Some may accuse me of biting on James Lileks' style, but I've been hanging on to this "This Week in Omaha" official hotel greeter and convention guide for a while. I can't remember if I ran across it going through some old family stuff or if I found it in a junk shop downtown, but nonetheless I've been fascinated with it since I first laid hands on it. It was a bi-weekly publication and this edition is for the first two weeks of December, 1963.

What could possibly have been going on in Omaha in 1963? I mean, that was almost 45 years ago. Nearly half a century. Certainly this was a sleepy little cowtown back then, right? I mean, people complain now about how there's not much to do, so things must've been much worse back then.

Not so, apparently. Once upon a time this bucolic chunk of sleepy suburban flyover was a hotbed of activity. A city bustling with a swinging pre-summer of love 1960's "Frankie and Dean-o" sensibility. At least that's how one would perceive it from the ads. Let's start with my favorite page.

A recurring theme throughout this magazine is how most of the businesses advertised are long gone. Not just gone but torn down for strip malls that have been torn down to make uglier strip malls. It's amazing how true the old canard is about Americans having no sense of history. We're pretty quick on the draw when it comes to tearing down a neat funky old building so we don't have to be more than a quarter mile from a Maggie Moo's at any given time. But I digress.

Do you doubt, for even a millisecond, that Cliff Winehill is the King of the Comics? With that hat and cigar you would be a fool to contradict him. Man, Pee-Dee's must've been one hopping place. They had King Cliff with his comic shtick, the Enchanting Marie Miskura, who you know was a sultry asian vamp that played up her exotic look to the hilt, and then you can dance with the "exciting" Russ Long Combo. I can't think of a single venue locally (that isn't attached to a riverboat casino) that offers that much entertainment on any single given night. I'd tell you what is standing where Pee-Dee's is no longer, but the address of "1.5 miles east of the South Omaha Bridge" is a tad vague. If they mean east across the bridge then the only structure out that way is a biker bar/strip club that is so scary you can almost picture Pee Wee Herman dancing the "Tequila" to the delight of bikers straight out of central casting. If that was Pee-Dee's then Miss Misakura may still be there. But you may not enjoy her current show.

Harry's Key Club, accessable from both sides of the Wellington Hotel. Both gone gone gone. I don't know what precisely is there now. But I know it isn't a swanky hotel.

Il Sorrento is now a parking lot for Omaha World-Herald employees. Although I'm pretty sure it hung on at least into the 80's. I think I remember it. So it had a comparably good run. The Crest and it's Piano Lounge, the Bird Cage (not to be confused with the Robin Williams/Nathan Lane remake of La Cage Aux Folles) are now a strip mall with a World Market. That was a very swinging area in 1963. It's in the Indian Hills area, which is pretty much the only place in Omaha you'll find any daring mid-century architecture. The Crest had fortuitous placement on the page next to The New Tower Inn, since it was pretty much right next door in what is now a closed former CompUSA. The basketball scenes in To Wong Foo, Thanks for Everything Julie Newmar were filmed in the parking lot there as well as the pool scene interiors were shot in the kitchy island-themed enclosed pool. Lots of good memories of the funky old New Tower. Of course, I'm much too young to have seen Connie Collins and the Lazy Leopard trio there. But my God, how I would have loved to.

A side note: Even though it says "Dancing except Sunday" I don't think there was a law against it. Omaha had and has some blue laws, but we're not the town from Footloose.

The Paxton is currently undergoing a renaissance of sorts. It was a very upscale hotel when it was built back at the turn of the century (the one before last), then it downgraded a bit. It picked back up as a swinging joint in the 60's, as made evidence by the famous Pax Room swinging to the sounds of the Chuck Sutton Combo. At some point the Paxton became a really depressing urine-soaked home for elderly, indigent and unwanted people. Depressing? You bet! And where there's depression, there's someone to kick you when you're down. Those doing the kicking were some investors who saw the amazing as-of-yet-unburst condo bubble emerging in Omaha. They bought the Paxton, evicting pretty much everybody in what had to have been a job for a real sadistic dick, and they've spent the last year and a half gutting it, renovating it, and now they're selling condo units in it at prices that seem nothing short of hilarious. As you can see from the views inside and of the model, the lobby will be replete with Le Corbusier chairs and a grand piano, and the units themselves will be depressingly boring.

