Dean Martin walked into the lobby of the Fontinon Blau Hotel in Miami Beach and immediately knew something was wrong. His band members should have been there waiting. They were supposed to check in an hour ago, but the only people in the lobby were white tourists and hotel staff.
Dean approached the front desk clerk with a smile, but before he could ask where his band was, he saw them. Through the glass doors, sitting on the curb outside in the Florida heat were three of his musicians. They were still in their traveling clothes, instrument cases at their feet, looking exhausted and humiliated.
What Dean learned in the next 5 minutes made his blood boil. What he did in the next 5 hours got 12 people fired, cost the hotel over 2 million, and changed Florida’s hospitality laws forever. And when Frank Sinatra heard what Dean had done, he made one phone call that destroyed the hotel’s reputation so completely it would never recover.
This is the story of the day Dean Martin declared war on an entire hotel. and won March 1962. The Fontenblau Hotel in Miami Beach was the most glamorous resort in America. It had hosted Elvis Presley, The Rat Pack, every major celebrity who performed in Florida. It was where the wealthy came to be seen, where stars came to play, where money and fame intersected in the most ostentatious way possible.
Dean Martin had been booked for a two-week residency, $20,000 per week, an astronomical sum. In 1962, the hotel was sold out for every single show. They were expecting to make over half a million dollars from Dean’s performances when you factored in the gambling, the restaurant sales, the room bookings.
It was a massive deal for both parties. Dean got a huge payday and exposure to wealthy clientele. The Fontanlau got Dean Martin, one of the biggest names in entertainment. But the Fontinlau had a problem. The same problem every major hotel in Florida had in 1962. It was completely segregated. Black guests weren’t allowed to stay there.
Black diners weren’t allowed in the restaurants. Black patrons weren’t allowed at the pool or in the casino. The only black people in the building were employees, maids, bus boys, janitors, people who worked in the kitchen or cleaned the rooms. Black performers could perform on stage. They could entertain white audiences. But the moment they walked off that stage, they were expected to leave.
They couldn’t eat in the hotel restaurants. They couldn’t stay in the hotel rooms. They couldn’t enjoy any of the amenities their performances were paying for. This was the reality in 1962 Florida. And everyone in the entertainment industry knew it and accepted it as the price of doing business. Everyone except Dean Martin.
Dean’s band consisted of 12 musicians. Nine of them were white. Three of them were black. There was James Jimmy Henderson, a trumpet player who’d been with Dean for 5 years. There was Marcus Cole, a saxophagist who’d played on dozens of Fu Dean’s recordings. And there was William Billy Foster, a drummer who was considered one of the best in the business.
These weren’t just employees to Dean. They were his friends. They traveled together, ate together, joked together. Dean didn’t see color when he looked at his band. He saw talented musicians who made him sound good and people he genuinely liked. When Dean’s manager had negotiated the Fontineau deal, he’d specifically included a writer in the contract.
All of Dean’s band members were to be accommodated at the hotel. All of them were to have full access to all facilities, no exceptions. The hotel had signed the contract, but apparently nobody had actually read that clause carefully, or they’d assumed they could work around it somehow. They were wrong. Dean’s band had flown from Los Angeles to Miami on March 15th.
They’d taken a cab from the airport to the Fontanlau, excited to be staying at such a famous hotel. The white band members had checked in without any issues. They’d been given their room keys. Their luggage had been taken upstairs. Everything was smooth. Then Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy approached the front desk.
The clerk, a middle-aged woman named Patricia Simmons, had looked at them with barely concealed disgust. “Can I help you?” “We’re here to check in,” Jimmy said politely. “We’re with the Dean Martin Orchestra,” Patricia’s expression didn’t change. “I’m sorry, but we don’t have any reservations under those names.” Jimmy pulled out the paperwork his manager had given him.
