Rarely do we recognize the choices that alter our life’s trajectory. Every now and then a pivotal moment is so consequential it’s garishly obvious to be one of those fulcrums upon which the rest of our days teeter. What was it Hemingway said? “Today is only one day in all the days that will ever be. But what will happen in all the other days that ever come can depend on what you do today."
I imagine this was how Ernest Raymond Beaumont-Gant felt when his grandfather presented him with a choice - college, or a trip around the world? For Ernest the decision was easy. His frequent trips between the Caribbean and New Orleans helping his grandfather as a rumrunner took Ernest all over the West Indies where he acquainted himself with local flavors, cultures, and various styles of rum. But, this life operating just below the surface of polite society wasn’t going to last forever. New Orleans’ ambivalence to Prohibition notwithstanding any day now the G-Men could decide to make a name for themselves by making an example out of the rumrunners. It was time to see the world.
Hopping around the South Seas Ernest eventually landed a job on a freighter, taking him even farther. As far as south-east Asia where he visited the famous Raffles Hotel in Singapore. Along with a vast knowledge of Pacific Island food and drink he also collected artifacts. Which amounted to an impressive assortment of local ephemera as he combed the beaches. While Nick Carroway was facilitating meetings between his cousin Daisy and a man named Gatsby, Ernest was formulating a plan for making his own fortune.
Returning stateside Ernest had an idea to amalgamate his knowledge of Caribbean rums with the culture of Polynesia to create something that would portray his personal image of exotic. He imagined the idea for what would later be called Tiki.
Utilizing his shrewd business acumen Ernest decided to set up shop in Los Angeles. Now, L.A. at the time mandated that anyplace serving alcohol must offer food. So, Ernest went to his local Chinese market and asked around for a cook. Check.
Cantonese cuisine was exotic enough at the time, but for his drinks Ernest really wanted to not only imply exotica, but truly transport his patrons to the island in his mind. He used Caribbean spices, European liqueurs, and Polynesian fruits and iconography to achieve this. There was something else missing. It was here Ernest would leave his indelible mark on the world of cocktalia when he invented the technique of mixing different rums together to render new flavors. Unlike its counterpart spirits like bourbon or gin, rum varies exponentially in style and profile from region to region. Bright, fruity, expressions from Cuba and Puerto Rico. Grassy, brandy-like versions from Martinique. Jamaica, with its rich molasses funk. All the way to the earthy Demerara River of Guyana.
Everything fell into place by providence and in 1933, the day after the repeal of Prohibition Ernest opened his bar. Being nothing less than the consummate showman Ernest officially changed his name and called the bar after himself. Don the Beachcomber.
Another area Donn was quite adroit in was keeping his trade secrets. As imitators began the spread of Tiki diaspora Donn kept his recipes proprietary by assigning codes to various ingredients. These codes were decipherable by only a few select bartenders known as Donn’s boys. One of these trusted boys was Mariano Licudine who joined the Beachcomber’s team in 1939. It’s from Mariano’s personal notes that historian Jeff Berry was able to garner the recipe for one of Don the Beachcomber’s earliest drinks. Appearing on menus circa 1937, a mix of Virgin Islands and Puerto Rican rums, falernum, lime juice, cane syrup, and a touch of intrigue, Don the Beachcomber brings you the Vicious Virgin.
Ladies and gentlemen, my name is Tony, and this is Pod Tiki.
I’ve never done a two part episode on Pod Tiki, and I’m still not. But, I wanted to feature the Vicious Virgin and talk about Mariano Licudine even though he served the drink but didn’t create it. I felt like we needed to also feature one of his originals. Then, while doing initial research I was reminded of how Mariano’s career spanned not only a segment of time that was imperative to Tiki but a geographical milestone as well. He did something I try to do with this podcast. Something Donn did consequently when creating the genre of Tiki. Mariano’s is a story that blends Polynesia with the Caribbean. I call my version Tropiki. Mariano did it by cutting his teeth as part of Don the Beachcomber’s inner circle and ending up taking that expertise to the east coast of Florida. To the infamous Mai Kai.
In this episode we’ll cover Mariano Licudine’s rise to fame and the Beachcomber’s drink found in his notebook. In the next episode we’ll pick up with an exploration of the Mai Kai and one of Mariano’s original concoctions. Let’s jump in.
