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Authors: John Malathronas
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from Alsagoff and extended it with two wings that offered 20 rooms in total. On 1 December 1887 the Raffles Hotel opened for the first time and one of its first guests was Rudyard Kipling, who came up with a double-edged verdict: â Providence conducted me⦠to a place called Raffles Hotel where the food is excellent and the rooms are bad .â The principles of marketing being immutable through time and space, the Sarkies Brothers cleverly curtailed the quote to: â Feed at Raffles where the food is excellent .â
The current three-storey building with its grand, colonial façade, its filigree railings and the double-sloping roof with its red Mediterranean tiles stems from a major rebuild in 1899, when structures were still being erected for show as much as for function. A special inauguration dinner for 500 prepared by a French chef was held in November in the new Marble Dining Room. The band of the Kingâs Own Regiment entertained the guests who marvelled at the electric ceiling fans, a modern gadget that put the punkah-wallahs out of a job. The Raffles was the first building in the region to be wired for electricity and, as it stood at the seafront sparkling in the Asian humid night, it doubled as a fairy lighthouse for the approaching Chinese junks. This is difficult to imagine today, since protracted land reclamation has ensured that the Raffles is nowhere near the waterâs edge, the town having devoured the sea like a dragon; nevertheless, the hotelâs private generator secured its burgeoning reputation. Londonâs The Sphere newspaper called it â the Savoy of Singapore â and a 1905 brochure could already claim amongst its guests such notables as HIH Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich of Russia, HSH Prince Adalbert of Germany and HIH Prince Kanâin of Japan. Admit it, even Z-list royalty sounds impressive.
The next thirty years were the golden era of the hotel whose advertising slogan was breathtakingly self-aggrandising: â When at the Raffles, why not see Singapore? â Somerset Maugham wrote his short stories in the Palm Court, sitting under the aroma of the white frangipani and the shade of the purple bougainvillaea. Noel Coward was snubbed by the posh colonial society who thought him â rowdy and perhaps on the common sideâ . He returned the compliment with interest: â After meeting the best people [here], now I know why there is such a shortage of servants in London. â Hermann Hesse detailed his short sojourn in the book Journey to the East , writing with his typical Teutonic sourness: â We stay expensive but very good at Raffles Hotel. The food is as bad as everywhere .â Standards must have slipped since Kiplingâs time.
The last remaining Sarkies brother was forced to sell the hotel when he embarked upon a costly renovation project during the 1929 crash and the ensuing world rubber slump. At least it remained a hotel; its main rival, the Grand Hotel dâEurope was demolished altogether to become the Supreme Court. Under new management, the Raffles had a last, brief gasp of grandeur in the late thirties before World War Two which occasioned more apocryphal stories. Guests were casually informed not to worry about Japanese air raids, for the building had its own early warning system. Little did they know that it consisted of an aged engineer who looked up in the sky to spot any enemy planes and blew a whistle should he detect any. During the occupation the staff had to learn Japanese and master the exotic flavours of beef sukiyaki and chicken teriyaki, but they held their own. They emptied the cellars into the Singapore sewers before the invading army could get their hands on the expensive wines and liquors and buried the silverware underneath the Palm Court, so that they wouldnât have to serve the Japanese in style .
The Raffles went through another major renovation in the 1990s and is currently capitalising on its
The current three-storey building with its grand, colonial façade, its filigree railings and the double-sloping roof with its red Mediterranean tiles stems from a major rebuild in 1899, when structures were still being erected for show as much as for function. A special inauguration dinner for 500 prepared by a French chef was held in November in the new Marble Dining Room. The band of the Kingâs Own Regiment entertained the guests who marvelled at the electric ceiling fans, a modern gadget that put the punkah-wallahs out of a job. The Raffles was the first building in the region to be wired for electricity and, as it stood at the seafront sparkling in the Asian humid night, it doubled as a fairy lighthouse for the approaching Chinese junks. This is difficult to imagine today, since protracted land reclamation has ensured that the Raffles is nowhere near the waterâs edge, the town having devoured the sea like a dragon; nevertheless, the hotelâs private generator secured its burgeoning reputation. Londonâs The Sphere newspaper called it â the Savoy of Singapore â and a 1905 brochure could already claim amongst its guests such notables as HIH Grand Duke Cyril Vladimirovich of Russia, HSH Prince Adalbert of Germany and HIH Prince Kanâin of Japan. Admit it, even Z-list royalty sounds impressive.
The next thirty years were the golden era of the hotel whose advertising slogan was breathtakingly self-aggrandising: â When at the Raffles, why not see Singapore? â Somerset Maugham wrote his short stories in the Palm Court, sitting under the aroma of the white frangipani and the shade of the purple bougainvillaea. Noel Coward was snubbed by the posh colonial society who thought him â rowdy and perhaps on the common sideâ . He returned the compliment with interest: â After meeting the best people [here], now I know why there is such a shortage of servants in London. â Hermann Hesse detailed his short sojourn in the book Journey to the East , writing with his typical Teutonic sourness: â We stay expensive but very good at Raffles Hotel. The food is as bad as everywhere .â Standards must have slipped since Kiplingâs time.
The last remaining Sarkies brother was forced to sell the hotel when he embarked upon a costly renovation project during the 1929 crash and the ensuing world rubber slump. At least it remained a hotel; its main rival, the Grand Hotel dâEurope was demolished altogether to become the Supreme Court. Under new management, the Raffles had a last, brief gasp of grandeur in the late thirties before World War Two which occasioned more apocryphal stories. Guests were casually informed not to worry about Japanese air raids, for the building had its own early warning system. Little did they know that it consisted of an aged engineer who looked up in the sky to spot any enemy planes and blew a whistle should he detect any. During the occupation the staff had to learn Japanese and master the exotic flavours of beef sukiyaki and chicken teriyaki, but they held their own. They emptied the cellars into the Singapore sewers before the invading army could get their hands on the expensive wines and liquors and buried the silverware underneath the Palm Court, so that they wouldnât have to serve the Japanese in style .
The Raffles went through another major renovation in the 1990s and is currently capitalising on its
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