It should be under Dean Martin’s booking. His entire band is supposed to be accommodated here. Patricia barely glanced at the paperwork. I’m afraid there’s been a misunderstanding. The Font and Blow doesn’t accommodate colored guests. You’ll need to find lodging elsewhere. There was a moment of shocked silence.
The other band members who’d been standing nearby waiting for their friends turned around. What? Billy said, “What do you mean we can’t stay here? We’re performing here. We’re part of Dean’s band.” I understand that,” Patricia said, her voice cold and professional. “You’re welcome to enter through the service entrance when it’s time for rehearsals and performances, but as guests, we cannot accommodate you.
” Marcus stepped forward, trying to keep his voice calm. “Ma’am, our manager specifically negotiated this. It’s in Dean’s contract. All band members get hotel accommodations. All of us.” Then there’s been an error in the contract, Patricia said. “Because our policy is very clear. We do not allow Negroes to stay as guests. That’s not going to change.
One of the white band members, a basist named Tony Romano, spoke up. This is ridiculous. They’re professional musicians. They’re with us. You can’t just I can and I am. Patricia cut him off. She gestured to a security guard standing nearby. Please escort these men out of the hotel. The security guard, a large man who looked uncomfortable with the situation, approached.
Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy. You need to leave now. Where are we supposed to go? Jimmy asked, his voice tight with controlled anger. We just flew across the country. We’re supposed to perform tonight. Where are we supposed to stay? There’s a colored boarding house about 5 mi from here, Patricia said as if she were doing them a favor by providing this information. You can stay there.
Someone can drive you to the service entrance when it’s time for you to perform. This is insane, Tony said. Dean is going to lose his mind when he finds out about this. Mr. Martin’s contract is to perform. Patricia said, “How his band members are accommodated is not his concern. Now, if these men don’t leave voluntarily, I’ll have them arrested for trespassing.
” Jimmy looked at Marcus and Billy. They were outnumbered and outpowered. If they resisted, they’d be arrested, probably beaten, definitely blamed for causing trouble. So, they did the only thing they could do. They picked up their instrument cases and walked out. They sat on the curb outside the hotel for over an hour trying to figure out what to do.
They couldn’t afford to fly back to Los Angeles. They needed this job. But the humiliation of being thrown out of the hotel, of being told they weren’t good enough to stay where they worked, it burned. That’s where they were sitting when Dean Martin’s car pulled up to the hotel entrance at 3:30 p.m. Dean stepped out of the car, tipped the driver, and walked toward the lobby doors. That’s when he saw them.
Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy sitting on the curb looking defeated. Dean stopped. What are you guys doing out here? Jimmy stood up. Dean, we need to talk to you about something. Talk to me inside where it’s air conditioned. It’s got to be 90° out here. We can’t go inside, Marcus said quietly. Dean looked confused.
What do you mean you can’t go inside? Billy explained what had happened. How they’d been refused check-in? How the front desk clerk had told them the hotel didn’t accommodate colored guests? how they’d been escorted out by security, how they’d been sitting outside for over an hour. With every word, Dean’s expression got darker.
By the time Billy finished, Dean’s face was set in a way the band members had never seen before. Cold, furious, dangerous. Wait here, Dean said. Don’t move. I’ll be right back. Dean walked through the lobby doors. The white band members saw him and immediately came over. Dean, did they tell you what happened? It’s completely Dean held up a hand, cutting them off.
He walked straight to the front desk. Patricia Simmons looked up with a professional smile that died the moment she saw Dean’s expression. “Mr. Martin, welcome to the Fontin Blow. We’re so excited to have you. Where’s your manager?” Dean’s voice was quiet but hard. I’m sorry. Your manager, your supervisor, whoever’s in charge of this hotel, get them down here now.
Patricia’s smile flickered. Is there a problem, Mr. Martin? Yeah, there’s a problem. You just threw three of my band members out of this hotel, so get your manager down here before I start making this problem much bigger. Patricia picked up the phone with shaking hands. Mr. Whitmore. Dean Martin is at the front desk.
