1963 promotional art of the girls of The Largo |
||||||
68 |
something happened in Hollywood in the 1960s. A few entrepreneurs gave Tinseltown a handful of strip clubs that were unrivaled for their respectability and their caliber of beautiful women. Far from the raunchy present-day“ gentlemen’ s clubs” where dollar bills are stuffed into g-strings, these places were clean, well-lit tourist destinations: the Pink Pussycat, the Largo, the Classic Cat and the Body Shop. A man could take a date or his wife for a good meal and adult entertainment that was suggestive and titillating but very seldom crude. Lenny Bruce summed it up as“ ass with class.” Strip clubs had been a part of the American nighttime landscape since the early 1950s; every sizeable city had at least one flesh pit euphemistically called a burlesque house. A tired old comic, a few strippers and a somnambulant jazz trio could always be found in some upholstered toilet in the seedier part of town.
Lenny knew. He arrived in Los Angeles in 1953 in search of stardom, but found that the doors to TV and movies were closed to him. He worked as a comic emcee at every SoCal strip parlor: from the Cup and Saucer in Downey to Hollywood’ s Strip City; from the Mandalay in Long Beach to the Hat in El Monte; from North Hollywood’ s Bamboo Room to the Irish World in Inglewood. He knew everyone in L. A. burlesque but by the time Hollywood polished up striptease with a handful of well-appointed showcases and stocked them with beauties, he was working the biggest nightclubs in the country on his own tragic trajectory.
The renaissance had inconspicuous beginnings. The blue chip Hollywood supper clubs like the Mocambo, the Trocadero and Ciro’ s felt the same challenges that bedeviled all nightclubs in the late 1950s. SoCal nightlife wasn’ t what it had been; television and familial responsibilities kept people home. Classic burlesque-- with gowned strippers, comics, singers and a parade line— was dead, its ghosts confined to run-down downtown theaters. When clubs faced tough times, a familiar gambit was to jettison feature
treatsmagazine. com
|
entertainment for a strip policy. The overhead was much cheaper than a national headliner’ s revue.
The spacious Largo on Sunset Boulevard had booked acts like naughty songstress Frances Faye, the Four Preps or country princess Molly Bee before owner Chuck Landis brought in Texas stripper Candy Barr in the fall of 1958. The pert and sexy little blonde was sensational— just the right mix of naughty and nice. She did business, eventually pulling down $ 2,000 a week by the end of the year. Young hellion Gary Crosby dated her and clued in gangster Mickey Cohen claimed:“ She can make ya feel like a real man.”
Candy and Mickey kept company; he paid her $ 15,000 bond from a pot bust back home while Candy worked steadily, commuting between Hollywood and Vegas. The green-eyed cutie’ s lengthy appeals prolonged the trial and she made several stands at the Largo into 1960. It was long enough to coach young actress Joan Collins on the fine points of bump‘ n grind for her part in the movie Seven Thieves.
Landis was soon booking strip headliners like Lili St. Cyr, Tempest Storm and Marcia Edgington. His goal for the club was, as he put it“ class … this place is not a joint and I don’ t stand for any rough stuff in here.” Just the same, the Mickster was a steady patron, and he soon cozied up to leggy showgirl Liz Renay. She was called to testify about Cohen’ s financial affairs and drew a 16-month sentence for perjury.
With Liz doing hard time, another dancer caught Mickey’ s eye. Statuesque Beverly Powers, a former Miss Van Nuys, measured 38-22-35. She said a silent prayer every time before she took the stage and never appeared fully nude. By early 1960, the voluptuous beauty dubbed as Miss Beverly Hills was headlining, and it wasn’ t long before Hollywood came calling. She danced in a scene in Breakfast at Tiffany’ s, which launched a parallel career in TV
|
left: Bison Archive / right: Photofest |