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| Princess Salima Aga Khan, married to the Aga Khan '69-95. I met her in London, 1974 |
This brought back the time I met the Aga Khan, in 1974 in Paris....
Here's the story:
I was in the UK for three years, 1972-74 just after my Uni degree at the Australian National University. It was the done thing in those days: after Uni head off the the "ol' country". In my case, I was heading off to Canada, via London. I thought I'd work on the oil rigs in Canada as I'd heard they earned thousands per week. Stopped off in London, had a beer at a pub in Hammermith, found it congenial and abandoned the idea of Canada.
By '74 I'd had a number of jobs: motor-bike deliveries, bookkeeping at a pie factory; selling "genuine" black velvet paintings door to door; selling encyclopedias door to door; selling carpets from a Pakistani shop in Knightesbridge. And, the best of all: a butler's valet at Glenfiddich lodge in Dufftown Scotland for the grouse shooting season of '74. I earned something like 26 quid a week, full board and tips. The tips were great, as I was also the driver, picking up the guests of the host down at Aberdeen Airport, and the trip always netted a tenner or so.
After this sojourn, I thought that the concept of working as "help" in rich houses was a pretty good lurk. The work's not hard, they treat you well and you can save money, cause you're on full board and nothing to spend the money on.
So when I got back to London at the end of August '74, I looked around for similar jobs. I saw one that looked great: chauffeuring a family around Europe for the winter, and doing odd jobs. I applied and got an interview, which was in a lovely apartment in Knightesbridge. Lo and behold, the person doing the interview was ..... The Begum Aga Khan.! That was Princess Salima Aga Kan, aka Sarah Frances Croker-Poole, a former model, and quite the honey, she was. She had three children, aged four, three and a new born. It would be my job to drive them around the Swiss alps, as and when required.
She asked a few cursory questions -- Q: "can you drive a four-door Maserati"? A: "can I what!" -- and then pronounced herself interested to hire me. I would have time, she assured me, to do some skiing when I'd finished my driving jobs for her and kids for the day. Heaven!
And as I left, she looked at me and said: "You would look very well in a chauffeur's uniform"... . "Well", was the word she'd used, not "good", but "well", which I thought, ignorant Aussie that I was, very classy English and a bit of a giveaway; or so I allowed myself to fantasize...
Only one thing. I would have to meet her husband who would have to give his approval.
A few days later an air ticket appeared in my letter box and I was off to Paris to meet the Aga Khan.
His place in Paris is (or was then), on the Ile de la Cite, right in the heart of Paris. A huge, castle-like place, made of enormous stone blocks, Gormonghastian, in a way. I was directed in to the "help" door and sat in a kitchen with scullery maids and a butler, to await the call.
As I sat there, cup of coffee in hand, a couple of the maids, in their cute classic scullery maid black/white outfits (short skirts, stocking, garter belts.... stop it now!), began chatting with each other in Spanish. Now I speak Italian (my mother tongue), so understanding Spanish was pretty easy, though they didn't know that, as they were peering at me over their coffees and speculating on...."hacer el amor con él"... what I'd be like in bed....(I was in my early twenties...). Wow, I was thinking, as I slyly and innocently sipped my coffee. What could be better: driving the Maserati in the morning, skiing in the arvo, and bouncy young Spanish nooky in the evening. A fantasy come true.
My pleasant musings were interrupted by the call to see the Aga Khan.
I was led up to a huge room, with ceilings to the sky, walls covered in ancient tapestries, carpets the size of football fields (and good ones too: remember I'd been a carpet salesman), and there, in front of me, the leader of the Ismaeli Muslims.
He sat me in a sofa and began to talk. Now the odd thing is, that though I was the one being interviewed, he did most of the talking. What I recall of it is that he talked to me of how difficult it is to be the leader of the Ismaelis. He was unloading himself on me, who knew nothing of Islam, even less of the Ismaelis and just wanted to drive his hot car, ski on his dime, poke his help and get paid for it. On and on he went of the difficulties, the challenges, of being the Aga Khan. Odd, huh?
Then he got onto me.
He asked me: "and why would you, son of a diplomat and with a degree in Economics, want to work as a driver?"
I confess I was a bit stumped by the question and though made a fist of answering, it didn't do it for the Aga Khan. As I reasoned ruefully later: of course the Aga Khan is going to have his people look into my background before letting a young untested buck loose with his gorgeous wife and in charge of his kids, and mixing it with the maids.
So, I didn't get the job.
But I've often thought about that job interview. If I'd been smarter; if I'd predicted his question and had a much better answer than whatever rubbish it was that I must have spouted, I could have been working for the Aga Khan. And I've thought: I would not have remained as his driver. I would have impressed him with my wit and wisdom and worked my way up in his estimation and his hierarchy. I could have become the right hand man of the Aga Khan.
And then I'd be on the other side of the argument with Spencer: I'd be the one handling the fall out with Rick Perry....
