CALIFORNIA | LOCAL
February 20, 1999 |
It is a little past noon on a Friday, and the high-ceilinged ballroom in San Pedro's venerable Dalmatian-American Club is packed with people and redolent with the scent of pasta and swordfish steaks. Black-and-white-uniformed waitresses carry trays from the upstairs kitchen down elegant staircases to the long rows of cloth-covered tables laden with china and carafes of white and blush wine. Greetings and gossip from the lips of some 400 diners flow as freely as the wine.