#Peppermint twist professional#

You guys are the only ones that ain't here.'ĭick looked up to see his father-in-law coming into the beach cabana. 'This broad is Greta-fucking-Garbo, I'm telling you. This was too much for Cami, who laughed and said, 'Greta Garbo? She doesn't go anywhere it must be a look-alike.' 'You guys don't want to listen to me? I'm telling you, this joint's exploding. Louie Lombardi giving an interview? About what? Breaking arms? Making book? Buying swag? Jesus, that's all we need.įinally, Louie's voice came on the phone. He's on the other side, giving an interview to a newspaper guy.' They put me on the back door because we got so many people trying to sneak in through the fucking hotel lobby.

In a tuxedo, he looked official, and officially dangerous.

#Peppermint twist professional#

The Turk was a former professional wrestler with a shaved head and a body that looked like it'd been stamped out on a truck assembly line. 'Dickie, holy shit, you can't believe what's happening here.' 'There's a big guy blocking the door.'Ī moment later, the gruff voice of the Terrible Turk came on the line. 'Do me a favor and stick your head in the door behind you, the one to the Peppermint Lounge, and ask for Louie or Sam.' The Knickerbocker these days rented as many rooms by the hour as they did to the luckless out-of-towners, the unemployed, and those only a week away from living on the streets. He was not surprised to hear a flirtatious woman's voice come on the line. When Dick called back, he had to dial a pay phone that rang in the Knickerbocker Hotel lobby, which was right outside the club's back door. The boys were smart enough not to have one because that way it couldn't be tapped. Something about celebrities, socialites, and other A-listers crowding into the off-Broadway dive that his father-in-law and his boys owned on West 45th Street. Dick Cami was lounging by the pool at the Fontainebleau Hotel in Miami Beach mid-October 1961 when he got the call from New York.