Tales from the Colony Room: Soho's Lost Bohemia

by Darren Coffield

Entertaining, shocking, uproarious, hilarious . . . like eavesdropping on a wake, as the mourners get gradually more drunk and tell ever more outrageous stories' Sunday Times 
 This is the definitive history of London's most notorious drinking den, the Colony Room Club in Soho. It’s a hair-raising romp through the underbelly of the post-war during its sixty-year history, more romances, more deaths, more horrors and more sex scandals took place in the Colony than anywhere else. 
 Tales from the Colony Room is an oral biography, consisting of previously unpublished and long-lost interviews with the characters who were central to the scene, giving the reader a flavour of what it was like to frequent the Club. With a glass in hand you’ll move through the decades listening to personal reminiscences, opinions and vitriol, from the authentic voices of those who were actually there. On your voyage through Soho’s lost bohemia, you’ll be served a drink by James Bond, sip champagne with Francis Bacon , queue for the loo with Christine Keeler , go racing with Jeffrey Bernard , get laid with Lucian Freud , kill time with Doctor Who , pick a fight with Frank Norman and pass out with P eter Langan . All with a stellar supporting cast including Peter O’Toole, George Melly, Suggs, Lisa Stansfield , Dylan Thomas, Jay Landesman, Sarah Lucas, Damien Hirst and many, many more.

Genres: Nonfiction, Biography, History, Biography Memoir, London

464 pages, Paperback

First published April 16, 2020

Reviews

[Nigeyb · Rating 3 out of 5]

Like you need me to tell you, The Colony Room Club opened in Soho in December 1948 – a small room at the top of a scruffy flight of stairs on Dean Street in Soho. The club offered its members an oasis from Britain's restrictive licensing laws. Francis Bacon was one of the first customers. The Colony Room closed for good in 2008.

Tales from the Colony Room: Soho's Lost Bohemia is an evocative anthology of interviews with members which spans the six decades of the Colony's history which amounts to an extensive oral history.

The club remained virtually unchanged through the decades of its 60 year history. Towards the end, around the time the YBAs discovered it, then owner Michael Wojas was forced to implement some more drastic changes to try to keep it afloat. This era sounds a bit of a travesty. Music nights and public binges in line with the horrendous Cool Britannia era.

What's best about it is the little biographical nuggets. After a while though I started to skim it, mainly alighting on those personalities that I am most interested in. Many of the regulars, including two of the three owners, took their alcohol abuse to extremes. Many were killed by their chosen lifestyle.

Perhaps I've had my fill of this kind of book? How interesting can you make a book about people who spend huge swathes of their free time drinking?

There's plenty of gossip, insights and bitchy one liners but this is also awash with details about the place itself which is probably the least interesting thing about this book especially once you get used to people being addressed as "fuckface" or "cunty" and being roasted by the intolerant staff and regulars.

Ultimately what this book demonstrates is that The Colony Room was a vicious, snobby, nihilistic venue where the louche habituees delighted in being unpleasant to each other. An "alcoholics' paradise" as Barry Humphries puts it in the introduction. The worst thing you could be was boring. Imagine the pressure. The best thing you could do was piss away your talent and, ultimately, your life.

As with Soho in the Eighties, I came away glad I was only spending a few vicarious hours in the Colony and not the hard years that many of the regulars put in.

3/5



To commemorate the tenth anniversary of the closure of London's most infamous arts establishment, the Colony Room Club in Soho, former member Darren Coffield has written the authorised history of this notorious drinking den. It's a hair-raising romp through the underbelly of the post-war scene: during its sixty-year history, more romances, more deaths, more horrors and more sex scandals took place in the Colony than anywhere else. In the regimented and repressed atmosphere of post-war London, the Colony was heroically bohemian, largely thanks to the dominant personality of its owner, Muriel Belcher. Muriel was a combination of muse, mentor, critic and guru to those who gathered around her, just as the Colony provided a home for the confluence of talents that will be forever associated with the artistic circle of Francis Bacon and Lucian Freud. Tales from the Colony is an oral biography, consisting of previously unpublished and long-lost interviews with the characters who were central to the scene, giving the reader a flavour of what it was like to frequent the Club. With a glass in hand you'll move through the decades listening to personal reminiscences, opinions and vitriol, from the authentic voices of those who were actually there. On your voyage through Soho's lost bohemia, you'll be served a drink by James Bond, sip champagne with Francis Bacon, queue for the loo with Christine Keeler, go racing with Jeffrey Bernard, get laid with Lucian Freud, kill time with Doctor Who, pick a fight with Frank Norman and pass out with Peter Langan. All with a stellar supporting cast including Peter O'Toole, George Melly, Suggs, Lisa Stansfield, Dylan Thomas, Jay Landesman, Sarah Lucas, Damien Hirst and many, many more.

