Café Carlyle Celebrates 70 Years

It’s difficult to know exactly what Kitt sang on that reopening night, or what she might have done onstage unless you were among the 90 guests seated closely in the room. The same intimacy holds true for Elaine Stritch, Barbara Cook, and later, Debbie Harry and Judy Collins. Yet no name resonates more deeply with Café Carlyle than Bobby Short, who, for six months of each year from 1968 until his passing in 2005, performed nearly every night. Short became nothing less than Carlyle's heartbeat—his performances turning the small cabaret into a living room of jazz and conversation.

Café Carlyle celebrated its 70th anniversary, marking seven decades of music and memory. Each performance (running from September to December) evokes that rare sense of timelessness and intimacy that defines the space. Framed by Marcel Vertès’ hand-painted murals, the room continues to tell a story of place—moving toward what Rosewood Hotels now calls a “timeless library of performance.”

The Café’s spirit of elusiveness and near secrecy is only heightened by its location—tucked between Bemelmans Bar and Dowling’s at The Carlyle (formerly The Carlyle Restaurant) and by a strict no-photography, no-recording policy that protects the intimacy of every show. One evening, however, remains legend: in 1993, Bobby Short performed for President Bill Clinton and First Lady Hillary Rodham Clinton, a night insiders still describe as the moment the Café “felt like the center of the world.”

That aura of discretion and glamour extends beyond the stage to The Carlyle Hotel itself—a timeless Upper East Side landmark since 1930, known for its devotion to guest privacy. From Princess Diana, who often stayed at the hotel (and once famously sang Michael Jackson’s “Beat It” in the elevator), to world leaders and artists alike, The Carlyle has long been known as an understanted sanctuary with walls alive with stories that belong only to those who were there.

In a New York Times article from 2005, Bobby Short described Café Carlyle as “home” and the place where he truly belonged. Two years later, as she marked her eightieth year and the Café’s fiftieth anniversary, Eartha Kitt echoed that sentiment:

“Well, there is no other place in the city that I would rather perform,” Kitt said. “The Café Carlyle is my performing home.”

There are very few places that can sustain such devotion for a month, let alone seventy years. Yet Café Carlyle continues to do so without losing the rhythm, intimacy, or grace that have made it legendary.