Thank you, mido505, for 110 additional testimonials to the existence of The Ha-Ra Club.
The man with the dragon-headed cane, black glove, and gashed forehead may have been Lord Pestlebottom of the Misrule, but we really never confirm or deny the identity of members at the Club. The Lord of Misrule lives in the cellar with Todd Baesen (for weeks at a time), waiting for Virgins of Kali or Doubters of Little Faith [as Tony appears to have become on this matter].
Lord Pestlebottom, you will remember, is always greeted there because he is a gentleman, as he described it himself:
"Lady Pestlebottom and I came here for one brief round on Saturday night, and were treated to compliments and free shots from the infamous Carl. He delivered on everything I had expected - berating juke-box selections (and rightfully so), insulting patrons, and attempting to procure Lady Pestlebottom's telephone number.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
"Carl told us that we were 'the only people who make sense around here.' Then he poured three shots of tequila and drank with us. Though I'm strictly a whisky man, I know better than to refuse a free drink from Carl."
But think, mido505, if Tony accosted Barman Carl Kickery, with obnoxious questions, such as, "Why did you squeeze the juice of that strange beetle into my drink?" Or "Are you and The Ha-Ra Club really 'just an elaborate fantasy,' Carl?" What if he tried to float one of his dry academic theories about Our Master Orson Welles to Carl, who really is a well-read expert on Film Noir?
It might go the way it sometimes goes for me, as Thomas B. of San Francisco has described it:
"'Don't talk to me! I f*cking hate you!' said the portly elderly bartender [Carl] to some bloke who, apparently, tried to talk to him. I reckon the bartender didn't like him, otherwise.
"Cool bar, been around since oh 1947 -- it's etched in the concrete in front of the swinging front doors -- and it's class-dive, i.e. the kind of place Sinatra and his Swinging Drunks would hang out at if Las Vegas didn't have such a hold on 'em.
"Cool pool table, too. I honestly had no problem with hanging out here. But then again, when I found myself outside with the bartender, and he was fumbling with his lighter, I lit his cigarette. He looked at me cold hard in the eyes and said, 'Thank you!'
"At least he didn't tell me to stop f*cking looking at him, 'cos he hated me. Then again, had he done that, I'd be tempted to give Ha Ra five stars."
From your Yelp source, mido505, here is The Ha-Ra Club, in the 1940's, when Harry and Ralph were alive:
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/9XGTHQ6J ... 6msrfDJ3Qw
Look carefully, and you may see Sam Spade, certainly Miles Archer, Todd Baesen, and Joel Cairo in the crowd at the bar.
And here is its exterior today (except either the "Ha" or the "Ra" is often out now, depending on how damp the weather is):
http://www.yelp.com/biz_photos/9XGTHQ6J ... E9OOPp5ZWw
I don't know what we're going to do, mido505, if Tony won't believe us after all of our substantiation. Tony will just have to meet the terrible glint in Dick Cheney's eye, see the flash of his ceremonial kris, when "Black Rick" and "Fireman Rick" throw his body like a bag of moldy potatoes down those cellar steps.
On the other hand, mido505, I may be the man with the dragon headed cane. The Ha-Ra Club IS your kind of place, and Tony's, as it is for all wellesnetters, so long as you do not misbehave in front of Carl.
It is "The Fountain of Youth." How Welles would have liked to film there.