[Dixielandjazz] S.F. topless joints

[TCASHWIGG at aol.com]

In a message dated 2/14/05 12:47:04 AM Pacific Standard Time, 
dixielandtom at comcast.net writes:

> 
> Hello Tom,                                                             
>    It is after midnight here on the coast  and all the children are in bed.  
> Since you were part of the North Beach Hippy set in San Francisco it might 
> amuse our list mates if you relate the story of the KILLER PIANO.  The Fresno 
> Mardi Gras was a huge success with ten top flight bands and fine attendance.
> 
> 

AHH. Yes, it was at the Condor folks where Carol Doda the First Topless 
Dancer , held forth nightly, Her act was to come down out of the ceiling on top of 
a Grand Piano that had been installed on elevator cables to take it up and 
down from for her entrance and exit to the stage.

One night after the club had closed one of the bartenders and I believe a 
waitress were closing the place and decided to make love on the piano, somehow 
they either hit the switch or the elevator motor malfunctioned and went into 
lift mode.  Not quite sure anymore, but the hole in the ceiling where Carol 
normally went up was not as big as the entire piano, it was only a cut out hole 
that would let her slide up and step off into the dressing room.

The happy couple apparently were locked in the love lock lying across the 
piano and got crushed against the ceiling by the weight of the piano and killed 
one or both of them as I recall.  From that point on the newspapers called it 
the Killer Piano, however it was never arrested and charged with the crime ( I 
guess it got off as a crime of passion )  :))


There also used to be some strange things happening next door at Big Al's on 
a regular basis,  when a guy would come in and get drunk and obnoxious, the 
door man named 
(Tiny) of course would cold cock him and drag him next door to the transient 
hotel to which he had a key, dump the guy at the foot of the long stairwell 
and pour a bottle of cheap wine on him then call the Irish cops that worked the 
beat and tell em that he heard another drunk bum fall down the stairs.  They 
would either take him to jail or the hospital depending upon his condition.  
There was a pistol firing target range in the basement that was the favorite 
pastime in between shifts for the bartender, and where the waitresses would go 
hide after they had short changed their customers, or to negotiate a bit of 
extra business that was not on the official menu.  It was indeed a pretty wild 
joint.

Cheers,

Tom Wiggins