Serving Celebrities: The Complete Collection (25 page)

Good old Jake, when I told him I wanted to take a nap in the blocked out room, he immediately gave the master key and told me to change the sheets if I wasn’t alone. On our way upstairs, I knew I wasn’t alone but the sheets will probably be the least of Pottsy and my problems. I stood outside the supposed Babbits door and knocked, announcing, “Room service.” It was quiet in the room. I looked to Pottsy and knocked again, “Room service.” I could see an eye come to the security peephole on the door. Pottsy slid the master key into the lock and we both pushed hard on the room’s door.

From inside was a grunt of, “Uh-oh -- its Bill…” in a Scottish accent. We pushed the door open and barreled into the room, it looked like little Lorna already had a skinny-dipping buddy. Lorna, another Irish girl and two Scottish bellmen reclined on the bed and two of the chairs. Pottsy looked at them and said finally, “Tom -- Nicole -- kids…” The four room service trays were spread throughout the suite. One of the Scottish guys stood and asked innocently, “Where’s our whiskey?”

After some quick deal making, we all decided to chip in for the room service food, Pottsy got the orders off the books, I had Jake put the room back in service (even though the toilet was still broken and waiting for the part) and we started to spread the news that Tom, Nicole and family had a wonderful time at the Harbor View and would be back soon.

Pottsy and I were laughing about it as we walked down Water Street to get a beer at the Wharf Bar. We stopped into the small drug store on the corner to pick up some Pepto Bismol, the thought of paying for the Crystal and Jameson’s had ignited my acid-reflux. When we got to the counter it was obvious that the guy and girl working the register were all in a tizzy. I asked them what was happening. “Tom Cruise -- the actor -- was just in here,” the girl blurted. Pottsy and I started laughing. “It’s all a rumor,” Pottsy assured her. “Bullshit!” exclaimed the guy, “I’ve seen Top Gun a hundred times. I know Maverick when I see him.” “Yeah, Maverick,” added the girl. I turned to Pottsy and we looked at each other -- maybe it wasn’t a rumor -- sending my acid re-fluxing.

Phil Collins, Easy Superstar

I
n the late eighties, Phil Collins was a supernova in the music business, drummer and lead singer of the band, Genesis, and a solo performer with his own number one album. He was also one of the nicest people that I’ve ever waited on.

When I worked at the Sunset Marquis, I was the butler for Phil and his family when they stayed in the hotel’s villas. Phil was married (at the time) to Jill, a very sweet woman, who took care of the family’s home life. Jill was organized and efficient; she was not a trophy wife. At the time, their daughter Lily was three. They seemed to be the wholesome family and not the family of a rock and roll icon.

The Collins would come and stay at the hotel for months on end. Jill had grown up in Los Angeles, so she had a lot of friends and family visiting when they were in town. Phil was always very busy. One of the stays was with Genesis while they played Dodger Stadium. At the time Phil was at his crest of popularity but he still went out on tour with his old friends and band-mates. You could tell that Phil was happy to be part of the band again, even if he was the big name in the band.

Many times I would meet musicians, actors, directors and writers who seemed to be bothered by their celebrity. Like no one had ever told them that if they were in a successful band or a big movie they would become famous? But Phil was the most comfortable celebrity. He was easy to talk to and you never got the feeling when you were with him that you were “the help,” even though, in all actuality, you were “the help.”

Lily Collins would play on the grounds of the hotel, swim in the pool and walk with her nanny, Sophie, in the gardens. I would stop and talk to them whenever I ran into them. Somewhere in one of these visits, Sophie accidentally called me “Bob.” We all laughed -- Lily started to playfully call me “Bob.”

One afternoon, Phil was at home with Lily in their villa. I arrived with their lunch and started to lay it out. Lily, who I have to admit was extremely precocious for three, called me “Bob” in front of her father. Phil looked at her and in a firm voice said, “You know that is not his name?” Lily stopped laughing and agreed that she did know that Bob was not my name. I wanted to say something, but I didn’t feel that I should interrupt. “You know what his real name is,” stated Phil. “You would want him to call you by your real name. Now, tell Bill you’re sorry.” Lily turned to me and said, “I’m sorry, Bill.” I didn’t know what to say, so all I replied was, “That’s okay.” I finished laying out lunch for Lily and Phil.

No matter how cool Phil and his family was the management of the Sunset Marquis felt that they had to drive them away. Here’s an example, I arrived to work one night and Phil telephoned me in the butler’s pantry. He said, he thinks there is someone in the villa above him. Somewhere, deep in my brain, I remember that Collins’ had rented both villas. I can’t imagine the hotel double renting a room -- especially if it’s already being rented by the guy who is one of their best customers… and is staying beneath said room. Could it be burglars?

