Friday, March 9, 2012

Myer Lansky's Other Riviera Hotel (& Casino)



I told my friends and family I'd be back from 1958 early next week. And I'm here to tell you time travel is very emotional.

My first feeling is that it's rare you feel sorry for a mobster. But standing inside the 60 year old lobby of the Habana Riviera in Havana Cuba, you gotta give it to the guy. He built this place to last. There is heart and soul all over this monument to capitalism..

Started by mafioso Meyer Lanski in 1956, the Habana Riviera is a classic and was once a truly class act. Meyer did two things very well. He ran a fair casino game and he built a royal castle for his customers.
So his pride and joy of the Habana Riviera was built to treat folks like visiting royalty at the peak of fashion of his time.

As I said, it's hard not be bitter, emotional, confused or unaffected by visiting 1959. This is especially true when standing in what could be the neatest mid-century modern architectural gem in the hemisphere.

See back in 1957, Meyer had this idea of complimenting Moe Dalitz's development of the nine story Riviera Casino on the Las Vegas Strip with his own house of illustrious gaming. But he was not going to be subject to US laws and the FBI.

Instead, he'd build his legacy in the safer environs of a foreign country, with smart officials who knew how to take a bribe and shut up. But Castro proved Meyer wrong on the politics. Not all leaders saw the benefit of casino bribes. So Meyer had to take a one way trip back to Florida sans his casino winnings and his palace. But he did win the architecture bet.


Even half a century of communist and socialist government ownership can't obstruct this big dreamer's dream. The architecture still calls to you.

Like a Cuban version of Las Vegas or Miami, the Habana Riviera sits on the extreme East side of the Havana malecon. This malecon is a seaside meeting spot for the poor city residents to watch sunsets and enjoy a secrete tryst or just while away the dark hours in conversation as there's nothing on tv. Shared with a four lane highway the malecon extends from it's 1600's-era fort beginnings, past the new 1850 era prado, beyond the collapsing residential towers of the party elite and ends at the final bend here, at the Havana Riviera.

Today there's almost nothing to do around the Riviera except gawk at the class differences the Habana Riviera represents. In contrast to the Cabrini-green style concrete apartments that overlook it's pool, the Riviera is the Ritz.

While travelers pay $125 a night for a decrepit, poorly maintained room overlooking the o
cean--residents get paid just $30 a month and scratch out a living stealing from the State or selling themselves to the tourists while they're still young and able. It's hard to complain about threadbare towels and barely lukewarm water when folks next door get excited about their 1/2 pound monthly hamburger ration.

The experience is alie
n at the Habana Riviera. In the states they would have torn this down and "put a window where it outta be". Instead, international modernism took it's time and stayed still.

Here you are in a $7 million (1958 dollars) palace of stone, marble and concrete with the glittering Caribbean sea right before your eyes. The tiny blue tiles hand laid over the exterior still shine. The Florencio Gelabert statues still dance fluidly. And the sweeping curves of the Salon still invite you to grin and explore the space.

Truly a testament to capitalism that it still pulls Dwell magazine readers from around the globe
to feel it's interior.

Like the vintage cars that rumble in front of it, the 16-story Habana Riviera in a way has benefited from the island’s isolation from U.S.-influenced upgrades and development. Much of the original architectural, design and décor elements have been preserved, including a curious rounded structure that originally housed a casino and now provides meeting space. Seen here as the Salon.

Guest rooms — as well as the Mirador de la Habana restaurant — feature excellent views of the water and the Vedado neighborhood. But don't get too close to windows. You could easily pitch out over the side.

Th
e Copa Room Cabaret stages a Tropicana-style show and also serves as a dance club. Here you'll get chatted up by girls willing to go all the way for a months wages. Didn't I mention? Cuba is as much a sex trade hotspot as Bangkok. The juvenistas and juvenistos will scheme 30 bucks from you one way or another. Just figure on a bribe to the cops when you get hassled. In this way I suppose the lurid subtext that called travelers to Havana back in the repressed 50's is still live and well today.

The outdoor swimming pool still has its original three-level diving platform. Salt water, too. Art lovers should take note of the pieces by Cuban sculptor Florencio Gelabert. Seen here is a mural by Dirube.

But try to get an original recipe Cuba Libre cocktail --that all important ingredient to de-focus the eyes and squint just enough to imagine what it must have been like during the opening in 1958? Forget it. You'll have to settle for a smoke filled lobby and dirty glasses to get the right effect.

That's because there's no fresh limes and no Angusta bitters to set off the light rum and fake Coca Cola. But it get's more interesting. There's also no mayonnaise, no hot sauce, no salsa, and believe it or not, no pepper in the ENTIRE HOTEL. The fruit and juices will be bitter and the selection of foods will be chicken or pork. Plus, you'll get to enjoy 18 flights of stairs in the dark as the power tends to go out twice a day. Be sure to bring your own lighter or flashlight, too. There are none for sale in any store on the island.


But bring your camera if you visit. Walk to the ocean front side of the property and peak in the original lobby doors. Gaze through the unused space and imagine descending the curved stair case that once connected the Mezzanine floor. Position yourself at the pool cabana just right where you can't see the projects looming over you. Bring your own limes, some hot sauce and peppers and soak in Meyer's dream. Then get the hell out of there and go back to Cancun, Mexico and gamble at the Playboy Club. You don't want to give the new mobsters of Cuba another dime than you have to.

At least Meyer guaranteed a fair game.








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