• November 28, 1977
• Vol. 8
• No. 22

Steve's 'Studio' Is Where the Elite Meet to Beat Their Feet; for Others, It's 54 Skidoo

By Bob Weiner

For Steve Rubell life begins at "54," and life at "54" begins at midnight and boogies full-tilt till dawn. A year ago Rubell, 33, was operating a chain of Eastern steak joints in lucrative obscurity. This year he has radically altered the nightscape of the Big Apple. He (with two partners) has founded the ultrasuave Studio 54 disco, where the world's most notable VIBs (Very Important Bootys) go to shake and move. Amid the celebs, Rubell sprinkles scruff-chic gays and heteros who can actually get down with the music. To those admitted, Steve's a tireless host who snakes around nonstop ensuring there are no black holes of boredom around his superstars.

The other reason for its glittering triumph is Rubell's own elitist eye-frisk at the door—no singles, no nuisance cruisers, "no bagel nosh-polyester types" are admitted, and Steve can be neither bribed nor intimidated. "You're ugly, I don't want you here," the 5'5" gatekeeper brazenly told a bulky tough who responded with a right hook. Approved regulars pay $150 a year for membership—which entitles them only to a $3 discount on the $10-per-head weekend admission. Not surprisingly, it didn't take long for the 2,400-capacity club to make Steve a multimillionaire and to threaten to franchise an international chain of Studio 54s.

A Syracuse U grad whose Brooklyn parents were a tennis pro and a schoolteacher, Rubell has become a shameless name-dropper, all the while still worrying about his own. "Half a year ago nobody knew me. Half a year from now everybody may forget," he frets. Would he let himself into the Studio? "Yes [pause], after six months."