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PARADISE ISLAND

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<i> Times Travel Editor </i>

Ah, to be a stranger in Paradise, to sip a rum punch at the Ocean Club, to dine at Club Martinique and to repose on the beach at Paradise Paradise.

Yes, Paradise Paradise. It’s the name given to a hotel of once-faded elegance that’s been put back in proper repair. Only for some obscure reason, it wasn’t enough to call it simply Paradise. A witty chap named George Myers insisted on this business of Paradise Paradise.

Why Paradise twice? I haven’t a clue. Neither has anyone else, not even Myers himself, he admits, except that it’s bloody difficult to forget the name of one’s hotel unless one forgets the name of the island on which one happens to be vacationing, which occurs with a surprising frequency, considering the steady flow of rum gushing from all the watering holes hereabouts.

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Crossing over the bridge from Nassau, one simply tells one’s driver to deliver oneself to Paradise Paradise on Paradise Island. If the driver doesn’t understand, tell him it’s dead center of--what else?--Paradise Beach.

But pooh. Consider writing home, telling the relatives how you’ve been sunbathing on Paradise Beach outside Paradise Paradise on an island in the Bahamas called Paradise.

Patience.

From Miami the cognoscente flies direct to Paradise with Chalk’s International Airlines, arriving with a splash. The reason for the splash is because Chalk’s puts its planes down in the bay. These are amphibious birds--ours was a Mallard--that bring to mind the romantic era of the old China Clippers when they were still flying between continents.

Other than the nostalgia bit, flying with Chalk’s means not having to elbow one’s way through the crowds at Nassau’s airport and then enduring the 30-minute taxi ride to Paradise. With Chalk’s, it’s kerplunk, just like that and you’ve arrived.

The sea bird taxis ashore, customs is a breeze, and then vacationers and their luggage are transferred by limousine to one of the luxurious aeries hereabouts.

Before the island was developed as a destination for well-heeled vacationers, Bahamians paddled over from Nassau to picnic on its beaches. After A&P; grocer Huntington Hartford bought the island and built the bridge, Paradise prospered.

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It’s been thriving ever since.

Only recently, Resorts International tacked on a huge addition to one of its hotels, raising the room count to 1,100 among four properties, slickest being the Ocean Club. The Ocean Club is to Paradise what Mauna Kea is to Hawaii and what Caneel Bay is to the U.S. Virgins. Elegance.

With only 71 rooms, the Ocean Club attracts celebrities and corporate captains the world over. Presidents Nixon and Carter both vacationed here, and the late Shah of Iran dined beside the club’s handsome reflecting pool that mirrors both sky and palm trees and into which a fountain spills like an ongoing thunderstorm.

Two-bedroom villas that fetch $425 a night during the high season are discounted to $300 in spring/summer months. Or one can book an air-conditioned standard room--fan whirring in the ceiling--for a reasonable $95 a day.

(If all this seems a trifle extravagant, be patient--because soon we’ll be getting on to Nettie Symonette’s little hotel that’s one of the best bets in the Bahamas.)

Surrounded by magnificent gardens and fountains, the Ocean Club features an immense bronze statue of Franklin Delano Roosevelt staring rather disconsolately across a sun-dappled path toward explorer Stanley Livingston. And there’s a statue of Hercules rising not far from a figure of Napoleon’s Josephine. All this appears only a whisper from a 12th-Century cloister that was dispatched from France and reassembled at the Ocean Club during Huntington Hartford’s halcyon days.

The Ocean Club’s maitre d’, Jimmy Fernander, recalls how a member of the British upper crust slipped him his choicest tip ever, $780 in British pounds. Earlier, Jimmy served the Duke and Duchess of Windsor at Government House, training to which he attributes his later successes.

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One writer described the Ocean Club recently as a “relic of half-remembered privilege,” which is rubbish. Even after 20 years, the Ocean Club represents style and a soft, muted elegance. Were I an Astor or a Phipps, I’d dig in and remain until dragged off to go skiing at Gstaad, or perhaps sailing in Sydney.

A Scene to Cherish

Tables set with blue linen beside the reflecting pool (hurricane lamps flickering) is a scene to cherish. The Ocean Club is a testimonial to the environmental concern of the owners, who so far have resisted temptations to dismantle this gem, replacing it with some hideous high-rise.

Besides the Ocean Club and Paradise Paradise, Resorts International operates--oh, please!--the Paradise Towers and the Britannia, as well as a couple of dozen restaurants and bars--this in addition to a casino that’s busier weekdays than Caesar’s in Las Vegas is on a Saturday night.

With the unveiling of its new wing, the Britannia introduced four floors of luxury apartments which one reaches by specially keyed elevators. Once aboard, guests are entitled to complimentary continental breakfasts, complimentary newspapers, cordials, tea, coffee, cigars, 24-hour room service and access to a sun deck topside featuring a fleet of chaise longues and a couple of Jacuzzis. In addition, a concierge will deliver anything from the keys to a Cadillac to a ticket to the hotel’s $2-million Las Vegas-style revue.

