HC: Who were the dancers and the audiences at Ibis"?

G: "Ibis" and "Darvish" were the two best known (and competing) supper clubs. One was E. 50th St. between Lex and 3rd, across the street from the Waldorf Astoria, and the other was downtown (I think it was 8th Street.) It wasn't easy to get into those clubs. I know a dancer who tried for years to get into Ibis and never made it: she went as far as dyeing her hair and dropping 12 pounds, and still didn't get there. A gorgeous girl and a good dancer, but she didn't look "Egyptian" enough.

At Ibis you had to look "Egyptian." We also had phony publicity stories and press releases. I was once linked in a gossip column to boxer Roberto Duran (whom I have never to my knowledge met) who "spent time with his favorite dancer Gamillie"...need I say more?

I think the first week I worked there I was supposed to be from Morocco. And I asked the Maestro: "Do I really look Moroccan?" And he said, "Oh. That's right...your great-great-great-father is from Alexandria (Egypt)!" We had to pretend!

The people who were in the audience had emigrated to America. They missed their music, culture and dances. There was more freedom in entertainment for them, they could have a drink as they enjoyed the dancing! We had tables and tables of families. There was this one huge family that took at least three large tables when they came. (A long time later, when my dance company was at it's peak, I found that one of my dancers was seeing a member of that family... I had danced for them the night he left to go off to medical school!)

The people you would be dancing for today are that generation's grown kids. They didn't want to see this type of show anymore. That audience has severely diminished since those days. When the Saudis stopped coming, the club situation really changed, albeit gradually. About the same time we seemed to be getting a lot of attention from the Asian tourists. They came by busloads, but they didn't tip. In Asian clubs there is a little envelope on the table which the customer fills with a gratuity. But we didn't have envelopes on the tables, and we weren't making any tips. The clubs had thrived on the oil-rich "nouveau-riche" and now it was over. The Saudi-Cairo-Paris-London-New York- DC - Detroit jet set circuit had come to New York, and it was party time -- they were literally throwing the money away -- and then they left. The end of an opulent era.

HC: Tell us about the tipping at "Ibis."

G: One of the "higher-paid" dancers, I was making $50 for two shows, the tips were the bulk of the pay. Most of us would book parties or other clubs between our Ibis shows. People would just call Ibis and ask for a dancer, and they didn't care who that was, because we were all that good -- "We need a dancer!" The going rate for in Ibis dancer to go to a hotel and dance at a party there was $400. You kicked back $100 to the concierge or whoever booked you. I distinctly remember getting a call while at Ibis that I was "needed"to dance at the Plaza. I rushed out of the club and hooked up with my cohort hotel employee. And once there found that the "prince" had decided against enjoying a floorshow. I got my money and went home ... $300 and I didn't even have to take my jacket off.

There was a lot of controversy about the Ibis: "You are being exploited!" Well, we were not paid much, but we were taking home buckets-full of tips. We worked 4-5 nights a week and really loved it.

At Ibis you didn't get tips tucked in your costumes as a regular occurrence; there was a house rule that customers could not approach the dancer. I have to give kudos to Samiha Koura (as well as heartfelt thanks for employing me for over 10 years) for her diligence in presenting the Ibis dancers as "class acts." The right way to do it was: the customer would give the maitre d' the money, the maitre d' would go to the bar and get it transferred into singles, and then he would come up to you while you were dancing, hold up the stack of bills with great panache to show you and the audience, and then turn to the customer who provided the tip and bow. And you would smile, do the regal wave and head nod, and then the maitre d' would throw the bills one by one over you while dancing himself around you until they were spent. The customers that we knew well, the regulars, were allowed to approach the dancer because they were safe. We were really well-protected.

In one of the photos you see some money in my bra -- all these bills had to be double digits, these were never singles; you didn't get to tuck up-top without a price. And when regulars tried to tip dancers by tucking in it in their costume, it would always be a show: the dancer would give them a shoulder, cross her hands over her chest...

One thing I loved to do -- and a lot of us were doing this eventually -- but I really think I started this: I would get closer to the tables -- it wasn't going THROUGH the tables collecting tips but rather just approaching the closest tables and dancing especially for those members of your audience. They were the "front row" and showing them special attention added to the show overall. You shared the limelight. They would hold their money out and wave it at me and then try to put it on my hips, and I would do hip drops and twists and whatever and pull away so that they never could really put the tip in the costume, they would laugh and give up and just throw it, or kiss it and offer it to you on open palms. When that happened, or anything similar, where the customer put you in the position of having to take the money from them by hand, you would roll your eyes ala the exasperated Egyptian woman, tsk-tsk, and finally gracefully accept their token and stuff it in your bra yourself. You had to turn this into a show, and audience participation doesn't mean shaking your boobs in someone's face. It means inviting the audience to share your dance, looking somebody directly in the eye, "Can you see what I am feeling? Are you feeling me dance?" Because when you stop dancing, that's when your audience should start breathing again. And I know it happens to me, when I see a good dancer, in my head, in my body, even if I am sitting still, I am dancing with her. And if I don't feel that, I don't feel like I am being entertained.

