Maybe de Havilland (in town to work on The Snake Pit) gave Randall a roll back in ’35. Maybe they were coconspirators in the Marshall Plan Rembrandts-for-gold scandal. Maybe he was just your garden-variety stalker-psycho. In any event, they were to hook up here:
The Las Palmas is best known as where Richard Gere rescues Julia Roberts from the lumpen whoreitariat that is our lot. Worth seeing for the shot of the old neon that used to grace the pole outside, since replaced with backlit plastic.
A taste of Old Hollywood: nothing says Old Hollywood like a punker with a big mohawk in front of the Las Palmas. Depending on your definition of Old Hollywood, of course.