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and restaurants. A Rip van Winkle need not fear that he would be unable to locate his friends in New York. All he has to do the moment he is fully awake is to summon a taxi and say "21" or "The Stork" or "The Colony"— and ten minutes later our Rip van Winkle will behold the selfsame people whom he used to know way back in the days when grandfather had measles. How about Hollywood? Well, let's consider the case of Hollywood.
Right at this moment there are three popular night clubs in Hollywood. Two of them are yet to celebrate their first anniversary. What happened to the night clubs of yesterday, to those greatly ballyhooed places that were expected to outlast the Grand Canyon? Failed . . . Folded up . . . Went broke . . . Why? There is no "why." Simply — "that's the motion-picture business for you." Back in New York there are
likewise three popular night clubs at this moment. One of them is a newcomer, but the other two are older, quite a bit older than Repeal.
IlOW about the restaurants? The Hollywood ones and the New York ones? Well, of some half a dozen smart and successful restaurants in Hollywood only one or two can remember the days when Herbert Hoover was President of the United States. The others are young enough to make Deanna Durbin look and feel like a veteran. Where, oh, where are the glittering Embassies, the Montmartres and all those other places where everybody who was anybody in the industry had either to appear at least once a week or run the risk of not being mentioned in the columns? Where are they, indeed? Nobody knows. What sent them out of business? Nothing, except that "that's the motion-picture busi
ness for you!" How about New York? There are exactly three really smart and successful, if a bit expensive, restaurants in New York. The youngest of them is fourteen years old, the oldest was already in existence when we decided to make the world safe for democracy.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is that. The Tale of Two Cities in a nutshell. A tabloid edition of the comparative history of the dancing and eating habits of East and West. If New York is fickle, then Hollywood is plain wacky. One woman's opinion? Not at all. The proprietors of "21," in New York, than whom there are no shrewder judges of what will and what won't click with the limousine trade, spent several years toying with the idea of opening a branch in Hollywood. Once upon a time they even leased an empty lot in Beverly Hills and had a set of beautiful blueprints drawn. They wound up, however, by retreating to their abode in West Fifty-second Street in New York. Why? Because not only did they become convinced that no "habit," with the possible exception of that of not "taking up an option," can last for more than a year in Hollywood, but they realized likewise that the failure of their branch in Hollywood would affect the mother house in New York. The selfsame stars, producers, directors, writers, et al. who think nothing today of being pushed around at "21" in New York would be sure to say:
"Oh, we've had enough of that joint in Hollywood. Let's go somewhere else."
(Continued on page 83 )
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