On judgment day, the last shall be first and the first shall be last – or so it’s been written – and as the clock ticks toward the millennium, no one knows that better than Clive David. Back in 1993, the Beverly Hills society-event planner – who helped throw the birthday party where Marilyn Monroe sang to JFK – booked the Plaza Hotel’s Palm Court and Terrace Ballroom for this New Year’s Eve after reading in the Times that hotel rooms were already going fast. At the time, friends slapped him on the back for securing the stateliest jewel in New York’s Y2K crown. “People said, ‘Clive, this is the best thing you’ve ever done,’ ” he remembers.
By the beginning of this year, David seemed to have established his $5,000-to-$7,500 black-tie Millennium Ball as the A-list way to spend a once-in-a-lifetime evening. But by June, he had reservations for only about half the room’s 400 seats – mostly from foreigners. To his usual clientele, “the fear of crowds and gridlock and everything else became a turnoff.” And then there was what he calls the greed factor: “Musicians, performers, staff – I cannot tell you the prices everyone was asking,” he says. “The red ink just got to be ludicrous.”
So David set another trend: He became the first party promoter to cancel his New Year’s festivities.
David is hardly the only victim of “Y2K fatigue” – the pre-party hangover that’s knocked the wind out of New York’s New Year’s well before the festivities start. By the end of November, the ad hoc company Celebration 2000 had to scuttle plans for its $1,000-to-$2,500 Party of the Century at the Javits Center – an intimate buffet for 30,000 with performances by Sting, Kool & the Gang, and Aretha Franklin. Billy Joel is still having trouble selling tickets to his $999 New Year’s concert at the Garden. And restaurateurs like Danny Meyer and Jean-Georges Vongerichten opted to close for the evening rather than strain to provide a fully fleshed-out experience with a skeleton staff.
Great expectations are at least partly to blame – as are promoters who charged too much too early and “killed the thrill,” says high-end party planner John Schwartz, who had to cancel his bash in L.A. but is moving forward on a private affair in New York. “There was a tremendous amount of hype, but I don’t think it was strategically planned to match people’s expectations,” he says. “It just put a psychological damper on what was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime event.”
New Year’s Eve 1999 was expected to be an orgy of excess – an extravagant coming-of-age bacchanal for the bull market. Yet those atop the A-list are hightailing it to St. Barts, Bali (where nightlife impresario Mark Baker will ring in the millennium with prayers from a Balinese priest at $500 a ticket) – or even just Blockbuster. “I’m going to be in Paris,” says Sotheby’s heiress and fashion-department head Tiffany Dubin. “But my real dream would be to be in New York. We just got this flat-screen TV, and it would be great to have a tub of caviar and a bottle of vodka.”
The media drumbeat about terrorism and Y2K computer problems, as well as the very real problem of crowds – Times Square alone is expected to attract as many as a million revelers instead of the usual 500,000 – have also dampened fin de siècle enthusiasm. Worst of all for the professional- socializer set, perhaps, is the prospect that many of the revelers will arrive by bridge or tunnel. “I have not a clue what I’m doing,” says iron-man party boy Anthony Haden-Guest. “But I can give you a long list of places I’m not going to go, starting with Times Square. Saturday night is amateur night of the week, New Year’s Eve is amateur night of the year, and this is going to be the amateur night of human civilization.”
Many of those who want to stay on this island are still making plans to make plans. “I was out for dinner last night at Canteen,” says an entertainment publicist, “and there was a table with Julia Roberts and a table with Sarah Jessica Parker, and everyone was talking about how they’re staying in New York, but they just don’t know what they’re doing. And this is December.”
Of course, Julia Roberts is unlikely to stay in and rent Notting Hill – and the millennial hype has created opportunities for less planned, less predictable, and perhaps more pleasant partying. “I think there was too much anticipation that people were going to buy early,” says Jason Strauss, co-owner of Strategic Events and one of the producers of the “Pier 2000” party at Pier 92 Ballroom, which is selling $200-to-$1,000 tickets at a fairly brisk pace. “It’s going to be like every other New Year’s, where people are going to make their plans on December 15.”
