For every one who has ever washed a dish, taken an order, or had to serve ‘Mrs. Van der Parasite,’ comrade Kalfides gives all who have worked in restaurants this gift of empathy and understanding from one hundred years ago.

‘Heaven and Hell in New York Hotels’ by Basil G. Kalfides from The Daily Worker Magazine. Vol. 3 No. 70. April 3, 1926.

AS often is the case with the hotel waiters, I was out of work walking the streets of New York looking for a job. For a hotel waiter can lose his job for any little reason you may imagine, for scratching his head, for leaning against the wall after the rush is over, for speaking to the guests or for not doing so, for not smiling to the guests or for doing so, for saying good morning to the guests or for not doing so.

The slogan of the hotel owners is: ‘‘Right or Wrong, the Guests Are Always Right.” So you can imagine what the waiters have to struggle against. They have to deal with cranky old bourgeois ladies “who will kick even in heaven,” as an Irish waiter remarked to me one day. They have to deal with young sophisticated intellectual bourgeois boys and girls, most of whom are vegetarians, and will ask for anything except things that are on the bill of fare. They have to put up with the swell-headed bourgeois women who will call up captains, head waiters, maitre d’hotel, and managers to complain about the “service,” just to make a show and to feel the power they possess and how important they are. The waiter is sacrificed on the altar of the conceit and false pride of a nervous bourgeois woman.

For all those things and for a million other reasons it is customary and normal for a hotel waiter to be out of work—to be on the road most of the time.

AS I was walking in the center of the great metropolis of wealth around the hotel zone near the Grand Central high class apartment hotels at Forty-ninth street and Park avenue, in New York City, my friend Gus, with whom I had worked in many places, hurried towards me and with a smile on his face told me: “Come on, get ready, there is a chance for you in the hotel where I work in the room service. I spoke to the head waiter about you and he told me, ‘All right, bring him around and I will see how he looks.’ You have to have a new full dress suit, he told me, and the trousers have to have black silk stripes. The head waiter is very particular—he wants first-class service, you know. Also, you have to have five or six clean stiff front shirts and French military collars. You have to have patent leather shoes, for he always examines our shoes. They have to be shined at all times so you save trouble by wearing patent leather shoes. Have everything prepared so that you can start to work right away.”

So I took the street leading to Seventh avenue where the second-hand clothing stores are located, looking for a full dress. I had about fifteen dollars in my pocket, and I had to be very careful how I spent the money to make it last till I got the job. Therefore, I was very cautious in buying the full dress and all the paraphernalia that goes with it. I went to a second-hand clothing store and asked for a second-hand full dress. The storekeeper asked me if I was going to use it for dancing purposes, or if I was a waiter. I answered him that I was a working man, a waiter, and he understood. He brought down from the shelf different kinds and sizes of dress coats. “Millionaires wore them before,” he told me; “they cost hundreds of dollars, but you can have any one you choose for twenty dollars.”

I told him once more that I knew the game and I offered him ten dollars. After a formal deliberation, he agreed and we closed the deal.

Next I had to get some stiff shirt fronts, cuffs and military collars for which I spent about three dollars. I did not have to buy any patent leather shoes, for I happened to have them from the previous job. morning, with the waiter’s panoply in my suitcase, I started for the hotel. I went through the delivery door, the employe’s entrance. As I went in, the timekeeper asked me whom I wished to see. The house detective was standing just like a dragon staring at me with a suspicious look.

I told him I wanted to see the head waiter. The detective asked me if I was looking for a Job. I answered him, “Yes Sir.”

He called the head waiter on the telephone and the head waiter told him that I could go down to see him. Accompanied by the detective, I went down two basements. On one side was the baggage room where all the trunks of the guests were piled up in big rows. I read different labels of hotels pasted on the trunks, Paris, Berlin, London, Nice, Palm Beach, San Francisco, Tokio, Pekin, Bombay, Alexandria, and all other countries of the world. Two Irish porters worked furiously taking in and shipping out the trunks of the traveling bourgeois guests.

As we went forward we passed the laundry where the work was done exclusively by women working at a frantic speed trying to keep up with the machine, folding napkins, tablecloths and bed linen as they came out of the mangle. A big cloud of steam coming out of the wet clothes as they were ironed out, filled the room so that you could not distinguish the working women in the laundry. You could only hear the voice of the forelady, “Hurry up, hurry up!” It seemed to me like a holy picture, picturing the descent of the god of the capitalist in a cloud of smoke, preaching the gospel of the speed-up and exploitation system. We went up one stairway, and we were in the office of the head waiter.

