“Come to the Aranjuez estate: we’re not living there, but we go and take the photo by the pool,” kindly invites Pedro Trapote when we propose a summer interview. We almost didn’t make it. And that’s despite having, besides the GPS, a little map sent by his wife, Begoña García-Vaquero, so we wouldn’t get lost. Even so, we spent a good while circling around the Royal Palace area until a guard came out to the gate to signal us. How naive. We didn’t imagine that “the estate” was the Oñate gardens, right in the heart of the historic center. “They say this was Queen Isabel II’s riding arena,” the host says amused when we finally meet, about this impressive garden with two houses, a pool, several verandas, stables, and an idyllic bridge over a bend of the Tagus River. La Chata had good taste.
Trapote, 86 years old, the living image of a certain type of Spanish gentleman in summer with his linen shirt, canvas bermuda shorts, and suede loafers, bought this Eden “without money, because I didn’t have it,” in 1978. The same year he acquired the old Eslava Theater, in the heart of Madrid, “at a very good price, because the owners, including Luis Escobar, Marquis of the Guadalquivir Marshes, and the Marquis of Santo Floro wanted a buyer who cared for the place and kept the ticket sellers and ushers.” And Trapote kept them. The then young entrepreneur, who already had nightclubs in Torremolinos, Marbella, and the Canary Islands and had seen “the potential of tourists and tourism when it comes to having fun,” embarked on two years of renovations and turned the old coliseum into the Joy Eslava nightclub, which, along with the Barceló Theater — which he bought years later and operated under the name Pachá — became the epicenter of Madrid’s nightlife in the last years of the 20th century. So, here is the man who was the king of the night and now says he is “the king of churros,” because the San Ginés churrerías, the business he also acquired so his clients could end the party, is the only one whose management he retains. “Resting is starting to die and I don’t see myself at home waiting for the Grim Reaper,” he shoots before even being asked what his life is like.
After welcoming us along with his wife, Begoña, and a friend, we chat in the living room of one of the estate’s houses: a huge room crowded with bull heads, hunting trophies, and photos with all the who’s who of politics and social life from the last quarter of the 20th century. At the entrance, a tile plaque reports that at least one day Don Juan Carlos I, King of Spain, had lunch here with his sister Pilar, his daughter Elena, and some of his grandchildren. The host, although he admits to having had “better summers,” is “calm.” In April 2021, his eldest son, Pedro, died at 52, “due to medical negligence in the terrible early days of COVID,” and in 2022 his wife, Begoña, suffered a stroke from which she has recovered “thanks to the doctors.” So, in his case, saying he is calm is no small thing.
Gone, however, are his great nights of wine and roses. A few years ago, he left the management of Joy Eslava, sold the Barceló Theater, and now his children are carrying out the international expansion of the San Ginés churrerías, with new locations in Austin, Miami, and Manila. The Madrid one, the patriarch boasts, “is going like a rocket.” “Now churros are eaten at any time. I assure you that today, with this heat, more than 5,000 people will come,” he argues. So, does he still keep close to his businesses? “Of course, damn it: the owner’s eye fattens the horse and, in this, you have to be on top of things: it doesn’t run by itself. Look at Joy, which is called Teatro Eslava again: I left the management, but I have it rented to very important people, among whom are some Samaranch and some Entrecanales, who thought they were very smart and the business was very easy, and easy, nothing. They haven’t paid me rent for a few months, but we’ll have to trust, as they trusted me back in the day,” he jokes half-seriously.
Trapote, son of a carpenter from Valladolid, risked everything. He opened the Joy Eslava nightclub on 25-F. Yes, February 25, 1981, two days after Lieutenant Colonel Tejero stormed the Congress and put the country on edge. That was his first dilemma: to open or not to open, with everything that was happening. And he decided to move forward. “I had sent 5,000 invitations to the opening and the expense was done, so I opened and it was madness. People wanted to have fun, to get out of that darkness, whether left or right.” And he sure brought color to the nights. There was a time when you were nobody if you didn’t go to “the Joy,” as everyone started calling the venue. Politicians of all stripes, national and international celebrities: from Pelé to Maradona, Stevie Wonder to Madonna, Prince Felipe to his sisters Elena and Cristina with their respective dates. All of Madrid and everyone passing through Madrid stopped at Joy, and what happened at Joy, stayed at Joy.
