The Copa Page 9

  Jules enjoying the golf course.

  On the evening of May 16, 1957, a melee broke out at the Copacabana that would have a dramatic effect on the New York Yankees. That evening the nightclub and sports world would collide, and there would be no way to quash the story. Although the press was less invasive in the lives of celebrities and sports figures back then, this story was too hot to bury. While there has never been an accurate factual account that all agree upon and the participants’ stories have varied, this seems to be what transpired that night at the Copa.

  Several Yankee players who frequented the Copa regularly decided to meet at the nightclub in honor of Billy Martin’s twenty-ninth birthday. Those attending the party included Yogi Berra, Hank Bauer, Whitey Ford, and Mickey Mantle, along with their wives. Sammy Davis Jr. happened to be the headliner that evening and a group of intoxicated bowling buddies began heckling him during the performance. According to those in the audience, the bowlers started shouting racial slurs at Davis. The Yankee players were livid and told the guys to sit down and shut up. After a few terse words were exchanged, the Copa staff appeared to have calmed everything down. While peace and quiet prevailed in the show room, it did not elsewhere in the club. One of the intoxicated hecklers would be found later, lying unconscious and with a broken nose, on the floor of the Copa men’s room. Many believed the man had followed Hank Bauer into the bathroom, and Bauer took matters into his own hands. Bauer denied hitting the bowler, who later sued him for aggravated assault, but Bauer was found not guilty. The incident made headlines in the New York–area papers and around the country the next day. Several of the Yankees involved were fined $1,000 each by Yankee general manager George Weiss, while Billy Martin would eventually be traded to Kansas City. The Yankee front office blamed Martin for the trouble and believed him to be a bad influence on his teammates.

  Mickey Mantle later recounted his version of what happened that night: “Two bowling teams came in to celebrate their victories. Sammy Davis Jr. was the entertainer. They kept calling him ‘little black Sambo’ and stuff like that. Billy and Hank kept telling them a couple of times to sit down. They kept standing up. The next thing I knew was that the cloakroom was filled with people swinging. I was so drunk I didn’t know who threw the first punch. A body came flying out and landed at my feet. At first I thought it was Billy [Martin], so I picked him up. But when I saw it wasn’t I dropped him back down. It looked like Roy Rogers rode through on Trigger, and Trigger kicked the guy in the face.” Yogi Berra was quoted at the time as saying, “Nobody did nothin’ to nobody!”

  Billy Martin, Joe E. Lewis, Yogi Berra, Whitey Ford, my father, a friend, and Don Larson. Dad was a huge Yankee fan and always happy when the players came to the club.

  Handing out Christmas presents to needy children inside the Copa.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jules’s Legacy

  Many people who encountered my father throughout the years saw only one side of his complex personality. Most of the stories repeated about him relate to his temper and tough-guy reputation. Despite this image, my father never laid a hand on me and hardly ever raised his voice at home. Don’t get me wrong; his gruff exterior sometimes even frightened me. He was tough, strong, and could take care of himself in most situations. At the club he was a perfectionist and set high standards for the Copa; he was all business when it came to work and expected the same from his employees.

  Musician arranger Pete Moore recalled a story involving Podell and a new employee at the club. One evening Jules spotted a busboy grabbing a half-eaten roll off a tray of food that had been returned to the kitchen. Podell approached the busboy and asked him if he was hungry; the busboy nodded yes. Podell had the busboy sit at the table in the kitchen area and had a waiter serve him a salad, steak dinner, and dessert. At the conclusion of the meal, Podell asked the busboy if he enjoyed the meal and the busboy said yes. Jules Podell replied, “Good, I’m glad you enjoyed it…you’re fired!”