The head waiter, a tall, thin fellow, with a mephistophelian smile greeted me, “Good morning.” His mechanical smile which he inherited as a habit trying to look pleasant to the guests betrayed his real self, an unscrupulous slave driver. He asked me the following questions:

“Where did you work before? Do you speak good English? Are you married or single? What nationality? How much do you weigh? Do you drink? What religion do you believe in? Are you a union man? Answer me why you quit your last job and how long you worked there?” And different other questions to none of which I answered the truth. For if I had told the truth, I would never have gotten the job.

After this cross-examination, he told me that I could start to work that night at five o’clock. They had several big parties, and he needed help anyway. He told the detective to take me up to the office to sign the contract.

I went into the office where a young girl had the contracts ready. She showed me the dotted line where to sign. I did not know what the contract said, or how much the wages Would be or how many hours I would work or whether I would get a day off a week or none at all. I would not dare to ask such questions or read the contract for they would be suspicious that I might be a revolutionary worker, a union man.

I learned later from my friend, that the contract which I signed says that the boss has the right to discharge you any time, but if you want to leave you have to notify the boss a week before. That the wages were ten dollars a week and two days a month off. The workers who wanted to get four days a month off, had their wages reduced to eight dollars a week.

After the contracts were signed, I got my waiter’s badge for which I paid one dollar, and fifty cents for the key of my locker. After all this red tape the detective took me down to the locker room where I put my clothes. I went out with only fifty cents in my pocket, after I paid for my clothes, badges and keys $14.50 out of my whole capital of $15.00.

I RETURNED at five o’clock and went straight to the floor where all the waiters were gathered. One of the waiters came in with an order from the head waiter:

“All waiters and bus boys in the grill room. The head waiter is going to lecture.”

We all gathered in a circle around the head waiter who gave us a lecture on how to be clean and courteous to the guests. “Your faces,” he said, “look terrible. You have no smile in your face. What’s the matter? You don’t get enough sleep or something? I know you are all working hard and long hours, but that has nothing to do with your being courteous and smiling once in a while. If you have troubles at home with your wife and children, leave them home or around the corner before you come to the hotel. Don’t bring them in. The guests want a pleasant man to serve them. They don’t want to know your troubles.”

After this brilliant lecture he started a general inspection, inspecting our hair, ears, finger nails, fronts, cuffs, clothes, and shoes. A captain with a blue pencil was following him, and lie drew two crossed lines on every shirt front which he thought was not clean enough. So the waiter had either to change his front or not work at all. Then he divided us into different groups to serve different parties. I and two other waiters had to serve Mrs. Vander Parasite, who gave a party of sixteen in her apartment. He gave us the order on a piece of paper as follows:

Amandes Sale’s.
Celery and Olives.
Canape du Caviare.
Hoes D’Oeuvre Speciale.
Consomme grenadin en tasse.
Filet de Sole Anglaise Veronique pommes Parlakenne.
Petit pois francais.
Quails en current jelly.
Pommes Anna.
Artichoke Hollandaise.
Petit pois nouveaux.
Pear coronation salad.
Fromage Assortie, Camembert, Roquefort, Port du Salut, Cream Cheese.
Baked Alaska or Profit Rolls.
Demitasse, Toast Melba.

We, the three waiters came together, studied the order well and we divided the work so that we could get as good service as possible. On waiter went to get the table and set it in the room. I went to get the gold plates, the silver and the glasses. The other waiter went to order the stuff in the kitchen. In ten minutes all three of us were up in the apartment fixing the table. The maid gave us an order not to put any linen on the tale because her mistress wanted to put her own gold embroidered table cloths and napkins which she valued with pride at ten thousand dollars.

A pet monkey which was sitting by the luxurious fireside watched us working furiously following every move we made.

The walls of the dining room were covered with precious Persian rugs. In one corner was the statue of Buddha and in the corner opposite some holy vestments, antiques, of the Byzantine time.

The head whiter rushed up with two bus boys loaded with cracked ice and glasses of different shapes and forms, cocktail glasses, champagne glasses and cordial glasses. He directed the setting of the table. In the meantime, he put the champagne, the private stuff that the hostess had, on ice, and started shaking the cocktails.

