I'll always cherish and relish the Monarch Room of The Royal Hawaiian hotel, the fabled Pink Palace on the stretch of golden sand in Waikiki, simply because it was and is the apex of show biz addresses.

If you worked there, you were on an elite list. If you saw a show there, you were in the most highly regarded showcase in Waikiki. If you've never been there, what are you waiting for?

The Royal Hawaiian, which had been closed much of last year for an $85 million renovation-restoration, has its gala reopening to-do tomorrow.

The Monarch Room now functions as a special-event jewel in the Pink Palace, since there no longer is a resident act. Shameful, but memories linger.

For me, this is the grand dame with a past — a wonderful history of fabulous shows — that is unsurpassable.

In its heyday, the Monarch Room was the place to high-tail to. Before my time, the elegant and the hoity-toity used to frolic and celebrate to the wondrous hapa-haole sounds of Harry Owens and his orchestra.

Bill Tapia, now 101 and full of spunk, played at the hotel's opening, gave a concert in the Monarch Room last May and returns for the weekend launch of special events, though trumpeter Chris Botti is the Monarch Room headliner this weekend.

You were literally in the pink if you counted the Royal among your stomping grounds.

In its Territorial era, the hotel was a visitor mecca. I mean, it was in the heart of Waikiki; you had to be able to afford the place.

My experience of frequenting the Monarch Room, the only genuine supper-club setting remaining in Waikiki, was in the late 1960s and early '70s, when locals started showing up in their finest aloha shirts and mu'umu'us, post-statehood.

Reason: A retinue of acts, with appeal to both residents and visitors, were booked in the room. Heck, the hotel even had an entertainment director who was charged with putting names on the marquee so butts would fill the seats.

I met, saw and reviewed a cherubic Wayne Newton at the Monarch Room in those glory days; he was a chubby, genial sort with red hair then, belting out his No. 1 hit, "Danke Schoen."

Locals lucky enough to earn the spotlight in the past 30 years: Emma Veary, Ol' Golden Throat, known for her "E Maliu Mai" and "Kamehameha Waltz" smasheroos; Ed Kenney, a golden baritone, coupled with Marlene Sai, the contralto-voiced hit-maker of "Waikiki," and hula soloist Beverly Noa, whose "Lovely Hula Hands" was, indeed, lovely; Manu Bentley, one-time hula soloist and headliner; John Rowles, the New Zealand popster of "Cheryl Moana Marie" fame; Rhonda, another New Zealand star with a Polynesian and operatic repertoire; Andy Bumatai, the standup comic, whose opening act was Loretta Ables (now Loretta Ables Sayre and now starring on Broadway); even a Jack Cione-produced spectacle with feathers and sequins; and, of course, The Brothers Cazimero, the duo comprised of Robert and Roland Cazimero and hula dancer Leina'ala Kalama Heine.

The place was unique for its times: tables of 10 for large parties, smaller tables for couples or foursomes, with an aura of formality — white tablecloths, fancy china and silverware, sleek menus boasting images of Matson liner days and old-time Hawaiiana.

Among my flashbacks:

• This was the supper club that introduced me to turtle soup, in an era when it was possible to serve turtle soup.

• The stage had a velvet red curtain, suggesting regality.

• There always was a gallery of "scholarship section" gawkers, watching the show from the beach. Headliners often waved aloha from the stage.

• Christmastime meant an annual yuletide special with the Honolulu Boy Choir and their "Numbah One Day of Christmas," complete with hula jig.

• There was always an oversized floral display just outside the Monarch Room entrance — the perfect spot for a photo op.

• Valet parking always felt special 'neath the porte cochere. That spot of the Pink Palace always felt like a Hollywood set.