  Danny Kessler, an executive with Columbia/Okeh records, discovered singer Johnnie Ray and signed him to a record contract. Kessler recalls Ray’s first engagement at the Copacabana: “Johnnie was booked into the Copa for a limited run and he was a smash; business was booming…they had to turn people away. The Copa did not have an option on a future booking and Jules Podell wanted Johnny to return. Jules came over to my associate Bernie Lang and said since Johnnie was doing such fabulous business, there was a brand-new Cadillac outside for him and Johnnie would be playing the Copa again in two months. Bernie told Podell that wasn’t possible since the Copa did not have an option and Johnnie was scheduled to travel to California to make a movie. Podell had his guys throw Bernie in the freezer at the club. Needless to say, Johnnie did return to play the Copa. Johnnie got along with everybody, including Jules Podell. What’s interesting is that I went to Johnnie’s rehearsal at the Copa and met a Copa Girl, Lynn Shannon, who would later become my wife.”

  Copa Girl Lynn Shannon Kessler remembers, “As a Copa Girl, we had to come down a few steps and walk through the kitchen to get to our dressing room and that was the only time I would see Mr. Podell. Sometimes I’d wave and say hello to him, but I was scared to death of him for some reason. I was twenty years old and he had a demeanor about him that made me fearful of him; I’m sure it was a persona and he had another side to him, but I never saw it. I don’t ever recall Jules Podell smiling; I didn’t even know he had a family. Doug Coudy and Jack Entratter were the ones who looked after us Copa Girls; Jack was like a father figure to us. Jack took care of us and the other entertainers, he was a very nice and likable man. Jack was the buffer for Podell—it was like good cop, bad cop, and Jack was the good cop. Jules and Jack seemed to always get along, but we all thought Jules was the boss. I don’t know why, but we all feared Mr. Podell.”

  In 1955 the building we were living in was going to be demolished, so we moved to the Hotel Carlyle, which I loved because I could order room service, for a few months. After leaving the hotel, we rented Frank Lloyd Wright’s apartment and lived there for a few years.

  As happens with most children, I rebelled when I hit my teens and didn’t really care who my father was. However, there was one incident that scared the hell out of me. I was sixteen and had come home after a New Year’s Eve party to change so I could go back out to another party. My date and I, along with another couple, left my family’s apartment and went into the elevator. My mother was asleep and not aware that I was sneaking back out that night. When we reached the lobby the elevator door opened and there stood my father; I was terrified. It had to be four in the morning and my girlfriend said, “Oh my God!” I didn’t know what to say except hello. He looked at me, said hello, and walked into the elevator after we walked out. As usual, nothing was said the next day about that late-night encounter.

  In fact, my father never had to voice his disapproval, especially in the club. I remember once bringing an older date, whom my father didn’t like, to the Copa. My parents joined us at our table, and after a few drinks, my date began to call my father “Dad,” which was not a good way to start off the evening—trust me. Things got very tense at the table as my father just glared at him. I took the first opportunity I had to excuse myself to go to the ladies’ room. When I came back to the table only a few minutes later, my date was gone. His place setting, drink, napkin, etc…. every trace of him had been removed. I never questioned it and my parents didn’t say a word; we just continued without him. I never heard from the gentleman again. I’m sure he was quietly evicted from the premises—and all my father did was tap his ring.

  Comedian Rip Taylor recalls, “One time, while I was working with Connie Francis, I rehearsed an eight bar impression of Roy Hamilton singing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone.’ Connie’s father, who was also her manager, heard this and said, ‘Rip, there is no singing on her stage.’ I explained to him that it was only a routine, not a musical number, but he was adamant. I said, ‘Okay, fine.’ That night I went on and the audience recept
ion went so well that they wanted more. So I say, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I don’t have any more material, except one number I was asked not to do.’ The audience starts yelling for me to do it; so I do the impression and sing ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone,’ and as I walk off as the audience is screaming. Within seconds, Jules Podell walks into the dressing room and says to me, ‘If you ever want to continue in this particular business you will listen when the owners tell you what to do and what not to do.’ I apologized to Connie Francis, her father, and Mr. Podell; everything was fine for the rest of the engagement.”

