SUCKING IN THE 70s
(don't we
wish!)
By Vandal Drummond
The Last Party:
Studio 54, Disco, and the Culture of the Night
By Anthony
Haden-Guest
Publisher: William Morrow & Co
ISBN: 068814151X
RATING:
BUY THIS MOTHERFUCKER NOW!
I was a slightly retro teen in the late 1970s:
my bushy hair and stoner tendencies were still quite contemporary, but
my rock preferences leaned toward earlier icons like Janis Joplin and
The Doors. I didn't get my peers love for Bachman-Turner Overdive and KISS,
and my peers clearly puzzled over my enjoyment of the newly departed
hippie era. We saw eye to eye on a few pleasures: Led Zepplin, Fleetwood
Mac (it seemed everybody, no matter what their tastes, owned a copy of
Rumours in 1978) and Boston.
We also agreed as to what
sucked back then: DISCO.
What did we envision everytime we uttered the
phrase disco sucks? We envisioned tall, pasty
thirty-something guys with perms, pencil-thin moustaches, gold
bellbottoms, and platform shoes. Guys who looked like the
late John Holmes, but lacking the bragging rights in
their loins.We saw chicks who looked like Cheryl Tiegs in their Sears-Sucker-Suits
and "90% Nice-10% Bitch" necklaces. We envisioned pick-up lines involving
horoscopes and drinks called "Screaming Orgasms."
If only
we looked a little deeper into the cooler media coverage of the NY palace
of sin known as Studio 54, we would have seen Andy Warhol, transvestites, yummy
Grace Jones, and an all-out-in-the-open hedonistic festival filled with sex,
drugs and Turn-The-Beat-Around. In hindsight, boy did we miss out! Yes,
if The Ghost of Christmas Past were to drop by in
my bleakest hour of despair and say "Let's go back in the past....
your past," my response would be a resounding "Yes! Yes!
But
..... before we roam the
streets of Fullerton, California in 1978, could we spend an evening at Studio 54
first?" I mean, think of it: The Ghost of Christmas, dressed in his white gown
flaunting his flowing white angelic mane, roaming
the disco amidst cokies and sexaholics, surrounded by
the sounds of Boney M blaring out "RA-RA-RASPUTIN!" --- he really
would have fit right in!
Of course, I am idealizing the scene as if every night at Studio 54 was
peak-performance, and as if the entire nightclub scene was every bit as
hot and sizzling. And let's not forget that Studio 54 was one of those many
fleeting Camelots of pop-culture.
I know director John Ford said
that when choosing whether to present legend or fact to the
public, that legend makes for a more interesting story. I completely disagree.
When I read a history or biography of a pop-culture phenomenon, the two things
that fascinate me are the true story, and the story that tells us how the myths
and legends behind the icons were born.
Which is where the book
The Last Party comes in.
Anthony Haden-Guest's 1997 work
is an excellent in-depth analysis of the
The
above topics are covered, but what the book really emphasizes is
the maniacal, competitive ---and often cutthroat--- business nature of nightclubs. In this realm,
Haden-Guest excels at illustrating Nightworld’s sharp businessmen, starry-eyed dreamers,
junkies, megalomaniacs, doormen, and generic party-goers. You read about the manic ups and
downs of the wild players and get-rich-quick wannabees, and their mad scrambles to
try and duplicate the success of Studio 54. And often,
some of these key players are all the abovementioned descriptions rolled up
into one.
What surprised this disco-layman was the depth of instabilty the nightclub business suffered during this “Boom” period. No club came close Studio 54’s once-in-a-century money making machine, and even its keenest competitors found numerous obstacles when running a successful party-scene. Very few lasted more than two years. The Nightworld party-goers were a truly fickle crowd, with very little loyalty for any club. These dancin'-dopin'-drinkers tired quickly of even the hottest parties, and eventually abandoned every hot club in hopes of a newer, glitzier nightspot.
It is equally astounding to discover that the tales of nightclubs becoming overnight money-makers were mythical (I bet that myth still continues), and how many would-be entrepreneurs, despite their complete lack of competency in running a business, could obtain massive funding from money-marks in hopes of duplicating Studio 54’s success. There are the brief triumphs of Maurice Brahms, the drive of Arthur Weinstein, the mixed success of Scotty Taylor, and the tragic story of male model Uva Hardin, a volatile dreamer who shot for the stars, but never so much as got one club up and running.
You do get to meet a fascinating array of charismatic characters that inhabited Studio 54 and the surrounding clubs, including Bianca Jagger, drug runner Tom Sullivan, Mark Benecke (probably the only guy who became famous solely for being a club doorman), club goers Tinkerbelle, Carmen D’Alessio, legendary (and scary) attorney Roy Cohn, Rudolf and His Club Kids, and Halston. The author does not merely tell you the cool stories about their doings, he illustrates how they shaped Nightworld and/or how Nightworld shaped (and sometime damaged) them.
Haden-Guest beautifully paces the story of Steve Rubell and Ian Schrager’s unexpected success and chaotic fall. Their financial boom was so intense and happened so fast that both men failed to see the potential fallout. Like many club owners, they skimmed money from the cash box. Trouble is, whereas most club owners skimmed mounds of cash, Rubell and Schrager skimmed mountains and oceans of cash, and practically egged on the IRS to investigate them. Out of control egos and the delusion of feeling untouchable is all too evident in this tale. The author also illustrates the irony in Studio 54’s downfall, how if Rubell and Schrager reeled in their egos just a little bit, there is a chance the Saga of Studio 54 would be an ongoing success story to this day.
If I could point to the one thing that I enjoyed most about The Last Party , it would be the treatment of Steve Rubell. I have seen numerous articles and documentaries of the nightclub phenomenon that paints Rubell as an eccentric visionary, a maverick, a madman… and not much else. Yes, the tales of a manic & drug-dabbling Rubell are true, but Haden-Guest illustrates that there was an honest-to-god soul behind the “human perpetual-motion machine.” Especially moving was that after numerous whirlwind career ups-&-downs and “Hello & G’bye” sexual encounters, Rubell, in the last years of his life, found love with Bill Hamilton.
If you are looking for a source
on the glitz and craziness that was Studio 54, a good source is the VH1 “Behind
the Music” documentary aired around 1996-97. Probably the worst portrayal of
Studio 54 is the 1998 film "54." Aside from a stunning set and Mike Myers'
astounding portrayal of Steve Rubell, this tepid story barely scratches the
surface of Studio 54.
On the other hand, if you want an insightful look
into the complex and unpredictable nature of the Nightworld phenomenon, this is
the book for you.