DALLAS, TEXAS -- 1985-89: Luckily, a new hotel had opened-up in Dallas, and I was able to work some banquet shifts there. It was a 5 star hotel called The Crescent Court Hotel.
The banquet manager, Jorge, had previously been an assistant banquet manager at the Anatole under Charles Lorenzi. Originally from Bolivia, Jorge was of medium build with wavy black hair—not bad for a man in his forties. However, his large black mustache and oversized oval head seemed slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body.
Before a banquet, Jorge was always nervous and overly serious, but once dessert and coffee were served, he relaxed and became charming. As a banquet waiter, I earned excellent money, and the employee cafeteria food was surprisingly good. I was always grateful when Jorge invited me back for more shifts.
The Crescent Court Hotel’s design and architecture exuded traditional European style, as did its upper management. The general manager, a Dutchman, and most of his staff, primarily Swiss, embodied this ethos. At some point, the general manager and his wife learned I was also from Holland and avoided eye contact with me, viewing themselves as high-society and me as lower-class.
Holland, also known as the Netherlands, is a monarchy with a caste system still embedded in its society. I never understood how the Dutch could preach equality while upholding a monarchy—a system rooted in the superiority of one bloodline. As a so-called commoner, my opinion in that kingdom carried no weight. This was another reason I loved America: no monarchy, no knighthoods, and no government subsidies for "superior" people. The Dutch monarchy receives hundreds of millions of tax-free euros annually in “subsidies”—money siphoned from the people by politicians in The Hague while many Dutch citizens struggle to afford groceries. Dutch citizens who don’t pay their taxes are hounded by the government and punished harshly. This is never discussed in the Dutch legacy media, which is in the pocket of the monarchy.
Working at the Crescent Court Hotel often felt like being in a European castle, both externally, due to the hotel’s architectural design, and internally, because of the rank-conscious management and elitist culture.
One day, in the service elevator, I found myself standing next to celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck, a small-statured Austrian. During the ride, he kept glancing at me strangely, and just before the doors opened, he made a put-down comment about my hairstyle. The chef beside him laughed hysterically, like a court jester desperate to please. Apparently my height made Wolfgang Puck feel uncomfortable and it brought to mind what Louis Haiman, a friend of my father, once told me: “Some small men will always resent tall men.”
Another celebrity I encountered at the Crescent Court Hotel was Robert Duvall. As we finished setting up the banquet tables and awaited the guests, he appeared unannounced, dressed in a white blazer and black pants, resembling our uniforms. He asked if he could join us during our break and sat next to me on a sofa.
Duvall explained he was there to perform a tango for a charity event. When hotel guests passed by, they did a double-take as they saw him chatting with a dozen waiters. At first, they might have mistaken him for the head waiter, but a closer look confirmed it was the famous actor from The Godfather. I had to do a mental double-take myself, thinking, I can’t believe I’m sitting next to Don Corleone’s consigliere, talking tango.
After the banquet, I watched Duvall dance—he was incredible. He took turns dancing with several high-society women, many of whom I recognized from working charity luncheons and dinners. They were always thrilled to attend, eager to flaunt their latest designer dresses, accessories, and celebrity anecdotes.
Robert Duvall was quintessentially American; he could socialize with people of all backgrounds. Wolfgang Puck was quintessentially European; he showed contempt for those below his social standing and admiration for those above it.
The banquet manager, Jorge, had previously been an assistant banquet manager at the Anatole under Charles Lorenzi. Originally from Bolivia, Jorge was of medium build with wavy black hair—not bad for a man in his forties. However, his large black mustache and oversized oval head seemed slightly out of proportion with the rest of his body.
Before a banquet, Jorge was always nervous and overly serious, but once dessert and coffee were served, he relaxed and became charming. As a banquet waiter, I earned excellent money, and the employee cafeteria food was surprisingly good. I was always grateful when Jorge invited me back for more shifts.
The Crescent Court Hotel’s design and architecture exuded traditional European style, as did its upper management. The general manager, a Dutchman, and most of his staff, primarily Swiss, embodied this ethos. At some point, the general manager and his wife learned I was also from Holland and avoided eye contact with me, viewing themselves as high-society and me as lower-class.
Holland, also known as the Netherlands, is a monarchy with a caste system still embedded in its society. I never understood how the Dutch could preach equality while upholding a monarchy—a system rooted in the superiority of one bloodline. As a so-called commoner, my opinion in that kingdom carried no weight. This was another reason I loved America: no monarchy, no knighthoods, and no government subsidies for "superior" people. The Dutch monarchy receives hundreds of millions of tax-free euros annually in “subsidies”—money siphoned from the people by politicians in The Hague while many Dutch citizens struggle to afford groceries. Dutch citizens who don’t pay their taxes are hounded by the government and punished harshly. This is never discussed in the Dutch legacy media, which is in the pocket of the monarchy.
Working at the Crescent Court Hotel often felt like being in a European castle, both externally, due to the hotel’s architectural design, and internally, because of the rank-conscious management and elitist culture.
One day, in the service elevator, I found myself standing next to celebrity chef Wolfgang Puck, a small-statured Austrian. During the ride, he kept glancing at me strangely, and just before the doors opened, he made a put-down comment about my hairstyle. The chef beside him laughed hysterically, like a court jester desperate to please. Apparently my height made Wolfgang Puck feel uncomfortable and it brought to mind what Louis Haiman, a friend of my father, once told me: “Some small men will always resent tall men.”
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Celebrity Chef Wolfgang Puck openly discussing his "Napoleon complex" |
Another celebrity I encountered at the Crescent Court Hotel was Robert Duvall. As we finished setting up the banquet tables and awaited the guests, he appeared unannounced, dressed in a white blazer and black pants, resembling our uniforms. He asked if he could join us during our break and sat next to me on a sofa.
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Robert Duvall as "the consigliere" in The Godfather |
Duvall explained he was there to perform a tango for a charity event. When hotel guests passed by, they did a double-take as they saw him chatting with a dozen waiters. At first, they might have mistaken him for the head waiter, but a closer look confirmed it was the famous actor from The Godfather. I had to do a mental double-take myself, thinking, I can’t believe I’m sitting next to Don Corleone’s consigliere, talking tango.
After the banquet, I watched Duvall dance—he was incredible. He took turns dancing with several high-society women, many of whom I recognized from working charity luncheons and dinners. They were always thrilled to attend, eager to flaunt their latest designer dresses, accessories, and celebrity anecdotes.
Robert Duvall was quintessentially American; he could socialize with people of all backgrounds. Wolfgang Puck was quintessentially European; he showed contempt for those below his social standing and admiration for those above it.
Ironically, other celebrities were staying at the Crescent Court Hotel that night, though they were unknown to the high-society class of Dallas, Texas. It were the band members of Depeche Mode, with many of their fans were loitering outside the hotel lobby. I had discovered them just weeks earlier when the Anatole’s beverage manager gave me their LP, Speak & Spell, which quickly became my favorite album.
Theo Bruinsma, Dallas Texas 1986 |