ELVIS of ATHOS by Pieter Uys

1978 was the year Disco really dominated South Africa and nowhere more so than at Club Athos in Schoeman Street. Situated to the west of Pretoria’s central business district, near where Schoeman joins Potgieter Street, the area was deserted at night. A long passage led to a flight of stairs beyond which a gate opened to a magical underworld. First, one saw the black and white squares of the dancefloor and as one’s eyes got used to the disco lights, the tables and chairs became visible. At the back, a type of stage came into view with more seating that provided a wide view of the dancefloor.

Then you noticed the colourful people. Species you never could’ve imagined inhabiting Pretoria at a time when the Vorsters ruled South Africa. Prime Minister B. J. Vorster and his brother Dr J. D. (Koot) Vorster, the moderator of the Dutch Reformed Church, the largest of the three Calvinist churches. This church dominated culture, politics and religion to such an extend that it was labelled “The National Party at prayer.”

It’s nearly impossible to describe the separation between people in South Africa under Apartheid. Individuals were classified into 4 races: Black, Coloured, Indian and White. Things were slightly more relaxed in the ex-colonies of Natal with its majority of English speakers amongst the “white” population and in the Cape Province where “Coloured” people formed the majority. The inland provinces of Orange Free State and Transvaal were the most conservative and the capital city Pretoria was stiflingly Calvinistic.

Amongst nationalistic Afrikaners, even white English speakers were regarded with distrust although they did not suffer the indignities of Apartheid. Most of them supported the moderate United Party whilst the brave Mrs Helen Suzman, for many years the single member of parliament for the Progressive Party, was the lone parliamentary voice of the disenfranchised. The voters in her Houghton, Johannesburg constituency were overwhelmingly wealthy English speakers. In 1980 Dr Koot Vorster declared: “Nobody can be a good South African if he is not first an Afrikaner.”*1

The Afrikaans version of Calvinism was a fusion of religious dogma and Afrikaner Nationalism. Dr J. D. Vorster had a strong hand in censorship. Television was banned until 1975 and a censorship board either made deep cuts to or banned many popular films. No less than 20 000 books were banned at one stage.*2 The most popular youth radio station, LM Radio broadcasting from Mozambique, scrupulously followed the dictates of the South African censorship board by not giving airtime to banned songs but oddly enough, the 7” singles were available in the record stores.

Unfortunately but unsurprisingly, the aforementioned racial divide were so firmly embedded that white gays based their terminology on these categories. A coloured gay was thus called a “Clora”, an Indian gay a “Minah” (from the Indian Minah bird) and a Black gay a “Natalie” (derived from an Afrikaans word “naturel” which means “indigenous” or “aborigine”).

It was only from the middle of the 1980s and especially the latter part of that decade that these racial barriers started dissolving. Before then, some “Coloured” gays did pass for “White” and had access to the clubs and bars of Johannesburg. My friend James, mentioned below, had an Indian gay friend who accompanied us to the bars and clubs of Joburg from about 1985. Not the ones in Pretoria, though. By 1994 when the first elections for all South Africans took place, most gay venues had already integrated although of course bigotry still existed then and even now is not entirely absent in the gay community.

As the visitor to Athos became familiar with the scene. s/he soon got to know flamboyant drag queens like tall blonde Penny and demure Mary who carried the title Miss Athos 1978. Outrageously clad queens co-existed with attractive, masculine and muscular young Afrikaners in denim trousers and T-shirts. Straights there were aplenty, especially art and drama students from the University of Pretoria. Even really aged people, someone’s grandparents, regularly frequented the club. And then there were the gay girls… beautiful lipstick lesbians, and many from the army, airforce and navy with a plethora of appearances – from lipstick to bulldyke.

Athos served as a reserve for the protection of rare species. Female crane drivers rubbed shoulders with fine arts lecturers, rent boys, students and medical doctors. The club attracted rich and poor alike; patrons came from upper class eastern suburbs like Faerie Glenn and Queenswood as well as the western blue collar areas like Daspoort, Danville and Proclamation Hill. Some species were so exotic that it was impossible to determine their gender: slim and lean androgynous types that resembled a young Patti Smith.

Amongst those of determinable gender, I was most fascinated by the abundance of lesbians, the butch ones in particular. I had never encountered anything like that and I fell in love with them, to the disapproval of my male gay friends who sternly admonished and cautioned me. It wasn’t good for the image. So I became more discreet as my fascination increased and found out many weird and wonderful things about them. I soon learned that the worst insult one of them could give another was the term “Kieriejoller”. Loosely translated, the word means “staff / stick player” where the staff is the penis. Any gay girl that slept with a man was thus stigmatized as a Kieriejoller.