The hottest ticket in town is likely to be Ted Field’s private resurrection of the Studio 54 scene at its original site; Mark Ronson will D.J., and food will include a crustacean bar. “Everyone’s calling and saying they’re a friend of Ted’s,” crows model-actress Elizabeth Nottoli, Field’s girlfriend and an owner of L.A. party handler La Bon Vie, which sent out a little disco ball as its invite.
Nightclubs are an obvious last-minute alternative, but several of the city’s top party promoters are taking the evening off. “Rentals on venues are five, six, and seven times their normal rates,” groans “Body & Soul” promoter John Davis, who instead decided to hold a $25 all-day party at Cheetah on January 1. “It’s just too expensive to throw a party unless you charge $200 a ticket.” Which is exactly what Cheetah is charging for its “Millennium Bash.” Other clubs braving the big night for big bucks include Life (with Grandmaster Flash, Funkmaster Flex, and Paula Cole), One51 (with Samantha Ronson as D.J. and David Cone and David Wells as hosts), and Twilo (with Junior Vasquez). Of course, not everyone has such high expectations: Downtown club promoter Chip Ducket is charging $19.84 for an eighties-themed gay party at Pyramid. “I would be more worried,” he smirks, “if I was charging people $2,000 to see Kool & the Gang.”
Restaurants are facing a different variation on that same problem: how to deliver a once-in-a-century experience and still cover once-in-a-century costs. Already, Moomba, Balthazar, Aquavit, Mercer Kitchen, the Oyster Bar, and Union Square Cafe have decided to close their doors rather than overcharge and under-deliver. “I’d expect a lot for a thousand bucks,” says Eric Ripert of Le Bernardin, who closes every New Year’s Eve. “What if you get seated near the bathroom? Already you’re pissed off.”
Those that remain open are paying dearly to live up to the hype. Le Cirque 2000’s $1,000 seating, said to be sold out, includes a contribution to the Children’s Storefront, an expensive gift, and a seven-course dinner that features caviar, foie gras, and truffles that cost owner Sirio Maccioni $3,000 per kilogram. “We’re really trying to give something back to the people and not look so cheap,” Maccioni says. “For the first time, we will have a band on the second floor with a small dance floor. I’m not sure it was a good idea, but I got outvoted.”
The biggest cost, of course, is the help: Maccioni is paying employees double, and Steve Hanson is offering all of his employees the choice of bringing their significant other or getting a $100 bonus. Even so, the earlier bookings at his restaurants are going faster than the later ones. “I don’t think it’s about the money,” he says. “A lot of people want to be home and in a secure place.”
Where they don’t want to be is in a crowded theater. Broadway is going dark for the night because of the Times Square festivities, and other performers are facing the same ticket-sales problems in New York as in the rest of the country. As of last week, the Beacon Theater was still selling $250 second-row tickets to Meat Loaf’s New Year’s concert (the shows on previous nights are almost sold out), and Town Hall still had $175 seventh-row seats for Sandra Bernhard. “I think they’ve underestimated how many people want to stay home and how many people are afraid to go out,” says former Tramps booker Steve Weitzman. “I’m getting the hell out of here – I’m going to Minneapolis to see Prince play his pay-per-view concert.”
In New York, the most successful parties are taking place well outside the shadow of Times Square. The American Museum of Natural History’s black-tie-gala preview of the new Rose Center and Hayden planetarium is sold out. The Intrepid’s annual gala is selling tickets at its normal pace for $550 – more than twice the normal price. A party in the old Barneys building in Chelsea is said to be two-thirds sold out at $250 a ticket. “If I were midtown or downtown, I would have closed, of course,” says Daniel Boulud, who’s charging $1,250 per person at Daniel. “But the three restaurants we have are all in 10021 – I don’t see Park Avenue in the upper Sixties being clutched for hours, because the police will do whatever they can to protect this neighborhood.”
