Nightclubs of Legend, Like Stars, Only Seem to Die: Evenings on Palm Island, 1940‘s and ‘20‘s. --Paul Hampton Crockett If youre feeling a bit “naughty” tonight… There’s always Lou Walters’ Fabulous “Latin Quarter Club,” over on Palm Island, right on the bay. Just hop into a taxi cab, or have your chauffeur prep the limo, and tell him, “149 Palm Island Drive. It’s that easy; they all know the score. Oh, wait a minute...How embarrassing! It’s 2015 now, isn’t it? What WAS I thinking? All right, on second thought, it might be better that you make plans to head out someplace else that you enjoy, since come to think of it, the Latin Quarter’s been out of business since... well, back in 1959. Ladies and gentlemen, my “bad.” But since we’re here and all, maybe if you’ve got a little time to spare, you might be interested in hearing a little about the place. That way, you’ll at least understand that my intentions are good, hopefully... Anyways, here’s some background. The Latin Quarter Club dominated Miami’s night-time entertainment/ live show scene from the night of its splashy debut in 1940 until 1959, when the building burned to the ground in a suitably spectacular fire accidentally resulting from faulty wiring. (The site is the present location of Palm Island Park.) It would be safe to say without exaggeration, in fact, that the place went far beyond merely “dominating Miami’s nights. By reason of its outstanding visibility, the epic scale of its vision, and the times and place that gave it birth, the influence of the place extended easily around the world, and back. The every-night reality of the Latin Quarter Club set a new standard, and very much became a nation’s dream of what an epic nightclub should be. By its own description patterned after the legendary Moulin Rouge cabaret in Paris, everything about the club was larger than life, from the beginning. It was brought to life by two accomplished and visionary men who saw in the cycle of Miami’s winter seasons pure potential: a huge need, and a big idea about how it might be satisfied. They observed a flood of visitors to the city rushing in with each season, each clamoring for quality entertainment to help crown their most golden hours of leisure, and noted also the growing pool of celebrity talent called here, in response. The nightclub was the solution they brought to bear upon the opportunity. Those men were business partners Lou Walters, producer (father to television personality Barbara), and tycoon E.M. Loews, founding owner of the cinematic empire. Walters, an entertainment powerhouse with a lifetime of experience in show business, starting with vaudeville, was far and away the more “hands on” of the pair, handling the “creative end with a rare combination of strengths in both “seeing the larger picture, and a painstaking attendance to detail that could bespeak only passion. He also demonstrated a notable penchant for spectacle, specifically, spectacle of the kind featuring as many of the most beautiful women to be found “from around the world,” as might conceivably be worked into any given show, clad as scantily as might be consistent with elegance, and a genuine interest in “style.” It was in the way the Club walked that keenest of razor’s edges, that it earned its reputation, and renown. If it sounds a little different from many others that might be lumped into the same “genre,” that’s because it really was. At its peak, the Club hosted three full shows a night, each to a packed house, interweaving into the never-ending showgirl spectacular such unforgettable luminaries in entertainment as Frank Sinatra, Jack Benny, Sophie Tucker, Sammy Davis Jr.,Tony Bennett, Dean Martin & Jerry Lewis, and Milton Berle. And those are just highlights! ___________ And it turns out that the Latin Quarter Club was not the first nightclub to earn legendary status at the location. The party had begun there much earlier on with the opening of the “Palm Island Club” in 1922, a swank venue providing an oasis of good cheer, fine company, and the comforts of a well-stocked bar to the parched and well-heeled that flocked to its doors. They sought there, and found, momentary respite from the pinched and dreary mood prevailing just outside the place, of a Prohibition strictly barred from entry into the premises. Another enticingly sinful pleasure made available on premises involved certain “games of chance” played for high stakes, favored by a discriminating and demanding clientele yet strictly forbidden by law. This “club within a club was hosted discreetly in plush, smoke-filled rooms in the back of the place, so arranged so that “some rookie cop that might not know the score, called there on account of trouble, wouldn’t accidentally eyeball a roulette wheel or two, and a few tables, and make a fuss. The arrangement also served an internal, “managerial purpose. In strict accordance with the arrangement negotiated by the management with local law enforcement, residents of the city were certainly welcome to visit and enjoy the club, but under no circumstances extended invitations to be “guests,” or otherwise permitted to even step foot in, the back rooms. The doubly “forbidden” temptation of the back rooms could only have amplified their allure, the very atmosphere within virtually crackling with the excitement of the many thousands of dollars (piles of cash, and often in large bills) put into play each night, converted as if by alchemy into pure potential. Almost anything was possible, and fortunes routinely changed hands in the course of a good night’s session. (Most often, of course, winding up safely back in the tills of the casino.) The first owners had reasoned that the police might find the practice of “looking the other way” much less objectionable if the patrons being fleeced were strictly among those drawn to Miami from out-of-town, and their reasoning had been sound. Also, as per the house’s own rules, no one about whom there might be even the slightest doubt, could “afford to gamble” was allowed to play. The number of millionaires in the United States grew to new heights in the roaring twenties, and a fair number among them who happened to visit Miami during those years came to experience that special brand of hospitality offered exclusively to those of like status, under the roof of the famed Palm Island Club. Among them were reportedly not just one, two or four of the famed “robber barons that enjoyed the pastime, but closer to all of them. They, like the others, were drawn to its welcoming doors as if led by some common dream, approached from many differing routes. And they all finally found the place, exactly as they might have imagined: its light-filled windows glowing invitingly, like a warm jewel in the night, floating just between the mirror-smooth surface of a darkened bay and a vast field of open sky above, dazzling and alive with starlight. And it is just there that we will take our leave of the Palm Island Club, and the Latin Quarter Club to follow, having paid our respects: slumbering as if in a dream, somewhere out there in the night, beyond Miami but before Miami Beach, maybe now just a little closer to the stars still glowing defiantly above. Thank you.
Posted on: Sun, 11 Jan 2015 09:48:41 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015