He’s requesting to speak with you immediately. It’s urgent. 3 minutes later, Richard Whitmore, the hotel’s general manager, emerged from an elevator. He was a polished man in his 50s, wearing an expensive suit, oozing the kind of confidence that comes from never being told no. Mr. Martin Whitmore extended his hand with a broad smile.
It’s such an honor to have you at the font and blow. I trust everything is Dean didn’t shake his hand. You refused to let three of my band members check into this hotel. Whitmore’s smile didn’t waver. Ah, yes. I was just informed about that situation, Mr. Martin. I apologize for any confusion, but we have very clear policies about who can stay as guests in this establishment.
Those policies are in place for the comfort of all our guests, and I don’t care about your policies, Dean cut him off. I care about my contract, which specifically states that all of my band members will be accommodated at this hotel. All of them. I understand there may have been some miscommunication during the contract negotiations, Whitmore said smoothly.
But our policies supersede any individual agreements. We simply cannot allow negro guests to stay in the hotel. It would upset our other guests, many of whom have very strong feelings about. Stop talking, Dean said. His voice was still quiet, but there was steel underneath. Just stop talking. Here’s what’s going to happen.
You’re going to check in Jimmy Henderson, Marcus Cole, and Billy Foster. You’re going to give them rooms on the same floor as the rest of my band. You’re going to give them full access to all hotel facilities, and you’re going to do it in the next 5 minutes. Whitmore’s smile finally disappeared. Mr. Martin, I’m afraid that’s not possible.
Our policies are set by the ownership group and they’re very clear. We’ve never allowed negro guests and we’re not going to start now, regardless of who they’re associated with. Then I’m not performing, Dean said simply. Whitmore blinked. I’m sorry. You heard me. If my band members can’t stay here, I’m not performing.
I’ll pack my things and be on the next flight back to Los Angeles. Mr. Martin, you have a contract. You’re legally obligated to perform. If you breach that contract, you’ll owe us substantial damages. We’re talking hundreds of thousands of dollars. Sue me, Dean said. I’ll happily go to court over this. I’ll tell every judge in every newspaper exactly why I refused to perform.
That you threw my band members out because of the color of their skin. Let’s see how that plays in the press. Whitmore’s face went red. Mr. Martin, be reasonable. This isn’t personal. This is just how things are in Florida. Every hotel operates this way. Your negro band members can stay at a boarding house nearby.
We’ll provide transportation for them. They can still perform with you. They just can’t stay here as guests. That’s not good enough. Dean said, “They’re not secondass citizens, and I’m not going to treat them like they are. So, here’s the deal. Either they check in right now or I leave. You have five minutes to decide.” Dean turned and walked toward the exit.
Whitmore called after him. Mr. Martin, please, let’s discuss this reasonably. Surely, we can find some compromise. Dean pushed through the doors and walked over to where Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy were still sitting on the curb. The rest of his band had followed him outside. “Pack your things,” Dean told the white band members. “We’re leaving.
” Tony spoke up. “Dean, what about the contract? What about the money?” “There’s no amount of money worth compromising on this,” Dean said. “We’re not performing in a hotel that treats our friends like garbage. One of the other musicians, a pianist named Dave Harrison, hesitated. Dean, we need this gig. A lot of us need this money.
Can’t we just work something out? Let Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy stay at another place and we perform anyway. Dean looked at Dave with disappointment. You really want to do that? You want to stand on stage and perform while three of our friends are banned from the building because of their skin color? That’s the compromise you’re suggesting? Dave looked ashamed. No, you’re right.
I’m sorry. Dean turned to Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy. I’m sorry this happened. This is on me. I should have made sure the contract was airtight. I should have confirmed before we got here that the hotel would actually honor it. This isn’t your fault, Dean, Jimmy said. This is just how it is. Well, it shouldn’t be, Dean said.