Even the neighborhoods that are safe will be that much harder to reach. On any non-millennial New Year’s, it’s nearly impossible to find a cab, and the looming transit strike – threatened to begin December 15 if the MTA doesn’t grant a pay raise to its 33,000 employees – raises the specter of a city at the mercy of car services like Henry Limousine, which is asking $3,000 for a twelve-hour stretch-limo rental. The possibility of Y2Chaos has the city on alert: The NYPD is putting 4,000 extra officers on duty, EMS is doubling its staff, and the Fire Department is adding 1,200 personnel to its ranks for the night. The FBI, for its part, vows to watch everything.
Times Square may be the belly of the beast, but no one knows how large that belly could swell. In a typical year, police build holding pens to maintain crowd control on Broadway from 43rd to as high as 59th Street on Seventh Avenue and from 42nd to the mid-Fifties on Broadway. This year, organizers will add four extra video screens so revelers can watch the festivities from as far away as Sixth Avenue, Eighth Avenue, and even Herald Square.
Police may keep all nearby side streets clear of people, as they have in the past – or they may not be able to. The MTA has a plan to close at least four midtown subway stations to prevent a crush of bodies after midnight – or they might not even need to. “We don’t really know what to expect as far as crowds are concerned,” admits one Times Square organizer. The truth is, no one knows – and the police are keeping tight-lipped about contingency plans. “If it’s about crowd control, it’s a police matter,” says one city source. “They’re very jealous of their turf.”
“Everything should go normally that night,” predicts Jerome Hauer, director of the Mayor’s Office of Emergency Management, which is coordinating Y2K contingency plans. “Then again, that assumes it won’t snow – and that there won’t be a transit strike.”
Nightclubs are an obvious last-minute alternative, but several of the city’s top party promoters are taking the evening off. “Rentals on venues are five, six, and seven times their normal rates,” groans “Body & Soul” promoter John Davis, who instead decided to hold a $25 all-day party at Cheetah on January 1. “It’s just too expensive to throw a party unless you charge $200 a ticket.” Which is exactly what Cheetah is charging for its “Millennium Bash.” Other clubs braving the big night for big bucks include Life (with Grandmaster Flash, Funkmaster Flex, and Paula Cole), One51 (with Samantha Ronson as D.J. and David Cone and David Wells as hosts), and Twilo (with Junior Vasquez). Of course, not everyone has such high expectations: Downtown club promoter Chip Ducket is charging $19.84 for an eighties-themed gay party at Pyramid. “I would be more worried,” he smirks, “if I was charging people $2,000 to see Kool & the Gang.”
Restaurants are facing a different variation on that same problem: how to deliver a once-in-a-century experience and still cover once-in-a-century costs. Already, Moomba, Balthazar, Aquavit, Mercer Kitchen, the Oyster Bar, and Union Square Cafe have decided to close their doors rather than overcharge and under-deliver. “I’d expect a lot for a thousand bucks,” says Eric Ripert of Le Bernardin, who closes every New Year’s Eve. “What if you get seated near the bathroom? Already you’re pissed off.”
Those that remain open are paying dearly to live up to the hype. Le Cirque 2000’s $1,000 seating, said to be sold out, includes a contribution to the Children’s Storefront, an expensive gift, and a seven-course dinner that features caviar, foie gras, and truffles that cost owner Sirio Maccioni $3,000 per kilogram. “We’re really trying to give something back to the people and not look so cheap,” Maccioni says. “For the first time, we will have a band on the second floor with a small dance floor. I’m not sure it was a good idea, but I got outvoted.”
The biggest cost, of course, is the help: Maccioni is paying employees double, and Steve Hanson is offering all of his employees the choice of bringing their significant other or getting a $100 bonus. Even so, the earlier bookings at his restaurants are going faster than the later ones. “I don’t think it’s about the money,” he says. “A lot of people want to be home and in a secure place.”
