A blog in English, French and Dutch about memories, reflections, romance and justice, such as In the Village of Monaco, Dans le Village de Monaco, Professor Pim and the Evil Queen (Poem), Is het Koningshuis grondwettelijk ? When Sinatra Sings, Promised You America, Le Starck Club, Monique Conduisait une CITROËN SM, Les Oiseaux-Grues de Monaco and more . . . "To ask nothing. To expect nothing. To depend on nothing" -- Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead
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IN THE VILLAGE of MONACO
After arriving underground by train from Nice, I walked up the stairs, stepped into Monaco, and immediately noticed how clean the streets were. I looked up at the buildings and saw how perfectly maintained they were. Everything around me seemed new and fresh.
As I walked, a Bentley passed me, followed by a Ferrari and Vespa scooters. Amazing. I was in a completely different world. Most people were well-dressed and I felt comfortable and safe everywhere. The closer I got to the casino area the more glamorous the architecture became, with French designer shops like Versace and Louis Vuitton lining the ground floors of modern, luxurious apartment buildings near the casino square in Monte Carlo.
Monaco seemed too good to be true. Was it real? Was Monaco a real place or had I stumbled into a make-believe world, a kind of Disneyland for stylish adults? At times it felt unreal, as if I were dreaming. I thought of the French philosopher René Descartes who asked himself: “Is it possible that I am dreaming right now and that all of my perceptions are false?” At other moments I felt like I was "in the Village” from the British television series The Prisoner starring Patrick McGoohan -- a place that turned out to be a prison he couldn’t escape from.
Patrick McGoohan in the Village from the TV series The Prisoner
But unlike the Village, Monaco’s skyline was filled with cranes, and construction seemed never ending. All the cranes bore the same sign: “J.B. Pastor & Fils” and every luxurious high-rise apartment building had a sign that said “Groupe Pastor.”
I recalled reading that the Pastor family owned much of Monaco’s real estate and dominated its construction industry. My first instinct was to question why they held such a monopoly, but the more buildings I saw built by them, the more I understood their success. Their structures were of exceptional quality with stunning architecture. They were residential sculptures rising into the sky. Monaco seemed to offer remarkable architectural freedom.
Le Simona Tower -- Groupe Pastor
After walking for an hour, I entered the Metropole shopping center and found an elegant café serving lunch. I sat down and ordered a large draft beer for 20 euros which came with potato chips, the perfect combination. The cold beer bubbled my brain, sparking some random thoughts.
I remembered reading that the chairman of Groupe Pastor, Patrice Pastor, had purchased $100 million worth of real estate in Carmel, California, including a house designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. This brought to mind the book The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand, whose architect hero, Howard Roark, was inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright. Ayn Rand was a passionate admirer of skyscrapers and modern architecture. For her the New York City skyline symbolized freedom.
This led me to wonder if the modern buildings in Monaco could even be built in today's New York City. It seemed that the most innovative architecture today was happening outside the United States. How ironic, I thought. Ayn Rand immigrated to America in 1926 seeking freedom, but had she arrived a century later, might she have chosen another country to emigrate to? Or perhaps she would have stayed in Russia or have settled for Monaco, with Howard Roark designing buildings in Monte Carlo. The beer was good.
But then I reconsidered. Monaco is a kingdom, and Ayn Rand could never have lived in a country ruled by a monarch. Like Aristotle and John Locke, her epistemology held that man is born tabula rasa, responsible for who he becomes and judged by his accomplishments and character, not his bloodline or pedigree. The monarchy and its caste system would have been abhorrent to her. Ayn Rand was an individualist with no respect for royalty, tradition or the status quo.
Yet, as a radical advocate for laissez-faire capitalism, Rand might have appreciated Monaco’s capitalist economy. That’s the irony: a capitalist kingdom thriving in the heart of an Orwellian socialist superstate, the European Union. Fortunately, Monaco is not a member of the EU, allow it to retain its sovereignty and freedom . . . but for how much longer?
In the Village -- "The Prisoner" 1967
Another thought crossed my mind: a story I had read about someone hacking the emails of Prince Albert's advisors, the “king’s men” and posting them on an anonymous website for the whole country of Monaco to see. Known as the “Dossiers du Rocher” this scandal embarrassed Prince Albert by exposing the corruption under his crown.
Some in the media claimed Patrice Pastor orchestrated the hacks because the palace repeatedly denied him real estate contracts, favoring his competitors. And sure enough the hacked emails revealed financial ties between the “king’s men” and the developers who secured those contracts. It was absolute corruption, and there was a bad smell inside the palace of Monaco. In the end, Prince Albert denied he knew anything about the kickbacks, and Patrice Pastor denied he knew anything about the ehacks.
Denials, denials. Denying it to the media is one thing, but denying it under oath in a court of law, under penalty of perjury, is another. At any rate, whoever exposed the corruption at the palace is a perfectionist and a larger-than-life character with a strong sense of justice and tremendous courage. Not all heroes wear capes and not all heroes are nice guys. Just ask Patrice Pastor, he will tell you.
Patrice Pastor, Chairman of J.B. Pastor & Fils
As I finished my beer I was suddenly thinking of Princess Stephanie. Why now? Strange. We had briefly locked eyes in Dallas 40 years ago when I saw her entering the banquet room with her family. It was during the Princess Grace Foundation event, and I was working as a waiter.
I still remember that Princess Stephanie looked at me, and that I held her stare until she looked away. I felt the infatuation was mutual. Would she still remember me? Would I ever see her again? Maybe she was also inside the Metropole right now. I felt she was. But whether she was or wasn’t, I felt that my life had come full circle in Monaco. I then left for the casino to look at the cars I would never be able to afford. Yes, maybe I had become a prisoner of Monaco, but life was good in Monaco.
DALLAS, TEXAS -- 1985-89: Luckily, a new hotel had opened-up in Dallas, and I was able to work some banquet shifts there. It was a 5 star hotel called The Crescent Court Hotel. The banquet manager, Jorge, had previously been an assistant banquet manager at the Anatole under Charles Lorenzi. Originally from Bolivia, Jorge was of medium build with wavy black hair—not bad for a man in his forties. However, his large black mustache and oversized oval head seemed slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body. Before a banquet, Jorge was always nervous and overly serious, but once dessert and coffee were served, he relaxed and became charming. As a banquet waiter, I earned excellent money, and the employee cafeteria food was surprisingly good. I was always grateful when Jorge invited me back for more shifts. The Crescent Court Hotel’s design and architecture exuded traditional European style, as did its upper management. The general manager, a Dutchman, and most of his staff, primar...
"Mirror Mirror on the wall Who is the most popular of them all" "Professor Pim" the mirror said The man the Queen wanted dead The Queen hated Professor Pim For he had called her son dumb and dim With only a few days away Professor Pim would have a say The Queen's ministers had warned her The election was around the corner If Professor Pim would become the Prime Minister of the Neverlands He would hold her future in his hands Without a poison apple around A useful idiot had to be found The Queen's men found such a man And quickly drew up a plan Pim was ambushed in a parking lot He was shot, shot, shot Professor Pim was no more And the Queen found a new man to adore She named her favorite horse after him The man who had murdered Pim No politician thereafter made fun of the crown Because they all wanted to stick around And that's why they call it the Neverlands Because the people will never know their plans
Getting into the Starck Club wasn’t easy. There was always a long line, and the doormen were highly selective about who they allowed to enter. In my early twenties, with bleached blond hair, I was hip enough to pass. I wore black parachute pants and white leather shoes—very Duran Duran-esque.
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