And the disco hits kept the dancefloor filled. Amongst the evergreens were Giorgio Moroder’s hypnotic From Here To Eternity, Laurie Marshall’s erotic We Will Make Love, The Michael Zager Band’s entrancing Let’s All Chant and the wildly popular I Feel Love by Donna Summer. By the early morning hours, the beats-per-minute slowed down and non-disco ballads like Cool Wind from the North by Stephanie de Sykes entered the mix. However, the highlight of the witching hour was a ballad by a disco singer, when the club became bathed in blue for Grace Jones’s sensual La Vie en Rose. That was the sign for lovers to dance really close; the song had become the anthem of a romantic ritual. Amusement enriched the romance when big-bellied females bent forwards in order to embrace one another’s shoulders as in the case of Celia Pumpkin and her equally large lover.

At least Pumpkin was friendly and benevolent. Tosca Ossewana (Ox-wagonia) who was employed at the state printer under the protected labour scheme may have been loud and rowdy but she was harmless. And the slim lipstick lesbian Lynne Polse (Lynne Wrists) who often cried her heart out in the passage to the toilets would never hurt a gay boy or queen. The marks on her wrists were the result of the indifference of other lesbians like the unconscionable Marjorie.

Unfortunately even in that setting exceptions proved the rule. Violence lurked just under the veneer in certain individuals like Shane and Elvis. Shane’s real name remains a mystery. Some claim it was Shana, others say Shano. Quite possibly the original Shana was adapted to Shano for the club and evolved into Shane under the influence of the then popular TV series. Wiry and sinewy with a dark complexion, Shane had short black hair and a sort of inexplicably slutty image. One instinctively avoided her on account of her ill-defined but tangible predatory air.

Her friend Elvis, on the other hand, was big and fat. A square block of a woman with a round moon face who wore khaki-coloured safari suits, big boots and a comb of which the top part stuck out of one of her long socks. Her wide circle of friends all came from Pretoria’s western working class suburbs and included gay men. Both Shane and Elvis operated cranes for the Iron and Steel Corporation of South Africa. Elvis had other duties too – at Athos the cleaning of the Ladies’ and assuring the availability of toilet paper. She and Shane wore their cigarette packets in the outer fold of their rolled up sleeves.

Only the most informed knew that Shane and Elvis walked Bok and Fox Streets to the east of Church Square to supplement their income. It’s easy to picture Shane in that situation but one’s mind still reels at the thought of Elvis in same. The butch Elvis famous for witticisms such as “You haven’t tasted sweets till you’ve tasted chocolates”. Elvis who inspired fear or at least respect in most of the club’s patrons. The formidable Elvis who would physically assault anyone who insulted any of her friends. Well, maybe their clientele comprised straight guys looking for punishment. One may add here that both Elvis and Shane had false teeth… in order to suck harder, my child.

Amongst the créme de la créme of the gay guys, no one was more sought after than my friend James. He was the most outspoken in discouraging my ill conceived admiration for, and social interaction with, the butch dykes. The decorous Mary, Miss Athos 1978, and Poppy, a lesbian who worked for the ultraconservative Herstigte Nasionale Party (HNP: Refounded National Party), shared an apartment in the same building. This block, across from Art Gallery Park, was a hive of activity. Handsome and popular, James never lacked suitors. One of these was Morné, a friend of Elvis. Someone had told James that Morné was a Clora whereupon James discreetly enquired but cliques have many ears and rumours of enquiries tend to spread, especially about such a sensitive issue for that time.

Yet there are many types of cliques. Take for example the one to which Pierre belonged. That was a strictly discriminatory group. Lesbians were out of the question. Straights of both genders were accepted as long as they were refined and well-behaved. The mere existence of butch lesbians offended them. These lesbians, the Dicus Taurus in Latin, were the Antichrist and they were ignored at places like Club Athos. Except that fateful evening when Pierre couldn’t help himself. His clique occupied a table on the stage with the wide view of the club… and Elvis sat right below them next to the dancefloor. Being an artist, Pierre considered Elvis an aesthetic eyesore, a blot on the landscape.

