I grew up at the Copa. I was able to tell the season of the year by the Copa. When Joe E. Lewis opened it was fall. September was when New York came to life . We were off to the races, and the Copa was the Kentucky Derby of the nightclubs. Its stewards were Monte Proser, Jack Entratter, and Julie Podell. I was working at the Gaity Theatre on Broadway for Harold Minsky in 1940, the year the Copa opened. I wandered in one night, and never left. It became my home away from my real home, Lindy's Restaurant. It was not until the fifties that I played the Copa. I was thrilled. I finally headlined the palace of the nightclubs. Every opening night, Julie Podell, who managed the club, performed a ritual that became a legend. He would take the star of the show into the kitchen (while the opening act was on) and the rap his pinky ring on a table,a nd growl, "Boys - [and the name of the star]!" The chefs, cooks, waiters,a nd busboys would applaud while Podell stood there beaming (no small feat for Julie). It was tantamount to being knighted by the queen - it was the Copa Oscar. Podell was wise. It broke the tension and it assuaged the trauma of opening night nerves. I remember my opening, walking out on the floor to the strains of my musical number, the "Ho Ho Vamp," wearing a beautiful gray tuxedo. Before I could open my mouth, my pal, comedian Jack E. (Fat Jack) Leonard yelled, "There he is folks! Red Buttons!. A Jewish Confederate soldier!" The house broke up. I broke up. It was smooth sailing from then on - that's what friends are for. The Copa was a joy to work, not only because of the physical set-up of the room - so intimate you could hear the ringsiders breath, it wa a joy because it attracted the sharpest, hippest, most diverse clientele in the country. You name it; the Copa had it. Show business. Politics. The Fourth estate. Doctors. Lawyers. Indian Chiefs. It was the watering hole for the fur and shmahteh business. It was the oasis for good guys and bad guys. Park Avenue rubbed elbows with Delancey Street - democracy at work. It was bigger that the Big Apple. It was the top banana. And for icing on the cake, the Copa Girls were every red-blooded American boy's fantasy. Oh, and by the way, there was never a cover charge! When the Copa closed, it was the beginning of the homeless problem in New York, New York. When Kander and Ebb wrote, "If you can make it here, you can make it anywhere," odds are they were thinking of the Copa. I miss it. A lot.

Sayonara.

A Hug,

Red Buttons