The History of the Dusty Meyer

It was about 15 years ago this month that I first encountered the Dusty Meyer. At that time I was unaware of its rich history and exotic taste. Sure, the Dusty Meyer is now one of the world's most popular mixed drinks and can obtained in most bars and lounges worldwide. But as I learned, when designer beers, wine coolers and courvasier began gaining mainstream acceptance during the late 1970s, the Dusty Meyer, along with other once popular favorites like the Bull Shot and Peach Blow Fizz nearly became extinct. But it took a combination of the popularity of flavored vodkas and gins and richly flavored liqueurs to bring the Dusty Meyer back into vogue in the 1990s. Thankfully, the Dusty Meyer appears to have permanently resurfaced to regain its rightful crown as king of the high balls.

A bit of research revealed the history of the Dusty Meyer, which I present here in a more or less abridged form.

The Dusty Meyer traces its roots to 1932 and owes its existence, like French toast and the Monkees, to a happy accident. "Pourin'" Paul DiPalma, as he was known to the regulars at the original Brown Derby on Hollywood and Vine, was the venerable and original mixologist to the stars, a monkier most now associate with Troy "Down the Hatch" Mercedes at Bar Marmont on Sunset Boulevard. It was a warm May evening and most of the movie studios were on hiatus and most of the town's stars were on holiday, some in Palm Springs, others in San Paolo.

But not every one who is anyone left town. On this particular evening, Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy stumbled into the Brown Derby following an afternoon and evening of heavy drinking, precipitated by a harrowing and controversial meeting earlier that day with Sam Goldwyn and Louis B. Mayer, the heads of MGM studios.

Gable and to a lesser extent, Tracy, were disillusioned with their contracts with MGM that they had signed with the studio years earlier. The contracts, standard for the time, bound them perpetually to MGM. As a result, neither could make a movie with either Paramount or Warner Bros. unless Mayer and Goldwyn agreed, which they rarely did for anyone. Gable, one of Hollywood's most notorious gamblers and womanizers, felt he was on the verge of a major career breakthrough and deeply resented the arrangement as it often left him short of cash while requiring him to work nearly non-stop on a string of mostly forgettable tripe. Gable had completed 14 films in two years, including Strange Interlude, No Man of Her Own, Red Dust, and the minor classic, Polly of the Circus. Tracy, himself quite the rogue and rambler, had a similar story, having made 15 movies in just three short years with little to show for it. Gable, now short on funds and itching to make more, believed he was marketable despite the lackluster career to that point.

It was Gable's idea to confront Goldwyn and Mayer and he enlisted his sometimes fishing and drinking buddy, Tracy, for support. The two drove to the palatial offices of Goldwyn and Mayer located on the expansive MGM lot. Their plan was to ask for their release from MGM, by force if necessary, Gable believing that he and Tracy could easily take the middle-aged Mayer and Goldwyn in a fist fight.

But Mayer, long married to the former Margaret Schenberg, had secretly been seeing actress Hedy Lamarr, who had recently broken up with Gable. Lamarr tipped off Mayer about the pending confrontation and he and Goldwyn were ready when the two arrived. Despite the clear air of tension, the meeting started surprisingly well. Mayer, serving Scotch from the fully stocked bar in his office, engaged in light banter with Gable and Tracy, hoping to defuse the situation as he had done countless times with Jean Harlow and Lon Chaney. But with Gable knocking back shot after shot and Tracy doing likewise, the two soon became quite intoxicated. Gable in particular was known as a mean drunk and in short time the meeting turned serious and ugly when Gable insisted that they switch the conversation toward business.

With that Gable raised his fist and demanded that Goldwyn and Mayer immediately release him from his studio contract. Tracy seemed to nod in agreement but otherwise said nothing. Mayer paused, lit one of his famous 8-inch Cuban cigars, and began to laugh uproariously, as if to suggest that Gable couldn't possibly be serious. Goldwyn, too, joined in the laughter and Gable and Tracy became visibly upset. But before either could say a word, Mayer reached into his suit jacket and pulled out and thick envelope that he had been carrying around with him ever since Lamarr had tipped him off about the meeting. Mayer gave the envelope to a startled Gable, who looked inside and saw that it contained, among other things, his studio contract.