For actives, the Britannia and its neighbor, Paradise Towers, provide a three-mile beach, a couple of swimming pools, a dozen tennis courts, 18-hole golf course, jogging trails, a couple of health clubs and free bus tours of Paradise.

Praise for Restaurants

It is impossible to fault the restaurants operated by Resorts International. None provides the usual dismal fare found in so many hotels the world over. Villa d’Este does classic Italian dishes and the Gulfstream specializes in choice seafood; the Grill Room is devoted to imported meats and the Coyoba is a Polynesian delight.

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And then, well, there’s Cafe Martinique, the island’s oldest, choicest and most expensive restaurant. At Cafe Martinique, peach melba goes begging for $9 a serving and the Grand Marnier souffle prices out to $8.75. Figure on $9.50 for the baked Alaska, and a single ounce of beluga caviar adds a hefty $55 to the bill. Entrees range from beef Wellington ($17.25) to rack of lamb for two ($39), with a menu that’s strictly a la carte. Ordinary coffee is a buck a pop and cafe Espanol runs the check up another $3.75.

Superb dining is a plus at Graycliff as well, a 235-year-old Colonial mansion across the bay in Nassau. With 14 spacious guest rooms, Graycliff has hosted a multitude of celebrities. Everyone from King Constantine of Greece to Prince Fahd of Saudi Arabia. Winston Churchill and the Duke and Duchess of Windsor were familiar faces while the Union Jack still fluttered over the Bahamas.

More recent guests have included actor Paul Newman, Princess Caroline of Monaco, Olympic gold medalist Carl Lewis, Arab sheiks, the Beatles, Kenny Rogers and author Arthur Hailey.

Were I to choose a honeymoon hideaway, Graycliff would be high on the list.

Operated by a couple of Italian expatriates, Graycliff is one of those snug spots that inspires romance. Drinks are served in a parlor with a scattering of deep sofas. And as if the script called for it, piano music tinkles in the background while candles flicker in hurricane lamps that burn in five small dining rooms.

For complete privacy, Graycliff delivers the key to a garden cottage for $200 a night. Or there are guest rooms inside the old mansion itself that can be booked for $100 to $180 a night. It is indeed a lover’s choice. Graycliff is said to be the only restaurant with a five-star rating in the Bahamas, and with a wine cellar that gets high praise, too.

If not the finest restaurant in the Bahamas, Graycliff rates No. 1 for romance. For testimonials, check with Prince Charlie, the Bee Gees or Brooke Shields.

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In contrast, the new Cable Beach Hotel outside Nassau gets my nod as the year’s most tasteless new resort. With wall-to-wall bodies sizzling by the swimming pool and others paddling about in Disney-like lagoons, it possesses all the magic of Muscle Beach. Tour groups come and go like sandpipers on the march, luggage is piled high at the entrance, and the lobby resembles the floor of a political convention while the leading candidate is making his acceptance speech.

Resembles a Fortress

Intimate it is not. With 700 rooms stacked nine stories high, it resembles a fortress rather than a resort. On the plus side, if one enjoys being where the action is, the Cable Beach Hotel steers guests to a sports center, half a dozen bars, five restaurants, a casino and a string of shops selling everything from diapers to diamonds.

Says the management, “We spent $100 million to give you a vacation you’ll never forget.”

I’ll buy that.

My taste runs more to Nettie Symonette’s snug little Casaurinas resort that occupies a one-time haunted house down along the same beach. Besides being a heck of a lot cheaper, what with off-season rates starting at $50 a day, it’s one of those rare discoveries one would prefer to keep to oneself.

This is a family-run resort with Nettie, an island girl, issuing the marching orders to three daughters and four sons who do the housekeeping, the cooking, the maintenance and, on occasion, even entertain Nettie’s guests.

Occasionally the beach disappears at high tide, but this is no problem, not with a couple of swimming pools for Nettie’s crowd. Guests dine in Nettie’s two restaurants, choosing from a menu that features Nettie’s home-baked bread and coconut cake, conch fritters, conch chowder and sauteed grouper.

One son, Big Al, peddles pizza and burgers across the street. In Nettie’s family everybody marches to the drummer.

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“That’s me,” says Nettie. “Mama’s in charge here.”

Big Al shrugged. “No argument, Mama.”

Sources for the Bahamas:

--The Bahamas Tourist Office, 3450 Wilshire Blvd., Suite 208, Los Angeles 90018. Telephone (213) 385-0033 or toll free (800) 457-8205.

--Resorts International, (800) 321-3000.

--Nettie Symonette, Casaurinas Hotel, (800) 327-0787, or call (800) 432-5594 from Florida.

--Chalk’s International Airline, (800) 327-2521 or from Florida, (800) 432-8807.

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