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'The Fayed dynasty in Egypt,' I was told, 'will make a great story. Egypt's richest and most famous sons; owners of Harrods and the Paris Ritz.' It was the Al-Fayed brothers, Mohamed, Salah and Ali, who had forsaken the land of the pyramids for the pulchritude of Park Lane. A magic carpet of publicity had brought the family power and prestige. Mohamed, who had found favour with the Prime Minister, was known as 'The Fabulous Pharaoh'.
In preparation for Assignment Pharaoh, I read the interviews in Britain's quality newspapers, which explained that 'the Al-Fayeds went to English schools in Egypt, the oldest graduated, and the family were cotton and shipping millionaires since 1980.' In anticipation of entering a world of caviar and champagne, I booked on Air Egypt and studied more newspaper clippings of the Al-Fayeds.
'One of Egypt's most distinguished families,' declared the Sunday Telegraph. 'Fourth generation Egypt money,' said the Financial Times. 'Cotton millionaires for 100 years,' I read in the Daily Mail, the Scotsman, the Sunday Times and the august Wall Street Journal.
Egypt is nine-tenths desert sand, which does not inspire a reporter on an expense account. I was, therefore, glad to read the Fayeds' interview in the Sunday Times, written by the newspaper's deputy editor, Ivan Fallon. 'They display a lofty disdain for the nouveaux riches of the Arab World… The brothers delicately pointed out that their family lived in some luxury when even the Saudi royal family lived in tents in the desert. His family, Mohamed Al-Fayed implied, are the inheritors of the tradition of the Pharaohs, not that of the desert.'
On arrival in Alexandria -- excited at the prospect of meeting a pharaoh -- I gave the cab driver a piece of paper with my destination written in Arabic. 'Take me to the Al-Fayeds' family mansion,' it said. Eventually we stopped outside a small office in Salah Salem Street with 'Fayed and Castro Agency' written on the window. The taxi driver's knowledge was obviously not up to Pharaonic heights, and I gave him my second paper: 'Take me to the cotton exchange at 1 Abdelsalam Street.' Anyone there would be able to give the driver the direction to the old mansion of the Al-Fayed cotton dynasty.
Said Agag, technical director of Alexandria Commercial, the largest state-owned cotton firm, previously belonging to an Englishman named Finney, explained in perfect English: 'Before cotton was nationalised by Nasser in 1961, we had only five cotton millionaires in Egypt: Jehia Pasha, Barakat Pasha, Wakil Ahmed, Bebawi, and Fergally Pasha, the "king of cotton," who is still alive. My family has been in cotton for three generations, and I have never heard of a Fayed family in this business.' I attempted to jog his memory by showing him the Daily Mail interview: 'Mohamed Al-Fayed's family fortunes were planted in cotton by his great grandfather, who began shipping it in his own freighters from Alexandria to the cotton mills of Lancashire via Liverpool.'
Agag looked even more agog and his colleague, Riad Salanikly, said: 'My family grew cotton in the Baheira district, but I have never heard of the cotton millionaires Al-Fayed.' There was clearly only one person to speak to -- the 'king of cotton' himself, Fargally Pasha.
Meeting the 'king' was easier said than done. I heard that the fabulous Pasha, almost 90 years old, still held court in Alexandria's Sporting Club, still sporting a red pasha hat with a red carnation and kissing ladies' hands. The paint on the walls of the Sporting Club is faded and peeling; the carpets worn. Only a select few could become members when the British ran the club with its horse racing track, its 18-hole golf course, and its green lawns for croquet and bowls. After Nasser nationalised the club, any mortal could enter for the sum of £2.50. The old retainers hadn't heard of the magical Fayeds, but they all knew of the flamboyant Fargally Pasha. His huge villa on Horreya 654 was deserted, but I finally tracked him down to a small first-floor apartment in Abdessalamares Street, where he is looked after by his delightful daughter.
His memory is still clear and his mind sharp. He was the friend and confidant of kings and presidents; even Nasser deferred to his charm, while stripping him of his fortune. The last surviving cotton millionaire proudly declared that it was The Times which named him 'king of cotton.' Did Fargally Pasha know of the Al-Fayeds' rival empire? Sitting in his armchair, wrapped in blankets, with his daughter hovering over him, Fargally Pasha studied the report in the Sunday Times, which highlighted how grandfather Al-Fayed had 'planted cotton,' and exported it to Lancashire, where it was manufactured into cloth and sold in Harrods.'
'Ah, the Al Fayeds,' said the Pasha. He sighed. Old memories clouded his eyes. But not the right memories. 'I've never heard of them,' he said.
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