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A London of ContrastsNo Snoring at the Goring & Getting Down With Jerry SpringerBy Will SnyderLondon can offer nearly limitless options of accommodation and entertainment. The choices one makes will often mean the difference between a memorable trip and a feeling that there’s just no place like home. During a recent trip I made choices that have renewed my belief that London is truly the capital of cosmopolitan Europe. There are many newly refurbished hotels in London, offering boutique minimalism and rock star attraction. But not all high standard lodging has gone the route of sterile black and white avant-garde design. One hotel stands out as having retained its traditions in every sense of the word- the Goring Hotel.
I stayed at the Goring during a recent visit, and was expecting stodginess, aloof staff and arrogant discretion- perceptions of a snooty Olde England. I had read that the Goring was the first hotel in the world to have central heating and a bathroom for each bedroom, and I thought this is a place in need of an image change. But what I observed and felt was very different- a hotel and clientele guarding cherished traditions in a spirit of openness and respect for the values of the past.
The rooms are comfortable, with a sheep footrest in each providing the motif of comfort and understated humor. Another example of tongue-in-cheek kidding: a note to all clients from Chairman George who describes the comfortable bedroom furnishings and adds “There’s no snoring at the Goring!” A terrace, and many of the bedrooms, opens to the largest private garden in London- a tranquil haven in the busy city. The Garden Bar is a wonderful setting for porto sipping and people watching. The restaurant is the epitome of high British manners: classic well-appointed tables, a large pan-European staff discreetly (that word again) watching every table for the slightest need, excellent food, all the tea and crumpet rituals. No mobile phones are permitted, conversation is muted (and tables are well separated to ensure privacy), one feels transported beyond modern Britcool to a land of Lewis Carroll and proper etiquette. And owner George has created another custom in his house, organizing a weekly cocktail for all guests to mix and exchange civilities. For the Goring is a true institution. Every Prime Minister since Winston Churchill has stayed there. Some of the job titles are amusing, over the top as the Brits would say, such as Chief Clerk to the Master of the Household. But such oddities, including the book written about the Goring in the style of the Canterbury Tales (with chapters entitled The Chef’s Tale, The Guests’ Tale…), really do add up to a wonderful and unique establishment that must be experienced first-hand.
The show uses the opera media with soaring arias and thundering choruses to present the usual lineup of sexual misfits – a guy who strips down to a diaper, a girl who is a guy – and the security guards are busy keeping the participants from killing each other. Jerry (with a Woody Allen voice) is the instigator to the conflicts, but never seeks a resolution to the relationships gone awry. The second half of the show is his comeuppance, as he faces eternal judgment for his role in the TV shows. But don’t think this is a morality play, or that there are any messages beyond crude jokes and demonising of every target in sight. If you go:The Goring Hotel Jerry Springer the Opera Will Snyder is a free lance journalist
living in southwest France. Images by Will Snyder |
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TM
The
Goring, a 5 minute walk from Buckingham Palace and Victoria train station,
is the oldest family owned hotel in London. It was opened in 1910 by O.
Goring and is now run by his grandson George. The family presence in the
neighborhood goes back even further- the original Goring House was built in
the 17th Century on the site of the current Buckingham Palace, and an early
Goring who was Earl of Norwich lost the land by backing the wrong side in
the English Civil War. 
This
is a hotel with a personal touch, the staff having just the right courteous
and helpful touch, knowing the fine line between non-intrusive attention and
being over-indulgent. This is the home away from home for a high class of
British visitor (personalities from the House of Lords and West End theatre
have loaned their names in support of the place), as a large majority of
guests remain an upper crust UK clientele. Yet there are the admiring
Americans, French and Germans who find the atmosphere and service reassuring
and family oriented. And who enjoy soaking up the “civilized elegance.”
The
West End musical scene is a little stale these days. There are pop music
based shows (Abba, Rod Stewart, Queen) reruns (Phantom of the Opera, , Blood
Brothers) and kids stuff (Lion King, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang). By far, the
hottest ticket in town is Jerry Springer The Opera playing at the Cambridge
Theatre in Covent Garden. An ironic high art presentation of the
spiritual consequences of trash TV, the show is an energy-charged
foul-mouthed tribute to the in-yer-face confrontational theme sexual deviate
shows that have conquered the western world.