Where they don’t want to be is in a crowded theater. Broadway is going dark for the night because of the Times Square festivities, and other performers are facing the same ticket-sales problems in New York as in the rest of the country. As of last week, the Beacon Theater was still selling $250 second-row tickets to Meat Loaf’s New Year’s concert (the shows on previous nights are almost sold out), and Town Hall still had $175 seventh-row seats for Sandra Bernhard. “I think they’ve underestimated how many people want to stay home and how many people are afraid to go out,” says former Tramps booker Steve Weitzman. “I’m getting the hell out of here – I’m going to Minneapolis to see Prince play his pay-per-view concert.”
In New York, the most successful parties are taking place well outside the shadow of Times Square. The American Museum of Natural History’s black-tie-gala preview of the new Rose Center and Hayden planetarium is sold out. The Intrepid’s annual gala is selling tickets at its normal pace for $550 – more than twice the normal price. A party in the old Barneys building in Chelsea is said to be two-thirds sold out at $250 a ticket. “If I were midtown or downtown, I would have closed, of course,” says Daniel Boulud, who’s charging $1,250 per person at Daniel. “But the three restaurants we have are all in 10021 – I don’t see Park Avenue in the upper Sixties being clutched for hours, because the police will do whatever they can to protect this neighborhood.”
“Saturday night is amateur night of the week, New Year’s Eve is amateur night of the year, and this is going to be the amateur night of human civilization.”
Even the neighborhoods that are safe will be that much harder to reach. On any non-millennial New Year’s, it’s nearly impossible to find a cab, and the looming transit strike – threatened to begin December 15 if the MTA doesn’t grant a pay raise to its 33,000 employees – raises the specter of a city at the mercy of car services like Henry Limousine, which is asking $3,000 for a twelve-hour stretch-limo rental. The possibility of Y2Chaos has the city on alert: The NYPD is putting 4,000 extra officers on duty, EMS is doubling its staff, and the Fire Department is adding 1,200 personnel to its ranks for the night. The FBI, for its part, vows to watch everything.
Times Square may be the belly of the beast, but no one knows how large that belly could swell. In a typical year, police build holding pens to maintain crowd control on Broadway from 43rd to as high as 59th Street on Seventh Avenue and from 42nd to the mid-Fifties on Broadway. This year, organizers will add four extra video screens so revelers can watch the festivities from as far away as Sixth Avenue, Eighth Avenue, and even Herald Square.
Police may keep all nearby side streets clear of people, as they have in the past – or they may not be able to. The MTA has a plan to close at least four midtown subway stations to prevent a crush of bodies after midnight – or they might not even need to. “We don’t really know what to expect as far as crowds are concerned,” admits one Times Square organizer. The truth is, no one knows – and the police are keeping tight-lipped about contingency plans. “If it’s about crowd control, it’s a police matter,” says one city source. “They’re very jealous of their turf.”
“Everything should go normally that night,” predicts Jerome Hauer, director of the Mayor’s Office of Emergency Management, which is coordinating Y2K contingency plans. “Then again, that assumes it won’t snow – and that there won’t be a transit strike.”
Last spring, lawyer and “Page Six” mogul Leon Charney tried to auction the roof of the commercial tower he owns at 1441 Broadway – the heart of Times Square – for $100,000 for New Year’s Eve, even offering to spring for the catering. Tommy Mottola showed interest, as did Madonna. But his plans were ruined by Y2K markup: Caterers wanted too much for a job that involved lugging food up to a rooftop.
So instead of making a mint on his property, Charney might end up opening his roof for free and letting his tenants – Liz Claiborne, Ellen Tracy, Gloria Vanderbilt, Dana Buchman, Karen Kane, and Tommy Hilfiger among them – come up to enjoy the view.
“We’d get a lot of goodwill from our tenants,” Charney says. Besides, he adds, “a lot of people want to stay home. They’re afraid. Between Y2K and a lot of sensational feelings about the millennium, they don’t know what to expect.”
Additional reporting by Ethan Brown, Vanessa Grigoriadis, Beth Landman Keil, Nan Parry, and Ethan Smith.