music behind to start dancing a hundred miles an hour in the Greek, Turkish and Armenian restaurants. I think the era of the grand Arabic nightclubs was finally over in maybe 1982 or 1983. Now one can only find this wonderful experience on the stages of Egypt. But for that brief moment in Bellydance history, I was very fortunate to be a dancer in the right time and place. I would say these years were definitely a peak. But what goes up must eventually go down, and my days as an "It Girl" were numbered.

Next Up - Viva Las Vegas?

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