Kings, Queens, Presidents, First Ladies, Emperors,
Dukes, Duchesses, Princes and Princesses,
and now the Waldorf-Astoria can add Mary Lawrence
to their list of fab guests.
(photo courtesy Waldorf)
I wasn’t sure what to expect exactly except that it would be “grand”.
I heard stories growing up from my mom and dad
who resided in NYC during the Harlem Renaissance.
Daddy used to pick up extra work with the banquet staff
and help on the bartending staff at the Waldorf during that time.
(I’m pretty sure that translated to “carry this tray,
clean this table and bring more ice” if I am accurately judging the times.
I still have his union cards.)
That was during the period of US history when the likes of he and my mom
would only be allowed in a place like this as some sort of worker.
I wanted to stay here for them –
not because I can’t let go –
because I don’t want to let go –
not just yet.
I’m fascinated by and constantly marveling
over what they were allowed to see and not touch…
and still somehow for them it was just as cool
to be in the midst of the elegance and opulence
as minor background players who went home to even richer,
fuller lives than the people who were considered entitled.
They didn’t miss a beat on that –
sporting their own brand of chic,
like so many other African-Americans during that period.
My dad has talked about the gatherings in their home
and my mom and grandmother’s huge stock pot (now in my possession)
which was and still is a great challenge to fill to overflowing
and how dozens of people went home full from the party —
after an evening of music and laughter.
Then, they had to don daily uniforms,
internal and external, to be able to exist
in such a crazy alternate reality to make the paper.
Truth be told, all of the “grand-dame” hotels can be had now at bargain prices.
I say that as a single working woman
with no children and the absolute intention
to spend every last dollar of my money
before I’m placed in my recycling box
at the local cemetery –
in spite of what my last will and testament says.
(Those persons included in that document of dispensation
on the alleged receiving end are very likely to have to simply
ooh and ahh over the thoughts that count.)
Still, when it is considered what is included
with the price of a room at the Waldorf-Astoria hotel,
depending upon the source used to reserve it,
the value is affordable for everybody.
Case in point, there are upgrades available.
(I received a corner suite.) 
(my room is down this hallway — walk toward the light)
There are daily vouchers for breakfast for two
in one of the restaurants.
(Only one of me.)
In the Waldorf Towers, accessible by a private guest entrance
or via the main lobby,
there’s the club level lounge
which has all manner of hot and cold soft beverages
as well as continental breakfast items as early as 7am
including cold smoked meats and salmon
and then serves snacks all day in the form of fruits,
tea sandwiches, and some AMAZING avocado cream concoction
served in a shot glass with a toasted crostini sticking out of it –
a MUST DUPLICATE ITEM!
(My kitchen will be busy with an experiment soon.
I’ll provide a picture of it once I have it perfected!)
Additionally, there was included a sizeable spa credit (used!),
vouchers for two complimentary cocktails
at any of the hotel’s bars/restaurants (yet unused) –
AND – soon after I checked into my room,
a gentleman appeared at my door bearing a tray
holding two large glass bottles of Evian
and FOUR Waldorf-Astoria Red Velvet Cupcakes.*
(I DID NOT EAT THEM although I cannot guarantee
the safety of all four prior to my departure.
I will seek out a box for their transport.)
(As you can see from the photo,
only three made it out of the city alive.)
So – if I were with a traveling companion
and we split the costs,
it would come out to the average amount spent
on any vacation and no need to dine out
unless one simply needed that experience.
(Or he could treat me – that’s okay too.)
Truth be told, I’m kind of a “good hotel” fan[atic].
One of my life’s missions has been
a personal study of the art of vacationing.
What’s the exact right length?
When is too much too much –
be it location, expenses, family time,
or whatever other variables play a part in the adventure.
Is what you’re doing too much work to be called a vacation?
When to go, where to stay — Things like that…
With regards to the Waldorf in particular…
it’s in a good part of midtown Manhattan
within walking distance from many things tourists want to see
when they come to New York.
It’s currently a Park Avenue address
(having once been located on Fifth Avenue at 33rd Street –
on the site previously occupied by the mansion of William Waldorf Astor)
and the hotel itself offers a real history lesson,
depending upon what you’re looking to learn.
A 2012 amnesty program allowed people
to return all of the items pilfered from the hotel
over the years without any questions.
The sheer size of some of the things returned
makes you wonder just how much empty space people who came here
had in their luggage. There’s everything from silverware to teapots.
The Waldorf-Astoria is in a class all by itself
with the insignia in the bed linens,
the art deco furniture,
chandeliers and wall sconces everywhere,
ornate elevator doors,
silver tissue holders and waste baskets.
My particular room has four closets,
one of them in the dressing area
plus two cupboards above it and a clothes hamper.
There’s a wet bar room off of my foyer
and the walls of the entire suite are covered
in what appears to be some sort of washable silk fabric wallpaper.
The water pressure is exquisite,
indeed strong enough to peel your skin right off
if you stand under the powerful shower head in an incorrect way.
Now, if you make the mistake of looking too closely
you begin to see the cracks as this hotel ages
the same way its patrons have aged
and moved on to other worldly planes
yet this place is still standing.**
Seriously, every time my taxi has pulled up to the front of it,
I’ve wanted to hear the music
from Coming to America before I get out of the car
and look up to see some Zamunda flags flying,
with flower petals being thrown at my feet,
but, honestly,
I’ve been in better hotels.
