STRIP CLIPS
I was thrilled with the Dec. 15 issue featuring Dave Gardetta’s “Reinventing the Strip” and Mary McNamara’s “A Night on the Strip,” which devoted so many words to my father, W. R. “Billy” Wilkerson, founder and publisher of the Hollywood Reporter. His vision of a glamorous Sunset Boulevard came to life in the early ‘30s, when he branched out from publishing to build Cafe Trocadero, Ciro’s, Restaurant LaRue and the Vendome along a then-deserted stretch of Sunset Boulevard, the genesis of the Sunset Strip.
Although there have been several specific attempts over the years to re-create the old glamour of the Strip, the Strip itself seems capable of constantly reinventing itself.
W. R. Wilkerson III
Los Angeles
*
Fifty years ago, we’d only been in L.A. a week when we decided to go to the Trocadero to see movie stars. It was nearly empty, but some guy named Nat King Cole was playing the piano so well that I, my wife and an Army buddy decided to stay for a couple of drinks.
That was the night the annual big birthday bash for Sonja Henie was going on upstairs at the Troc. Suddenly, her 50 or so guests all came downstairs to dance. We danced, too, surrounded by what seemed like all the stars we’d ever seen in the movies. I particularly remember Lana Turner, Constance Bennett, Joan Bennett, Van Johnson, Robert Taylor and Tyrone Power. When we left, crowds of fans clicking their cameras outside the club took pictures of us, too. At the time, we thought that was a typical night in Hollywood.
Eddy Hill
Sherman Oaks
*
I was surprised that mention of two prominent Strip nightclubs, the Crescendo and the Interlude, was omitted. Their formula was always a double feature: jazz and comedy. They were incubators for virtually all the comics in the 1954-64 years, including Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce, Bob Newhart and Woody Allen, and venues for music legends Duke Ellington, Count Basie, Stan Kenton, Louis Armstrong, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, Johnny Mathis and more.
Gene Norman
Los Angeles
*
Editor’s note: Norman has been a Los Angeles music impresario for half a century.
*
We mustn’t forget what was probably the hottest club of the ‘60s, PJ’s, which had it all: good food and wine, great music, room to dance and interesting people.
Then there was the “Whisk-a-Go-Go,” if you were into that kind of weird hippie music (anyone know why the sign’s Y was blacked out for so long?) And the Troubador was OK for flower children, the Villa Nova for Italian food and the Pink Pussycat for male oglers.
But PJ’s was the place--always a line but worth the wait. When you did get in, you got to hear the Eddie Cano group, a fixture since 1961; it played Afro-Cuban music long before such sounds were considered “in.” The liner of one of Cano’s LPs mentions that the first seat at the piano bar was always reserved for Jayne Mansfield. Nearby was a dedicated comedians’ table, for Mort Sahl, Lenny Bruce and the like.
I know what happened to PJ’s--it’s now the Roxy, but where is the unforgettable Eddie Cano?
Mavis E. Winter
Laguna Niguel
*
Cano died in January 1988 at the age of 60.
*
Please allow this “Dorsey Girl” to add some information about the Strip article’s notations of the dates, events and bands of the ‘60s.
“Groupie fever” did indeed grip us in 1965, though as the year went by, the other girls lost interest. I’d started working at The Brave New World (the Doors, Love and the Sons of Adams played there) and met other people to do the club scene with.
At that time, it was 21-and-older at the Whisky; none of us could get in. But we never yelled “Let us in!” at the top of our pubescent lungs. Nor did Brian Jones go “What the . . . ?” as he opened his hotel room door. But the bands sure did love all the attention--and all of us as well.
In the mid-’60s, the style was dark eyes, white Max Factor Erace for lipstick, and teased hair--but less so than in the ‘50s. And by the end of the decade, it had changed to long hair, light makeup, bell bottoms and flowery clothes.
I don’t believe that Frank Zappa and the Mothers ever played Bido Lito’s (they did, however, play the Trip, the first place I saw them, and the Whisky), or that Gerry and the Pacemakers and Freddie and the Dreamers ever played the Strip. And Paul Butterfield is not British.
Sue Schneider
West Hollywood
*
The richness of the Strip cannot be understood until you have walked it and experienced it. Anyone who had not had a meal at Butterfield’s or Ben Frank’s before they closed is indeed unfortunate; of course they could try taking in the view at the Top of the Strip at the Hyatt Hotel, or visit the patio at the Mondrian or the pool at the Argyle. They’re worth the trip.
Chris Turkmany
Westchester
*
I work at a private residence three blocks from Sunset and Crescent Heights. Every night I am bombarded with Strip noise: police helicopters, screeching tires, blasting sirens, screaming people, blaring auto alarms, racing cars--even shots being fired. I see prostitutes and their clients in parked cars, drunks losing their lunch and relieving themselves on lawns, drug deals being made.
At the end of my shift, I drive 35 miles and light years away from the Strip to the peace and quiet of my home in Ventura County.
You can have the Sunset Strip.
Ron Oliver
Newbury Park
*
“Reinventing the Strip” was spectacular. Congratulations. Could we have more such issues on Los Angeles?
Barton Myers
Beverly Hills
*
Robert Hilburn’s article on the Strip’s music scene (“Where the Wild Things Lived,” Dec. 15) reminded me of a warm summer night in the early ‘70s when, bored, we made our way to the Strip. We ultimately found ourselves in front of the Whisky, having to decide whether to continue cruising or commit ourselves to an early show.
“It’s a great show,” the doorman said. “You won’t be sorry.” We huddled, considering the $5 admission charge, $1.50 more than usual.
We gave in, coughed up the money and heard Stevie Wonder sing “Superstition” in a concert that to this day has been my favorite show of all time.
Donald Bruckman
Hermosa Beach