High life
No jeans
Taki
New York When I read recently that El Morocco was about to close after 45 years at the top, it was like watching part of New York float away. El Morocco was probably the best known nightclub in the world. Its blue and white, zebra-striped interior and its plastic palm trees were as familiar to celebrity watchers as the famous — and at times infamous — personalities that basked under the artificial sky above the dance floor. El Morocco, typically, began to run into financial troubles just as disco became popular — disco and being a slob, that is. For although Morocco's clientele were hardly all gentlemen, it was essential to try to look like one to obtain admission. No jeans, no polyesters, no platforms. No drugs either, for that matter. There was a lavatory attendant, a Turk from Cyprus, who kept an eagle eye over the place to which kings and queens went unattended. The orchestra was the same for the last 25 years and knew which song to play for each favourite client. When Porfirio Rubirosa got up to dance, they would invariably play 'I'm a Gigolo'. Rubi had requested it as an inside joke after marrying DorisDuke:They played it until he died 14 years ago.
The closing also marks the end of the career of Angelo Zuccotti, the Maitre D'. Angelo was in charge for an incredible 45 years, ever since the opening day. There was hardly a famous person who wasn't his friend. His son, in fact, became Deputy Mayor of New York City, using his father's connections.
John Perona was the man who started it all. He opened the club with borrowed money, but soon it was in the black. His modus operandi was the same as Angelo's. He sat on a large corner table known as the round table, and invited celebrities to drink on the house according to wealth, power or fame. Sometimes, however, unknowns were invited and sat down next to movie stars or famous politicians. Perona kept out the mafia by being close friends with topmafiosi. Frank Costello was nightly at the round table. Other favourites of the owner were John F. Kennedy when he was a senator, Winston Guest, Errol Flynn and, of course, Rubirosa.
Winston Churchill came twice, brought by Onassis. Humphrey Bogart was banned when he beat up two girls in a fight over a stuffed panda. Bogie was drunk, sitting at a very good table and pretending to flirt with an enormous panda. Two debs, daughters of a well-known Wall Street banker, William Rabe, crossed the dance floor and started to talk to the animal. Bogie, furious, told them to stop bothering his panda. The girls giggled and tickled it. Bogie jumped up and punched them both, knocking them out. Even Perona, his friend, thought it was a bit too much. The screen tough guy was banned for one year. He never complained and duly returned one year later, without the panda. The night of my wedding I went t0 'Elmo's', as intimates called the place. John Perona asked me to sit with him, although he warned me that a man should not go to 3 nightclub on his wedding night. He must have known something. After Perona had gone home, we stayed on. A fat man sitting near my wife started to stroke her back. JO up and hit him rather hard. His minions were suddenly all around me, and things looked bad. Angelo ran over and told me that the fat man was an important US senator, and incidentally, he still is. One of his pimp-aides told me that! would be taken care of for what, I did. Then their party left. The next day.' called my friend Frank Costello. I explained my predicament. The Godfather got angrY; 'He had no business doing that to a nice girl like your wife,' said the profoundly wisecaPo di turn capi. 'Don't worry, I'll speak to (la bum.' Three days later, in another bar I saw the man who had threatened me. He ran over, shook my hand and told me that I was the best guy in the room. Mr C had obvious' told the senator the score. Now Costello, Perona and El Morocco are dead. It is just as well men do not pinch girls any more.
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