Meet Mitchell Chonin: Lincoln Road Dancer, Performance Artist

Do you remember that bit on Sesame Street where there were four kids, each in a corner of the screen, and one of those kids was always “doin’ his own thing?”  Mitchell Chonin is that kid.  Street performer by night, regular joe by day.  No, scratch that.  Mitchell Chonin is anything but your regular joe.

Performing in South Beach for the last 19 years, anyone who has spent any amount of time on Lincoln Road knows Mitchell.  Disco Mitch.  Disco Fox.  Seventies King of South Beach.  Seventies Queen of South Beach.  The Retro Queen.  The list of names for him goes on.

If the name isn’t familiar, his style and performance are unmistakable:  with piercing blue eyes and sandy brown, Einsteinish hair that is thinning on top, Mitchell Chonin dances and twirls the nights away for your donations on Lincoln Road.  Playing music all but lost in time, the ever-present silver boombox sits behind him with songs such as the Love Boat Theme and Night Fever crackling out of its distorted speakers.  And when the B-side plays all the way through, Mitchell reaches in and grabs the next cassette from the hip-pouch bag strapped around his waist.  Always in a skirt, and always in platform shoes, THIS is Disco Mitch.

“But you can call me Bobby Jo, if you want, Scott.”  Why Bobby Jo?  Why on earth Bobby Jo?

“It’s got that 60s kind of fling to it.  Kind of a combination Motown, Diana Ross and the Supremes.  Sort of a Spanish and Black name.”

And in the words of The Carpenters, we’ve only just begun…

The Talker.

Who is the man behind the platform shoes?  Born in 1960 to a family with one brother and one sister (both of whom still live in South Florida), Mitchell grew up in Hialeh.  A straight A student, Mitchell was valedictorian and, according to him, Hialeh Prom Queen 1975/76.  After moving to South Beach in 1988, he finally settled on Drexel Avenue where he’s been ever since.  “88 was more sassy and classy.  Then renovation took over.”
Mitchell is a local.  A local with character and a WHOLE lot to say.

I should have known before we even sat down at the Starbucks on Pennsylvania and Lincoln in December that I would get an earful.  A week prior to our interview, I had given him my cell number so that we could set up a time to meet and, singlehandedly, Mitchell filled up my entire voicemail.  One particular day, he called and left four messages back to back, each a continuation of the one prior as he continued to reach the maximum time limit and get cut off.  Mitchell is a talker.

He assures me at the start of the interview, “It’ll be as easy as putting on the glass slippers.  Easy as 1 - 2 - 3.”  And it is.  Because I don’t have to talk.  In fact, I can’t talk because I can barely get a word in edgewise.  Not that I minded.  At all.  Mitchell is non-stop enthusiasm, overflowing with character and if you are ever starving for conversation, Mitchell’s your man. 

“Do you know if it’s going to be cold on the 24th,” he asks me as we sit.

No, no I don’t.

“The freaking weather changes.  Now you’ve got Olga out there that’s passing, going to give us a sassy weekend.  Probably going to get a little bit of rain.  I’ll still go out anyway.  But it’ll be a washout.  Not much I can do.  Just stop and go, hide under restaurant covers.  Who would think that tropical storm Olga would be out there in Puerto Rico?  Makes your mind go in the twighlight zone! “
Yes.  No.  I don’t know.  Wait, what?  I can barely keep up with him.

He is all over the place; frenetic, his face as animated as his dialogue.  From the weather to politics to the elderly and, of course, to the fabulous music of the 50s, 60s, and 70s, Mitchell can and WILL talk about anything.  And he is “on” during our time together; warm, vibrant, full of energy, a mile-a-minute “Don’t stop til you get enough.”  He is on like he is on when he becomes the larger-than-life cross-dressing ballerina for the crowds that gather in the evenings; whether it’s one person or fifty, eyeballing him curiously.

The Fashionista.

When we meet, Mitchell is dressed in a blue and orange blouse with a red and yellow flowered print skirt.  The purplish leopard print platform shoes cover his mismatched white-and-gray-socked feet while pink plastic bracelets adorn his wrist and Mardi Gras type beads dangle loosely from his neck.  His appearance is unmistakable.  What inspires his style?  “I love skirts… certain women’s clothes.  If the skirt fits, wear it!  When I’m dancing to Jerry Lee Lewis or La Bamba, I want the skirt and the incomprehensible music together… I put it together… my genius.  I want the music to correlate with the fashion.”

I had heard a rumor that, at one point, there were people that went around South Beach as actual Fashion Police and they had written Mitchell a ticket.  I asked if there was any truth to the story.  “They did write me a ticket, Scott.  And do you know what it said on it? ‘You look absolutely fabulous!’”  (Mitchell gave up that he gets most of his clothes at Pop on Washington Avenue or St. Stephens in Coconut Grove for those looking to emulate that retro look.)

The Entertainer.

But it is the music.  This is what defines Mitch and fills his souls.  “My life is the 50s, 60s, and 70s; that’s my heart.  My brain is in 2007 (ed. note, interviewed in 2007).  My mind, work, passion, art, and energy is for the 50s, 60s, and 70s.”  He is the “Encyclopedia Brittanica” for those decades.

