I was a Borscht Belt waiter

[schmaltz monger]

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.

[K8memphis]

Welcome to egullet, schmaltz monger, great first post!

[schmaltz monger]

Welcome to egullet, schmaltz monger, great first post!

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[tsquare]

I went to a family reunion the last year of Grossingers (or close to it - 1983, I think.) Fulfilled the childhood fantasy right doen to doing the hokey pokey.

[schmaltz monger]

I went to a family reunion the last year of Grossingers (or close to it - 1983, I think.) Fulfilled the childhood fantasy right doen to doing the hokey pokey.

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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.

[markk]

I was probably a guest of yours (depending on the exact year) !!

I love these stories. The one I have to tell has this entire cast of characters transplanted to Miami Beach, because it takes place during Christmas week (and of course, many hotel owners had summer hotels in the Catskills and winter hotels in MB).

So of course, everybody was on the Full American Plan, three meals a day. And while the menu specified "one thing" from each course, no Jew was going to accept that, and the waiters made it like they were putting their lives on the line to break the rules for you in return for an especially nice tip. So you could have orange juice and a half a grapefruit. Or, if you chose eggs for breakfast, you could also have an order of pancakes. Well, you remember.

And of course, when breakfast in the Dining Room ended, you could still take it for the next hour or two at the Coffee Shop, which was on street level. But the coffee shop also did a brisk walk-in business from the street, so its menu had prices. And the note explaining what you were entitled to if you were taking a "meal plan" meal there. And the "suggested tip" was printed right there as well.

So one year at the hotel, for one entire week, was a story that circulated the hotel, whipped the pool into a frenzy if you will.

One guy overslept, and took his breakfast one day at the coffee shop. He ordered his usual breakfast, starting with the large glass of orange juice. When his check came, all the items were priced, then struck through, and the words "Meal Plan" were written on it. Except... there was a 25 cents charge for "large juice". The fellow complained to the waitress, who explained that he was entitled on the meal plan to the small juice, which it said (25 cent value on the menu) and had to pay the difference (25 cents) for the large juice. He explained that upstairs, he always got a large glass of juice every day.

But he didn't argue. He signed his bill. But instead of the suggested one-dollar tip, he left her 75 cents.

She was so upset by that (and I'm sure understandably so) that she took it to the hotel manager.

So the manager went to see the guest to smoothe the situation over. They arranged that the manager would void the supplemental juice charge, and then the guy went down to the coffee shop and gave the waitress the additional twenty-five cents.

Well, you had to hear him tell this story! And then, you had to hear it as it got repeated around the pool for a week! (or, maybe you didn't.)

[schmaltz monger]

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!

I was probably a guest of yours (depending on the exact year) !!

I love these stories.  The one I have to tell has this entire cast of characters transplanted to Miami Beach, because it takes place during Christmas week (and of course, many hotel owners had summer hotels in the Catskills and winter hotels in MB).

So of course, everybody was on the Full American Plan, three meals a day.  And while the menu specified "one thing" from each course, no Jew was going to accept that, and the waiters made it like they were putting their lives on the line to break the rules for you in return for an especially nice tip.  So you could have orange juice and a half a grapefruit.  Or, if you chose eggs for breakfast, you could also have an order of pancakes.  Well, you remember.

And of course, when breakfast in the Dining Room ended, you could still take it for the next hour or two at the Coffee Shop, which was on street level.  But the coffee shop also did a brisk walk-in business from the street, so its menu had prices.  And the note explaining what you were entitled to if you were taking a "meal plan" meal there.  And the "suggested tip" was printed right there as well.

So one year at the hotel, for one entire week, was a story that circulated the hotel, whipped the pool into a frenzy if you will.

One guy overslept, and took his breakfast one day at the coffee shop.  He ordered his usual breakfast, starting with the large glass of orange juice.  When his check came, all the items were priced, then struck through, and the words "Meal Plan" were written on it.  Except... there was a 25 cents charge for "large juice".  The fellow complained to the waitress, who explained that he was entitled on the meal plan to the small juice, which it said (25 cent value on the menu) and had to pay the difference (25 cents) for the large juice.  He explained that upstairs, he always got a large glass of juice every day.

But he didn't argue.  He signed his bill.  But instead of the suggested one-dollar tip, he left her 75 cents.

She was so upset by that (and I'm sure understandably so) that she took it to the hotel manager.

So the manager went to see the guest to smoothe the situation over.  They arranged that the manager would void the supplemental juice charge, and then the guy went down to the coffee shop and gave the waitress the additional twenty-five cents.

Well, you had to hear him tell this story!  And then, you had to hear it as it got repeated around the pool for a week!  (or, maybe you didn't.)

