This is one of the postcards common to all resorts: the wide shot of the hotel auditorium. They're always dim, sort of grimy, and full of guys in poorly fitted blue suits. This one looks like an especially spacious bowling alley. I wonder if the photographer got in trouble for filling half the picture with the dirty ceiling.
Entertainment at this type of place usually consists of a few main categories: the surly guy with an acoustic guitar who keeps demanding requests; some kind of "exotic" act, like an amateur magician or flamenco dancer; or the type of washed-up bands you find at state fairs. It looks like this time it's the latter. I'm guessing one of those disposable '50s or '60s groups with names like The Zebras or Donny and the D-Lites.
The beatniks might attend, but only to make fun of them; the plaid-clad golfers were probably too busy fighting it out in the clubhouse. And thus ends another busy day at The Granit, as does our glimpse at its splendor. From swan-shaped napkins to angry golf matches, paradise is just a post card away.
