The Roxy Burlesk
The Roxy Burlesk Theater operated on the second floor of 244 West 42nd Street, with Joy 42nd (a bookstore with video peeps) on the ground level. The Roxy was a dark theater comprised of (100) seats with an open stage and a runway, and scantily-clad women offering themselves on the premises. Allie, who worked the box office, described the place as ‘clean as a whistle’; however, the NYPD defined the Roxy as ‘a house of prostitution; something to that effect’ . The Roxy was originally owned by the cunning Chely Wilson, who owned a slew of all-nite theaters, with another Greek by the name of Gus Kalvvis, doing the managerial duties. Gus actually fashioned himself as a pimp; arriving daily in a white Rolls Royce which he parked in the lot next to Show World.
Indeed, the Roxy was indicted on multiple counts of prostitution, and Gus arrested. When Richie bought the building from Chely (she owned the property), the operation didn’t change dramatically (note: when you buy a building, you inherit the lease of the tenant that’s already there). But the Grand Jury wanted desperately to prove Richie’s affiliation with ol’ Gus, who dealt with whores, outside of the landlord go-between. Thus John Colasanti, Richie’s emissary, was subpoenaed under ‘duces tecum’ (keeper of the records) to testify in the presence of the Grand Jury (as they felt he had information pertaining to Gus, of whom he collected rent on behalf of Richie). Gus, however, got lost in the souvlaki sauce as the focus of the interrogation shifted to Richie and Robert DiBernardo, and the establishment of a link between Show World and Gus’ hooker operations, for which the Grand Jury didn’t succeed and the allegations were unequivocally put to rest.
When Gus’ lease ran out, Richie didn’t renew it, and instead turned Gus’ former den of ill repute into a mini-grindhouse movie theater. However the size of the Roxy couldn’t accommodate a 35 mm projector, until ‘video projection’ was suggested and implemented, even though the license wasn’t in their possession as of yet. But with assistance from contractor Harry Cropper, John Colasanti expertly negotiated with Warner Bros. to ‘buy the library of old films and open a continuous 24-hour theater.’ Initially Warner Bros. balked but eventually conceded and sold the license for a yearly fee of $40,000.
Finally, with (2) 24-hour theaters, the new Roxy now screened 1st run movies with immediate success and received favorable publicity; that of which was symbolic of John’s efforts to negotiate the licensing of the films shown. ‘Where else can you see (4) movies for one admission price?’ quipped a NY Daily news reporter. But overnite the theater evolved into a more harrowing source of entertainment; as in a filthy 24-hour flophouse populated by ‘the dregs of society, or worse.’ Visitors characterized the Roxy as a ‘place where the lowest of the low take refuge from the cold; where a snoozing transient can easily be slashed in the pants by a junkie transvestite with a razor blade, amidst the disease and discarded chicken bones.’ Manager John Colasanti: ‘Once I saw a girl near the fire exit; actually she was outside the theater squatting under the fire escape. I caught her; she had a hypodermic needle. ‘I...I thought you were peeing,’ I told her. ‘Well that’s what I should have been doing,’ she replied and then proceeded to jam the spike into her arm, draw out the blood, and shoot it back into her savaged vein. Horrified, I yelled at her; ‘What are you doing, you’re going to fucking kill yourself!’
But by far the biggest problem was the crack epidemic, a situation which was uncontrollable and worsening every day. Pushers blatantly used the theater as a base of operations to unload their crack vials, filled to the brim with smokable cocaine. ‘Crack was everywhere,’ says John C. ‘They were selling it inside all of the theaters on 42nd Street. Exasperated, I went to Richie’s office and blurted out: ‘Richie, they’re selling crack in there! It’s out of control; there’s crack all over the fucking place!’ Harry Cropper was in the office; Richie was there, but stayed mum. Before he could respond, Harry stepped in. ‘That’s not Richie’s business,’ he informed me. My interpretation of that statement was that the crack problem is something he doesn’t need to know. And nothing more was ever said about it.’