FOOD and beverage (F&B) at the Royal Lake Club in the old days was the talk of the town. Those were the days when gastronomical delights of the highest quality at affordable prices were readily available at the most sought-after restaurant in town, The Orchid.
Folklore had it that The Orchid was able to serve anything and everything. This call to fame was put to the test by a visiting affiliated club member from London. This is how the conversation went between the UK guest and the head waiter.
Guest: I hear you serve anything and everything.
Waiter: Certainly, sir.
Guest: Can I have elephant ears on toast, please.
Waiter: Certainly, sir. Would you like the ears of a bull elephant, a cow elephant or a baby elephant, and how would you like it done, sir.
Guest: Baby elephant ears, please, and make it well done.
Waiter: In a moment, sir.
The waiter returned moments later and said to the guest: “I am sorry, sir, but today we have run out of toast”.
The crockery at The Orchid was customised by the Royal Doulton of London, with the club logo embossed in colours. Royal Doulton, which dates back to 1815, were also crockery makers for Buckhingham.
The cutlery was crafted by London craftsman Wilkinson – makers of implements that enhanced gastronomical delights. Such was the opulence of The Orchid. The only missing puzzle to crown the richness of the dining ambience was the lack of “music makers” equal to the task.
The top band in town then was The Solianos, a four-piece group led by Tony Soliano, with Julie Sudiro as the lead singer. They held sway at the Paddock, which was a fine dining restaurant situated on the top floor of the Hilton Kuala Lumpur in Jalan Sultan Ismail. The glass-panelled restaurant gave you a full view of the racing circuit of the Kuala Lumpur Turf Club, which was adjacent. It was a sight to behold. The Paddock is no more and neither is the old Hilton.
The Solianos were known to me from my student days in Singapore during which time they held “court” at Vinivici, which was the then top-end dance club of Singapore, situated along the busy tourist belt in Orchard Road. Black tie and gowns were orders of the day at Vinivici.
To meet Vinivici’s sartorial needs, we at our hostel Raffles Hall, pooled our resources and tailored a few tuxedos for hire to meet our ambitious plans. The collection fitted a wide range of chaps from the “tall and trendy” to the “short and squat”.
Hiring of elegant clothes for society functions was first mooted and carried out with astounding success by Moss Brothers, the clothier of London-fame situated at Covent Gardens. The idea of following in the footsteps of the London hirer was that of an enterprising and colourful classmate of mine, the late Nordin Hamid, also known as Colonel Sam Nordin.
With our new apparel, we soon perambulated through the doors of Vinivici and sought entry. Though we were in “necktie and collar, our pockets had no dollar”. Our lead man Sam found a way to overcome this handicap.
One Friday evening many moons ago, my friends and I gathered at The Paddock to reacquaint ourselves with The Solianos. It was a meeting of old times. It was a fun evening, with me tempting The Solianos to uproot themselves and to play at the club.
At that time, I was a member of the F&B/entertainment sub-committee of the Lake Club. The committee was helmed by an interesting gentleman by the name of Leslie Dawson. He was a much sought-after public relations consultant and also a popular television newscaster and Shakespearean stage star. It was obvious to me that The Solianos was ideally suited to perform at The Orchid to fit the missing puzzle, and I convinced Dawson that the band was a must as part of our grand plans for The Orchid.
The Solianos, in my mind, would be the beginning of something good for the club except that we had one hurdle to cross, which was to convince our president, Tun Hussein Onn, of our designs. Tun was strict with club funds and Tony and Julie indicated that if the band was paid RM5,000 a month and overtime expenses they would consider moving to The Orchid.
I was then tasked with the onerous task of convincing Tun to seek his approval to install our new musicians.
When I opened the subject with Tun and told him the remuneration they were expecting, his immediate reaction was to enquire if I was alright and if I was serious. He said “the chief secretary to the government only receives RM4,400”.
Tun was always mindful that membership funds must be “carefully conserved and sparingly spent” and that paying a band above the market rate may meet with membership wrath and ire.
I tried to reason with our president that entertainers were people of exceptional talent, and that they had their own benchmark for income. I also said in an hour’s performance, American maestro Frank Sinatra would probably earn a sum equivalent to five years’ income of the US president J. F. Kennedy. Tun probably thought the idea was nothing more than “a pie in the sky” and that put paid to any further discussion on the subject.
But true to his enquiring and industrious nature, Tun did not stop there.
He instructed one of his special officers to do some research and when we met next, Tun told me that apart from Frank Sinatra, about 160 other performers in America earned that kind of money. He rattled off a long list of names, including Dean Martin, Jerry Lewis, Nat King Cole and Louis Armstrong.
He then quipped, “Siva, we made a mistake in life. We all should have joined the band. Alas, I sighed and said politely: “It is too late for us, sir”. With those words, The Solianos arrived at the Club and instituitionalised themselves at The Orchid.
Julie had a velvety and melodious voice. She was glitzy on stage and sang like a nightingale. The way she moved was enough to endear her to any audience. She was born an artist and was a truly gifted entertainer.
When it comes to Julie, there are no words that can describe her exceptional talent, except that she was a consummate songstress who had grace and taste.
Upon the arrival of The Solianos at the club, The Orchid quickly became the restaurant of choice for one and all. Bookings had to be made 14 days in advance and dinners were at full capaciy. Thursdays, Fridays and Saturdays were formal – suit and gown days. At lunchtime too, The Orchid was packed to capacity, with a notable pianist in attendance. This was what charm and opulence was all about. It was sartorial elegance and fine-dining at its best.
Among the other patrons at The Orchid were Their Majesties and Their Royal Highnesses hosting royal events. I would not be wrong in saying that Julie, in her days, walked with her head high with Kings and prime ministers.
After some 25 years at The Orchid, The Solianos ended their tenure at the club and moved on.
The Orchid today is a pale shadow of its glorious past. From two dinners a night everyday serving to full capacity, The Orchid today is shut two days a week. The fault lies with us members for not patronising it. Let us together restore The Orchid to its past glory.
Some two weeks ago, the legendary artist of our time Julie passed on, bringing an end to a long and well-established relationship with our club and its members. It brought a lot of sadness and fond memories to our members who always admired her musical gift.
Julie is forever no more. On behalf of our members, we extend our heartfelt condolences to Julie’s family.
Y. Sivaloganathan
