Atlantic City: So Close & Not Too Far

As I reported the other day, I was whisked down to Atlantic City to DJ on Sunday at C5, the fifth-floor poolside nightclub at the uber-trendy Chelsea Hotel. Alan Philips and Josh Shames were (I guess) desperate to produce a flyer promoting the event as "with rock n roll & 80's music all night long by Steve Lewis (of BlackBook magazine)". BlackBook is read in civilized cities throughout the U.S. and abroad, so I became skeptical of its (or my) relevance in A.C. The Chelsea Hotel is an attempt to bring downtown New York lifestyle to New Jersey's Vegas by the sea. For me, it was two days on a beach far away from my troubles and tribulations. It took a mere two hours in the car they generously sent for me. Atlantic City is really trying. Each time I go down, there are major improvements but with few exceptions the service is archaic and the crowds just awful. C5 was an exception.

It had a solid Philly-South Jersey gathering mixed with about 10% New Yorkers. Everyone was dressed nice and were very friendly. There was a ton of money in the room as the Margate crowd had come. No one wanted to hear the rock set I was told to bring, so the crowd compromised on 80s and disco until the real DJ, Los, arrived. My crew almost lost it when I played Marilyn Manson’s “We’re from America.” The song was a winner when I last played it in NYC but went over like a Led Zeppelin in A.C. For the record, they didn’t feature Zeppelin either; they wanted Jay-Z, and I compromised with MGMT. They were all sweet, but the 30-something rocker crowd that (I’m told) usually shows there was replaced on this holiday night by 20-somethings who dance to the beat of a different drummer and DJ. Los killed it—nice guy as well.

A.C. is close and not that far. It is getting better, polishing its act while the ACES train makes it easily acceptable to those who aren’t lucky enough to be whisked down by black car. I visited the Caesars pier and was told by a friend that Steven Starr was suing the complex because a much-anticipated nightclub never happened, and his upscale restaurants Buddakan and Continental were suffering from lack of upscale clientele. The Gucci shops and fine restaurants seemed irrelevant to the shorts and T-shirt set, which seemed to be the whole crowd. I was there a few years ago when the Caesars pier was going up; I was told of the magnificence of the new mega-mall, its vision, and how this would transform A.C. I saw a dumbed-down version of what was described to me. Maybe I came at the wrong time, weekend, or season, but it just wasn’t chic.

We all loved the Tropicana. The same people are floating everywhere, but at the Trop, they don’t seem to be pretending to be more than what they are ... it’s a fun complex. I had a nice dinner at Cuba Libre in the Tropicana’s quarter, the only place where service and quality merged. My ex-partner designed the joint back when. It still delivers a fine product. Later that night we all went to 32 Degrees, a space I designed with him a year later. It’s been mostly gutted and only slightly resembles our product—a dessert restaurant which converted to a “ European bottle service lounge.” The crowd was excellent, and the music by DJ Price was perfect for an end of summer bash.

There were a lot of us New York club types there. Brittney Mendenhall of ChiChi212 pointed out repeatedly how inferior the service was. It was really comical, with almost every order an adventure. Food was always delivered late, without utensils or even plates, and often completely different than what was asked for. The Borgata was dubbed beautiful but boring. I love the place, but for this non-gambling pack, it was not seen in its best light. We all enjoyed go carts and miles of duned beaches and shot paintball pellets at armored warriors in post-apocalyptic settings. Lemon quarters washed away the seafood from our fingers, and I thought of Susan Sarandon in Louis Malle’s Atlantic City—a movie that described the transition of a derelict beach resort A.C.  to a modern casino-driven mini-Vegas. The newest transition, which has wiped away most of the crime and Disneyfied the boardwalk, is suffering growing pains as it just doesn’t seem to be a viable option for style-conscious cosmopolitan types. A copy of Philly Style magazine was on my hotel room coffee table, and I guess that’s what you get (at best) down here, except for the Borgata and Chelsea. The rest is all Philly and South Jersey style, which comes close but doesn’t ever come with a cigar—well, maybe a blunt. I would go to the Chelsea as often as they’d have me. I do recommend it highly. It’s stylish and fun, and if they don’t bring me back as a DJ, their nightlife will remain great. The desk staff is sharp, and Rachel our breakfast waitress ,is the best game in town.

The Borgata is still the standard, but the rest of the town—despite massive efforts to grow—reminds me of a story I heard about the great Yankee and Met manager Casey Stengel. When asked to evaluate some young talent, he said that one 20-year-old, in say, “10 years could be a star.” He then focused on another young hopeful: “Now, that fellow over there, he’s 20 too. In 10 years he has a chance to be 30.”

Atlantic City is like that . A couple of places are really trying and getting thisclose to really doing it right, while the rest just talk but really don’t really get it. In the end, it’s the remnants of Louis Malle’s A.C. That charmed my heart, while most of the modern marvels fall just a bit short. The ACES train will bring the NYC crowd for sure; by next summer they will be much improved. So go visit and forgive them if they forget a fork or take away your ketchup just before you soak your fries. Don’t fret if there’s a few napkins floating in the pool, or if they get creative with your order. They are trying really hard. I’ve been going to A.C. for 25 years, and you cannot imagine what it was like then. The large white fabric sign proudly displayed on the beach side of the Chelsea Hotel said it best—“opening 2008”—and I’m sure they will.