One time during a favorite dancer's show one of the Ibis regulars, a very wealthy Kuwaiti gentleman, got up and stuck a few bills in the dancer's bra straps -- they were all $50s -- hey, he was allowed to tip dancers in this way, because he was special! He really loved us dancers, and on a Saturday night you could always rely on a few hundred thrown on each of us out of his pocket. So our Kuwaiti gentleman went back to his table, and then another Egyptian guy with blue eyes gets up, very stately, taking his time, he comes on stage with the dancer, he takes the $50 bills from her bra straps and throws them on the floor. And then he sticks $100s in her bra straps. He sits down, and then our Kuwaiti friend gets up again. He is a heavy man, he is slowly walking toward the dancer. Everyone is watching. He takes out the $100s, throws them on the floor, and puts in $100's of his own exactly in the same spot! He goes back to his place. Then blue eyes gets up again. He tosses away the $100's and in go some 50-pound sterling notes and doubles the money. He sits down, our Kuwaiti friend gets up and doubles the money yet again.

The crowd is waiting: will blue eyes get up? And he doesn't! You could feel the tension as everyone held their breath to see what would happen, the moment was suspended.

And just when it looked like it was over, two other beloved regulars, Zouzou and Sam, walk up to the dancer; one on each side as they take the money out of her bra straps. One slips an American Express card under one strap, and the other a Master Card under the other strap. This brought the house down -- everyone laughing and applauding, the band stopped playing! That's what Ibis was known for -- it was all about the show, all about the good time, and about all those layers of what was going on. The regulars participated in the shows. A couple of times these three guys got up and knelt down on the perimeter of the dance floor and were clapping for me on bended knee during my drum solo. Just to make more of a show. There was a guy who used to stick a glass on his head and do a number -- another regular. We turned everything into a show.

HC: Were there any other special ways of tipping dancers?

G: One way was a "lei" made of $1 bills: they would tape the short ends of the bills together and put this necklace over your head and you had to dance your show with this droopy loop of dollars around your neck. They would have a pile of money on the table, and they are sitting there and taping these things together while you are dancing.

Sometimes a customer would place a stack of bills on top of your head and all would watch to see how long it would remain there while you continued to dance. One thing I absolutely hated was when someone would come up and try to stick a bill to your forehead. It was commonplace and some dancers would go along with it, but personally I just felt like an idiot. There was this thing about sticking the bills onto your body and they would stay because of the sweat, I put up with them being pasted on my stomach or back or hips because I knew it was part of the audience fun, but I just couldn't handle it on my face! On the other hand, one of my faves was going into a back bend and certain customers (with permission) would come up to the stage and just pile the bills one by one onto your chest, the more they piled on the deeper your backbend would get.

My absolute favorite were the "cones." They would take dollar bills and twist them into a cone, and then they would ask for a glass of those little ice cubes used for the drinks and put them in the cone, and stick the cone in your bra. And, of course, as you are dancing, the ice would melt. You get this glistening body with the water running down your stomach, which was quite thrilling to the audience for some reason -- it was an incredible relief in the heat! It was really hot and we were doing long shows. People would walk up to you and blot your face and we would make it a part of our show. A maitre d' would come up and blot our faces -- of course, everyone knew: "don't rub; don't touch the makeup;" -- we had them trained.

And then there was a "crown." The "crown" took 11 bills, usually singles. You take a single and fold it in half lengthwise, and then you take another single and fold it widthwise, and make a top of it into a point, and you assemble these bills into a "crown." One time I got a crown made of 20 dollar bills, it was my birthday. I hung on to that crown for 5-6 years, and then I hit a bad time and I used it to pay my rent together with my "funny money" -- foreign bills I received as tips and kept in a shoe box. Most times the foreign bills were of small value and hardly worth the effort of exchanging them, I thought they were pretty and everyone would let me have them for my "collection" -- when I finally cashed it in there happened to be some pretty large amounts mixed in as well. And then there was the time an American wrote me a check for $1 and stuck it in my costume, I still have it.