schmaltz monger

Oh, I see these names now. I couldn't have known your dad..I wasn't even born then...

You know, they have been waiting for legalized gambling for as long as I can remember. That "buzz" has been in the air for a long time but I havn't talked to anyone up there lately to deny or confirm this report about "it's coming" or the refurbishing of the hotels. It could be quite true. Maybe other readers out there can chime in.

The Triangle Diner! That's great! I had many a meal in there. Great piece of history. The thing was you couldn't get bacon in the hotels and if you were craving a BLT you had to go outside the hotel for that kind of food. But the Triangle was a hang for the staff at Grossingers in between meals so they could relax and hang out and get their bets straight for Monticello Raceway that night, contact their bookies, settle bets, announce up coming card games etc., and basically take care of their gambling needs throughout the day. And of course smoke. During my Borscht belt career, I worked at The Raleigh, The Pines, The Concord, and Grossingers, The President, The Ambassador, there were a few others I forget. My family was deeply involved in the business. My uncle Dave was the maitre'd at Grossingers for decades and his brother, my uncle Benny, ran the coffee shop downstairs next to the indoor ice skating rink for years. My dad, the famous Irving G, owned and managed several of these hotels as well. FLANKEN! Now there's a tasty cut of meat. Boiled to perfection! ← My relatives owned the Triangle. We visited the Catskills throughout the 1970's - Grossingers, Kutcher's, Nevele, Fallsview - schmaltz monger, which hotel did you work for? My dad worked as a waiter at one of the hotels that was gone before the 70s - to this day, he can't eat boiled chicken or flanken. Thanks for the trip down memory lane - keep it coming! ←

Talk about the staff quarters at Grossingers! My grandmother was a waitress there for many years and when I was a kid I'd go visit her on her day off. I have 2 words for you...card games. They would have these on going card games in between meals. And they would smoke. It was a scene. There was a diner across the street called "The Triangle Diner" she would take me to for lunch and she knew all the waitresses there and they'd shout at her, "See you later Mary at the game." These were tough women.

Oh my god...I'm laughing...classic!

The menus were printed every day on a "mimeograph machine." For some reason the food had to have these "embellished" titles. Duck was not just duck. It was Long Island Duckling. Fish was not just fish. It was Freshly Caught Florida Snapper or something. Chickens were capons, or, if younger, smaller, or female, "caponettes." There was a town up in the Catskills called "Old Falls." So one day we were serving Roasted Old Falls Caponette. A guest of mine that week was an old lady who couldn't make up her mind what to order so I suggested the Old Falls Caponette. Her reply was, "Vy vould I order an old chicken? Don't you have something fresh?"

That is a great, great story! And the kicker is this guy was probably worth a few bucks. But a deal's a deal! Every Sunday the guests who had stayed all week would check-out and they would tip you at lunch because that was their last meal and then they would go back to the city. They had these little yellow envelopes they were supposed to fill according to a "suggested" daily rate. Let me tell you I saw many an old timer who didn't like their "filling" chase these people out the dining room door only to confront them in the lobby and ask them to their face what was wrong with the service, didn't I run and get you everything you wanted, I even had your prunes waiting for you on the table in the morning like you requested (some couldn't wait for that trip into the kitchen) etc and etc. Some came back with more money, some didn't. But it was all about the tip and tipping. There are so many stories like this out there and that is exactly why I wanted to start this thread. Thank you for your reply! Where can we go now? I guess cruise ships come close. They should start a floating Catskill cruise line. Thanks again!

That's great! That was one of the big ones. My uncle, Dave Geiver, was the Maitre'd there for over 25 years. Great hotel; too bad it's gone.

Slinging Hash in the Borscht Belt All the other college kids had fancy-schmancy jobs working on Wall Street or at Uncle Mordechai's furrier. Me, I waited tables in the Borscht Belt near the beautiful vacation spot of South Fallsburg, NY. The Fourth of July weekend was the official start of the “season.” Waiters would crowd into the "bimmy" quarters--rooms that the hotels set aside for summer waitstaff and were only marginally nicer than a cinderblock dorm room. But hey--bimmy rooms were free, leaving us to save our wages on more prudent purchases such as school tuition, drunken nightclub excursions and Sunday night pizza at Crossroads. When I had a good station, I could rake in $350 to $500 a week in cash tips. Mind you, this was thirty years ago, so those were some pretty serious shekels. Catskills Characters We had our share of characters in every station: kvetchy diners, alter-kockers who had downed too much schnapps, comedians. A favorite expression I often heard was, “Don’t make a special trip for me.” This actually meant, “Get me this now.” One guest I'll never forget was Death Grip Granny Katz. Kind old Granny bemoaned her arthritis and her lack of strength, but G-d help the waiter who tried to clear Granny's plate before she was finished. She would grab your forearm with a grip that could crush a coconut and smile, "I'm not done with that yet, Sweetie!" Once you dropped her plate, she released her grip and you would scamper away with an arm that looked like it had a run-in with a meat tenderizer. Comedians such as Henny Youngman and Buddy Hackett were headliners in the hotels, but some of the wildest entertainment came from the waiters themselves. I was a roomy with one "bimmy" who would retire to his room to enjoy a baked potato with butter. But he didn't actually eat them together. He would take a bite of the potato in one hand and then take a bite of a stick of butter he wielded in his other hand. Potato bite, butter bite. Potato bite, butter bite. It was like watching the cast of "Young Frankenstein" break for lunch. If his regulation black pants ever got dirty, he’d clean them with coffee. This was “in house” cleaning. Maxwell House. After a couple months of this, all us bimmies would hanker for Labor Day Weekend, when the resort season was almost over and the blood-curdling cries of, "Where's my kreplach??" would soon cease. Of course, we came back during the High Holidays and school breaks to earn money and nosh on chopped liver in the hotel kitchens. So maybe it wasn't Wall Street. But it was a blast. High finance? Gimme high cholesterol anytime.