Ross' Steakhouse was a standing fixture throughout my youth. It was one of two favorite restaurants I never went to. They were one of my favorites because they had a GIGANTIC steer head on the outside attached to the sign. I mean mammoth. Hilariously so. (My other favorite was Anthony's Steakhouse because they had a whole huge steer standing on the roof.)

What I really love about this ad is that it refers to 72nd street as "The Strip." Which it probably actually was in 1963. According to this magazine there were bunches of swinging dining and dancing nightspots up and down 72nd from Center Street north to Blondo. These days "The Strip" still has a few restaurants, but it's hardly swinging. The restaurants are separated not with drinking and dancing hotspots, but with a Petco, a Battery Patrol, and the Furniture Mart. Try to contain your excitement. Mr. and Mrs. Ross were not only renowned for their hospitality, they were "Renowned for Hospitality" signaling the usage of unironic finger quotes. Dig it.

Look at that dashing young Liberace wannabe. He's not just a pianist, he's a damned "FIREBRAND" is what he is. Caution ladies (and probably more gentlemen I suspect), Ronnie Orland will debonair your panties right off. The tux, the flat top, the unfiltered cigarette. He's too hip for most rooms, but not the Cottonwood Room at the Hotel Blackstone. The Blackstone, which is still standing, is also allegedly where the Reuben sandwich was invented. And the hotel still stands, sort of. It's mostly corporate offices now with a PostMax or PrintMax or some other imitation Kinko's on the ground floor.

Peony Park, however I could write volumes about. What was in the 1960's was an elegant ballroom and popular swimming hole of the local youngsters became in the 70's and 80's a fun miniature theme park/waterpark with some kickass rides (the Black Hole, anyone?) including a decent small roller coaster. Nowadays it's Hy Vee grocery store, a Fazoli's and a Keno Hall, none of which could be described as "elegant".

This is by far my favorite print ad of all time. It's that good, I say. It makes me want to don a sportcoat and head to the Sparetime for a Hi-Hatter lunch, whatever the hell that is. Are hats involved with the consumption of the food? Who knows, but I assure you it's a swingin' good lunch. You'll note that this place is also on the "strip". Well, on the site of what was allegedly Omaha's most popular restaurant is now a strip mall with an H&R Block, a pretty decent Vietnamese restaurant and a Trek bike shop. Clearly it wasn't all that popular. Man, that combo looks hot, though. And that ad, modular filigree hip with a touch of swirly zing. It makes me pop a design-boner.

Surely you remember the Esquires. Why, they were Omaha's Finest Band. The Peppermint Cave, which sounds like a sex act involving a candy cane, was talked about all over Omaha according to the ad. I imagine the conversation went like this:

#1: Hey, I went to the Peppermint Cave last night.

#2: Really?

#1: Yeah, it was a real hum-dinger of a good time, to boot. Rolonda got a new dress for the occasion, and guess what... it had fringe!

#2: You lucky dog. Fringe, you say? Man alive. (pause) Did you give her the "high hard one"?

#1: Oh yeah, she's a whore. She took it in every hole more than once. I invited a few of the fellas from the club to join me in running a train up on that. Boo-yah.

Or something like that. Maybe not. Either way, I'm astonished that they charged for parking in 1963, as it is inferred at the bottom of the ad. Aside from the parking meters NOBODY pays to park in Omaha. What is this, Los Angeles? Not hardly. Get real, man. It claims to be in the Hill Hotel, which if it's the same structure, is now an apartment building a block south of the Orpheum.

Marchio's? Who knows. It ain't there anymore, that's for sure.

Johnny's Cafe, astonishingly still there and like a trip back in time when you walk in the door. I recommend it, if for no other reason the atmosphere. That ad suffers from the worst slogan in advertising history, though. "Our friends say: 'I never left here - that I wasn't glad I came here.'" How do you beat a ringing endorsement like that? It screams "Our restaurant is best enjoyed in hindsight!"

