At the Plaza Page 6

  The promotion proved popular enough to inspire a special children’s menu (here, featuring Eloise on a three-wheeler), available in all of the restaurants. Among its offerings were Sirloin Suzie-Q, Teeny Weenies, and Mary-Had-a-Little-Lamb Chop, which could be accompanied by a Kiddie Kar Kocktail. The pièce de résistance was the Tricycle Treat, a dessert featuring a tiny bike rider cast in vanilla ice cream, riding on a square of sponge cake in a drift of whipped cream doused with raspberry sauce.

  At the time of the garage’s unveiling, Hollywood starlet Jayne Mansfield was in the city promoting her latest picture, The Girl Can’t Help It. An overamplified version of Marilyn Monroe, Mansfield was always game for any kind of publicity, and here she poses dutifully with her daughter, Jayne Marie.

  Edwardian Room Menu, November 8, 1956

  The space offhandedly referred to as The “Plaza Restaurant” was finally given an official name, the Edwardian Room, in 1955. Its staid elegance is reflected in this winter menu.

  Alfred Hitchcock’s North by Northwest

  Alfred Hitchcock’s classic thriller marked the beginning of a watershed era for The Plaza, the launch of its movie career. Although the hotel had made earlier cameo appearances in pictures like Gentlemen’s Agreement (usually a fleeting background appearance as part of the skyline), North by Northwest marked something different: the first time an entire movie company—director, actors, and crew—came together on the site of The Plaza to make a film. This was rather unusual for that period, as Hollywood pictures were made on Hollywood sets for the most part, rarely on location. This equation would reverse itself by the end of the century, however; indeed, location shooting would become so commonplace that The Plaza would appear in thirty-four features and claim the title of New York’s most popular film site by the year 2000.

  North by Northwest is vintage Hitchcock—a convoluted case of mistaken identity—and shooting commenced in August 1958, with the scenes that opened the movie: Cary Grant being kidnapped from table 2 in the Oak Bar, followed by a later sequence where he eludes his would-be captors and manages a successful escape through the Fifty-ninth Street door (pictured here). A resounding success for Hitchcock both critically and commercially, the picture garnered Oscar nominations for its script, art direction, and editing. Many years later, the American Film Institute would compile a list of the greatest films of the century and rank North by Northwest at a very respectable number 40.

  Here, Cary Grant tears through the lobby followed by actress Jessie Royce Landis, who was a year younger than Grant, but played his mother in the film nevertheless.

  Here, Alfred Hitchcock affects nonchalance in the Fifty-ninth Street lobby during shooting.

  Jazz at The Plaza

  Modern jazz made a spectacular debut at The Plaza on September 9, 1958, when Columbia Records showcased selected artists at a by-invitation-only affair in the Persian Room. The invitation simply read “Come to a Jazz Party,” a marvel of understatement given its stellar cast of performers.

  Duke Ellington and his orchestra led off the program with “Jazz Festival Suite,” and after a short set, they yielded the stage to the Miles Davis Sextet (which at the time included John Coltrane and Cannonball Adderley); among their offerings was Davis’s original composition “Jazz at The Plaza.” Ellington returned for the second half of the show, accompanying singer Jimmy Rushing, but before closing with a spirited version of “Take the ‘A’ Train,” a late arrival to the party took the stage: Lady Day herself, Miss Billie Holiday, who sang “Hush Now Don’t Explain” and “When Your Lover Has Gone,” and brought down the house. Sadly, this proved one of the singer’s last appearances in New York City; she had less than a year to live.

  Happily, the concert was recorded, although with no immediate thought of commercial distribution. The tapes from this mythic evening lay in Columbia’s vaults until 1973, when they were released on two LPs entitled Jazz at The Plaza (jacket art here).

  Here, photographer Don Hunstein’s portraits of Duke Ellington on the bandstand and Billie Holiday and Miles Davis after the show.

  Ike and Mamie and Jack and Jackie

  Politicians have always been a presence at The Plaza, and every U.S. president since William Taft has made an appearance there. Though some came just for the fun of it—Harry Truman was fond of lunching in the Palm Court with his daughter, Margaret, and Richard Nixon was a regular at Trader Vic’s—most politicians showed up to be honored at various fund-raising testimonials.

