The recently refurbished
Starlight Roof of the Waldorf-Astoria reopened in April after
a long hiatus. In the olden time, circa 1945, when my wife, Dody,
and I were honeymooning in New York, the Starlight Roof was one
of New York’s premiere nightclubs. The menus we ordered from may
have been the 1940 Supper edition, with a cover drawing by Xavier
Cugat, whose night job was leading one of the country’s top Latin
dance orchestras. A shrimp cocktail was 75 cents, lobster Newburg
was $2 and a cup of Waldorf-Astoria coffee was 40 cents (in 1940
Houston and just about everywhere else a cup of coffee was a nickel).
An order of Beluga caviar was $3 but even if it weren’t so outrageously
expensive we wouldn’t have ordered it. We didn’t like caviar.
Call us peasants.
Forty years later,
in 1985, when I was in New York for my literary agent’s 70th birthday
party, I dropped by the Waldorf to check out the Starlight Roof.
Though it had been recently refurbished and restored to its Art
Deco splendor, it no longer served as a dining-dancery to the
affluent. So I made do with Peacock Alley, which was still, as
it had been 40 years earlier and even before that, a symbol of
unstinting elegance.
I produced my 1940
menu for the captain, whose name was Juan, and said I intended
to order only items that were still available and compare the
prices.
Juan looked at the
vintage menu.
"Beluga caviar," he
read aloud, "three dollars! It’s sixty-five now."
A young waiter, seeing
what a good time we seemed to be having, joined us. He couldn’t
believe how incredibly low the prices were in 1940, which was
before he was born.
"They weren’t low for
then." I said.
"People didn’t make
anything back then," Juan added.
Another young waiter
joined our little circle. It was only six o’clock, much too unfashionably
early for Peacock Alley to be busy, so no one was being neglected.
The first young waiter went off with my 1940 menu, which was returned
by the assistant manager of the dining room, a tall, handsome
young man in evening attire. He asked if he could keep it long
enough to have copies made.
With Juan’s help, I
settled on Waldorf salad (not on the menu but available), shrimp
curry, and French pastry. Good choice. And the Waldorf-Astoria
coffee was a credit to its name.
Other guests, some
who may have once ordered from that 1940 menu, began arriving
and Juan had less time for me. With a last, reluctant sip of my
Waldorf-Astoria coffee, I asked for the check. This was the only
part of the evening to which I had not been looking forward with
pleasure. And this is how the 1985 prices compared with those
of 1940:
- Waldorf salad — Starlight Roof, $0.40; Peacock Alley,
$5.50
- Shrimp curry — Starlight Roof, $1.50; Peacock Alley,
$25.00
- French pastry — Starlight Roof, $0.25; Peacock Alley.
$5.00
- Waldorf-Astoria coffee — Starlight Roof, $0.40; Peacock
Alley, $2.70.
And to a 1985's tab you had to add tax on my check of $3.38. For
which in 1940 I could have had Beluga caviar and, for two
cents more, a cup of that celebrated coffee.
But you did get a break
in 1985. On the Starlight Roof in 1940 they nicked you two bits
for bread and butter. At Peacock Alley, it was free.
If I went to Chef de
Cuisine Laurent Gras' Peacock Alley today I couldn't duplicate
that 1985 menu, but I could get an adventurous three-course dinner
for $59. Which would not include Beluga caviar or Lobster Newburg
(although lobster cappuccino is available — "lobster
broth flavored with chestnuts, shrimp and sautéed lobster").
I don't know if Waldorf-Astoria coffee is included or costs extra.
I expect it is more than 40 cents nowadays.
David Westheimer lives
with his wife of 55 years, Dody, in the same Los Angeles apartment
they moved into from Houston, Texas 39 years ago. Their son, Fred,
is a Senior Vice-President at the William Morris Agency and his
younger brother, Eric, is a veterinarian. Succeeding generations
include five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. As a journalist,
David worked for Oveta Culp Hobby. At 83, David Westheimer continues
to write, and not just for Senior Women. His latest effort, "The
Great Wounded Bird", his recollections of World War II, winner
of the Texas Review 1999 poetry prize, was published this year
by Texas Review Press and may be ordered from Amazon Books, where
it is 1,458,159th on their sales list, from Barnes & Noble and
Borders Books. He is a novelist and a retired Air Force Officer.
He can be reached for a repertoire of feigned curmudgeonly remarks
at: DWestheime@aol.com.
