There’s trouble in clubland
THE EAST INDIA, one of the richest gentlemen’s clubs in Britain, is $926,000 short. The theft has shed light on an old tradition
The East India Club has got itself into spot of bother, with some backstairs beancounter at the club accused of pocketing 500,000 pounds ($926,000) of members’ money. The long arm of the law has been feeling his collar.
The story of the alleged theft, tactfully described by the club secretary as an “unfortunate event,” has shone the light on this historic institution in St. James’s Square, which boasts as former members the 1st Earl of Mountbatten, Denis Thatcher and enough holders of the Victoria Cross to form at least one polo team.
Tom Stacey, a publisher and leading light in clubland, said: “This is a devastatingly awful story. If it is true, the first thing that should happen is that a scaffold should be erected in St. James’s Square. He’s brought shame on the club.”
The alleged incident has also highlighted the strange and antiquated world of clubland itself. To outsiders, these (mostly) gentlemen-only establishments belong to an era of servants, plus-fours and devilled kidneys for breakfast. But despite, or maybe because of, the arrival of women at the ballot box, slip-on shoes and the pre-mixed gin and tonic (shudder), these clubs have not only survived, but continue to thrive.
Their origins stretch back to Stuart-era coffeehouses, where business and gossip would be exchanged. The oldest and grandest of them all is White’s, founded before the Bank of England. Benjamin Disraeli said there were only two things that an Englishman cannot command: being made a Knight of the Garter or a member of White’s.
White’s members include the Prince of Wales and most of the dukes of England. David Cameron famously resigned in 2008 after he realised being a member of such an elitist, all-male institution might not go down very well with the soccer mums he was trying to woo in the run-up to the general election.
Admittedly, not all clubs are hotbeds of snobbery where jackets and ties must always be worn and business never conducted. But by their very nature they are exclusive. You invariably have to be nominated and seconded by existing members to join, which ensures only likeminded types swell the ranks. At White’s, they like any prospective member to be vouched for by 35 individuals.
AnthonyLejeune,inhis1979book, The Gentlemen’s Clubs of London, tells the story of two Guards’ officers who sank into comfortable armchairs at the Oxford and Cambridge Club (while their own club was closed). One exclaimed: “These middle-class fellows know how to do themselves well.” Slowly the elderly member opposite lowered his newspaper to reveal the Duke of Wellington, chancellor of Oxford.
When Lejeune wrote his book he thought it would serve as an elegy for a dying age. The idea of an allmen’s club was no longer tenable with a woman as prime minister. The Carlton, the St. James’s outpost of the Conservative Party, even made Margaret Thatcher an honorary member in 1975.
The times were changing. The new media elite of the 1980s founded their own club, The Groucho, which welcomed women as full members, while the New Labour era ushered in supposedly classless private members’ clubs such as Soho House and the Hospital Club where open necks and BlackBerries were as de rigueur as a mockney accent.
But ironically, while the membership of working-men’s clubs has collapsed from six million in the ’70s to barely two million now, in recent years many of the old-fashioned gentlemen’s clubs have enjoyed such record waiting lists and membership numbers that Lejeune’s book was revised and reprinted in 2012 by Stacey.
The publisher, who has been a member of White’s for more than 50 years, said: “They are not a relic of the past at all. Catching up with old friends is a perennial joy of life. People like to be with their own kind. At a club you can let your hair down without fear of being misunderstood.”
Many of the less grand have encouraged young blood, through heavily discounted joining fees. This is one of the reasons the East India in particular has thrived. Some time ago it merged with the Public Schools Club, so a recommendation from your headmaster is still enough to guarantee you membership for 275 pounds a year on leaving school, considerably cheaper than the 985-pound standard annual fee. Its two full-size snooker tables, along with its sports clubs, are popular with the under-30s.
Charlie Jacoby, the East India Club’s historian, said: “Most of the members are under 40, with a big chunk under 30. It may seem stuffy from the outside, but it is very com- fortable; the food is exceptional and it is excellent value.”
This remains one of the key reasons why these clubs are still popular. The Michelin inspectors will not trouble their kitchens, but most can turn out decent meals at a fraction of the price charged by neighbouring restaurants in the West End. Where else in central London could you sit in a comfortable armchair in a gorgeous Georgian drawing room, warm your feet by the fire and sip a martini for 5 pounds?
Some have exceptional wine cellars, carefully built up over the generations, and which have, in the past, been the main source of financial irregularities in clubland.
According to one insider, who worked in various clubs (though not the East India), it was a common occurrence for stock to go missing. “It was par for the course,” he said. “It is such a different culture in these places. They don’t have outsider shareholders or directors and, as a result, there are no real financial controls. Many people working there treated the club as their private home. Thousands of pounds worth of stock go missing in a standard year.”
Most clubs sit on huge assets — not just their wine cellars. Though the smartest ones on St. James’s Street are on Crown Estate land, they tend to hold very favourable, long leaseholds. And it is understood that the East India, which boasts 60 rooms, owns the freehold on its site in St James’s, which could fetch 100 million pounds if it were ever on the open market.
One long-standing member of the East India said: “It’s one of the richest clubs, with hefty cash reserves. The members won’t mind too much about this theft, but the staff will. They are dedicated and long-serving, which considering the club adheres to the old rule of never tipping club servants, says something about the general atmosphere there. They will be mortified if one of their number has (allegedly) run off with the swag.”