  Among them were two pivotal figures of 1950s American politics, Dwight D. Eisenhower and John F. Kennedy. The Eisenhowers, pictured here with Jacqueline Cochran Odlum and her husband, Floyd, attended a Baroque Room dinner in honor of Mrs. Odlum, the country’s leading aviatrix. (Her husband, not incidentally, controlled the Atlas Corporation, which co-owned The Plaza along with Conrad Hilton.)

  Senator and Mrs. John F. Kennedy (here) graced the Ballroom on December 8, 1959, for a fancy dress Wild West Ball benefiting a pet charity, the Kennedy Child Study Center for Retarded Children. The senator’s string tie (and hidden gun belt, worn under his jacket) as well as Mrs. Kennedy’s demure dance-hall-gal ensemble were in keeping with the western theme of the evening.

  The Second British Invasion of America

  It all began rather innocently: a hotel booking made several weeks in advance for a small group of Englishmen. None of their names—Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, Starr—meant anything to the staff until a copy of Life magazine landed on general manager Alphonse Salomone’s desk, opened to a story entitled “Four Screaming Moptops Break Up England. Here Come Those Beatles.” Salomone knew that there was no question that the reservations would be honored, but he wasn’t naïve, and so, in short order, the police commissioner was notified, extra security was hired from Burns Guards, and six small suites for the British guests were blocked out on the Fifty-eighth Street side of the twelfth floor (intentionally away from the main entrances, with windows that faced inside to the hotel courtyard).

  Living up to their press clippings, the Beatles arrived on February 7, 1964, in a burst of fanfare. The crowd at the airport followed them to the hotel, then encamped there for the next five days (here). About the most serious infraction of hotel security occurred when two teenage girls managed to smuggle themselves up to the twelfth floor inside a gift box, but they were summarily escorted out. Hotel personnel found the Beatles to be pleasant and unassuming, and quick to oblige when people made photo requests; here, Ringo, Paul, and George pose with Christina Krupka, in a photograph taken by her father, Henry, the owner of D’Arlene Studios. Krupka’s studio was situated off the Fifth Avenue lobby, and he is responsible for many of the photographs in this book dating from the 1950s and 1960s.

  The Beatles’ Press Conference

  The press unabashedly loved the Beatles, taken by their new, cheeky version of celebrity, and the fact that these irreverent upstarts were ensconced in the posh Plaza only made the story better. The Beatles returned the favor by giving the media something to write about. Over the five days that the Fab Four spent in Manhattan, they appeared on The Ed Sullivan Show, gave a press conference, partied at the Playboy Club and the Peppermint Lounge, and performed back-to-back concerts at Carnegie Hall.

  The press conference (pictured here) was held on February 10, 1964 in The Plaza’s Baroque Room, where the group was presented a pair of gold records for their album Meet the Beatles and their single “I Wanna Hold Your Hand.” Dr. Joyce Brothers reported the event for the New York Journal-American, and here, Ringo takes her pulse, for reasons now unknown but no doubt amusing at the time. Dr. Brothers had the last laugh, however. The following day, her column, “Why They Go Wild Over the Beatles,” summarized their appeal: “The Beatles display a few mannerisms which almost seen a shade on the feminine side, such as the tossing of their long manes of hair.… These are exactly the mannerisms which very young female fans appear to go wildest over.”

  The Two Eloise Portraits

  After the publ
ication of Eloise, The Plaza undertook a number of promotions to publicize it. Among these was a portrait painted by the book’s illustrator, Hilary Knight, which was hung in the lobby opposite the Palm Court in 1957. It quickly became a favorite of mothers and their daughters, and a much-photographed site.

  On Thanksgiving night 1960, following a college dance in the Ballroom, the six-by-four-foot portrait disappeared. Despite nationwide press coverage, it did not turn up. Nor was it immediately replaced, for the book had gone out of print and Eloise’s popularity appeared to have crested. It was only after Alphonse Salomone, the hotel’s general manager, took Princess Grace of Monaco and her children on a tour of the property that the idea of replacing it was revived. The princess remarked on the portrait’s absence, which stuck in Salomone’s mind—he himself was a character in the story—and after the book came back into print, it was decided to have the portrait redone. (Here, the artist poses beside the second version with an unknown, but obviously fervent, Eloise fan.)