  My father was very religious, but he attended temple only once a year, on Yom Kippur. Mother and I would also accompany him. Since he was such a generous supporter of the temple, I doubt anyone ever questioned his sincerity or faith. The tradition was that you were supposed to walk to temple. We lived on Seventy-first Street and Fifth Avenue; the temple was on Eighty-sixth Street. The three of us would get in the car and have Jackson drive us to Eighty-fifth Street then drop us off to walk the rest of the way. It wasn’t just us; we would see all the other good Jewish families doing the same thing. We’d arrive on time just like all the other families did. My father wore a yarmulke at temple, as all the other men did, and would worship downstairs. The women would go upstairs for the service.

  My father hands out toys to orphans during the holiday season in front of the club.

  My father hands out toys to orphans during the holiday season in front of the club.

  The holidays were always eventful at our home, especially Christmas and Hanukkah. Even though my father was born an Orthodox Jew, we celebrated Christmas. Every year we had a menorah and a Christmas tree; my father would have the staff bring a seven-foot tree to the house. Like clockwork, Jackson would decorate it. I called it the “instant tree” because one day it wasn’t there and the next day we had a beautifully trimmed tree with star on top in our living room. My mother loved having the house decorated, but my father put his foot down about having a holiday wreath outside the door; there was a mezuzah on the door. Although my mother converted to Judaism before I was born, she told me she even did the “mikvah” thing, she did not adhere to any of the strict Jewish traditions.

  Mostly Jewish families lived in our building, but I think we were the only ones who celebrated Christmas. My parents did not associate with anyone in our building, and I never saw people in the elevator we used. There was another elevator on the other side of the building that I assume the other residents must have used. It was so private, we could have had animal sacrifices and no one would have ever known. I don’t think Dad needed to worry about a tenant uprising because of a holiday wreath on our door!

  On Christmas Eve there would always be a big party with a lot of adults. The air was permeated with the smell of perfume and cigarette smoke. In those days, everybody smoked either cigarettes or cigars. We had a piano in the living room and I remember people, especially Jimmy Durante, gathering around it to sing Christmas carols. Occasionally, other children besides my cousins, like Jackie Gleason’s daughter and Jack Entratter’s two daughters, would come over. I recall Dean Martin and Jerry Lewis at the house one Christmastime; Jerry would sometimes play the piano and Dean would sing. The men always stayed by themselves in one room and, I assumed, discussed business. As the night wore on they would tell jokes, eat gefilte fish, and get drunk; they seemed to enjoy themselves. The women were always in another room gossiping, eating, and carrying on with one another.

  Every Christmas afternoon the mother superior, Bernadette, of the Mt. Carmel Order, would come by the house with a group of orphans. Year after year, my father would send Jackson to FAO Schwarz to buy bags of toys and have them wrapped specifically for the orphans. I’m not talking about small items, there would be bikes and huge stuffed animals wrapped for them, among other things. The children would be ushered in and after a few minutes begin to open their gifts. They looked like they were having more fun than I had had earlier. Mother Bernadette was always very friendly and would spend a few minutes talking with me I was never exactly sure about my father’s close connection with Mother Bernadette, but it may have had to do with a woman named Yetta Burko. Yetta was employed as a telephone operator at the Copa. Yetta lived in Brooklyn and she suffered from cerebral palsy; Father supported her up to the day she died. Of course Yetta did not fit the typical Copa-employee mold, but my father liked her and hired her. Every year, we would get a Christmas card from Yetta Burko and I’d ask my mother a hundred times, “Who is Yetta?” Eventually I would meet her at the Copa, and she was a dear, sweet lady. It is because of her that I believe my father was very active in raising money for a cure for cerebral palsy. Throughout his lifetime, my father would receive numerous plaques and awards for his work on behalf of the many charities he supported with his time and money.