Mrs. Van der Parasite emerged from an adjoining room to supervise the setting of the table. She gave all of us waiters the once over, holding a pair of lorgnettes in her hand. She was not satisfied with the appearance of the waiters. She did not like my face and complained to the head waiter why he did not have Theodore, a young pleasant looking Greek, and very obedient servant. “I pay enough money,” she said, “and I must have what I want.”

And she was right. Today the hotel waiters have to sell not only their energy and power, but their appearance and looks are also a commodity on the market.

The head waiter with a pleasant diplomat way pacified her and told her that Theodore was off that day.

IN a few minutes the guests started to come. I dashed down to get the Caviar which we served in the Reception Room with the cocktails. The other waiter brought up the Hors D’Oeuvre appetizers which were prepared with much art and skill to please the guests. One cook was working all day to fix the Hors D’Oeuvres. Everything was ready, and the hostess called everybody and seated them in their proper places at the table. Before the guests sat down we turned the lights out and we lighted some blue colored candles so as to give a mysterious and romantic atmosphere.

Two waiters passed around the Hors D’Oeuvre, while the other one came up with a huge electric heater in one hand and a table in e other, bringing in the consomme. He groaned under the heavy load and heat of the heater. The perspiration was pouring down his face and the heavy dress but added to the heat. I helped him take down the table. An expression of relief was apparent in his face as he muttered: “It’s a great life if you don’t weaken.”

I and another waiter went down to get the next course. It was in the zenith of the rush time. All the dining rooms were filled. The waiters swarmed in the kitchen just like a colony of ants around a sugar bowl, carrying their orders on silver platters and covers to serve their masters. The chef was hollering the orders in French and in a loud tone so he could be heard from the deafening noise that was made by the dishwashing machine and  the clattering of the silverware that was handled at a furious speed in the silver room by the workers.

Everybody swears in the kitchen. In the dishwashing department they swear in Spanish and in Greek, from the terrific heat and steam. The workers know they are in hell, so they swear. The cooks are surrounded by fire, fire all around them, but the boss is a philanthropist, he supplies them with near beer to quench their thirst. We managed to get our order together and in two heavy loads of food covered with big shining silver covers we headed to the elevator.

ONE service elevator for fifteen floors was not enough when the rush started so we had to wait. The head waiter came down from the guests elevator. He took the express elevator and came to the service elevator where we were, mad as a bull. “You damn dumbbells,” he said, “you shoemakers. What’s the matter? You are as slow as molasses. Why don’t you walk up the stairs if you can’t get the elevator?”

The other waiter who had been working in the place quite long, made me a sign not to answer back. He told me afterwards that he, the headwaiter, gets that way many times but he cools off later. Finally, the elevator came. Five or six waiters with big loads packed in like cattle holding the trays high up like Atlas held the earth in mythology. We got off at our floor, rushed quick, and in time we took off the cups of the consomme, and served the fish filet of sole and the vegetables. We pass around everything, from one guest to the other.

All the guests were discussing different subjects by couples. One young couple discussed a criticism on a novel, “The White Monkey.” Another young couple discussed a criticism on some opera singer in the role of Madame Butterfly. One fat old lady who was deaf was speaking through a radio-like ear trumpet about charity activities. Another couple spoke about making millions of dollars, about business, exploitation, speculation in Wall Street.

So we had to wait holding those heavy burning silver plates in our hands till they got through with their story in order to pick up a piece of fish or a spoonful of vegetables. The same way we served all the courses in the order of the menu.

One of the captains was an expert dressing maker for the salads. He made the dressing with the luxurious name “coronation.” He mixed whipped cream, lemon, red pepper, Bar-Leduc. We served the salad, the cheese, the demi tasse and then the dessert. The profit rolls which is ice cream filled in rolls covered with chocolate sauce. They eat that to pay tribute to the profit system which allows them to live so luxuriously. Others had baked Alaska which is ice cream and cake covered with meringue and then baked in the oven. At last we got through. One waiter was left to serve the cordials, and the two other waiters, “I and another one, took the dishes to the elevator–piles of them.

THE bus boys carried the dishes to the dish washers, and we went to the kitchen to get something to eat. We asked the night chef if he had anything for the waiters. He showed us a big pot full of beef stew, cooked several days ago and mixed with flour and restewed every day to look fresh and appealing to the help.

“Help yourselves, boys, plenty for everybody. Go to it,” he said. But nobody cared, so the stew stayed there untouched. We took some soup and a glass of milk and we went down to the helps’ hall, or mess hall as they call it. And it is a real mess. All the steam and hot water pipes of the hotel pass through the helps’ hall. They are placed in the ceiling. The heat that comes from those pipes gives us another shower bath. Once more we swim in our sweat.

