The Monticello Hotel's Cockroach Clock was a local landmark for several decades. "Meet me under the cockroach", men would murmur to their paramours. Paramours abounded in 50's Norfolk; love was in the air. Accountants would sit in their offices, ratcheting their adding machines and staring out the window, dreaming of crinolines. Mayor Finkel would slip out for a "late lunch" and find himself slinking through the lobby of the Monticello, taking in the green velvet armchairs and the cigar smoke, making for the bank of elevators with his heart in his throat. Those were the days.