Over the past 35 years, the strip club that was the brainchild of a toner salesman named Michael Barney has become a full-fledged cultural phenomenon, a place where, as Jermaine Dupri puts it in our oral history, “you can go on Monday night and stand beside a millionaire, the biggest thief in Atlanta, the biggest drug dealer in Atlanta, the police, and one of the biggest rappers or R&B artists in the world-all in the same room.” 🔊 So why no love for Magic City, sitting like a solitary neon beacon on a lonely street in south downtown?
The recorded announcement on the MARTA train when it approaches Garnett station namedrops all kinds of nearby points of interest, from City Hall to the gloomy Greyhound terminal just down the stairs.