  The picture was unveiled on April 17, 1964, as part of the festivities celebrating the opening of the New York World’s Fair, and the Beatles, who had recently stayed in the hotel, to much fanfare, sent a congratulatory telegram (below left). The original portrait (bottom right) was never recovered; the second version remains in place opposite the Palm Court—bolted to the wall.

  Trader Vic’s

  This legendary restaurant was born in Oakland, California, in 1934. That summer, restaurant owner Victor Bergeron returned from a vacation in Tahiti and introduced native Chinese and Javanese dishes to the menu of his modest establishment, Hinky Dink’s. More significantly, he also added sweet, potent rum drinks to the bar offerings, redid the place in faux tropics style, and changed its name to Trader Vic’s. The revamping proved enough of a success that it gradually evolved into a chain over the years, with twenty-three outlets at its peak. (Bergeron’s other claim to fame—the introduction of the mai tai cocktail stateside—came about after another South Seas sojourn in 1944.)

  A prototype of the theme restaurants that would proliferate toward the end of the century, Trader Vic’s first debuted in Manhattan at the Savoy-Plaza Hotel in 1958. When that hotel was demolished to make way for the General Motors Building, the restaurant moved across the street to The Plaza’s basement, opening in August 1965. In its new home, it replaced what was originally a Turkish bath and later the hotel barbershop with a restaurant whose decor was a kitschy mix of fishnet, thatched ceilings, and South Seas carvings, crowned by the outrigger canoe from the film Mutiny on the Bounty mounted in the entry hall. Movers and shakers took to it at once, among them Jacqueline Onassis, Salvador Dalí, Richard Nixon, and the couple pictured here, diva Maria Callas and fashion designer Oleg Cassini, together for an occasion long ago forgotten.

  Trader Vic’s closed in 1993 after an impressive twenty-eight-year run. An entire generation would carry fond, if blurry, memories of its signature Fog Cutters, Scorpions, and Tidal Waves. Here, the rather racy cover of its menu.

  Mr. Capote Throws a Party

  After six years in the making, In Cold Blood, Truman Capote’s masterwork, was published in January 1966. It proved to be such a runaway success that it wasn’t long before the author began to think about throwing a party—a big party—to celebrate. A date was selected, November 28, 1966, and a site, The Plaza’s Ballroom. Since it wouldn’t do to promote one’s own good fortune so blatantly, Capote decided to throw a party in honor of his friend Kay Graham, publisher of the Washington Post.

  No detail was overlooked in its planning. He chose The Plaza “because it has the only beautiful ballroom left in New York,” and the buzz began soon after he engaged the space. It was to be a theme party, with the guests to wear either black or white, as well as masks, which were to be removed at midnight. The guest list was exclusive and eclectic; Capote, after all, had been a player in international society for many years. To assure even more exclusivity, he told his guests whom they could or could not bring as escorts, so that no one would be allowed in without his approval. These four ingredients—a brilliant setting, a select guest list, a strict dress code, and the novelty of wearing masks—proved an irresistible mix. The party was an event long before it happened, and those without invitations begged and cajoled and offered bribes, and, failing all else, they made sure they were out of town so they could explain their absence that night. (Here, the much-coveted invitation.)

  Capote rented Suite 437 for the evening, where he had a private dinner with Kay Graham before the party. Here, he adjusts his mask in the suite’s foyer, surely unaware that what was about to transpire would surpass his wildest dreams.

  The Black and White Ball

  The evening of this fabled party began inauspiciously. It was raining, although this did nothing to dampen the spirits of the 300 onlookers on the street, the 200 press people in the lobby, or the 540 elect whom Capote invited. His guest list read like an international Who’s Who: Norman Mailer, Rose Kennedy, Steven Sondheim, Henry Fonda, Lillian Hellman, the Maharaja of Jaipur, Lauren Bacall, John Steinbeck, Lynda Bird Johnson, Arthur Miller, Vivien Leigh, Jerome Robbins, Diana Vreeland, James Michener, and Andy Warhol, among others. Here, guest of honor, Kay Graham, and designer Billy Baldwin; here, Frank Sinatra and Mia Farrow—arguably the couple of the night, as they were newly wed—linger in the Ballroom foyer.