Mariano Licudine was born 1907 in Manila, the capital city of the Philippines. An early portent to Mariano’s future, he learned to make wine from sugar cane as a child. As Mariano was one of fourteen children I’m guessing his parents needed plenty of wine. In his twenties he worked pineapple fields in Hawaii eventually making landfall in California. The 1930’s found Mariano in Hollywood working for famed comedy duo Laurel & Hardy. When I was a kid my dad and I would watch old Laurel & Hardy shows together. Particularly a movie called Babes In Toyland. Although it sounds like a lesbian porno in today’s parlance, it’s actually a Christmas movie released in 1934 wherein Stan and Ollie live in a shoe and have to protect little Bo Peep. I love how seemingly random and bizarre things out of their time are taken. I imagine it made perfect sense to people watching it when it was new. I remember my dad laughing and being excited to show it to me. I never expected Laurel & Hardy to make an appearance in a Tiki podcast, but I suppose, with how pervasive the genre was in the early days of Hollywood, it was only a matter of time.
Mariano doubled as the duo’s driver and bartender. His first gig behind the stick wasn’t much prep for Tiki drinks. Stan and Ollie only drank scotch highballs. A far cry from the eight ingredient Zombies he would be mixing up in 1939 when he began bartending at Don The Beachcomber’s. That reminds me of a story my wife tells me about how she made so much more money slinging bottled beer and Jack & Cokes to tourists downtown than when she worked at a jazz club making craft cocktails. Here’s a pro tip fellas. If you frequent a club where the bartenders are musicians only working to get stage time the drinks are gonna be shit. But, the music will be awesome and you might just end up marrying the attractive girl behind the bar.
Back to Mariano. Working alongside other inner circle trustees, the likes of previous Pod Tiki subject and beachcomber legend, Dick Santiago, Mariano must’ve proved himself quickly because only a year later he was sent to open the new Chicago location of Don’s. I’m sure there was some adjusting to an actual winter for a boy from the tropics, I can relate, but shortly Mariano settled in, married, and started a family. As Donn Beach had a propensity for hiring Filipinos a bunch of Mariano’s cousins followed him out there subsequently marrying some of his wife’s friends. This really did make the Beachcomber’s feel like a family business. Mariano’s kids tell stories of how the restaurant was their playground. We see this with other Beachcomber alums and their families. Donn, for all his business acumen, mixology prowess, and abstract creativity, did foster an environment of inclusion among his staff.
In fact, the reason for his preference towards hiring Filipinos was not some racist idea of cultural appropriation. During his travels, Donn was taken in by a Filipino family who not only showed him extreme kindness as a foreigner, but introduced him to some of the flavors and processes he would later use in creating Tiki. There’s a good lesson there that you shouldn’t judge someone harshly for having aspects of cultures other than their own. We don’t know what someone else may’ve gone through to earn their stripes. That’s why I despise using the term ‘cultural appropriation’ in the pejorative. We are supposed to learn from other cultures. It’s called growing and it doesn’t mean you’re forsaking your own.
During his tenure at Don The Beachcomber’s Mariano worked his way up the ranks and was a valuable bartender. But, he would later lament, there was a certain way of doing things. A process to be adhered to. And, he had ideas. His own ideas.
It was around this same time, a few miles north of Chicago, that Jack and Bob Thornton were making their own overtures towards the unknown. Having secured a location in Fort Lauderdale, along the eastern seaboard of Florida just north of Miami, the brothers were setting out to bring Tiki to the Caribbean. Much in the same way Donn Beach brought Polynesian Pop to Waikiki, the Thorntons were bringing rum drinks to the Caribbean. Which may seem a little like bringing sand to the literal beach, but Floridians had never experienced the full on Tiki phenomenon bred on the west coast. We’ll get more into that in the next episode.
Bob and Jack, or because I’m close to Appalachia I like to lump them into one person as Jack-Bob. Ol’ Jack-Bob Thornton. Sounds like an old timer with a long white beard and over-alls with no undershirt who hides a copper still on the mountain. I think I’ve had some of Ol’ Jack-Bob’s moonshine. Whooo-ee! That’ll burn hotter than a hawk tua virus if you know whuttah mean.
Well, they had a bit of brilliance themselves, those two. You see, Mariano Licudine was Don The Beachcomber’s number 2 bartender, a lauded spot among Tiki elite, and his buddy Kenny Lee was the number 2 chef, equally laudable. The brother’s Thornton figured the number 2 guys would be more eager for advancement. They figured right and soon Mariano and Kenny were heading to the land of the Seminole.
It wasn’t immediately a rose garden, though. You see, Florida was a Jim Crow state that, for all its Caribbean influence, didn’t always take kindly to the unfamiliar dark skinned Asian community. Mariano’s son Ron Licudine recalls how the schools were still segregated when they moved there. “When daddy had to get a health card they had him down as ‘negro’”.
