readers’ letters

CLEARING CARLTON’S COBWEBS

“Phantom Hotel” (November 10) brought back memories of the grand lady of Joburg. I am of Indian origin and was working for a subsidiary of Anglo American in 1974, when I was invited to a function in the ballroom of the Carlton Hotel. I hired a tuxedo for this grand occasion but petty apartheid had to spoil my first taste of the glamour. The doorman ushered me in but, as I got to the lifts, I was tapped on my shoulder and reminded by the concierge that “waiters must use the service lift”. Despite this, the rest of the evening was pure indulgence. — Narendra Bhana My friend Strike and I had breakfast every Saturday in the famous Koffiehuis. — Sipho Bob Mahlangu I worked part time as a waitress in the Carlton ballroom throughout the early ’70s. It was a wonderful job as we were paid well and had supper in the staff canteen, which served leftovers from the ballroom and the restaurants. The hotel trained us in the etiquette of fine dining, which has been an advantage to me all my life. I also remember the German chefs as very temperamental. Once, a chef threw a tomato at a waiter, who dodged it, so it fell on the floor. That tomato was later scooped off the floor, covered in sauce and sent out to the ballroom as they were a tomato short.

The baked alaskas with sparklers were paraded around the dance floor. One night, a waiter held one too high as he passed through the swinging kitchen doors and the top was lopped off!

I have lots of other anecdotes about those wonderful days. Thanks for jogging my memory. — Anneli Silvennoinen

BABY IT’S LOVE

RE: “A race to first base” (November 17): I do not blame Hagen Engler for gloating about his marriage to a black woman. Like they always say: “Once you go black, you will never go back.” — T Sithole