M. L. Monty's (pure heart and soul)

It had the stuff that legends were made of. It was loved by all who were privileged enough access it's domain. Eclectic to say the least, it's the spot we had, or rather Suge had, an acquittal party for Snoop when he "beat the Rap" on his unfortunate and untimely trial. Talk about untimely, it was one of the final spots that Tupac basked in, enjoying one of his last hurrah's, gorging on the good life, before his ill-fated trip to viva Las Vegas, before his early demise. So much promise, snuffed out in a heart beat.

This is not to say that Monty's was a notorious hangout for Raps elite only, Quite to the contrary. An amalgamation of luminaries hung there. An amalgamation form every elitist walk of life. Renown physician's, judge's, politico's, actor's and actresses, foreign dignitaries, a whole slew of esoteric, poignantly interesting characters were the cast which will be lionized in the epic tale, the LIFE AND TIMES OF: MONTY'S, The Realm on High. I, prey tell, happened to be one of the lucky one's to bear witness to all of the shenanigans and happenings that blessed this, my favorite hang of all times. I shed a tear for it's passing as I know many of my fellow "cohorts" who shared the same space do. It was like being a member of a fraternal order, some secret society for specialist in enjoying the lofty, yet down to earth, expressionist art that Monty's Westwood was and still is, in the hearts and souls, of those who frequented this establishment, on an almost daily basis.

"Uncle" Marty Fox regally posing with his big cigar (I preferred Diamond Crowns, 52 ring myself but he, well, nothing but the best...), Steve "Super Thrifty Man" Gross, and I don't say that to mean his economic ways either (a beneficent soul he is, loud Prince Morris, from Africa, RK (what does he do again?...) anchoring a truly United Nations, speakeasy styled, very varied universe, with his no speaking Japanese ass. What I meant to say was, he is Japanese, but he doesn't speak one sentence of it, AT ALL. I wonder how his wonderful mom Jean (Or is it Gene? After all this time of knowing her I'm embarrassed to say, I don't even know how to spell her name properly. That's it, I'm going to Hell.)out and his "cool hand Luke" father, Mr. Ray Kabuto, feel about that? Gee, could that be strike two? Got me second guessing myself. Did I spell their last name right, Gawwwddd, that's it, straight to Hell.

The Hottest spot North of Havana...

Anyone who had ever had the pleasure of being part of the UCLA/Westwood scene from the early nineties onward, at least for a spell, was really treated to something that was phantasmagorical, truly historic and perhaps, never to be duplicated again, this lifetime anyway. For those of you who knew let the underprivileged KNOW, Monty's was and still is, in large respects, one of the coolest of cool hangouts that folks from all around the world had ever borne witness too, no joke.

Where the hell else could you find Tupac Shakur, Suge, Tory Spelling and a whole amalgamation of Hollywood "Wigs" sitting around, kicking it and partying their asses off. The spot with massive panoramic views from 180 degrees of the palace, while the other 180 degrees was total eye candy, scent sensory perception and primo-prime rib salivation captivating your every, hedonistic moment you were there.

There was nothing like it, anywhere. Everything was bumping there, the food, the atmosphere, the cats and the wine, women and song. You could barely leave there for a brief respite at your crib when your instinct and senses beckoned you unrelentingly to return to the pure decadence of the greatest of pleasurable x-periences. Still today the stories and memories are plentiful and will continue to fill this blog for a long time to come, like the time when the police helicopter pulled eye level to the bar, on the 21st floor, just to say hi to the crew...