Ernest Gantt — possibly Ernest Raymond Beaumont Gantt — was the living embodiment of that classic line from 1962’s The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance:
“When the legend becomes fact, print the legend.”
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| Donn Beach died in June 1989, and therefore wasn't available for the filmmakers. They did the next best thing, teaming with Mystery Meat Media to deliver Beach's portion of a lengthy interview via this droll stop-motion puppet. |
But Gantt definitely was the first to turn a blend of Cantonese food, Caribbean mixology and South Pacific décor, into a popular destination. He invented both the craft cocktail and the concept of “themed escapism” later mimicked (often not as tastefully) by chains such as Elephant Bar, Rainforest Café, Hard Rock Café and Chuck E. Cheese
But unlike Bergeron, a savvy businessman who led a fairly routine life, Gantt was a man of mystery who constantly embellished his past and accomplishments, to the point that it’s now extremely difficult to separate fact from fabrication.
Documentarians Alex Lamb and Max Well certainly had a lot of fun trying, and their delightful film works hard to establish ... if not actual truth, then near-truth. They do so with an engaging blend of archival footage; interviews with Gantt’s friends and family members; contemporary historians and mixologists; and even charming, 1930s-style black-and-white and color cartoon sequences (by Venturia Animation).
The most ingenious touch, though, is the stop-motion puppet figure of Gantt, animated by Mystery Meat Media, employed as the “face” during a lengthy radio interview the man gave back in 1986 ... a conversation which, it must be acknowledged, frequently muddies the waters of accuracy.
Lamb and Well also rely extensively on input from Tim “Swanky” Glazner, author of Searching for Don the Beachcomber, whose exhaustive research comes closest to nailing down the truth. But even he confesses, at times, that certain details of Gantt’s life remain obstruse.
Actually, it’s amusing to hear different versions of the same story, such as how — and precisely when — the Zombie cocktail was concocted.
But to cases:
Gantt was born February 22, 1907, in Mandeville, Louisiana — as he claimed — or, more likely, in Mexia, Texas. His father subsequently struck it rich as an oil wildcatter, and, when his son turned 18, offered him the choice of a fully funded college education ... or a trip around the world. Ernest chose the latter, and actually traveled around the world twice, initially with $40,000 in his pocket. To save money, he usually made short hops while crewing on freighters and cargo ships.
During his first visit to Polynesia, he was smitten by the heady aroma of Frangipani, a plant also known as Plumeria. He claimed to recall that scent for the rest of his life.
He eventually washed up in Los Angeles in 1928, quite broke, and began working in a produce market. The local Filipino community was kind and helpful, which he remembered later. His slightly older brother Hugh was a minor film star who, very likely with Ernest’s eventual participation, bootlegged alcohol to Hollywood’s elite, in cahoots with members of the Chicago Mob. Hugh Gantt was arrested in 1931, but Ernest somehow avoided that fate.
Prohibition ended on December 5, 1933. The very next day, Ernest opened a bar called Don’s Beachcomber at 1722 N. McCadden Place, in Hollywood: a hole-in-the-wall barely able to fit two dozen patrons ... except ... strong evidence suggests that the place actually had been in clandestine operation as early as 1932.
The place’s South Seas vibe quickly became enormously popular, in great part because of the “Don the Beachcomber” persona that Gantt rapidly adopted: a bohemian figure and teller of tall tales, often seen shirtless; to further cement the image, he legally changed his name to Donn Beach. His “rhum rhapsodies” were meticulously crafted concoctions made with blended rums and spice syrups of his own creation.
Remembering his early L.A. friends, and by way of paying it forward, all of Ernst’s bartenders were Filipinos: a definite step up from the hotel bellhop or menial labor jobs that were, at the time, the sole options for “brown men.”
Alas, hastily passed laws evolved to crack down on the explosion of bars that opened in the greater Los Angeles area, in the wake of Prohibition’s repeal. Don’s Beachcomber was targeted specifically, and Beach wound up in jail in 1934. His creativity and cocktail talents aside, Beach was a terrible businessman who frequently failed to charge regular customers; he therefore lacked the $400 needed to bail himself out.
Enter Sunny Sund, a visionary and — as it turned out — an extremely sharp and savvy businesswoman who had gotten to know Beach. She offered to bail him out, if he’d make her a partner: a proposal she extended every day for several weeks (?), and every day he refused ... until she showed up and dangled the cash under his nose.
He signed ... and, just like that, lost control of his own enterprise.
Sund did indeed revitalize the original venue, which slightly changed its name to Don the Beachcomber when it moved across the street, to 1727 N. McAdden. This larger location included a kitchen for restaurant-style meals, thus complying with the new laws. Although Don remained the popular figurehead, he spent increasingly large chunks of time hosting lavish and sybaritic luaus at his beach plantation home ... Playboy Club-style events to which Sunny was pointedly not invited, despite their having married in 1937.
The marriage was annulled in 1939, although Donn and Sunny remained business partners. She immediately opened a second Don the Beachcomber restaurant in Chicago ... with backing by the local Mob. And that was just the beginning for her...
What subsequently happened to Beach continued to be the stuff of legend, and I’ll not spoil it here. Suffice to say, he successfully re-invented himself several more times, during the subsequent decades.
We get a sense, as this saga unfolds, that details come as a surprise to some of the modern tiki bar owners and mixologists Lamb and Well interviewed for their film. Martin and Rebecca Cate, founders and owners of San Francisco’s world-renowned Smuggler’s Cove, are particularly delightful.
Considerable cocktail-hued details come from author, mixologist, restaurant owner and tiki historian Jeff “Beachbum” Berry, whose self-published first book — 1998’s Beach Bum Berry’s Grog Log — was pivotal for helping to revive the tiki craze, thanks to the book’s numerous drink recipes that allowed bartenders to attract a new generation of customers.
(Full disclosure: I bought that book the moment it arrived.)
Granted, this film is very niche, but that’s part of its charm; everybody involved clearly loves this topic, and the enthusiasm with which this saga unfolds is hard to resist. And, honestly, at a time when documentaries about all sorts of obscure topics have become increasingly popular — as has tiki culture in general, once again — the timing is perfect.
Lamb and Well actually finished this film in 2024, and it made the rounds of numerous film festivals during the next two years. It finally has become available via streaming services.
Give it a shot (while sipping a Mai Tai, of course). You’ll likely be surprised...
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