I entered the front door of the villa with the butler keys and climbed the stairs that leads to a living room. “It’s your butler,” I announced. There was no answer -- yet, there was the feeling that someone was in the villa. “It’s your butler,” I shouted louder -- hoping that that will scare away any intruders. The problem with these two villas is that they were in no way sound proof (which is the reason why the Collins rented both of them) and I was sure the Collins was listening. I noticed that the bed in one of the rooms was in turn-down (the maids have been in -- someone had told them to prepare the room). I walked back to the main foyer to call down to the front desk to see if they have booked it by accident…

Suddenly, the bathroom door swung open and a guy comes out, drying his hair. “It’s your butler,” I shouted, surprised. Because I said it a little too loud and because he had a towel over his head, the guy stumbled back. The guy was big -- real big -- he was also naked. The guy suddenly starts running towards the front door -- disoriented. “I’m the butler here. Who are you?” I asked. The guy stopped and realized that I was only armed with a cork-screw (which I instinctually opened in defense) or at the least, I was an intruder dressed in a hotel uniform. Holding the towel but not wearing it, he turned to me. “You scared me,” he said. I was cringing -- not only was he naked but I could hear every single foot fall as he ran towards the stairs and the front door. He sounded like one of those drugged hippos, in retreat.

“I’m sorry,” I answered, “They didn’t tell me anyone was up here.” They guy was holding his chest trying to slow his agitated heart beat down. “You scared me,” was all that he could repeat. I was wondering if Phil could hear us, when my question was answered. “Can you please stop running up here?” Said a voice from the bottom of the stairs, a voice that I had just heard singing “Sussudio” on the radio in my car, on the way to work. The naked guy turned around and said, “Hi, Phil.” For a moment, I thought maybe I could hide and wait for Phil to leave before I did anything, until I heard, “Bill, are you up there?”

I stepped up to the top of the stairs (next to the naked guy, who was still holding the towel) and looked down at Phil, in the doorway. “I’m sorry, Mr. Collins,” I apologized. “I didn’t know he was up here.” Phil glared at us -- I looked over at the naked guy and he finally wrapped the towel around his waist. Phil grimaced, “I thought I was paying for this villa?” “I’ve got to check on that, sir.” These were the moments I hated at this job -- I didn’t have the answer to Phil Collins’ simple question. “I really like your music, Phil” said the naked guy, catching his slipping towel. “Who’s there, Daddy?” asked Lily, from behind the door. Phil backed out of the front door and shoo-ed his young daughter away, “It’s just Bill and another guest.” As the door closed I could hear Lily ask, “I thought we had that villa, too?” “He’s a great drummer.” The naked guy felt he had to add.

I called my boss, Duckie, and he phoned the hotel’s general manager and we moved the naked guy to another room (he was a friend of the sales manager, who put him knowingly in the villa -- the guy was a big fan of Phil’s). This wasn’t a onetime only screw up either. A year or so later, the hotel renovated some of the villas. The Collins liked this one particular villa and only stayed there. When the newly-renovated villas were opened the Collins’ were assigned the largest one. Duckie called me from home to tell me that Jill, Lily and the nanny were coming in late that night and asked me to go down and set up the villa for their arrival.

This was the first time that I had been in the villa since they shut it down for renovations. I went through the suite opening windows and turning on lamps until I got to the kitchen and realized -- there was no refrigerator. I called Duckie at home and told him. The reason why the Collins’ stayed in that particular villa (which was now occupied) was because it had a large refrigerator. Jill Collins didn’t like using room service -- she felt that we had small selection for a child and either her or Sophie could prepare a more nutritional meal without waiting for it to be delivered. Duckie told me to call the hotel’s food and beverage manager and he would try to contact the general manager. We had to switch villas fast.

Duckie took the easy road -- the Marquis’ general manager was a reasonable man -- the food and beverage manager was not. I rushed down to the butler’s pantry and called the F & B manager -- bad news, he was home. I explained the missing refrigerator to him, he wasn’t very sympathetic. “We want the Collins to order from room service,” he answered. I told him that Jill Collins didn’t like room service and wanted a refrigerator in her villa. The F & B manager took the tone of stern father talking to his five year-old bulter, “Bill, do you understand, we want them to order from room service -- that way you will make more tips.” “Mrs. Collins isn’t going to order from room service -- she doesn’t like it,” I answered. “But what are they going to do,” he asked, “Go to another hotel in the middle of the night?” I didn’t answer -- that came later. They went to the Four Seasons -- Jill, Lily and Sophie waited for about an hour until the hotel could call a car for them. I hope someone learned a lesson -- but I’m pretty sure they didn’t.

My best Phil Collins story is this; Phil comes down to the front desk to pick up his mail. As he stands waiting for his mail, the front desk clerk tells Phil that the switchboard has an important phone call for him. Phil asks if he could take it there. The front desk clerk tells Phil that he’ll transfer the call to the vacant concierge desk, Phil can take it there. Phil goes to the concierge desk and answers the phone when it rings. He starts talking on the phone and takes a seat at the desk.

As he’s talking; a Fedex delivery guy comes in and walks to the concierge desk (most hotels will have the concierge sign for packages). Phil is sitting there, still in the middle of his phone call. The Fedex guy puts the package on the desk and hands Phil the delivery manifest. “Can you sign for this?” the Fedex guy asks. Phil looks up and says, “Sure.” He signs for the package.

Just before turning around to leave, the Fedex guy says to Phil, “Anyone ever tell you that you look like Phil Collins.” Phil puts his hand over the phone’s receiver and says, “Yeah, all the time.” The Fedex guy leaves. We all know, sometime, later in the day most likely, this guy looks down at his manifest and realizes why Phil looks so much like Phil Collins.

Lily Collins, Eloise at the Sunset Marquis

L
ily is Phil Collins’ daughter. The Collins used to come to the Sunset Marquis and stay for months at a time. Sometimes the hotel would have many children staying there (especially if there was a band booked -- UB40 had a ton of kids) but for the most part, Lily was on her own.

Lily and her nanny, a young British woman, named Sophie, would play in the gardens behind the villas. I would be walking through the grounds with someone’s lunch on a tray, resting on my shoulder, and run into Lily chasing the rabbits that the hotel raised (We started out with two cute bunnies that eventually turned into a herd of what appeared to be a hundred wild rabbits in a very short time -- it became very treacherous trying to walk on the garden stone and not step on any of the stampeding rabbits). I found that I could kick Lily’s soccer ball and keep my tray balanced -- not so much at jumping rope.

Other times, while Lily swam in the villa pool, I would try to instruct her on her swimming technique. One day, Jill Collins, Lily’s mom, was at the pool with Sophie and Lily when Angeline (The original Kadashian pin-up girl) was shooting some pictures. As Jill talked to Angelyne (I guess Phil was a big fan), Lily stared at the billboard icon. At one point, Lily wanted to know if “Marilyn was going to have lunch with us?” Angelyne declined but I noticed that Lily called her “Marilyn.” Later, Jill told me that Lily had mistaken Angelyne for Marilyn Monroe (they had book filled with photographs of Marilyn). I was blown away -- what three year old is aware of Marilyn Monroe?

Lily was very precocious -- or I should say, she was very smart. She was one of those children who you talk to and you forget that the socks you’re wearing are older than she is. I think because her father traveled so much, and her and her mom followed him, she was much more aware than most children her age. At the time (the early nineties) Mike Myers had a bit on Saturday Night Live, where he played a young boy in a bathtub. The tag-line to the bit was; “Are you looking at my bum?” Whenever Lily was in her bathing suit, she would ask me if I was “looking at her bum?” It was funny (and she knew it) and it was creepy at the same time. But what three year old says that?

Finally, I can’t take it at the Sunset Marquis anymore and I realize it’s time to move on. The years roll by and every once and a while I wonder what Lily and Jill are doing (Jill will always be my answer to the “Where were you during the first night of the Los Angeles riots?” In the hotel’s small gym, watching the city descend into madness as Jill Collins worked out close by). I heard that Jill and Phil had separated and divorced; too bad - I thought they were a nice couple. I hear somewhere on VH1 that Lily is on a television show. I think, that makes sense, it’s a music station and I’m sure Lily would make a good host.

Then one day a few years ago, I go to the movie
The Blindside
. I’m a big football fan, I’ve seen Michael Oher play for the Baltimore Ravens, and I used to think Sandra Bullock was hot. As I’m watching the film, the daughter of the woman played by Sandra Bullock looked familiar -- but I can’t place her. Like most people in Los Angeles I start to run through the rolodex in my memory; is it someone I’ve worked with, a friend’s kid (you’re getting old when you think you recognize “a friend’s kid” who is an adult) or that chick at Swingers, who caught me looking down her t-shirt (I was checking out her tattoo -- I swear). It bugged me throughout the whole film (that and the realization that Sandra Bullock wasn’t all that hot anymore -- it’s that Jesse James’ fault. What kind of ingénue marries someone named Jesse James? Jesse James lied to me -- duh. She was lucky he didn’t shoot her in the back). Finally when the credits rolled, I realized that the character Collins was Lily Collins (that’s weird, huh -- her character’s name was her real last name… and it’s not like her name is Ryan or anything).

I was a fan Lily’s when she was three and will always be a fan of hers no matter how many
Mirror, Mirrors
she makes (She’s also become a very good actor). I only hope for the best for her in the future but for me she will always be a little girl living in a fancy hotel, with a sweet British accent (The Collins spent most of their time in London) and a gift of making the adults around her recognize how special she was... and not just because she was Phil Collins’ daughter.

One day, I had finished my shift and had changed my clothes to go home. On the way to the employee’s parking lot, I ran into Lily and Sophie in the gardens. I said, “hi” but Lily looked confused. Seeing me in street clothes made her ask where was I going. I told her that I was done working and I was going home. Lily looked at me puzzled and said, “Bill, you don’t live here at the hotel?” I said, “No, Lily. I don’t live here.” She smiled and said, “Do you promise to come back tomorrow?” I replied, that I promised -- I would be back tomorrow.