[Side Real Press · Rating 4 out of 5]

It is now hard to imagine that before 1988 UK pubs had to close between 3.00 and 5.30. A way around this was to join a club where one could drink to ones heart's content. Some were exclusive and snooty, some were utter dives. The Colony Room was one of the latter a tiny room with a single-stall unisex toilet where you fought your way in past offensive doorkeepers “Who’s this cunt?” and then took your chance at the bar “What the fuck do you want?”. But if you were brave/stupid, rich and, most important, not be a bore, you might be able to get monumentally drunk with the likes of Francis Bacon, Lucien Freud, Jeffrey Bernard, Daniel Farson, Damien Hirst, Tracey Emin and a whole range of other extra-ordinary characters.

So would you want to? They all sound utter cunts. But, as Jeffrey Bernard puts it, that is very different from being a shit. “A shit is intentionally nasty…a cunt is a cunt by mistake… it's accidental”. Glad that’s cleared up then.

The drinkers here are serious professionals. In the interviews (which follow the chronology of the club) we are told astonishing tales of excess and self-destruction. Reading the mini-biographies of them at the back one sees just how short many of their lives were (or be amazed by how long they actually made it). Many were gay, at a time when being homosexual was a crime, and the self-hatred just pours off the pages, the roughest of trade beating them senseless, uneasy stand-offs, screaming matches and the like. And yet the next day many would return, apologise for (or assume others would forgive) their drunken excesses and repeat the process perhaps performing great acts of generosity to those they had slighted beforehand. It was a love/hate type of place and could turn from one to the other in milliseconds. Woe betides anyone not strong enough to stand it.

It this respect it is quite a mind-boggling book, not only for the candid portraits (in their own words) of some of the great artists of the period (Bacon and Freud) but for a whole society that has changed (or rather been obliterated) so comprehensively. In some ways, it is touchingly ‘innocent’ as now everyone has a camera-phone and an eye on their social media account. What happened in the Colony Rooms generally stayed in the Colony Rooms, until this book. By its very nature, it is certainly useful if you know something of the period before taking it on, as it really is at its best detailing the fifties to the eighties- the latter years were ruined by the art world trying to /trading on the ‘mystique’ of the club, heavy drugs and influx of ‘big bang’ money to London. I was way too young for its glory days (and would certainly have loathed it as much as the regulars would have loathed me) but well remember when Soho was a sleazy shit-hole and one stepped over the junkies of a deserted Covent Garden en-route to Ray Mans music store on Chalk Farm Road. If you weren’t there at the time you cannot imagine what it was like.

This volume is as good an attempt as one can get to portray a tiny part of London’s cultural history that won’t be in the glossy guide books issued by London’s Mayor. Anyone with an interest in ‘bohemian’ London, its characters, or just weirdos and eccentrics of all stripes will certainly enjoy this it. I would have liked perhaps a few more ‘ordinary’ members stories woven in, surely they can’t all have been as bonkers as the book suggests?, but then I guess it wouldn’t have been so entertaining. A hugely enjoyable and recommended read.

[Ryan · Rating 1 out of 5]

Londoners get sozzled, swear, and sponge. The end.

[Chris Organ · Rating 3 out of 5]

I worked in Soho from 1980 until 2016 and loved every minute . I spent too much time in the remaining haunts of the rose tinted past such as the French House , the Star and Garter , the Blue Posts and became a life member of the Groucho as they seemed to carry on the traditions of the past especially when Kent and Bernie were strutting their stuff . I only went to the Colony once when it was in its death throes and it was a profoundly disappointing and depressing experience . In my eyes the heydays of Soho were the 50s and 60s and because this pre dated my own love affair with the place I have read many books on the subject written by fully paid up Soho-ites such as Dan Farson . The problem with illusions is that they are so easily shattered and when you finish this book you are left with the overwhelming impression that the habituees of the Colony were are best lost and lonely and at worst thoroughly unpleasant alcoholics who congregated in a place not for the quality of the wine or champagne or the decor but because this is where similarly lost souls congregated . Believe me I am no crusading evangelist and bitterly regret the gentrification of Soho and have signed all the petitions . The book was eminently readable but perhaps it is better to keep one’s vision of your own particular Belle Époque intact rather than have the illusion shattered by the reality of books like this . Others may find the stories of the behaviour of some of the 20th Century’s greatest wits, artists, writers , photographers etc appealing and alluring but I didn’t . Never mind we still have the French House and the pictures on the wall. Vive

[Jonathan Fryer · Rating 5 out of 5]