By that I mean more modern
with just as much devotion to the five-star service experience
– like the Peninsula group.
I’ve been in hotels just as old and five-star
but with seemingly less wear like those in the Ritz Carlton group.
They’ve all been very fine and this has as well.***
I just had to see this for myself because it is so storied.
This is not a boast.
It’s not about that.
It’s something else entirely.
Don’t trip. I’m not rich.
(Some of my fab hotel stays have been courtesy
of a production company for which I worked
and a talent who wouldn’t stay anywhere else.
Oh the benefits of producing for a diva!)
Most of my 365 days per year I spend channeling my very frugal Dad not wasting things,
and prepping meals at home
like my “why do you want to eat somewhere else? I can make that” Mom.
(I’ve even been saying those very words to myself,
having reached that time of life when one hears their parents voices
coming out of their own mouth. I think it’s called “maturity”.)
(not perfect but I do alright)
I can count the days we actually ate out when I was a kid –
only during Easter Week when there was a mass or other service every night –
we had Chinese food, my first shrimp fried rice.
One reason for the splurge:
When you can treat yourself well,
Do That,
for whatever reason
including just for the sake of treating yourself well sometimes.
Indulge your curiosity and wants.
Another reason:
If I put on my self-therapy analysis hat,
in some ways when I do things like this,
I guess I’m trying to make up for what my people –
my personal people – were denied here in the US –
In New York City when they were a young married couple,
In Atlanta, my mom’s hometown that she left
and only went back to move her parents to Ohio,
In Cleveland – the alleged “great North” –
where my dad STILL waited tables for banquets
at the Sheraton Cleveland on Public Square downtown and The Ritz.
Cleveland is also where I had to have my feet traced
on a paper, with and without socks
so my mom could buy my school and dress shoes
because we weren’t allowed to try on the shoes
in the store once you found a store
which would actually allow you to be served.
You buy ‘em, you keep ‘em.
She always made sure mine fit very well even though sometimes hers didn’t.
There were times when we had to apply shoe stretchers
to make sure of the comfort for everyone.
(I’m a shoe fan[atic] too. Go figure that.)
I’ve spent this and other times in New York
retracing their steps in a way.
Once when I was in the city, with them,
not long after their 40th anniversary,
we visited the church where they got married –
The Church of St. Joseph and the Holy Family
at the corner of W 125th and Morningside in Harlem.
I wept.
They laughed.
Being here in the Waldorf-Astoria has been kind of like
living in a 1940’s Turner Classic Movie network film –
one where the Nicholas Brothers et al
haven’t been cut out for the southern state screenings.
I wish my mom and dad had been welcome to come here
through the front door.
The hotel soundtrack is Gershwin, Porter, The Count,
Dorsey, James, Ella, Frank and the list goes on from there
including some contemporary purveyors of the classics
like Harry Connick Jr. and Diana Krall among others,
all of them doing those songs I heard my mom and dad
humming after they came home from a dance.
Cole Porter’s piano is in a lobby area called Peacock Alley
and is played regularly by musicians supplying background music
for the Waldorf’s famous Sunday brunch.
The walls support countless photos from that era featuring the dignitaries
from every walk of life who stayed in these rooms.
I’ve tried to imagine who might have used this space
I’m occupying but then right after that
I totally creeped myself out with how many years of dust buildup,
also known as the shedding of people skin cells,
I’m inhaling and I started thinking about the end of The Shining. Ha!
I’m pretty sure I won’t turn up in any of the pics though
because while I have seen the King of Siam and the Shah of Iran,
I have not seen any of the wait staff.
Yet, in all fairness,
I have not visited every floor
or seen every photograph
so I don’t want to sell the Waldorf short on this.
Louis, Dorothy, Lena, Nat, and Pearl Bailey
are very likely all on a wall somewhere
from the times they performed here —
and who knows,
if there’s a banquet shot,
I may just be able to spot Daddy!
The best part about the pictures is
the heyday of the hotel happens to be
one of the better fashion, eyebrow,
and other facial hair grooming periods
of US American history for sure, in my opinion.
I have been treated in a very fine manner during my stay.
I have no complaints.
Now, I’m going to see if I can barter away
my three remaining breakfasts
for one Peacock Alley Sunday Brunch.****
Wish me luck.
Tonight I’ll dream of dancing like Ginger did with Fred,
in a Waldorf-Astoria ballroom
(only Fred will be taller, browner, way more buffed and called by another name —
the tuxedo stays)
then, I’ll go back to my real life
with another bucket list item checked.
*The Waldorf Astoria is credited with the creation of Red Velvet Cake, Eggs Benedict, and The Waldorf Salad as well as the Rob Roy and Bobbie Burns cocktails.
**Apparently I made my pilgrimage just in time as there are reports the new owner, Angbang Insurance based in China, plans to begin a renovation of the hotel the spring of 2017. You can still make it. The hotel is reportedly to be gutted with three quarters of it becoming condominiums leaving somewhere between 300 to 500 hotel rooms. It is projected that the complete transformation will take three years.
***All modern amenities are available like iPod docking stations and WiFi among other basic hotel items.
****No go on my brilliant attempt at trading three breakfasts for one brunch so…I have plans to return before summer’s end to meet my cousin for a Sunday outing…because — why not? More food porn coming…