Xenon Nightclub New York Opening Party June 1978 скачать в хорошем качестве

Xenon Nightclub New York Opening Party June 1978

Most of the flashing lights didn't work. The paint on the walls was still wet. And the liquor license still hadn't been issued. But never mind, the owners of Xenon, a $2‐million night. spot billed as “the ultimate discotheque,” went ahead and opened for business Wednesday night. You see, minor inconveniences don't seem to deter New York's latest bunch of fanatics, the discomaniacs. Wild horses can't keep them away once they get the word that yet another boogie palace is opening, especially one with a $100,000 sound system and a $90,000 descending space ship, created by Douglas Trumbull, the Oscar nominee who designed the special effects for the films “Close Encounters of the Third Kind.” So there they all were Wednesday night, mobs of them, celebrities and unknowns, trying to beg or claw their way into “the ultimate discotheque,” which is located in what was once Henry Miller's Theater, at 124 West 43d Street. There were so many of them waiting in line that they overflowed into the street, causing the police to close the block. Dozens of limousines, carrying the rich and famous to the opening, passed the place by once their occupants got a look at the mob scene in front of the disco. Many of them went, instead, to Xenon's longer established rival in assaulting the senses, Studio 54. Rating the Discos “My fondest wish is that Steve Rubell comes here and they don't let him in,” said one of the early arrivals, Michael Arkin, an advertising executive, referring to the proprietor of Studio 54 who has turned many people away from that disco's door. “He turned me away once, and once was enough. And I had an invitation! I hope this place puts him out of business.” Much of the conversation, when conversation could be heard amid the rolling thunder of the music, involved comparisons between the two discos. It was generally agreed that Studio 54 had a bigger dance floor (“This place is Studio 27 because it's only half the size of Studio 54,” one guest quipped), but that Xenon's visual effects, including the space ship, had great possibilities. “I find this place very fascinating — it has that New York charisma,” gushed red‐haired Victoria Johnson of ♦Atlanta, Penthouse magazine's pet of the year, who was at one point accidentally knocked to the dance floor by an overzealous photographer. But she kept on smiling. Other guests among the 2,500 who made it past the husky bouncers guarding the doors were Peter Frampton, Tony Curtis, Nan Kempner, Betsy Palmer, Bill Boggs, Paul Simon, Yasmin Khan, Mariel Hemingway, Vitas Gerulaitis, Carl Stokes, Scott Barrie, Bob Evans with Liv Ullmann, Polly Bergen, Lorna Luft, Tony Roberts, Ahmet Ertegun and Bob McAdoo. “This place is smokin', I like it, it's nice,” said Mr. McAdoo, center for the New York Knickerbockers. Among those who couldn't make it through the crowds, or didn't care to try, were Al Padno, Eartha Kitt, Alan Alda, Egon Von Furstenberg and an editor of a fashion newspaper, who pounded on the disco's doors for 20 minutes and threatened that he would “destroy this place” if he wasn't admitted. Why would anyone spend what they claimed was $2 million on a disco? “Because we thought we could make some money by spending some money,” reasoned Howard Stein, the former rock promoter who owns Xenon along with Peppo Vanini, a former European restaurateur. He nodded when reminded that most discotheques have very short lives. “I expect it,” he conceded resignedly. “A year or two a very good run in the disco business.” ‘Playpen’ Areas Xenon, which means “stranger” in Greek, had many things in common with Manhattan's less expensive discos: a strong odor of marijuana smoke, dancers inhaling various substances, dancers wearing very strange costumes, and a large number of men dancing with men. The disco's mezzanine includes seven “playpen” areas, featuring electronic games and huge couches for lounging and watching the dancers and the various visual effects that descend from the ceiling, including a neon shooting gallery, three gigantic pinball machines and several Maypoles. Roller‐Arena, a transvestite who is a regular-on-roller-skates on the Manhattan disco scene and who wears a button that reads, “How Dare You Presume I'm Heterosexual,” had kind words for Xenon's dance floor. “I can get a very good grip for spinning,” he said, as he spun in a circle, his white chiffon dress billowing around his ankles. Other guests who commanded attention were a couple who had sprayed themselves silver and who performed suggestive routines on the dance floor; a man who wore a “bag” made of tiny mirrors over his head all night, and a woman named “M,” who was drinking Southern Comfort out of a baby bottle, and who said her skimpy gold mesh costume and her red‐painted breasts were supposed to represent “Los Angeles at its worst.” New York Times 9 June 1978