  The Ballroom (here) had been done in red, with not a flower in sight—“The people are the flowers,” declared Capote. To the accompaniment of Peter Duchin’s orchestra, 450 bottles of Taittinger champagne were served, along with a midnight buffet of chicken hash with sherry, spaghetti Bolognese, and scrambled eggs. The masks came off long before midnight, but other than that minor detail, all of Capote’s wishes had been realized.

  The party cost Capote sixteen thousand dollars, a modest investment for the millions of dollars’ worth of publicity it generated for him. The New York Times printed the guest list. CBS aired live coverage. Newspapers across the country offered up editorials debating the meaning of it all. Critic Diana Trilling summed it up neatly, if enigmatically: “a very complicated moment in this country’s social history.” Magnified by the hyperbolic atmosphere of the 1960s, the Black and White Ball quickly became legendary, and today is a leading candidate for Party of the Century.

  Svetlana

  World affairs took center stage at The Plaza on the morning of April 26, 1967, when Svetlana Alliluyeva, the only daughter of Joseph Stalin, held a televised news conference in the Terrace Room. Alliluyeva had just defected to the United States—an unimaginable propaganda coup for the West in its ongoing Cold War with the Soviet Union—and had agreed to meet the press to make a statement, as well as to publicize her forthcoming autobiography. Questions were submitted in writing, in advance, only “because it’s a little bit difficult for me sometimes to guess American English,” she said. Out of three hundred submissions, thirty-eight were answered in the hour-long conference.

  Among other statements, Alliluyeva announced that she had defected “to seek the self-expression that has been denied me for so long in Russia.” She also admitted to loving her father but disliking his policies, and then she was asked if she would apply for U.S. citizenship. “I think that before the marriage there should be love,” she replied. “So, if I should love this country and this country will love me, then the marriage will be settled. But I cannot say now.”

  Her comments were well received, and the newsmen applauded at the end of the press conference. Afterward, Alliluyeva spent the rest of the afternoon in her fourteenth-floor Plaza suite, before dropping out of sight to complete work on her memoir. Published in October 1967 by Harper & Row, Twenty Letters to a Friend went on to become a bestseller. Alliluyeva eventually became a U.S. citizen and settled in Princeton, New Jersey.

  Neil Simon’s Plaza Suite

  Having conquered film and television, The Plaza entered the footlight arena on February 14, 1968, when Neil Simon’s Plaza Suite opened on Broadway. Simon
was then at the peak of his popularity, with four of his shows running simultaneously on the Great White Way and two of them—The Odd Couple and Sweet Charity—being made into movies. Plaza Suite seemed a sure thing, further bolstered by a heavyweight director, Mike Nichols, and stellar cast, Maureen Stapleton and George C. Scott.

  The premise of the show was simplicity itself. Performed in three acts, it chronicled three couples’ stays in the same Plaza apartment, Suite 719, with Stapleton and Scott playing the various couples. (A fourth act was cut in rehearsals and later reworked into a film, The Out-of-Towners.) An immediate hit, the comedy ran for two and a half years on Broadway, countless times on the road, and remains a repertory staple for many regional theaters to this day.

  Not surprisingly, it was made into a movie starring Walter Matthau, with Maureen Stapleton, Lee Grant, and Barbara Harris as his respective foils. Although shot in part on location (with Plaza Suite 723 standing in for the fictional 719), the majority of the filming was done on a Hollywood set (seen in the publicity still here), meticulously re-created with props furnished by the hotel. The picture opened at Radio City Music Hall in June 1971, and it proved successful enough to inspire a 1987 remake for television, starring Carol Burnett. The playwright himself liked the structure of the piece well enough to write two sequels of sorts: California Suite, a movie set in the Beverly Hills Hotel, and London Suite, a play set in that city’s Connaught Hotel.