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For those of a certain age, it can take some doing to think of the Kennedy clan without Vietnam and that Bad Day in Dallas. But “Camelot” — the Kennedy mystique of sun-gold young men and women on sailboats, clam bakes on Cape Cod, touch football on autumn lawns — that lives on like a hazy summer dream. Football, touch or otherwise, at this downtown West Palm Beach boîte has so far been seen only on its large-screen TVs. But for clam bakes, sub the raw bar stocked with fresh mollusks daily, and for golden people, scope the stream of sophisticates who are tired of the rowdy end of Clematis Street and take refuge inside Camelot’s nautical-themed confines. There’s a dance floor and a revolving selection of live musical entertainment: jazz, nu disco, reggae, and the occasional pop-up show. Younger Palm Beach types venture here from their privileged island enclave. Are they drawn by the air of an age when noblesse had oblige?