"You're going to just give me back my contract" Gable asked. "Sure," said Mayer, "but you may want to first look at everything in the envelope." Gable then pulled out a one-way train ticket, stamped "Cadiz, Ohio," Gable's hometown. "What's this" Gable asked. "Oh, I thought you might be needing that," Mayer said. "Why?" "Well," Mayer explained, "if you won't be needing your contract you might be needing this. I doubt you'll ever work again in this town so you might as well head back home to momma."

Gable, assessing the subtlety of Mayer's message, grew even more enraged and threw what remained of his 9th shot of Scotch in Mayer's face. Gable then climbed on top of Mayer's desk and was about to grab Mayer by the throat. But before he could, he was tackled by Goldwyn and Tracy. By that time, Mayer's secretary, Esther Ralston(who herself would later go on to have a minor role in the B movie classic "Ladies Crave Excitement") had called studio security, which arrived a short time later. In the ensuing melee, Gable ended up with a black eye, Mayer had a gash in his cheek and Tracy pierced his ear drum, although no one is quite sure how. As he was being dragged out of Mayer's office, Gable was heard to yell that he'd rather rot in Cadiz than work for Mayer. Mayer retorted that he'd "rather shit saw dust in a cloth diaper" than see Gable ever work again.

Gable and Tracy left the studio lot and headed straight toward Burbank and a tour of its seedy bar district. Eventually the two found their way back to Hollywood and the Brown Derby around 1 a.m. Barely able to stand at that point, Gable and Tracy were assisted into two bar stools by Howie Montaug, the long-time Brown Derby doorman. At the other end of the bar was DiPalma who was pouring coffee and trying to sober up a drunken Mary Pickford and Helen Hayes. Pickford and Hayes had been in the Brown Derby all evening, celebrating Hayes' recent best actress Academy Award for her portrayal of Madelon in the movie "The Sin of Madelon Claudet."

As Gable and Tracy regained some momentum, DiPalma became concerned. He knew that Sime Silverman, who had just established the Hollywood bureau for Variety Magazine, liked to stop by to capture some of Hollywood's glamour boys in less than flattering circumstances and he wanted to avoid some bad publicity for two of his better customers. He grabbed the pot of coffee that he had brewed for Hayes and Pickford and attempted to pour a glass for both Tracy and Gable. But neither were complying, with Gable reaching for the vodka and Tracy grabbing a bottle of gin. Eventually a compromise was reached and DiPalma mixed the vodka and gin in with the coffee to appease the drunken pair. To DiPalma's surprise, both Gable and Tracy liked the rather strange mix that both intoxicated and sobered and poured some to Pickford and Hayes as well. Gable wondered whether DiPalma had added anything else to the coffee and Tracy joked "sure he did, the saw dust from Mayer's asshole." Gable laughed and started calling the concoction Mayer's Saw Dust and a new drink was born.

Eventually, the Mayer's Saw Dust became one of the more popular drinks among the Hollywood elite that frequented the Brown Derby, particularly those tethered to MGM who saw it as the ultimate inside joke and sweet revenge against the wicked Mayer. Owing, though, to an abject fear of Mayer, who dined at the Derby every Thursday and Sunday at Table 36, DiPalma had added the drink to the bar menu but listed it as "Mayor's" Saw Dust, ostensibly in honor of Los Angeles' three-term Republican mayor, George Cryer. Eventually the locals interposed the words and shortened the title, calling it the Dusty Mayor. No stranger to the new drink, Cryer nonetheless asked DiPalma to take it off the menu because Cryer was coming under heavy criticism during an upcoming re-election campaign by Democratic hopeful John Porter, who used Cryer's association with "spirits" as evidence of the moral decay of the greater Los Angeles area under Cryer's watch. DiPalma relented, but only slightly, renaming it the "Dusty Meyer", as it's been known ever since.

The Dusty Meyer itself has undergone a number of changes and local variations, the most dramatic of which was in 1962 when a drought in Brazil created a coffee bean shortage and forced numerous compromises. Eventually, though, most folks began using the recently introduced Kahlua in place of coffee and the modern Dusty Meyer was born. Not surprisingly, the Dusty Meyer is quite popular in Mexico, where locals often add and/or substitute tequila for any of the other ingredients and refer to it as the "El Dusto Supremo." But whether in Tijuana or Toledo, many a bar patron, when asked what they will have, respond enthusiastically with "make mine a Dusty Meyer."