Issue 51, Spring 1971
...confidence in my words. Twang. I suck my tongue for your chervil-and-lavender flavor.
This afternoon I went to the Beach to see a new hotel, the Brissy St. Jouin. It has been described as the “Naples ultra” of Miami splendor. There is teak sawdust in the Oyster Bar, where I began my tour with a screwdriver ; the lobby is decked with much gold. That was all I saw. La Nosherie, the Mannikin Pis rumpus room, and the Jupiter Seaside Fungus Collection had to wait for another visit.
What arrested me, ankle-deep in peacock feathers, was a battery of television sets assembled for the inauguration as a “monument to intercontinental awareness.” Above the lobby fountain, seven sets rose vertically from a spray-shrouded base. On either side of the midmost screen, three others were horizontally aligned, hung by transparent cords from the distant ceiling. No sound from the construction reached the naked ear; but telephones, each equipped with a panel of buttons, connected viewers to the various programs. Stop-ping to sample this profusion of “light inscribed by light,” I stayed until I had exhausted the repertory.