And I’m not going to pretend it’s acceptable. Richard Whitmore had followed Dean outside. Mr. Martin, please, let’s go back inside and discuss this privately. I’m sure we can reach an understanding. The understanding is simple, Dean said. Either you check in all of my band members or I’m gone. I cannot do that, Whitmore said, his voice hard now.
Our policies are non-negotiable. If you leave, you’re in breach of contract. We will sue you for every penny we lose. The room bookings, the dinner reservations, the anticipated gambling revenue, all of it. We’re talking about over $2 million in potential damages. Then sue me, Dean repeated. I’ll see you in court.
Whitmore played his final card. If you walk away from this, Mr. Martin, your reputation in the entertainment industry will be destroyed. No hotel will want to book you. No venue will trust you. You’ll be known as the artist who can’t fulfill his obligations. Is your career really worth three band members who can easily stay somewhere else? Dean took a step closer to Whitmore.
His voice was quiet, but everyone nearby could hear him. My career is worth exactly nothing if I have to sell my soul to maintain it. These three men are worth more to me than any amount of money or any number of shows. So yeah, my career is absolutely worth taking a stand for them. He turned to his band. Let’s go. We’ll figure out the next steps when we get back to LA.
As they started loading their instruments into cabs, Whitmore made one last desperate attempt. Mr. Martin, we have 1,200 people who purchased tickets to your shows. What am I supposed to tell them? Dean stopped and turned back. Tell them the truth. Tell them Dean Martin walked out because your hotel is run by racists. I’m sure they’ll understand.
The band left the Fontaine blow. They went to the airport and booked flights back to Los Angeles. As they waited for their flight, Dean made a phone call from a pay phone. He called Frank Sinatra. Frank, it’s Dean. I need to tell you what just happened. Dean explained the entire situation. How the hotel refused to let Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy check in. How he’d walked out.
How they’d threatened to sue him for breach of contract. There was silence on the other end of the line for a long moment. Then Frank spoke and his voice was cold with rage. They did what? Threw my guys out, told them they weren’t good enough to stay in the same hotel where they’re supposed to perform.
And you walked out? Of course I walked out. What else was I supposed to do? Nothing else, Frank said. You did exactly right. Now, let me make a few phone calls. This isn’t over. Frank, they’re threatening to sue me for $2 million. Let them try. By the time I’m done with that hotel, they won’t have the money to sue anyone. Frank Sinatra spent the next 3 hours on the phone.
He called every major entertainer he knew. He explained what the Fontine Blow had done to Dean’s band members. He explained how Dean had walked out rather than compromise. And then he made a simple request. Don’t perform at the Fontine Blow ever. Spread the word. That hotel is off limits. E. The response was immediate and overwhelming.
Sammy Davis Jr. who’d experienced similar discrimination countless times, was the first to commit. I’m in. That hotel is dead to me. Then others followed. Tony Bennett, Ella Fitzgerald, Nat King Cole, Lena Horn, Pearl Bailey. Every major black entertainer in America pledged to never perform at the Font Blow. But it wasn’t just black entertainers.
White artists joined, too. Judy Garland, Jack Benny, Bob Hope, they all said the same thing. If the Fontine Blau treats Dean Martin’s band members like that, they’re not getting our business either. Within 24 hours, the Fontine Blau had lost every major entertainment booking for the next 6 months. Axe cancelled.
Agents refused to negotiate with them. The hotel’s entertainment calendar, which had been booked solid, was suddenly empty. But Frank wasn’t done. Frank Sinatra had connections everywhere, including with hotel ownership groups and investment firms. He made calls to people who had financial interests in the Fontan Blow.
He explained what had happened. He explained that he and Dean and every major entertainer they knew would be boycotting the hotel. He explained that this was going to cost the Fonten Blau millions of dollars. And then Frank made it clear that he would use his influence to ensure that any hotel group that did business with the Fontin Blow would face similar boycots.
