Studio 54 is the celebrity’s disco – a winning combination of décor, lighting and special effects, exotic people and a wall-to-wall array of dancers.
It is Mr. Rubell himself, a man nearly half Big George’s height, who decides who shall go and who shall stay, and his criteria, he says, is chemistry.
“I’ll let anyone who looks like they’ll make things fun,” he says, standing behind the ropes and ignoring the repeated sound of his own name. “We like guys with guys because they make the dance floor hot, you know? I wouldn’t let my best friend in if he looked like an East Side singles guy.”
To get into the club, to dance beneath its neon sun or its fabric flames or its pulsing light poles or its glittering spoon and moon….”
excerpt from NYT 05/05/77