The City: The Prestige Acropolis

Mustang after Mustang rolled down the Avenue of the Stars and up the gently curving driveway, past a sparkling fountain, to halt beneath the porte-cochere. On hand to help the guests alight were doormen rigged out in Beefeater suits. Inside, phalanxes of blonde, straight-haired teenagers, wearing tight pants and no shoes, padded noiselessly through the vast, thickly carpeted lobby. Standing by the automatic elevators were delicately feminine Japanese starters in long kimonos and obi sashes.

"Coming to a hotel," says Architect

Minoru Yamasaki (TIME cover, Jan. 18, 1963), "should be an event, a...