For six decades from 1948, the Colony Room Club in Dean, Street, Soho, was a moth-trap for London’s Bohemians. Its life span — not bad for a club — fell into three distinct periods, like the Ages of Man, each presided over by a boss whose personality impacted on both the membership and the atmosphere. The Colony Room’s heyday was in the 1950s and 1960s, when a sharp-tongued Jewish lesbian, Muriel Belcher, was in charge; she features in the little book I wrote for the National Portrait Gallery 20-odd years ago, Soho in the Fifties and Sixties, illustrated with paintings and photographs from the NPG’s collections. Muriel took the young artist Francis Bacon — whom she called “daughter” — under her wing. Other artists, including Lucian Freud and Frank Auerbach, became habitués. Witty when in a good mood, she could be cutting about people who failed to impress her. Perched on a bar stool near the door, she watched the comings and goings like a hawk, from time to time rummaging in her capacious leather handbag. Her barman, erstwhile hustler Ian Board, took over after she died, his rudeness exceeding even that of the landlord of the Coach and Horses pub, Norman Balon. Once handsome, Board’s face was ruined by drink, his nose finally resembling a giant ripe strawberry. He too passed on and was succeeded by his barman, Michael Wojas, an altogether sweeter man, until drugs warped his mind and sucked up much of the Club’s takings. By then, most of the old regulars were dead, though Young British Artists like Damien Hirst and Sarah Lucas had adopted the place. Not long before he died, Wojas called last orders on the place, to the dismay of many of its diehard supporters.

Many books have been written about Soho in general, and the Colony Room in particular, but Darren Coffield’s crowdfunded Tales from the Colony Room: Soho’s Lost Bohemia is quite different from all the others I have read in letting the characters who congregated in the Colony Room talk about themselves and each other, as well as the Club itself. Much of the book is made up of short snippets culled from many hours of taped interviews made over the years, seamlessly interwoven with extracts from articles and books that are presented in the same, informal interview style. For nearly 400 pages, Darren Coffield lets people speak, have conversations, bitch about each other, the voices of Francis Bacon and others resonating from beyond the grave. Much of the banter is scabrous, a lot of it hilarious, other parts downright cruel. But such was the mix that at various times characterised the Colony Room, where the only real sin was to be boring. As Coffield notes, it would be impossible these days for such a place to exist and thrive, not just because Soho has ceased to be a cheap area in which to live or play, or because many of the young creative talents migrated to East London. People these days don’t want to while away their afternoons drinking champagne or spirits and chain-smoking in a tiny, sickly green venue up a tatty staircase. Social media, mobile phones and other forms of networking have taken over. Literally next door to where the Colony Room was is the Groucho Club, some of whose members might claim to be the new Bohemians, but trust me, they are not.

[Debumere · Rating 5 out of 5]

What a great read! Soho has changed enormously, then again, London has. Big money coming in and sucking the joy out of it. I can only imagine what it was like before any of this set in.

I enjoyed this very much.

[Richard Bartholomew · Rating 4 out of 5]

This oral history of the much-mythologised private drinking club in Soho’s Dean Street edits tape-recorded reminiscences and new interviews from more than a hundred people into a chronicle of the club’s six decades. The dominating personality of the story is the artist Francis Bacon, who was there from the start in 1948 and who was called “daughter” by the club’s founder, Muriel Belcher, but he was only the most famous (and financially successful) member; the Colony Room was a home from home for numerous artists, writers and other creative types, many of whom styled themselves as misfits and outsiders despite belonging to an exclusive circle whose influence on British cultural history has been such that even in 2022 their drunken escapades and abusive feuds apparently remain of interest.

The club’s three successive curators/gatekeepers – Belcher was succeeded by her barman Ian Board, who turn handed it over to Michael Wojas – have themselves become the stuff of legend by sheer force of personality and dedication to their unusual vocation; not all those climbed the shabby staircase to the louche Parnassus passed muster, and even those who were welcomed through the doors risked summary ejection if they failed to impress. Members were expected to “survive on their own anecdotes and wit”; anyone who told a joke as a substitute for banter would be kicked out, while self-promotors would be subjected to brutal put downs. Some guests have may baulked at being called “cunt” or “cunty” by Belcher or Board, although this was par for the course.

Names particularly associated with the club alongside Bacon include his rival Lucian Freud ; the famously frequently unwell Jeffrey Bernard (of course); the broadcaster Daniel Farson, who on one occasion sat dishevelled and vomit-flecked below the club’s television while the screen above him showed him speaking authoritatively about Bacon on The South Bank Show; the photographer John Deakin (banned for slandering Belcher); and the bookseller and publisher David Archer, who died in reduced circumstances. Archer published Dylan Thomas, although a claim in the book that he also published Graham Greene’s first novel seems to be a myth, perhaps born of confusion with the Scottish poet W.S. Graham. One early member was Nina Hamnett, who represented a link back to the earlier bohemia of Fitzrovia; towards the end patrons included the Young British Artists Damian Hirst and Sarah Lucas, later associated with a new bohemia in Shoreditch. American visitors included Tennessee Williams and William Burroughs.

