A large 8 panel fold out Room Service Menu . From The Jockey Club , located on Massachusetts Avenue in Washington DC . Measures about 6" x 14 3/4" when closed
Due to the size limitations of my scanner, the entire menu may not show in some of the scans.
The Jockey Club's Last Lap By Roxanne Roberts May 21, 2001 The Jockey Club is dead. Every demise has its share of posthumous hyperbole, but it is truly no exaggeration to say that this is the end of an era. For more than three decades, the Jockey Club restaurant was one of the great places to dine and dish, to see and be seen. It was, simply put, a Washington Institution. The legendary crab cakes will remain, served at the same location, but the 40-year-old Jockey Club is disappearing. In its place will be a restaurant with a new name, a new look and new menu. Goodbye dark and clubby. Hello light and California chic. At the beginning of June, the famed restaurant in the Westin Fairfax Hotel will close for approximately 60 days. The planned transformation includes more light (10 windows will be uncovered), a neutral color scheme and "California French" cuisine. The adjoining bar will be expanded to almost 50 feet and feature caviar, foie gras and late-night dancing. To underscore the change, the restaurant will be renamed Cabo after Baja's Cabo San Lucas. All this will undoubtedly prompt nostalgic sighs from those who loved the Jockey Club during its heyday. Among its biggest fans was first lady Nancy Reagan, who made it her "home away from home" in the nation's capital. "There's no place where one will feel as comfortable, as well taken care of, with the social graces of the old days," mourned lobbyist Edward von Kloberg, a regular for 35 years. But in the last decade, too many loyal customers died or drifted away. Too many days with too many empty tables. The bottom line is, as always, the bottom line. "When you say 'Jockey Club,' people say, 'Oh, I love that place! I go there all the time,' " says new owner and chef Martin Colman. "Then I ask, 'When was the last time you were there?' And they say four years ago on their anniversary." The Jockey Club opened on the eve of John Kennedy's inauguration in 1961. Washington was a town of few great restaurants; power brokers dined at private residences or at clubs. Change was in the air, and this place wanted to be part of it. The restaurant was located in the elegant Fairfax Hotel on Massachusetts Avenue, home of Sen. Albert Gore Sr., among others. It was modeled after New York's legendary 21 -- dark wood, low light, red leather banquettes, low ceiling, red-and-white tablecloths, horsy decor. The food was French, the atmosphere rich. It had the feel of a private club: relaxed privilege for the men and women who could afford it. "This man's world scented with fragrances of women," said Esquire magazine in 1962. The menu included lots of table-side preparations and flaming touches. Washington was duly impressed. But it would be a mistake -- then or now -- to think that crowds flocked to the Jockey Club for the cuisine. "Its considerable reputation indicates an ideal dining place for the gourmet," sniffed a food writer in 1967. "But the noise level within the superbly decorated and well-designed room in the Fairfax Hotel (which can rise to a near clamor on weekends) indicates that too many of the patrons are talkers who are eating." Almost every famous face that came through Washington stopped by the restaurant. "A good part of what was special was that you never knew who you would see -- but there was always a chance they'd be someone you'd be surprised to see," says Sheila Tate, former press secretary to Nancy Reagan. Jackie Kennedy with Marlon Brando. Frank Sinatra. Kirk Douglas. Nancy Reagan with George Will, Betsy Bloomingdale or Mike Wallace. John Tower with yet another cute blonde. Katharine Graham and Bob McNamara. Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau sharing crab cakes. Lauren Bacall. And the person who caused the greatest stir ever: Joe DiMaggio, who had even the most blase sophisticates clamoring for a word with the baseball legend. There's a story (perhaps true, perhaps not) that Kennedy came to the restaurant in 1964 with her handsome Secret Service agent, Clint Hill. The two sat in the back room, and she ordered a vodka martini. After a bit, the two slumped down in the red-leather banquette and disappeared from sight. Maybe she dropped a contact or something perfectly innocent, but folks who pretended not to notice . . . noticed. Buzz, buzz. Another story (definitely true): In the early '70s, Washington Post gossip columnist Maxine Cheshire had reported things that Sinatra just didn't like. The Chairman spotted Cheshire at the Jockey Club: "You scum, go home and take a bath," he shouted at her, then stuffed two dollar bills in her empty glass. "Here's $2, baby; that's what you're used to," he added. Cheshire was not amused. Mega buzz. The Jockey Club had that excitement factor that lit up phone lines. To be there was to be part of the scene. To be recognized by maitre d' Martin Garbisu was a way of keeping score among male power diners and the ladies who lunch. On one Monday in 1983, the lunch crowd included John Mitchell, Oatsie Charles, Buffy Cafritz, Wyatt Dickerson and Kitty Kelley. "It had a tremendous fire," says Garbisu, who presided at the restaurant from 1979 to 1993. "It was the heart of Washington -- everything was beating, everything was alive. People knew when they came to the Jockey Club there was someone to see. At one point, it was almost like the Oscars." He saw every big name walk through the door: Sammy Davis Jr., Shirley MacLaine, Jimmy Stewart. "Someone" could be . . . well, anyone. One Sunday (his day off) Garbisu was called in and Charles Wick greeted him impatiently. Five minutes later, President and Mrs. Reagan came in the back door and sat down; Garbisu was invited to join them. "I had a glass of Pouilly Fuisse with the president. That, I will never forget." Regulars had their favorite tables in the front of the restaurant: Nancy Reagan, dining on her chicken salad, held court at Table 2, the left front corner banquette. (Joan Braden, Pamela Harriman and Bob Strauss sat there on non-Nancy days.) Jack Kemp and Eugene McCarthy favored Table 1; Lucky Roosevelt, Oatsie Charles and Polly Fritchey, Table 3; Steve Martindale and Carl Rowan, Table 5; ambassadors at Table 8; the Gore family at Table 11; and so on. "God forbid if I sat someone next to someone you weren't supposed to," laughs Garbisu.
in very good condition