It was hard ball, but Frank didn’t care. Dean was his friend and nobody messed with Frank’s friends. The financial pressure was immediate and catastrophic. The Fontaine Blows ownership group watched as their star-studded entertainment calendar evaporated. They watched as wealthy guests started cancing reservations because they didn’t want to be associated with a hotel that was being boycotted by everyone who mattered in Hollywood.
3 days after Dean walked out, the Fontine Blows ownership group held an emergency meeting. They fired Richard Whitmore, the general manager who’d refused to accommodate Dean’s band members. They fired Patricia Simmons, the front desk clerk who’d thrown Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy out. They fired 10 other employees who’d been involved in the incident or who’d expressed support for the segregation policies.
And then they issued a public statement. The FontinBlow Hotel deeply regrets the incident involving members of Dean Martin’s orchestra. Our policies were wrong and do not reflect the values we want this establishment to represent. Effective immediately, the Fontanlau will welcome all guests regardless of race.
We are implementing comprehensive staff training on civil rights and human dignity. We have terminated the employees responsible for the discriminatory actions that occurred. We invite Mr. Martin to return and perform under conditions that respect the dignity of all his band members. The statement made headlines across the country.
It was covered by every major newspaper. The story wasn’t just about a hotel changing its policies. It was about Dean Martin taking a stand and winning. But Dean wasn’t interested in going back to the Fontan Blau. He released his own statement through his publicist. I appreciate that the Fontanlau has changed its policies, but my band and I will not be performing there.
Not because of lingering animosity, but because there are hundreds of other hotels in America that still practice segregation. Until all of them change, until every hotel in this country treats people with basic human dignity, regardless of skin color, my work isn’t done. I’ll be choosing very carefully where I perform from now on.
Dean meant it. For the rest of his career, he included strict anti-discrimination clauses in every contract. If a venue had segregation policies of any kind, Dean wouldn’t perform there. He turned down lucrative deals. He walked away from money. But he never compromised on that principle. Other entertainers followed his lead.
It became standard practice to include these clauses. Hotels and venues that wanted to book major acts had to integrate. The financial incentive was too strong. They could either maintain their racist policies and lose money or change and get the bookings. It didn’t solve racism. It didn’t end discrimination, but it made it harder for establishments to profit from bigotry.
And it sent a message that some people wouldn’t compromise regardless of the cost. The three musicians at the center of the incident, Jimmy Henderson, Marcus Cole, and Billy Foster, stayed with Dean’s band for the rest of their careers. Dean made sure they were always protected, always respected, always treated as equals.
In 1968, 6 years after the Fontana Blow incident, Jimmy Henderson gave an interview to Downbeat magazine about working with Dean Martin. “What Dean did in Miami changed my life,” Jimmy said. Not just because he stood up for us, but because of what it taught me. He taught me that my dignity was worth more than any paycheck. That I didn’t have to accept being treated as less than human just to work.
That was revolutionary for me as a black man in America in 1962. The interviewer asked if Jimmy was surprised that Dean walked out. “Yes and no,” Jimmy said. “I knew Dean was a good man. I knew he didn’t see color the way a lot of people did, but walking out, risking a $2 million lawsuit, potentially destroying his relationship with every hotel in Florida, that level of commitment shocked me.
Most people, even good people, wouldn’t have done that. They would have found some compromise, some way to make it work. But Dean didn’t compromise. He just said, “No, this is wrong, and I’m not participating in it.” That takes a special kind of courage. Marcus Cole, interviewed for the same article, added his perspective.
The thing people don’t understand is that Dean didn’t do it for publicity. He didn’t call reporters. He didn’t make a big announcement. He just walked out. It was only after Frank Sinatra got involved in the story leaked that it became public. Dean’s instinct was to just quietly refuse to participate in racism. That tells you everything you need to know about his character.