At work Mariano was a star. Jack-Bob deferred to him at almost every stage of construction, especially in hand designing the bar.
The cocktail program also came down to Mariano. Finally. However, before he was able to spread his own wings the bar needed some Tiki staples. Conferring with his family and armed with years of experience mixing Donn’s recipes Mariano adapted the Vicious Virgin into the Impatient Virgin. (Sounds like me in high school.) Missionary’s Downfall became Missionary’s Doom, and Pearl Diver was now Deep Sea Diver. He was now able to add his own drinks to the menu.
Thus, the Mai Kai opened to much acclaim in December 1956. Like its Hollywood counterpart the Mai Kai became a hotspot for celebrities and celebrity on-lookers. The suckling pig Luau meal cornered the food options, but Mariano’s drinks were the star of the show.
Soon Mariano Licudine himself was the star of the show. In 1959 his Derby Daiquiri won first prize in a Puerto Rican rum group sponsored contest. It was later named Esquire’s drink of the month and became the signature cocktail of the Gulfstream racetrack’s $100,000 Derby. When a New York magazine printed the recipe cocktail lounges across Manhattan all began serving the “$100,000 Drink.”
The Thornton’s opened a satellite bar in the Ft. Lauderdale airport, a place I’ve often had a few drinks on my way out on some Caribbean adventure, so folks arriving domestic and international could imbibe upon Mariano’s trade before even stepping foot into Florida’s palpable humidity.
A confirmed celebrity Mariano Licudine’s picture oft graced the pages of local newspapers. Ron tells one anecdote of his school teacher recognizing his last name and going to the Mai Kai that evening for the red carpet treatment. I assume Ron Licudine received straight A’s that year.
It was Mariano’s next invention that took him from celebrity mixologist to Tiki royalty. The Mai Kai Mystery Drink arrived to the table in an oversized Mystery Bowl carried by a scantily clad Mystery Girl. Wiggling over to the patron, placing the drink, she would adorn the guest with an orchid lei as a gong crashed out. Then, offering a salaam, she would seductively swing her hips in a slow hula back to whence she came. That’s right. Mariano Licudine invented the infamous Mystery Drink. A tradition I wish someone would bring back. In 1960 the Mai Kai served over 10,000 Mystery Drinks. That, my friends, is a whole lot of wigglin’ hips.
For a while the Mystery Drink was a well kept secret, but after Johnny Carson had one delivered to him on stage of the Tonight Show by a sultry Mystery Girl Tiki establishments across the country adopted the gimmick.
The Mai Kai was also the first to make famous a drinking club. Much like Smuggler’s Cove’s Rumbustion Society, when bibulous patrons worked their way through every drink on the menu the Okole Maluna, or ‘Bottoms Up’ Society was offered a personalized bamboo mug and could order Mariano’s original Big Bamboo cocktail.
Mariano became so that he could create drinks on the fly for any occasion. Jack-Bob would come to him with an idea for an event and he would have a specialty drink ready. They would actually let Mariano come up with the drink first, then name it and have a specialty mug produced to serve it in.
Much like how we inadvertently become our parents, Mariano ran his bar as strict as Donn Beach did for him. Admonishing his staff in either English, Spanish, or Chinese. “I’d rather hire someone who knows nothing”, he once said. “If he knows only what I teach him, it has to be right.”
Even to the degree of secreting away some of his recipes behind codes like Donn did. He was able to experiment so much due to his ability to amass a vast rum collection at the bar. At this time there was still an availability of Cuban rums, as well as proximity to all the rum producing regions of the West Indies of which Donn had accumulated his knowledge. Mariano fell in love with rum and blending them together the way Donn did. The eureka moment that followed a successful blending session was like chasing a high. He once said, “gin smells like cheap cologne”, and “scotch smells like medicine.” For his 48 drinks on the menu Mariano required 43 different rums.
Even though he stood sentinel at the bar six nights a week Mariano would still wander local liquor stores at night seeking inspiration. His son Ron recounts getting up early on Saturdays and going to the bar to mix syrups for the week. Mariano didn’t just supervise, either. He was behind the bar mixing drinks. Imagine that. We have celebrity bartenders now, of course. But, how often do you travel to a place to seek out an experience just to have the person who invented the cocktail actually be there mixing?
We’ll investigate this again the next episode, but it really was Mariano Licudine and the Mai Kai that brought the onslaught of Tiki to the East Coast. I can attest to this, coming of drinking age in Florida. My favorite beach bar, Coconuts on the Beach in Cocoa Beach is heavily influenced by polynesian pop iconography. Tiki totems line the beach entry, and thatch roofing hangs over a bar facing the ocean which pulses in rhythmic cadence through the dune grass like a dog breathing at the foot of the bed. Up and down the radius of the peninsula hotels, condos, restaurants, gift shops, cafes, and bars present the idolatry of Tiki mixed with our specific brand of Caribbean inspired tropics. A fair trade since Hawaii and California stole reggae from us.