The then almost forty-year-old Trapote listened, watched, kept quiet, socialized. And made money. “In this kind of business, you have to be a vault. You see the married man with his girlfriend, the brother with deviations, the lady who has some affair. All were welcome. Those were wonderful years. And everyone paid there. If I’m not sexist, I was one of the first to charge women at the door. First, because I could, and second, because many PRs had their own court of beauties and if they let them in free, it hurt me.” Fun and money don’t have to be incompatible.
How much sex, drugs, and rock and roll does a nightlife entrepreneur see?
I’m no saint. I have always cared a lot about my responsibilities and the present and future of my children. The secret of my success is a mix of choosing the right location, controlling capacity, being discreet, and working discreetly. But I can boast that never, ever, has there been drug trafficking in my businesses. People are jealous and envious, and if there had been anything, it would have come out.
And here Trapote asserts himself. “I started from zero, no, from less than zero. I went to Barcelona at 18 with nothing and have done business by working, working, and working. Mine has nothing to do with any inheritance. Well, now you know I’m Felipe González’s brother-in-law. But this gentleman appeared in my life 17 years ago because he married Mar García Vaquero, my wife’s sister. And with him, apart from that family relationship and respect and admiration, because he is a statesman, a wonderful intellectual, and an austere guy, I have had no other business than being his landlord. Because he lives in one of my houses, he is my tenant.”
And does he pay you?
Religiously, on the 1st of every month, through La Caixa. Felipe is my brother-in-law, but I’m not a socialist, I’m a liberal businessman. In everything. I don’t forget where I come from, and I’m ashamed to pay the salaries I pay in the churrerías. Just in Madrid, I have 200 employees making chocolate with churros, which is hard work, and I know I pay little. Right now, a worker earning 1,200 euros can’t even pay for an apartment, but it costs the employer more than double.
Pay them more.
It’s not enough for that. Otherwise, I couldn’t expand the business. Understand me: I think taxes must be paid, but also that this burden does not correspond to the services we receive. Of course, I support and do not forget the welfare state. Of course, I know my wife got ahead thanks to the care of a public hospital. But I’m a businessman, and I believe the greatest recognition I should have and, certainly, my greatest personal satisfaction is the creation of jobs. I myself have contributed for 58 years, one after another, as they say, and I have a pension of 497 euros.
How have you seen the evolution of your friend King Juan Carlos since that 23-F?
He has disappointed me and, at the same time, I feel sorry because the emeritus is one of the values of the Transition. Not only for 23-F, but because he stripped himself of all the authority Franco gave him and gave it to the people. He has had his weaknesses as a human being. But we owe him a lot, and in this last stage, I feel we should be merciful with him and he would deserve to be among us.
What has been the best and worst of your life?
The worst, by far, has been losing a son. There isn’t even a word to describe it. I’m agnostic, but that has changed my perception of life. And the best, also by far, are the ladies. Love with the ladies. I have lived life to the fullest. I have five children from four different mothers. I have been married five times and always lowering the age of the partner, renewing oneself is always great.
Your wife is around and can hear you.
Besides always thinking the last one is the best, she knows who she married. I’m happy. We share a wonderful son who continues the business in the United States, and two 25-year-old grandchildren, the children of my deceased son, who must be supported.
At 86, how do you see yourself?
Old, how else would I see myself? But I have a good cushion, and I’m not talking about money, but that I haven’t smoked, haven’t drunk, haven’t taken drugs, I have been very happy in love, in business, and in creating jobs. I’m an old Castilian from Valladolid who has no intention of dying.
Having said that, he keeps his promise and lets himself be photographed at length in the pool with his feet soaking under a good 40 degrees Celsius in the shade. Maintaining this will cost a fortune, I prick him, just in case, and he gives me a change of subject: “But it’s worth it: here we still have some parties with friends, and if not, it’s here for my grandchildren to enjoy.”
With the photographer’s last shot, we all leave at once the way we came. The journalists, with a bottle of port, half a kilo of cocoa, and some cookies courtesy of the house. The host, with his wife and friend, aboard the fancy car driven by a chauffeur who had brought them from their Madrid home, along with a young uniformed employee with the beach cooler with which she was able to offer water and iced drinks to the visitors. The next day, he writes, very kindly, to thank for the interview. Of course.
Read more Neighborhood patrols encourage outbreaks of violence against immigrants in Ceuta neighborhoods