As with many New York institutions, El Palladium bore a great cultural and sociological significance during its reign, appealing to those of all ages and backgrounds far beyond its principal audience of metropolitan Latin Americans. It too claimed at its patrons the wealthy and famous; Harry Belafonte, Carol Channing and Marlon Brando were just several seen in regular attendance, although decidedly never seated in the same section as casual spectators or the general proletariat population. The same rule applied to notorious figures who enjoyed the same regard as El Palladium as celebrities and socialites. After entering the premises and paying a one-dollar admission, guests who climbed the long marble staircase were certain to be thrust instantly into a mood of excitement upon hearing the blare of live music before they reached the second floor landing that lead to the club’s entrance.

Although a viable first impression of El Palladium as a whole was one of ethnic, economic and racial unity, its very infrastructures belied such an assumption.

Seating assignments as handled by staff members separated the privileged from the other clientele that might include prostitutes, drug users or honest but meager individuals in pursuit of an evening’s pleasure. The dance floor varied in style ranging from elegantly gowned partnered with men in tuxedos to uninhibited youngsters dressed in gaudy, low-cut dresses and form-fitting peg trousers.

Just as visible was a team of rowdy bouncers that routinely roamed the dance floor, ready to break up an occasional altercation among the short –tempered. Despite the presence of some surly characters and intermittent misconduct, few might dispute El Palladium’s status as a purveyor of performing talent and how well maintained an enterprise it remained until its demise in the spring of 1962. Accordingly, ultimate credit to its endurance and fame must be paid to founder Maxwell Hyman.

for the mambo, soon introduced him to the Roseland Ballroom where the idea to create an outlet dedicated strictly to Latin American dancing was born.

Max found a mid-town property run by underworld bosses who honored his term-of-sale request to stay on for the period of one year while he made gradual changes.

Under new ownership’s policy, the Lindy Hop was out and Max hired Federico Pagan, an astute booking agent with easy access to contemporary Rumba and Mambo musicians. Pagan cannily persuaded Max to feature bandleader Machito’s Afro-Cuban combo for El Palladium’s debut. Opening night saw lines that circled the entire block, requiring the intervention of police to show up and control the throng. Sometime later with the ballroom’s success clearly assured, Max considered how anticipated the Roseland’s annual Harvest Moon Ball was and wondered how well received a weekly competition might be.

a week for El Palladium’s dance contest. ‘Joe’s’ engaging demeanor was an ideal addition to the roster of professional dance teams assembled by Max for the public’s enjoyment; Augie and Margo, Terrace and Elita and Joe Vega and Tybee among them. As veterans of Catskill Mountain resorts and elsewhere, these performers were adept in keeping up with even the poorest of dancers when called upon by Killer Joe to aid with instructional tasks during the dance lesson segment.

Whereas most may agree that these attractions alone were worth the price of an
admission ticket, patrons of what now ranked as New York’s top Latin dance spot might
also `stargaze’ or witness the sordid drama of hustling and drug dealing.

That these and other negative elements would eventually fell El Palladium’s very being, thereby ending the livelihood of many and the joy of even more, is perhaps little compensated by a legend that developed in the years since and whose influences are manifested in one form or another today.