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Edited January 10, 2007 by schmaltz monger (log)

[markk]

Woman to hotel manager in Catskills:

"The food in this hotel is horrible. Sheer and utter poison. And such small portions!

[markk]

I spent every summer of my childhood in the Catskills. In those days, lunch was a 16 ounce bowl of heavy sour cream every day. You could have it with blueberries, or sliced banana. So how much cholesterol per week was that just in luch alone?

[markk]

Okay, so technically this story happened in Florida during early-bird in a restaurant:

Lady to waiter: "My chicken breast is tough. I deserve to be upgraded to the Prime Rib.

Waiter: "No lady, you get another chicken breast."

I was at the next table and overheard this.

[Daniel Rogov]

Who else might remember the waiters' and waitresses' quarters at Grossinger's and the marvelous early or late adolescent games that were played there

Or "borrowing" the Buick convertable of one of the guests for a joy ride through nearby Monticello

Or of stealing watermelons

But then again, borrowing the title of the autobiography of Simone Signoret: "Nostalgia Isn't What It Used to Be".......

[schmaltz monger]

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?"

Okay, so technically this story happened in Florida during early-bird in a restaurant:

Lady to waiter: "My chicken breast is tough.  I deserve to be upgraded to the Prime Rib.

Waiter: "No lady, you get another chicken breast."

I was at the next table and overheard this.

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Edited January 10, 2007 by schmaltz monger (log)

[markk]

Some years we'd stay at a bungalow colony, where you had to do your own cooking. 'Pinwheels' (or 'cartwheels') were big then - skirt steak rolled up then sliced an inch thick, with wooden skewers keeping the slices from unraveling. So one day we were in the butcher shop in South Fallsburg, and woman asked, "how much are the lamb chops?". The butcher replied, "$1.99 a pound." She retorted, "$1.99 a pound? The butcher in Monticello has them for $1.59 a pound!" And this butcher said, "why don't you buy them there, then?" and she replied, "they're out of them." So he answered, "lady, when we're out of them, they're $1.09 a pound."

[schmaltz monger]

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

Some years we'd stay at a bungalow colony, where you had to do your own cooking.  'Pinwheels' (or 'cartwheels') were big then - skirt steak rolled up then sliced an inch thick, with wooden skewers keeping the slices from unraveling.  So one day we were in the butcher shop in South Fallsburg, and woman asked, "how much are the lamb chops?".  The butcher replied, "$1.99 a pound."  She retorted, "$1.99 a pound?  The butcher in Monticello has them for $1.59 a pound!"  And this butcher said, "why don't you buy them there, then?" and she replied, "they're out of them."  So he answered, "lady, when we're out of them, they're $1.09 a pound."

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[schmaltz monger]

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.

Who else might remember the waiters' and waitresses' quarters at Grossinger's and the marvelous early or late adolescent games that were played there

Or "borrowing" the Buick convertable of one of the guests for a joy ride through nearby Monticello

Or of stealing watermelons

But then again, borrowing the title of the autobiography of Simone Signoret: "Nostalgia Isn't What It Used to Be".......

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[Fresser]

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.

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BubbleheadChef's thread on Submarine Cuisine comes close. Of course, Bubblehead did have a more captive audience.

[NancyH]

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.

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[markk]

And is is true that several hotels, including the Concord, have been completely modernized and refurbised, and now have casinos, and are waiting for gambling to be legalized before they reopen?

(We once stayed at a hotel in Monticello, don't remember the name. The room was so small, you had to go outside to change your mind.)

[schmaltz monger]

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!

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.

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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!

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[schmaltz monger]

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.

And is is true that several hotels, including the Concord, have been completely modernized and refurbised, and now have casinos, and are waiting for gambling to be legalized before they reopen?

(We once stayed at a hotel in Monticello, don't remember the name.  The room was so small, you had to go outside to change your mind.)

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[tsquare]

My Dad worked as a soda jerk in Monticello (and grew up there.) My Mom figured she probably ordered one from him 15 years before they met and married in California.

[NancyH]

My dad waitered at these places:

The Royal Hotel in White Lake 1953

The Paramont Hotel in Mountaindale 1954

I forget the name of a hotel in Parksville where I worked a few weeks

The Prospect Hotel in Swan Lake 1952

It took twenty years before he went from waiter to customer - though I think my parents took their honeymoon at the Nevele in or about 1959.

Edited February 5, 2007 by NancyH (log)

[schmaltz monger]

My dad waitered at these places:

The Royal Hotel in White Lake 1953

The Paramont Hotel in Mountaindale 1954

I forget the name of a hotel in Parksville where I worked a few weeks

The Prospect Hotel in Swan Lake 1952

It took twenty years before he went from waiter to customer - though I think my parents took their honeymoon at the Nevele in or about 1959.

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