Zaharr in 1968 just before she began dancing at the Minerva Cafe

Zaharr shares her struggles and her triumphs as a dancer from 1966 to the present. “For many of us, it was a hard road that led to North Beach and beyond.” she writes. Return to read her story as it unfolds here in the Gilded Serpent.
Previous parts to this story are listed on Zaharr's "Bio page"

What happened that night at the Café Minerva changed my life. Yes, perhaps I managed a credible “show". But certainly the musicians saw me and knew right away that I wasn't capable of much at this point, so they only played a short time. But my performance did get a lot of attention, and applause. Possibly just for having the nerve to get up in front of everyone and making the attempt!

While I changed back into my street-performer’s clothes, I thought about what had just happened out on the dance floor.

I was closer to my dream than I had ever been and I was shaking with the happiness it brought me.

I knew I wasn't dancing like one of the pretty dancers I had seen in 1966, but now it was 1968, and it was time to focus on my own goal of learning more. I wanted to feel that joy inside when the music flowed into me and became the movements of my body. Just a glimmer had touched me, but what a happy thing it was.

As I emerged from the dressing room, Vasilios came up to me and took me aside. “Listen”, he said, “Why don't you come here and dance for a while. Come in on Fridays and Saturday nights. I’ll feed you as much as you can eat and carry home, bring you all the wine you want to drink, and you can keep all of your tips.” You don’t need to bring the Bagpiper.”

Was this an offer for a gig? Since my teacher was too young to be professional, I didn’t know who to ask for advice. So I told him I would think it over and call him back.

When I saw my teacher next time, she suggested it was time for me to go down to Broadway and take a look at the girls in the Casbah. Maybe I could get some ideas there. She couldn't go in, because she was just sixteen, but I could. I was old enough now, just having had my 21st birthday. Maybe one of the dancers could tell me how much a beginning dancer could ask for. So I made my way to San Francisco from Berkeley by hitchhiking. It wasn't yet dangerous in those days. It seemed like a lot of people used it as a way to get around and there had been no crimes committed yet by the hitchers or the drivers. In some ways, we were so innocent in those days. Everyone feeling safe and wandering anywhere, even late in the night.

When I got to Broadway, I would stand outside the door of the Casbah and listen to the music and catch a glimpse of the dancers from time to time. After several trips like this, one night I was invited inside. My face was beginning to be familiar by now to the doorman. (Probably the awful eye make up!) Since I was all alone, I sat as far away in the dark corner by the door as I could. All night, I was enthralled by the dancers, the music, the energy of the audience who were mostly Arab at that time, and very expressive and enthusiastic! This was not at all what I had seen at the Minerva.

There was a bigger problem now though: the dancers looked so unapproachable that I couldn't think of asking any of them how much they were paid!

Finally, I called Vasilios and told him that his offer was just fine, and I would be there on the following Friday. This was the beginning of my tutelage about how to be a good performer.

Coming soon!- Part 13- The Nitty Gritty About Customers…

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10-9-05 Zaharr's Memoir, Part 11- The Minerva
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11-17-05 Traveling with the Touareg by Linda Grondahl
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