There are four waiters, two bus boys, a houseman, and three dishwashers at my table. They all kick about the meals. They are getting worse every day. One of the waiters tells us his story that he had an order of prime ribs of beef and an order of mashed potatoes to be served in a certain room. He went up with full service, silver, ice water, bread, and everything. When he got up in the room the guest told him to cut it in small pieces and serve it to a pet alligator or crocodile which she had in the bath room.

Another waiter tells us a story that he served an order of lamb chops and vegetables the same way as the other waiter to a pet dog. All the waiters in one voice said: “Gee, the dogs have a better chance than the workers under the capitalist system.”

A young Italian worker who was working in the ice plant which was located right opposite the helps’ hall, came in and asked us if we wished music with the dinner. The workers that were working long in the place, knew the joke, and told him to put the piano in a high tune. I could not get the joke, but in a few seconds the Italian worker started a motor in the ice plant, to cut fine ice for the guests. It was making such a sharp noise cutting the ice that it was getting on everybody’s nerves. We could not stand it. It would drive us crazy if we stood there any longer. So we started to our lockers to change our clothes.

IN front of the locker room there was posted a wall paper. A company supplies this wall paper to every hotel owner in the city. The subject is presented to the workers in pictures and a few explanatory notes down below give the dope to the workers, this way. Every fifteen days a new subject is presented to the workers.

On one of them was a picture of a dragon with a big mouth exactly as the Steeple Chase in Coney Island, devouring everything. At the bottom was written: “Waste,” and in the opposite side was a picture of unemployed workers on a bench in the park, and at the bottom of this whole picture was written: “Waste brings unemployment. Don’t waste, save everything you can. Help your boss to give you a job.”

On another poster they had a pencil with this caption: “Does it belong to you? If not, return it to the office.”

On another one they had a big factory with different machines and inventions with the following caption: “Who thought of that? Workers, if you can think of any facility which will do the work better, don’t be afraid, come and tell it to the boss and you will get a favorable comment.”

Such are the methods that the bosses use to keep the workers down, unorganized so they can exploit them as they please.

We went to the lockers to change. My dress coat was soaking wet just like a wet woolen blanket. The stiff collars were wet and soft as if you had soaked them in boiling water. I took off my underwear to wring the water out, but it was impossible to wear it any more. The weather outside was below zero and if I were to go out with wet underwear it would mean sure pneumonia.

So I was forced to put on my street clothes without any underwear. There is no bath room in the helps’ quarters, but every room in the hotel in the guest rooms has two baths a shower bath and a tub bath. There is no room in the lockers to have an extra suit of underwear. Most of the cooks and waiters leave the hotel with wet underwear. That is why most of them get sick.

Only a powerful union can better the conditions and the slavery that exists today in the New York hotels.

WE dress and wait for the other waiter who was left to serve the cordials to see how much will be the tip–our wages of the day. But we were disappointed when the waiter came down and told us that is not within the etiquette to present the check the same night of the dinner, while the guests are in the house. So Mrs. Van der Parasite holds on to the etiquette in this matter. And when we present the check next day she finds different complaints and excuses on the service so as to cut down the tip.

I was thunderstruck by the explanation given to me by the waiter for I was flat broke. I had spent everything I possessed in order to get the job, hoping to get a few cents from the tips, and now I had to wait till Mrs. Van der Parasite sees fit to reward us for our services rendered.

THIS is, in short, heaven for one class and hell for the other that exists today in the New York hotels.

The Saturday Supplement, later changed to a Sunday Supplement, of the Daily Worker was a place for longer articles with debate, international focus, literature, and documents presented. The Daily Worker began in 1924 and was published in New York City by the Communist Party US and its predecessor organizations. Among the most long-lasting and important left publications in US history, it had a circulation of 35,000 at its peak. The Daily Worker came from The Ohio Socialist, published by the Left Wing-dominated Socialist Party of Ohio in Cleveland from 1917 to November 1919, when it became became The Toiler, paper of the Communist Labor Party. In December 1921 the above-ground Workers Party of America merged the Toiler with the paper Workers Council to found The Worker, which became The Daily Worker beginning January 13, 1924.

PDF of full issue: https://www.marxists.org/history/usa/pubs/dailyworker/1926/1926-ny/v03-n070-supplement-apr-03-1926-DW-LOC.pdf