Elvis, as leader of her pack of integrated lesbians and gays, took her leadership responsibilities seriously. No one dared say anything negative about any member of her gang. During the course of the evening, Morné pointed the slanderer out to Elvis. It was James who was having a great time with his lover, Dewald Policeman. James, who merely enquired about Morné’s racial composition. Thus hostility already permeated the air although Morné wouldn’t have dared to confront James directly due to Dewald Policeman’s bulging muscles. An amicable chap with a friendly disposition, Dewald was clearly not someone to rub up the wrong way.

The next moment a little paper missile hit the back of Elvis’ head. Pierre, annoyed by her presence as spoiler of the milieu, had been launching these at her and this one finally hit the target. Fortunately for Pierre, his angelic face rendered him an unlikely suspect and his innocent look was reinforced by his acting ability. When Elvis arose with bulging biceps and pulsating jugular, Pierre was as safe as a baby cherub. It was poor Albert next to him who fell prey to the wrath of Elvis. Brutally hoisting him by the collar, she thundered in his face, “Do it again and I’ll fucking kill you!!!”

Elvis’ seemingly unprovoked attack left everyone horrified and speechless. Although the missile came from that general direction, Elvis had no way of ascertaining beyond any doubt that Albert were the guilty party. So she let go of his collar, dropping him down on the seat before swaggering back to her table in her macho gait. Soon afterwards, it was time to go and check whether everything was in order in the Ladies’. Already enraged, she recognized James in the passage – the same one where Lynn Polse stood weeping inconsolably – as the slanderer of her friend Morné.

Grabbing James under the arms, she lifted him against the wall while squeezing the air from his lungs. “Did you call Morné a Clora!!?” she bellowed. Struggling to breathe, he couldn’t utter a word. Again she roared: “Is it you!!? I’ll bash your fucking face in!!!” at the exact moment when Dewald Policeman rounded the corner to view this act of violence. As muscular as he was, Dewald was also the pleasant arbiter type. Instead of launching into her, he cooled her rage with soothing words. Despite her brutality and lack of brain cells, Elvis must have realized that an escalation of violence would have been to her detriment. Dewald’s membership of the police force was well known.

She quickly let go of James, setting him on his feet. After further gentle words from Dewald and subdued grumbles from Elvis, she swaggered off to the Ladies’. How wonderful that Providence intervened at just the right moment to prevent bloodshed! The issue was resolved with both sides’ dignity intact. It’s true that James’ pallor took a while to disappear but when two o’ clock came round and the lights bathed the club in blue and indigo, a rosy hue had returned to his cheeks. As the romantic rhythms of La Vie en Rose enveloped the air, both couples, James and Dewald and Elvis and her partner, danced oh so close with limbs entwined. Thus romance triumphed over hatred that night at Club Athos, a victory celebrated by Grace Jones:

“Quand il me prend dans ses bras Il me parle tout bas je vois la vie en rose

When he takes me in his arms and whispers love to me everything's lovely It's him for me and me for him all our lives and it's so real what I feel

La vie en rose, la vie en rose la vie aaaah La vie en rose…”*3

NOTES

*1 Britten, Sarah. The Art of the South African Insult. 30° South Publishers (Pty) Ltd, Newlands, Johannesburg, 2006. ISBN: 192014305X / 97819201432053

*2 Van Rooyen, Kobus. A South African Censor’s Tale. Protea Book House, Pretoria, 2011. ISBN: 1869194152 / 978-1869194154.

*3 Lyrics by Édith Piaf, English lyrics by Mack David.

PICTURE CREDITS

Grace Jones, page 1: Cover Artwork: Richard Bernstein Grace Jones, pages 8, 9: Graphic Design: Richard Bernstein Photography: Francis Ing, Antonio Lopez

Donna Summer, pages 4, 7: Design: Gribbitt! Photography: Victor Skrebneski

Giorgio Moroder, page 2: Art Direction: Phyllis Chotin, Gribbitt! Art Direction, Design: Henry Vizcarra Photography: Ron Slenzak

Michael Zager Band, pages 3, 6: Art Direction, Design: B. Arnold, Neil Terk Illustration: David Willardson

DISCOGRAPHY

Donna Summer: I Feel Love. Casablanca Records, 1977.

Giorgio Moroder: From Here to Eternity. Casablanca Records, 1977.

Grace Jones. La Vie en Rose; Portfolio. Island Records, 1977.

Laurie Marshall. (All Day and All Night) We Will Make Love. Amherst Records, 1976.

Michael Zager Band. Let’s All Chant. Private Stock, 1977.

SOURCES http://www.allmusic.com/ http://www.discogs.com/ http://www.wikipedia.org/