Snow-Blind from Glare

Show people have a saying that their worst two weeks are Holy Week and any week in St. Louis. But nightclub owners had unholier reasons to cry into their champagne last week. In Manhattan, some of the gaudiest and most popular clubs dropped minimum and cover charges. Several were planning to "close for the summer" early next month. With very few exceptions, business was off from 20 to 40% in even the most popular spots. There was grave danger that owners would go snow-blind from the glare of white tablecloths.

Even more definite storm warnings came last week from the American Guild of Variety Artists (A.F.L.). It reported that 5,000 of its members had been laid off since late last year. Waiters, bartenders and cooks had been dropped in even greater numbers.

To the Horses. Nor were the blues confined to New York. In Chicago, the white glare was even more blinding. Probably hardest hit of all the spots in the $500 million-a-year business were those on the West Coast. Hollywood's plush saloons had slipped steadily ever since last summer, when celebrities began to demand a cut in their checks in return for the glamor they brought in with them. Four places, including the new, flossy Le Gourmet, folded one right after the other in San Francisco, where one operator barked disgustedly: "Nightclub owners in desperation have taken to playing the horses. They can't make a buck off the public."

To the Brief Cases. What was the trouble? An obvious part of the answer was the general decline in spending--especially for entertainment and luxuries--and the general rise in postwar costs. During the war boom, operators had gone in heavily for big-name attractions; there was no worry about making them pay. But talent costs continued to rise after the war to as high as $10,000 and more a week for such names as Olsen & Johnson, Milton Berle, Gertrude Niesen.

On the other hand, the average customer, although spoiled for cheaper shows, was no longer willing to spend up to $100, which is what it still costs in bigger cities for a deluxe night on the town. Thus, even with stars and reasonably full tables, many clubs claimed to be losing money. Yet without stars, they would be empty.

The oldest and best-run places had no fear that this meant the end. Manhattan's Billy Rose found that business in his Diamond Horeshoe was down 25%. Nevertheless he quipped: instead of taking money home in steamer trunks, "we're using only brief cases now." But for nightclubs in general the boom was gone. For many, the bust was at hand.

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