A Momentous Long Distance Call

CLARIDGE’S HOTEL, London

Luxurious living at Claridge's,  if only for a day or two ...  

     

      At Claridge’s, the innovative Christopher Cowdray, the London hotel’s general manager between 1998 and 2004, once inaugurated a particularly democratic program whereby every full-time employee spent a night as guest of the hotel.

Michael, one of the French waiters at the time, was among the first to avail himself of the opportunity, and he and his wife were thrilled with their stay.  They were given a beautiful suite with flowers and champagne.  He told me it had completely transformed his concept of life at Claridge’s.

Christopher Cowdray  (Google archives)

I never actually met Mr. Cowdray, though I have long followed his career with interest, and once I did have a thrilling long distance conversation with him.

I had spent a weekend in London with my friend Marguerite in 1998.  We had profited from one of those unbeatable suite-weekend packages.  It was a period of recession and it was the kind of deal you just don’t find any longer.

Marguerite in apartment 115

  We had a great time, and the suite was spacious and gorgeous.  Then towards the end of our stay we had a couple of oddly incongruous mishaps. 

Exceptional room details

Marguerite had a loose button on her jacket, and we called Housekeeping to request a needle and thread.  We were pretty dumbfounded when told that neither were available.  Coming from a hotel that prided itself on opening up amusement parks at two in the morning for middle eastern royalty, the impossibility of finding so much as a needle and thread was disconcerting.

On our last morning, arriving back from a trip to the flea market, we discovered three men in overalls with their hammers and various power tools spread out over the bedroom floor.  They had removed one of the doors and were in the process of transforming our suite into a larger apartment for the next guests.   Someone had prematurely decided we had already vacated the premises.  

We decided to write to the management, and I set out our grievances with a maximum of humor, emphasizing that it was only my affection for Claridge’s that prodded me to share this less than perfect experience.

Whenever I write, and for whatever reason, I always aim for the top man on the totem pole, though never sure he’ll actually see my missive.  I sent the letter on a Monday to the very top, Christopher Cowdray.

When the telephone rang early Wednesday morning, the excitement was almost too much for me to bear.  It was the managing director, himself.

After profusely thanking me for my letter, he said (and I'll never forget his choice of words) he was “absolutely devastated” to learn of my recent trials and tribulations.

Had Louis B. Mayer been on the other end of the line, entreating me to sign a seven-year Hollywood contract, I wouldn’t have been more excited.  Mr. Cowdray invited me to contact him directly for all future bookings, and he further proposed a highly advantageous promotion if I’d give them another try.  

I felt a little guilty, as I had had a splendid time already, even without locating a needle and thread.  At any rate, my next visit was impeccable, and the suite had its fair share of flowers and fruits and little notes from various managers welcoming me back. 

It was several years afterwards that Mr. Cowdray’s rather brilliant career took him elsewhere, and I must say Claridge’s has never seemed quite as tip-top since.

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr


  [Photos are mine, unless otherwise credited]

CROSS REFERENCING … a look at other postings

Christopher Cowdray is also featured in:  blog No. 39, "Living It Up On Park Lane!" May 31, 2013 (to access, click on above title).