“Part of my job is stumping people.  If somebody is walking by fast, then I give them trivia.  And if they don’t want either, ‘Hit the road, Jack’,” he says with thumb pointing outward.  The one piece of trivia that nobody knows?  In the movie Saturday Night Fever, who performed “More Than A Woman” besides the Bee Gees?  The answer appears upside-down at the end of this article!

But actually being able to perform on Lincoln Road has sometimes been an ordeal and a frustrating experience for him at times.  With five city ordinances since 1988, Mitchell now takes part in a lottery system that is held every three months.  “This is the paper that will give you the permit,” he says as he shows me one very folded-over scrawled-in-the-corners application.  Even still, there are nights (like New Year’s Eve) when performing on Lincoln for Mitchell is off-limits.

The Traveler.

As we talk, Mitchell makes an interesting statement; a footnote on Miami’s past that is easy to forget in the present:  “Miami Beach back in the 60s and 70s… people didn’t come to live here, they came to die here.”

Not any longer. And not with people like Mitch around to entertain the South Beach night crowd.  “I go out to the Gables sometimes.  But other parts of Miami, it’s a different type of energy and you have more lower income areas off the beach.  My face is more familiar in South Beach and I have a better chance with the locals and the tourists.”

Plus, he simply likes South Beach more than the main land.  “You’ve got your normal people, you’ve got your looney tunes, but that’s everywhere.”  The voice of experience, Mitchell’s lived in LA, New York and he’s even been out to the Midwest more than a few times, sometimes performing, sometimes with a dietitian’s convention (more on that in a moment).  Mitch tells me he was even a regular on Soul Train in Philadelphia back in the 70s.  And it all fits perfectly into the picture of the man that has been dancing for dollars on Lincoln Road since 1988.

“Until I die, I will perform on Lincoln.  Or I meet Jesus in the air.  This music is eternal.  Roberta Flack… Staying Alive?  In 2021, you’ll love it then!”

The Believer.

God is another large part of Mitchell’s life.  “Religion is a lifetime journey.  I believe what I believe.”  In his youth, Mitchell attended and sang in Catholic church.  To this day, he attends church every Sunday.  “By faith in Jehovah and Jesus, financial blessings will come to Christian television.  He’s never early or late, but he’s on time.  He hasn’t come yet, though.  At least to pay the debts off.” 

And in keeping with his faith, Mitchell is charitable, donating money to: “Sudan, Katrina, the Salvation Army, McDonald’s (those 99 cent charities).  I give money there.  It’s what God put us on this earth for:  to help other people.”

I alluded earlier to Mitchell’s work as a dietitian.  As it turns out, another interesting facet to all that is Mitchell is that he is a registered dietitian and frequently visits the nursing home in Mt. Sinai, providing nutritional counseling to the elderly.  “We talk about good fats, bad fats, high blood pressure, diabetes, and what’s hereditary.”

All of this is inherently Mitchell.  Upon meeting, one of the first topics he brings up is his weight.  Not for the first time, he informs me that for 30 years, he has kept off 30 pounds thanks to Weight Watchers.  He cautions me, too, that the scale at the old Publix is off by a pound, having been that way for six months.  “So when you weigh there, you should subtract a pound.”  He’s very explicit in his instructions, making sure I remember. 

Friendliness is at the core of Mitchell Chonin.
The Dreamer.

But where does it all go?  What’s end game scenario here?

“Do I have a good voice?  I believe so.  Am I American Idol material?  I’m 65% yes, 35% no.  It’s a different talent.  It’s like putting a 250 pound woman in a size 5 dress!”

American Idol is the dream.  Well, that or a shot on Deal or No Deal.  Or a low budget film.  “But Lincoln Road is solid.  I don’t have the body for a South Beach model.  I’d have to lose like 10 pounds… But Lincoln Road is the spot; this is where the exposure is.  South Beach isn’t the most cultural place, but with the right business card, the right phone call… or a cameo role…”

He has even emailed American Idol and Mitchell takes the time to explain to me how Deal or No Deal works.  He discloses that he’d cash out at $70K.
“What would you do with the money,” I ask.

“Pay off some credit card debt, buy more platform shoes.”

The Legend.

Mitchell’s a character.  An hour with him, and you’ll wonder where the time went.  He is one of a thousand different faces on Lincoln but he is one of a kind.  He is a staple to this town.  Dedicated to his art and to his passion, a more energetic advocate for the 50s, 60s, and 70s you will not find on South Beach.  A friend once said to me, “The day that Disco Fox leaves Lincoln, South Beach won’t be the same.”  And it is true.  His large platform shoes would be hard to fill.

The Video.

If you’d like to catch Mitchell’s performance, show up on Lincoln Road on any given night sometime after 8pm.  He won’t always be there on Mondays and Tuesdays, but the rest of the week, he’s pretty much there.  I recommend catching his show on either a Friday or Saturday night.  On these nights, the music remains the same, but he prefers the poodle skirt or the bell skirt, putting him more in the period of “Leslie Moore, Linda Scott, and Patty Duke.”
Also, if your are interested, Mitchell IS available for private parties.  His rates are negotiable and his contact information is below on his business card.

Answer to trivia quiz: 

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