Hotel Splendide by Ludwig Bemelmans

The Austrian-born writer and illustrator Ludwig Bemelmans is perhaps best known for the Madeline series, a much-loved collection of children’s picture books, mostly from the 1950s. But before he made his name as an artist and writer, Bemelmans spent several years in the New York hotel industry, working his way through the ranks from lowly bus boy to assistant manager of the private banqueting suite at the Ritz-Carlton Hotel.

Hotel Splendide is an affectionate series of vignettes recounting Bemelmans time at the Ritz-Carlton during the decadent 1920s – an utterly charming book that reflects the author’s eye for an amusing anecdote or observation while still maintaining a genuine sense of humanity. It’s a delightful collection of sketches, perfectly capturing the rituals and idiosyncrasies of a bygone age, perfect for dipping into during the dark days of winter.

Hotels frequently have a culture all of their own, and Bemelmans captures the Splendide’s to a T. Inside the mirrored dining room and banqueting suites, the rich and powerful indulge in champagne and caviar, attended to by a vast array of staff who must satisfy their guests’ every desire. When Bemelmans joins as a busboy, he is assigned to the section managed by an eccentric waiter named Mespoulets, hidden away near the rear balcony. It’s the least desirable area of the dining room, a sort of outpost where the maître d’, Monsieur Victor, seats the lowest of the low, including those who have proved troublesome in the past.

Monsieur Victor used our tables as a kind of penal colony, to which he sent guests who were notorious cranks, people who had forgotten to tip him over a long period of time and needed a reminder, undesirables who looked out of place in better sections of the dining-room, and guests who were known to linger for hours over an order of hors d’œuvres and a glass of milk, while well-paying guests had to stand at the door waiting for a table. (pp. 11–12)

Mespoulets quickly reveals himself to be a candidate for ‘the worst waiter in the world’. While the best servers are alert, attentive and speedy, Mespoulets is the exact opposite, frequently delivering the wrong orders and spilling food on the guests. Only his calligraphy skills keep him in a job – invaluable for writing menus with an elegant flourish worthy of the Splendide’s standing. Nevertheless, Bemelmans soon learns the ropes by observing the inner workings of the hotel, progressing rapidly through the ranks to the upper echelons of private banqueting.

The book is punctuated by several pen portraits (and, in some instances, accompanying pen-and-ink illustrations!) of the hotel’s most eccentric and demanding clients. Nowhere is this more evident than within the walls of the private dining suite, where the rich and powerful quickly slide from dignity to drunkenness and debauchery.

Sometimes they fell on their faces and sang into the carpet. Leaders of the nation, savants, and unhappy millionaires suffered fits of laughter, babbled nonsense, and spilled ashes and wine down their shirt-fronts. Some of them became ill. Others swam in a happy haze and loved all the world. (p. 47)

If anything, the behind-the-scenes views are even more fascinating than the guests, and Bemelmans does a fabulous job of drawing back the curtain to reveal the inner workings of the hotel, a place where hierarchies and unwritten rules must be understood and respected. Take Monsieur Victor as an example. This powerful maître d’ is a stickler for discipline, firing a waiter or busboy every six months or so, sometimes for no particular reason, just to keep the remaining staff on their toes. Meanwhile, the savviest waiters can pick up stock market tips from their Wall Street diners, enabling them to play the markets to supplement their wages – a practice that sometimes interferes with the smooth running of service.

Naturally, the stock market interfered with the service of the Hotel Splendide. Waiters stood in line trying to get at a telephone to call their brokers. In the restaurant they collected in groups, where they discussed, trends, exchanged market tips and advice, and shouted quotations at each other. They calculated profits on the backs of menus and they disappeared for long stretches of time, during which they sat in some out-of-the-way corner of the hotel, dreaming and planning what to do with their profits. (p. 53)

Bemelmans is equally good on the Splendide’s traditions and institutions, the little touches that set it apart from other leading hotels in the city. I particularly love this passage about the six elderly ladies who write the diners’ bills in longhand, a practice that has slipped out of use in most other establishments.

In a corner of the main dining-room of the Splendide, behind an arrangement of screens and large palms that were bedded in antique Chinese vases, six ladies of uncertain age used to sit making out luncheon and dinner checks. When a guest at the Splendide called for the bill, it was brought to him in longhand – contrary to the practice in most other hotels in New York City – in purple link, on fine paper decorated with the hotel crest. The six ladies, seated at a long desk near the exit to the kitchens, attended to that. (pp. 82–83)

Several of the vignettes feature Professor Gorylescu, a magician with a sideline in palmistry, who is frequently engaged as an entertainer during the Splendide’s private dinner parties. With his characteristic blend of wit and humanity, Bemelmans reveals how Gorylescu memorises the forthcoming engagements in the private banqueting diary with the aim of offering his services to the organisers. In truth, this practice is strictly forbidden, but Bemelmans turns a blind eye to the Professor’s antics out of friendship and generosity. We also learn of the Professor’s attempts to incorporate a dog into his act – not to mention his exploits with the ladies, including a party of glamorous dancers in town with the Russian ballet. Despite his age and appearance, Gorylescu is something of a ladykiller, giving rise to some of the most delightful anecdotes in the book.

Alongside these amusing vignettes, there’s a discernible note of poignancy in some of Bemelmans’ reflections – most notably in the stories featuring Fritzl, a homesick busboy who hails from the author’s home town of Regensburg. When Fritzl makes a catastrophic error, dropping a rack of lamb in full view of the diners, Bemelmans takes the boy under his wing, finding him a role where he can flourish and thrive. In time, Fritzl saves enough money to buy a smart suit, and he dreams of making a big splash on his return to Regensburg, keen to show friends and family that his new life is a success. Nevertheless, on their return home, the pair find their home town much diminished, and their former tutor – a man who taunted Fritzl as a boy for his shabby clothes and appearance – is now reduced to wearing threadbare trousers of his own. Consequently, Fritzl shelves his plans to lord it over the Professor, sympathising with his plight and the reversal of fortunes.

In summary then, Hotel Splendide is a delightful collection of vignettes, capturing the splendour of a bygone age with all its quirks and idiosyncrasies. What makes this book such a joy to read is Bemelmans’ blend of warmth, charm and humanity, his exquisite eye for an amusing observation without ever tipping into cruelty. The reflections – rich in period detail and atmosphere – are exquisitely conveyed, ably revealing the inner workings of this prestigious hotel. A must read for anyone interested in 1920s New York in all its decadence and glamour, particularly those readers with a fondness for hotels!

Hotel Splendide is published by Pushkin Press; my thanks to the publisher and the Independent Alliance for kindly providing a reading copy.