Billy Foster, the drummer, had the simplest and most profound take. Dean Martin looked at us and saw musicians, not black musicians, just musicians. That sounds small, but in 1962, that was everything. He treated us like we mattered, like our dignity was as important as his. That’s not just being a good boss, that’s being a good human being.
The Fontan Blau Hotel eventually recovered from the controversy, but it took years. They had to completely rebrand. They had to bring in new management. They had to prove to the entertainment industry that they had actually changed. It cost them millions in lost revenue and damaged reputation. Richard Whitmore, the general manager who’d been fired, never worked in hotel management again.
Ibar reputation was destroyed. No establishment would hire him. He ended up running a small motel in Georgia. Bitter about what he called the Dean Martin incident for the rest of his life. Patricia Simmons, the front desk clerk, disappeared from public life entirely. There are no records of where she went or what she did after being fired.
But the 12 people who lost their jobs weren’t the real story. The real story was the change that followed. Within 2 years of the Fontine Blow incident, most major hotels in Florida had integrated. Not because they wanted to, but because they had to. The financial pressure was too great. The entertainment boycott were too effective.
They couldn’t afford to maintain segregation policies. By 1964, when the Civil Rights Act was passed, Florida’s hospitality industry had already made significant changes. Not enough changes, not fast enough, but changes nonetheless. And those changes were accelerated by what Dean Martin did in March 1962. When Dean Martin died in 1995, Jimmy Henderson, Marcus Cole, and Billy Foster all attended his funeral.
They sat together, three old men who’d spent their careers playing music, united by a moment 33 years earlier, when a singer from Ohio had looked at them and decided their dignity was worth more than $2 million. At the funeral, Jimmy spoke to a reporter who was covering the event. Dean Martin saved more than our jobs that day in Miami.
He saved our self-respect. He showed us that we didn’t have to accept being treated as less than human. That was a gift I carried with me for the rest of my life. The reporter asked if Jimmy had stayed in touch with Dean over the years. “Always,” Jimmy said, his voice thick with emotion. “We played together until Dean retired, and even after that, he’d call on our birthdays.
He’d invite us to family events. He treated us like family because to him, we were family.” That’s who Dean Martin was. Not the cool guy from TV, not the drunk act he did on stage. The real Dean Martin was a man who looked at the world and refused to accept its injustices, who used his power to protect people who didn’t have power. That’s the man I knew.
That’s the man I’ll remember. The story of Dean Martin and the Fontlau Hotel is about more than one incident of discrimination and one walk out. It’s about the power of saying no. The power of deciding that some things are more important than money or career or convenience. Dean Martin could have performed at the Font and Blow.
He could have let Jimmy, Marcus, and Billy stay at a boarding house 5 miles away. He could have maintained his contract and made his money and avoided all the conflict. Most people would have done exactly that. They would have found a way to rationalize it. That’s just how things are. We’re working within the system. We can’t change everything overnight.
But Dean didn’t rationalize. He didn’t compromise. He just looked at the situation and said, “No, this is wrong. I’m not doing it.” That simple refusal changed lives. It changed policies. It changed an entire industry’s approach to civil rights. It cost Dean money. It cost him bookings. It made him enemies. But it also showed everyone who was watching that one person can make a difference.
That standing up for what’s right, even when it’s expensive, even when it’s difficult, even when it’s risky, is always worth it. The FontinBlow Hotel refused to serve Dean Martin’s black band members. Dean Martin walked out. And in doing so, he helped change the rules for everyone. That’s not just taking a stand. That’s changing the world one hotel at a time.
And that’s the legacy that matters most. Not the songs or the movies or the awards, but the moments when Dean Martin looked at injustice and refused to participate. The moments when he chose people over profit, dignity over dollars, principle over everything. That’s not just cool. That’s courage. That’s character.
That’s heroism in its purest form. And that’s the Dean Martin story that should never be forgotten.
