Dear Sir,
In surfing the web looking
around at South Beach, and
other items of interest to
me in Miami, mostly the
airport, I decided to look
up Casablanca hotel to see
if by chance it still was in
business. Low and
behold look what I found!
In the summer of 1963 my
father took my mother, my
best friend and me on
vacation to Miami Beach (wow
oh wow, Kookie Kookie Lend
Me Your Comb time) for I was
14 going on 15 in August of
that summer and we stayed at
the Casablanca Hotel.
My girlfriend and I were in
heaven! Not only were
we in MIAMI BEACH, for a
whole week, right on the
beach, but we were in our
OWN ROOM about two doors
down from my parents!
How sweet can it be for two
teenaged girls.
When we went to dinner the
first night, my dad informed
us that we could have
anything we wanted since we
were staying at the hotel on
the American plan. You
realize, of course, at
almost 15 this is really
cool since I had no idea
what it meant. But, my
friend Patti and I were
quick enough to know that
the asterisk or number sign
next to an entree meant that
we could order it, but it
would cost extra. We
also caught onto the trick
of just "signing your name
and room number on the
ticket" routine. To
this day, I really am not
sure how much we ended
costing my dad, but then, I
don't think he really
complained about it.
My parents decided that they
would give us enough rope to
hang ourselves with, so we
were allowed to come and go
as we pleased, I'm certain
there must have been some
sort of parameters set, but
it didn't include what time
we got up and
breakfasted(?). And,
oh my, what goodies your
bakery came up with for
breakies! I remember
with lust in my tummy the
tiny little muffins fresh
and hot on every table in
the diner - blueberry, corn,
bran, all kinds, and as
young teenaged girls with
limitless metabolisms, we
ate all we could.
Barbara J. Millar
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