King Fong's still there! My mom's favorite place for asian cuisine. The place has been there since the 30's and is amazingly still in business. Beautiful, if worn down, interior. The food? Eh. I plead the fifth for my mother's sake.

El Charro not there. I think it's where Joe Tess' grody Carp restaurant is now. Seafood in Omaha is a dicey proposition on a good day. Better now with fed ex'ed fish from the coast overnight, but still a shaky concept. No offense to Joe Tess.

Gorat's is not only still there, it's probably the only business listed in this magazine that still does a BOOMING business. It doesn't hurt that resident brazillianaire (and my neighbor BTW) Warren Buffet takes all his top Berkshire Hathaway muckity mucks there for a snack during the annual stockholders meeting. The restaurant could probably survive the year based on that one night. When Warren steps down, what will be the fate of Gorat's? Who knows? If you go there on any of the other 364 days of the year the place is heaven's waiting room. The median age of the average Gorat's diner is "deceased". That said, my dad was a busboy there in the early 60's. He claims that he and his troublemaker friends would lob pats of butter into the lighting valances that still hang there to this day. Quite likely there is still some fossilized butter pat cardboard in the lights. There's certainly some fossilized diners at the tables. Zing!

A side note: They accept Carte Blanche, which I assumed was just a saying, but apparently actually existed. Can someone confirm or deny this?

Can you imagine a world where Village Inn was fine dining? Yeah, me either. But there you have it. Still standing to this day I've had many a late night skillet in this very Village Inn but it has never in my memory looked this nice. It's hard to tell from the darkness of the picture and the low quality of my scan but the chairs are a padded imitation Eames-era molded plywood that are actually kind of classy. Each table is festooned with six, count 'em SIX different syrups for your pancake from around the globe. And they long ago removed the luxurious padding from the back wall separating the kitchen and replaced it with standard VI wallpaper and ugly hotel art. These days you are more likely to see Tranny hookers trying to come down of a meth bender and other midtown hipsters enjoying late night omelets with friends rather than folks dressed up for a night of hot-footing it at a jazzy nightspot. I will try to recreate this pic the next time I'm at this VI and I'll post it here as an update.

As far as Domenico's... well, it looks to be a grocery store. However, I don't get to that part of town too often. There's no phone number for it.

And finally we're at the back cover. There's a whole heap of mixed messages in this ad. I think it's probably because they're asking too many damned questions.

Dining Out?
Why, yes.

Casual?
Okay.

Dress Up?
Um... I thought you said casual, but sure.

Desire Good Food?
Well, yes. If I wanted bad food I'd stay at home and open a can of Alpo.

Fresh Pastries?
Only if they're from your own bake shop, but according to your parenthesis they are, so yes.

Care for Cantonese Food?
Well, yes. But if I want Cantonese food then why am I going to the Hawaian Room? Shouldn't I be having Polynesian food? I'm no world traveler, but I'm pretty sure that Canton is in the Guangzhou province of China which is pretty damned far from Hawaii. Far enough that Google Maps doesn't offer driving directions from Guangzhou to Honolulu.

So what am I getting when I step in the door? Dim Sum and a tea ceremony or Poi, Coconut Shrimp and a Mai Tai? Help me out here people.

And what the hell is the name of this place anyway? The Town House? The PROM Town House? Is the Hawaian Room a part of it? What's going on here?
I'll tell you what's going on there now, an Office Max. Or possibly a 4-unit strip mall with a Jason's Deli, a 2nd Wind used sporting goods store and a Game Stop. The world of today may never know what the Town House was. But how much of a loss could that possibly be since they didn't seem to know what they were at the time.

That's it, kiddies. The high points of the 1963 magazine that welcomed folks to my fair city over a decade before I was born.

These days we have our bar scene, sure. There's some decent clubs, but nothing like you see in here. By what I can tell from reading this there were more Omaha nightspots open to 2 a.m. in 1963 than there are today, by a longshot. Is it a good thing or a bad thing? Who can say? But you'll have to pardon me for being wistful for a time that probably didn't exist as I imagine it or as it appears here.

Huzzah.