Notes on the Film Making
 
An article about “Miami’s Gigolos” in a London broadsheet sparked my interest. South Florida provided bountiful opportunities for roving hustlers as visiting ladies from the northern states keep the dating pool stocked through the winter months. “Who wouldn’t want to be taken care of by a wealthy dowager on a palm-lined shore?” The life sounded good … anything to escape another dreary English winter.

In an attempt to infiltrate the secretive world of gigolos, articles like the one I had read in London made it difficult to get a foot in the door. The men viewed outsiders with suspicion due to another recent exposé featured in the Miami Herald. They held the press responsible for some high profile break-ups in Florida’s murky men-for-hire scene. Public exposure was bad for business and still worse for their clients.  Access had been cut off.

With very limited funds, desperation took root.  I took solace in dancing and socializing at the clubs frequented by the rat pack I wanted to document.  Soon I had my own coterie of older dance partners.  This attention didn’t escape the gentlemen hovering at nearby tables.  They took notice and wanted to know whom this newcomer was moving in on their territory. It turned out fraternity was more beneficial for business than friction. Sensing a closer bond, I hinted at my intentions and again doors were slammed shut.  Noticing my disappointment, one of my new lady friends suggested I meet “Cuban Pete,” the Prince of the Palladium in New York, a dancer of stellar pedigree who had surfaced unscathed in the recent public exposé. Initially, he feared making a film about his world might narrow his prospects; moreover he didn’t have the time. I offered him three hundred dollars and miraculously his schedule opened up.