A sweet tuxedo girl you see A queen of swell society Fond of fun as fond can be When it's on the strict QT I'm not too young, I'm not too old Not too timid, not too bold Just the kind you'd like to hold Just the kind for sport I'm told Ta-ra-ra Boom-de-re!

So what happened to the much-whispered-about speakeasy at 643 Broadway at Bleecker? The basement space, known as Woodson & Ford, has a long and legendary history. Walt Whitman and Mark Twain supposedly drank here, and that's even before my time. More recently it was the ill-conceived, ill-received, and ill-attended Table 50. Q-tip made it happen for a minute, and Stretch Armstrong almost extended its run, but it eventually was flipped into Mr. Black, which in turn eventually moved along and to great success over at Rebel. Recently, Mr. Black's move to the Room Service space seems to have hit a snag, as some of the displaced Pink Elephant team seem to have wrested away control of the joint. Mr. Black will be gold wherever it ends up, but that's a story-horse of a different color. From a dear friend, here's the deal about what happened over at the super hush-hush top-secret Woodson & Ford, a speakeasy that nobody was supposed to speak about at all.

With the end of the summer underlined by chill winds and daily highs hovering around room temperature, the business of nightlife is readily anticipating the opening of some new businesses. Between now and the drop of the ball on New Year's Eve, a club space odyssey will change nightlife as we know it. Although it isn't raining money, there is enough of a drizzle to support new growth in a constantly evolving and extremely vibrant scene. These new contenders are diverse and seem organized to succeed. In no particular order, here are nine spaces that will soon be on your lips and minds.

Word comes from Stuart Black that he is not insane. I mentioned the other day that Stuart has been changing venues for Mr. Black almost as often as he changes his clothes. He responded with a snappy e-mail. Bugsy is my old nickname given to me by "Mother" Chi Chi Valenti and "Father" Johnny Dynell. Although it is of course an affectionate reference to my rather prominent eyes, it is also a reference to gangster Bugsy Siegel. Bugsy Siegel saw a patch of desert and imagined Las Vegas, and I supposedly had a similar approach to nightlife when I tried, with Peter Gatien’s money and balls, to create the four-club empire that was Palladium, Limelight, USA, and Tunnel. My eventual stint in the can underlined the comparison. There were many other players involved, but the meeting that occurred at the Hollywood Diner on 16th St. and 6th Ave., brokered by Michael Alig, changed things for me and many.