Mariano took to traveling the Caribbean giving seminars on rum drinks. Think about that. In the place that created rum a Filipino Tiki bartender was teaching them. In 1959, at the Caribe Hilton in Puerto Rico he actually lectured to two of our other famous Pod Tiki alums. Monchito Perez, who invented the Pina Colada, and none other than consummate barkeep Joe Scialom, renowned across the world for drinks like the Suffering Bastard. Jamaican rum is arguably the heart of Tiki, and he even taught there where the locals lauded him exclaiming, “...if we don’t make it exotic, we can’t compete.” He finished his tour of Cuba two months before the revolution.
Mariano Licudine’s story mirrors other Tiki forebears in a lot of ways, but unlike others who eventually moved on from plying the Tiki trade, he poured till the end. Retiring in 1979 Mariano died a year later in 1980. The year I was born. Serving names like Joe DiMaggio, Jackie Gleason, Joe Namath, and Liberace, in the words of Beachbum Berry - “for once, the biggest celebrity in a Tiki bar was the bartender.”
So, with a tip of the Panama hat to the man who served this drink, Mariano Licudine, and the man who created it, Donn Beach, I give you the Vicious Virgin. Let’s make a drink!
You know, growing up in Orlando, Florida, in the 90’s, where bikini tops and daisy dukes were acceptable everyday attire, I don’t reckon I came across too many virgins. Let alone, vicious ones. There’s no story behind Donn’s naming of this drink, but I assume he thought the name was cool, seductive, a bit naughty. Mariano retooling it as the Impatient Virgin certainly assuages any licentiousness, but I like the term vicious here.
If Gen Z wanted to infer some kind of negative connotation they would probably say the word vicious is too aggressive and malicious intent. I’m not saying all woke culture is bad and we should go back to sleep, but maybe the extremists should take a nap once in a while. Babies get a bit cranky.
I think the combination of those two words here is brilliant. It’s a literary technique of using contradicting words together. Like, sick in love, or, quiet storm. The implicit virtuosity of the virgin described with such a ravaging term. Is the virgin vicious in order to ward off overtures from aggressive suitors. Or, is it that the primal desire which ignites within us all upon a certain maturity becomes such that the civilized portion of the brain can no longer tether it to polite society.
Personally, it brings to mind the image of a cacao skinned Polynesian woman, the tips of her sun bleached bronze hair resting on narrow shoulders. She’s laying on her side in a thatch hut, propped up on one elbow, soft rounded contour of her violin shaped body coming to a point at her toes. A floral sarong covers only her hips. She summons you towards her with a slow curling finger. You reach out expecting to feel the warm weight of her breast, but you come away holding a cold Tiki mug embossed with the image of a topless mermaid.
There’s also nothing in the way of Donn’s method for creating this drink, though it’s pretty easily discerned to be a daiquiri riff. First we’ll need a couple of rums. Donn stuck to the standards here. A gold Virgin Islands rum and a white Puerto Rican rum. When the recipe calls for Virgin Island rum I default to Cruzan. If you can find their Single Barrel, it’s a brilliantly creamy rum with notes of butterscotch and caramel. The standard Cruzan Gold is still pretty good, especially for the price. The flavors just diminished a bit. As for light Puerto Rican rum, make your choice. I’m tired of sticking up for Bacardi, so if you prefer Don Q? Let them eat cake. I think Bacardi has a deeper, richer flavor that is more indicative of old school Cuban style. If you can find Ron del Barralito, it’s not that crisp white rum taste we’re looking for, but it is the best PR rum I’ve tasted. The Havana Club produced in Puerto Rico is also really good.
When Donn created the Vicious Virgin Cuban rums were still available in the U.S. So, I wonder why the specific use of Puerto Rican? How were these two similar regions and styles of rum dissimilar enough to warrant the distinction? Modern Puerto Rican rums are nothing like they would’ve been almost a century ago when Donn was mixing, but Cuban Havana Club has been frozen in time. In my opinion Cuba produces the best rums in the world. So, comparing them to modern Puerto Rico rums we can conclude, perhaps, that the deep, rich, full, cane sugar notes of Cuban rum always contrasted the light, crisp, fruitiness of their Puerto Rican counterparts. In any case, I do not question the prowess of Don the Beachcomber when it comes to blending rums to achieve a tertiary gestalt flavor.
