Books, Arts & Manners: Nights on the Town

LIKE Count Dracula I love the night, and therefore nightclubs. Back in the good old days when an ex-general was President, I used to come down from prep school and go to El Morocco, on 54th Street between Third and Second Avenues, in the company of some older Greek shipowning friends. After I left university, it was Elmo’s every night except Sunday, because the owner, John Perona, was a strict Catholic. Otherwise the place had very little in common with religion in general and the Ten Commandments in particular. Adulterous affairs mostly began on the dance floor, while assignations were arranged in the long narrow hall leading to the gents’ and ladies’. People coveted their neighbors’ wives, lied like Hell about their finances, and I personally remember at least two cases of Elmo’s regulars bearing false witness in a court of law.

The main room at El Morocco was zebra-striped, and the first table on the right as one came in was reserved for the biggest VIP, whoever that happened to be. The second most important table was John Perona’s, across the room, and those who were invited to sit there had no tab. Needless to say, in those halcyon days, no ladies were invited to sit with the boys at the owner’s table.

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LIKE Count Dracula I love the night, and therefore nightclubs. Back in the good old days when an ex-general was President, I used to come down from prep school and go to El Morocco, on 54th Street between Third and Second Avenues, in the company of some older Greek shipowning friends. After I left university, it was Elmo’s every night except Sunday, because the owner, John Perona, was a strict Catholic. Otherwise the place had very little in common with religion in general and the Ten Commandments in particular. Adulterous affairs mostly began on the dance floor, while assignations were arranged in the long narrow hall leading to the gents’ and ladies’. People coveted their neighbors’ wives, lied like Hell about their finances, and I personally remember at least two cases of Elmo’s regulars bearing false witness in a court of law.

The main room at El Morocco was zebra-striped, and the first table on the right as one came in was reserved for the biggest VIP, whoever that happened to be. The second most important table was John Perona’s, across the room, and those who were invited to sit there had no tab. Needless to say, in those halcyon days, no ladies were invited to sit with the boys at the owner’s table.