Cherry Hill -- Where They Came To Misbehave

The original Garden State Park clubhouse.

Split-second photo finishes. Fancy dress outings. Boozy nights amidst rococo embellishments. Dining and dancing under the stars. Exotic treats alongside palm trees and a giant pineapple. Top-flight entertainment every night and cushy places to sleep -- or do whatever one does after midnight.

It all happened in Cherry Hill. 

And it wasn't so very long ago. Or at least that's the way it seems to some of us. It was a time when people looked for quick getaways and a convenient place to misbehave -- a place just beyond their usual boundaries where they could cut loose.

Much of it was built around Garden State Park, one of the finest thoroughbred race courses in the country. With a spaciousness and grandeur that rivaled some of the world's most hallowed venues for the sport of kings, Garden State's clubhouse attracted a sartorially-savvy, monied crowd. And when the sun came down after a day of racing it was time for the action to shift to an array of local bars and restaurants that catered to the smart set.

With Garden State as the center, the action stretched along Route 70 and Haddonfield Road in an area that, to this day is known as the Golden Triangle. Near the top of the triangle the Cherry Hill Hyatt (now the Crowne Plaza) held forth with a welcoming fountain, a grand lobby and clever eatery named Ginsburg and Wong that served Chinese food and kosher deli treats. 

Down the road, just opposite the race track stood the famed Latin Casino. A Philly transplant, "The Latin" was neither particularly Latin nor was it a casino. In fact, gambling wasn't yet legal in New Jersey, except for the state lottery and the thoroughbreds across Route 70. But The Latin did feature a huge casino-style showroom with attractions like Tom Jones, Frank Sinatra, Steve Lawrence and Edie Gormé, Don Rickles, Tony Bennett, 

Poolside at the Cherry Hill Inn.

Harry Belafonte, Jimmy Durante, Sammy Davis Jr., Dean Martin, Richard Pryor and Jerry Lewis. The place was as close as you could get to Las Vegas while still being east of the Mississippi. The Latin seated as many as 2,000 people and, at its height employed 300. In fact, a fast-footed car jockey at The Latin could earn a week's salary in just one night since the place offered two complete shows each evening. 

But while The Latin and Garden State were the jewels in the crown, the bright lights  extended along a full mile of those centerpieces and beyond. Near The Latin, the emerald brick facade of The Rickshaw Inn welcomed guests under a gold-plated, pagoda style roof and featured an Asian-inspired menu, similarly themed guest rooms and an outdoor pool and cabana club that offered flash with its splash. It was that from the Rickshaw's upper level, with the right binoculars, you could monitor the finish line at Garden State and see whether or not your horse won. 

Further down Route 70 the elegant Sans Souci (French for "without equal") supper club wasn't really French at all. But it did define the word risqué as its late night bar scene was known for discreet dalliances. Similarly renowned was Henry's on Haddonfield Road which provided a cozy corner of conviviality after dark. And, where Haddonfield Road meets Route 38 two legendary attractions held forth boasting classic elegance. Cinelli's Country House featured an iconic neon sign with carriage wheels that spun magically in the dark, an upscale Italian menu and lively bar action for the more mature set. Across the road, the Cherry Hill Inn sat majestically atop a hill, signaling restrained elegance with a British-inspired decor that morphed into a sort of shabby chic as the place not-so-gracefully aged. Still, the Inn did offer the famed Starlight Room and the chance to dine and dance under countless tiny white lights imbedded in its ceiling. 

Dining room at Cinelli's Country House.

Across Route 38, the Hawaiian Cottage beckoned with a giant pineapple (actually a gift shop) that led into a palm-bedecked room modeled after Hollywood's famed Coconut Grove. And yes, you could enjoy Polynesian delights at "The Hawaiian" along with sweet cocktails in take-home Tiki glasses. But one of the tastiest offerings was -- wait for it -- ravioli. Go figure!

That was Cherry Hill during the 1950s, 60s and into the 70s. It was a place just over the bridge or down the turnpike where people came to misbehave. They ate a lot. they drank a lot, they gambled a lot, they frolicked a lot and, inevitably, more than a few of them hooked up a lot.

Where did it go? Why didn't it last? Times change. And in 1978, after New Jersey legalized gambling the first casino opened in Atlantic City. That was the beginning of the end. Philadelphians could cross the bridge and, without hitting a single traffic light fly down the expressway and be at a real casino (with gambling, dining, dancing and entertainment all in one place) in no time at all. Similarly, those in New York or North Jersey could easily zip down the Garden State Parkway. And slowly, Cherry Hill's glittering attractions were replaced by office parks, corporate headquarters, car dealerships, movie multiplexes, strip malls, fast food joints and nursing homes. All that raucous rah rah became, well  . . . just another Wawa.