Next, we’ll need some falernum. A rum based liqueur from Barbados, falernum started out as just rum, sugar, and lime juice. Dating back to the 1700’s it was meant as a low ABV bottled punch. Later various spices began being added as distinguishing factors between producers. Common ingredients nowadays include clove, nutmeg, almond, and ginger. In his novel, All The Year Round, Charles Dickens mentions a curious liquor composed of rum and lime juice called falernum to which is often added a measure of wormwood and angostura. Falernum with absinthe and bitters actually sounds pretty good.
The origin of the name falernum has a funny anecdote. I love when a misunderstood accent or colloquialism becomes the common vernacular. In this case, Piercy Ward, of Mount Gay distillery, in a 1982 New York Times story, retold this tale of falernum’s origin. Apparently, the version they produced was based on one particular housewife’s recipe. When asked about the recipe the woman replied in her heavy Bajan accent, “haf a lern um.” As in, “have to learn them - or teach them.” I love that story, but truthfully, the name most likely derives from an ancient Roman wine called falernian. Which, in Latin, becomes Falernum.
There’s a few brands out there now. Sadly, I haven’t tried them all. The Latitude 29 and Maggie’s Farm brands are two I want to try. It’s hard to beat John D. Taylor’s, though. It’s the standard for Tiki and the most widely available. At least here in the southeast U.S..
A few more things we need are some fresh squeezed lime juice, sugar syrup, I’m still using my 1:1 water to raw cane sugar recipe, and lastly crushed ice.
Ice plays a pivotal role in preparing a Vicious Virgin. The recipe calls for 4 oz. I think that’s about the standard scoop used by bartenders. I may be a stickler for details when it comes to the perfect amount of ice, but in practice rarely is ice measured out. This means depending on how full the scoop is could change the dilution and consistency of the drink. Professional bartenders are probably rolling their eyes right now, but this is Tiki, dude! In my experience with this particular cocktail it matters. Heavy on the ice dilutes the Virgin too much, leaving her icy cold and watered-down and standoffish. Lighter on the ice gives us a silkier consistency, allows the Falernum to shine, and makes the Virgin a bit more reciprocal. My recommendation is just under 4oz, or a light scoop.
And the recipe is…
1 oz Gold Virgin Islands Rum
½ oz White Puerto Rican Rum
½ oz Lime Juice
¼ oz Simple Syrup
¼ oz Falernum
- 4 oz Crushed Ice
Mix everything in a blender for five seconds and double strain into a coup. Garnish with a cherry, double entendre. I suggest putting the cherry on a pick rather than in the drink because any excess syrup from the cherry will change the flavor and color of the drink. I usually take a cue from my podcasting colleagues Paul and Rhys and go No Garnish.
Secondary straining through a fine mesh sieve makes all the difference here in keeping the drink smooth by removing any pesky little ice chunks. In fact, here at the Pod Tiki household I double strain almost anything served straight up. Neither the misses, nor myself, appreciate ice pulp.
The first sip makes it apparent this is basically an exotic, tikified daiquiri. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s a wonderful sipper. Fruity notes from the rums are accentuated by a Caribbean spice warmth. Falernum definitely plays well with lighter rum even though it’s only just more than an essence here. I tried adding more, but then it’s a Falernum drink and not as balanced with the rums. The Virgin is crisp and tart, but also warm and soft and the only viscous thing about her is how she leaves you feeling after round two. Adrift somewhere between causes and effects.
For a woman the Vicious Virgin symbolizes perhaps the sweet taste of unshackling oneself from the burdens of inhibition. While for a man it could mean allowing a softer, feminine energy to permeate our darker recesses in preparation to accommodate the Vicious Virgin.
When recalling some of the pivotal moments in my own life I don’t often think about ‘what if?’. That would betray my attempts at being present. In all honesty, my future anxiety keeps my mind too busy to focus on things from the past. Or, perhaps, remembering the times I had to face difficult choices elicits thinks I’d rather not think. But just like Donn Beach chose to travel the world and Marianno Licudine chose to leave the Beachcomber for the Mai Kai we all eventually come face to face with a choice to leave the comfort we know for an adventure that has the potential to change our lives forever. In this way we all have a choice to stay virgin or get vicious.
My name is Tony and this has been Pod Tiki.
Sources: For more detailed versions of these stories and many more I couldn't fit here please purchase and read Jeff Berry’s book Sippin’ Safari. Falernum research was courtesy of diffordsguide.com.
Next episode we’re diving into the influence of Marianno and the Mai Kai on Florida and Caribbean Tiki.
Most of all, thank you for listening and Keepi Tiki!