The blurb on the back of the book also mentions the chance to “kill time with Doctor Who”, although Tom Baker is discussed only briefly and he is not one of the interviewees. It was nice to read, though, that Baker actually did wear the famous hat and scarf in the club, as imagined in Toast of London. Episodes of Doctor Who were shown in the club when Baker was present, although his attempt to interest Bacon in the show sadly failed.

It's clear that the club was run by and for alcoholics, notwithstanding the view of Neil Perrett, the “Colony's resident doctor”, that an alcoholic is someone who drinks more than his doctor and that he had never met one. Photos of Ian Board, who was once Tyrone Power’s lover, are remarkable for the size of his rhinophyma. It may be tempting to glamorise this excess as somehow existential and authentic, and there is a sense that obnoxiousness and callousness was often a front which hid strong bonds of loyalty and kindness (the club in particular took up the cause of thalidomide victims). However, alcohol-fuelled creativity comes at great risk and dreadful cost. One interviewee, James Birch, speaks of “Sohoitis” – “drinking too much and talking about all the great ‘works’ you plan to create but never actually doing anything to achieve them… the squandering of talent and youth”.

[Paul Taylor · Rating 2 out of 5]

I am surprised that this, over long book has proved so popular. "A book of bits or a bit of a book" was Spike Milligan's description of his own book, Puckoon. It would be a more appropriate description of this lengthy work. Certainly it captures the seediness of Soho in the post war years and the raison d'etre of a drinking club when pubs were forced to close at 3.00pm after their lunchtime trade. By relying wholly on short quotes from sundry sources its narrative is rather disjointed. Given the careers of many of the "Colony celebs" it's amazing they achieved what they did given the time and money they spent in dissipation. What it does illustrate is how unhappy and troubled so many of the Soho bohos were. That the club burnt itself out in the aftermath of Cool Britannia and the cult of celebrity, as well as the indoor smoking ban and freer licensing laws is hardly surprising.

[Leza · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is really good fun. A fabulous insider view of the infamous Colony Room club in London’s Soho. A dingy upstairs room on Dean St started by Muriel Belcher in the late ‘40s as a kind of salon for a meeting place of minds. Artists, writers, boozers, bohemians, lechers and layabouts. Francis Bacon and Lucien Freud were regulars...photographer John Deacon, journalist Jeffrey Bernard...a wide cast of patrons. So many hilarious incidents, lots of wit, bitchiness and rivalries. Personal anecdotes transcribed from old tapes...60 years of amazing history leading right up to when it closed its doors in 2008. Couldn’t put it down. They just don’t make them like this anymore; today’s Soho is as predictably homogenised and sanitised as most western cities. A love letter to lost Soho.

[Stephen King · Rating 4 out of 5]

An exhausting but often laugh out loud account of London Soho’s notorious drinking club from the 1940’s - 2008. Frequented by Francis Bacon, Lucien Freud and latterly by the Young British Artists, Damien Hirst and Tracey Emin this was a small green room with a bar in Dean Street where alcohol, anger and friendship were shaken in a combustible combination. A focus for bohemian bad behaviour before the merciless era of social media and cameras in phones. A very British story.

[Chris Hooke · Rating 5 out of 5]

A taste of Bohemia

Really enjoyed this book about the Colony Room and all its characters. It is really well put together, and you get a feeling they are telling you their stories over a G&T, sat at the end of the bar while Muriel greets another unlucky punter.!!

[Andrew Brown · Rating 5 out of 5]

If Bohemian Soho is of any interest to you, and you are aware of Muriel Belcher, of Francis Bacon and of the Colony Room club, this collection of anecdotal gossip from the club’s members and users over the decades is an absolute must!

[Tobias · Rating 2 out of 5]

Its a book about a nasty pub which used to exist in Soho where the publicans drank (or drugged) themselves to death and so did many of clientele. Some of them considered themselves interesting personalites for swearing a lot and sustaining careers in the arts. Horrific.

[Vladislav · Rating 4 out of 5]

Surprisingly dynamic

[Skye Kennedy · Rating 5 out of 5]

dirty, shabby, endearing, disgusting, boundlessly entertaining. you can't help but fall in love with the motley cast of characters displayed here, all of whom are linked by their shared devotion to the notorious colony room pub in soho. really brings you into the action and makes you feel like you've caught a sniff of that ineffable time and place.

[John Crawford · Rating 5 out of 5]

Once you get used to the conversational style, this book is a treasure trove of the Soho of the past. So many characters and so many stories - fabulous! Not a book for someone who doesn't like/mind the C word though...;)

[jodie cass · Rating 5 out of 5]

Amazing!! Oh how I was born in the wrong era!! I learned so much about times gone by !

[Ann Baxter · Rating 5 out of 5]

Excellent evocation of this place & the people who frequented it