  My father presents a $5,000 check to Mother Bernadette and Sister Josita for Mt. Carmel’s Home For the Aged. The money was raised in a raffle at the Copa.

  At Thanksgiving time, my father would buy and give away hundreds of turkeys to underprivileged families so they could enjoy the holiday. He was involved with the Masons and also made sizable contributions to our temple every year. Phoebe Jacobs said, “A lot of people didn’t realize that there was another side of Jules that he rarely showed to the public. He was very giving and helped many people privately; he also gave back to the community. During the day he very often would turn the club over to various charitable organizations and let them hold luncheons or fund-raisers there. I went to many of these types of events at the Copa and Jules would charge the organizations very little, if anything, to use the club. Inside the tough-guy persona was a man who cared for his friends and those in need. You might say, in reality, he was a soft touch with a hard exterior shell.”

  My father was very generous and dedicated to charities during his lifetime. While he and mother wanted to be looked upon as respectable in the community, I think there was a deeper reason for his philanthropy. He was very patriotic and proud to be an American. I think he felt he should contribute something in return for all the success he had obtained in this country.

  My father was a very charitable man. Here he is with Mother Bernadette and Sister Daniel providing Thanksgiving turkeys for the Mary Walsh home in 1953.

  My father receives a Grateful Tribute award from the United Jewish Appeal of Greater New York in 1949.

  Dad hands Governor Thomas E. Dewey a check to benefit a New York City charitable organization. Dewey was the governor of New York from 1943–1958; he also was a candidate for the presidency in 1944 and 1948.

  Sam Hausman presents my father with a Citation of Merit award on behalf of the United Cerebral Palsy Associations, Inc.

  Danny Thomas, standing with my mother, was the guest of honor at a charity event held at our home at 910 Fifth Avenue.

  Judge Gertrude Bacon and my mother, in the white hat, at a charity luncheon in April 1959.

  My father and Jimmy Durante entertain children during a charity event at the club for muscular dystrophy.

  Jules, Frank Sinatra, and some lady friends.

  CHAPTER 7

  The Copa Past and Present

  The 1960s was a decade of turmoil, more radical than most. The winds of change had been blowing three years prior, in 1957, when the beloved Brooklyn Dodgers packed their bags and moved west. New York was no longer the center of the entertainment world, as many of the network television production companies and studios would follow the Dodgers’ lead and relocate to Los Angeles. The landscape of performers and the music world shifted as rock-and-roll was beginning to dominate radio airplay and the music charts.

  My family was also experiencing change, having moved into a new apartment located at 900 Fifth Avenue. My parents would have our new home renovated to their specifications, which took over one year to complete. This would be my father’s final residence in Manhattan.

  The new apartment was spacious and elegant. The building had a doorman and tight
security. My parents each had their own wing in the house. This was by design, so that Dad could shut everything out that might be going on in the house and conduct his business in private.

  This newspaper item from December 1960 illustrates the change in the attitude that the New York city police department and local politicians were taking with the nightclubs:

  Very few New Yorkers consider their nightclubs that important, but for a month now they have been hearing the din of a limited war over a twenty-year-old police ordinance that requires nightclub employees, from entertainers to hat-check girls, to carry police identity cards. A Citizens’ Emergency Committee has filled the air with charges of abuses and shakedowns; the cops have retaliated by combing the cabarets for cardless offenders. This week Jules Podell’s Copacabana loses its cabaret license for a knuckle-rapping four days, and Sherman Billingsley’s Stork Club is fighting a similar suspension. To many New Yorkers, all this was only a reminder (or revelation) that their city is the most prodigious nightclub town on earth, with some 1,200 licensed cabarets.

  Although rock acts were now more common on the Copa stage than before, there was still a huge demand for the great song stylists such as Rosemary Clooney. This review by Bob Thompson on April 11, 1962, appeared during Rosemary’s debut engagement at the Copa: