Hotels and Motels Chapter 2

Continuing with recalling hotels and motels there are a few more that still cause me to wonder what it takes to be an hotelier. I do not suspect I am the only one to have hotel or motel experiences worthy of remembering. Nevertheless, there are a few that are memorable to me.

A few weeks after my wife and I married we traveled to Columbus, Georgia, where I began my Army career. This adventure of beginning a new life experience simultaneously thrilled and frightened us. Virtually penniless, we depended on something new, plastic cards we could use to purchase gasoline and pay for a night's lodging. We had used metallic charge plates in department stores; but now something totally different. Plastic cards were like money.

En route we stopped in Monroe, Louisiana. Several hours earlier we had crossed the Texas-Louisiana state line. The highway narrowed and for all we knew we had crossed over into a foreign country. At our Monroe motel the feeling of alienation (I think that is the appropriate word) led us to ask each other if somehow we got through without a passport.

At the motel registration desk I kept asking, "What? What did you say?" The desk clerk seemed to be speaking English, but I needed an interpreter. This motel did not strike us as being fancy or eloquent, only a roadside stop that looked clean and accessible. Nevertheless, the motel had a porter who greeted us at the doorway to our room.

The room, like most motels of the 1960s, opened directly to the parking area. We simply could take our overnight bags to the room and plop down on the bed that for a nickel you could get it to vibrate. But, there was the porter. He took our bags and carried them into the room then stood waiting for his tip.

As I reached into my pocket for a coin; a quarter seemed enough. I noticed there were two television sets. I asked the porter, "Why are two televisions sets in this room?"

Puzzled by the question or why I asked the question he looked at me and then back to the two television sets and then back to me and shrugged his shoulders. Then he said, "One of 'em is unfixed, suh."

"Unfixed?"

"Yes suh, unfixed."

After completing basic officer training at Fort Benning we left for our first permanent duty assignment in the Washington, D.C. area. Since we had so few household belongings, we decided to pack everything in our Studebaker Lark VI. When everything was packed, we realized we had more "stuff" than we thought. But off we went.

Something delayed our departure from Columbus, Georgia; probably taking the time to shove everything we owned into the Studebaker. So, we only got to a place called Dublin, Georgia just before nightfall. The only lodging we saw was the Dublin Inn. The grounds appeared nicely trimmed and the buildings of the inn were nestled in a small pine grove. In front a gas station, diner, and registration desk occupied the same building. I entered the building to arrange for a night's stay and behind the desk a man sat wearing a green shade on his forehead; you know like accountants once wore as they poured over pay records or something. I asked for a room for the two of us. He wanted cash payment only. By this time I had money and could get by easily. He gave me a key, told me how to drive to the room, and then disappeared into a back room.

Okay, I said to myself, as long as the room is paid for and I have the key what is there to concern me. Maybe he needed to go to the back room to count some more money.

As I drove up to the room there the man stood. This time he wore a white leather service hat. On leaving my car he said he would take our bags and he acted as a porter. When we got into the room he explained how the heater worked, which we found it did not heat just made noise. He instructed us not to be loud, and that he did not tolerate drinking alcohol on the premises. I indicated understanding of the instructions and offered a tip. He declined, saying, "It's all a part of the service."

We looked around the room and we were surprised to see brick everywhere. Not only the building sported red brick but also the bed frame and the night stand.

The night air chilled every corner of the room as well as the two of us as snuggled together under a thin blanket.

Morning came too soon. The restlessness of a cold night prevented good sleep and we had to travel to Washington where deep snow awaited us. We woke, showered in cold water, got dressed, and decided to try the diner at the main building of the motel. As we entered the diner the smell of bacon and toast invited us to join a group of good-old-boys sitting at a counter. To our surprise the desk clerk cum porter stood at the stove flipping eggs, pancakes, and bacon. He wore a cook's hat and a white apron. Turning to us, he said, "Good morning folks; what'll you two have for breakfast." I do not remember what we ordered; probably scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, juice and coffee. The desk clerk, porter, and now cook promptly delivered our order.

After breakfast we returned to our Studebaker Lark VI and decided we needed to fill up before we depart Dublin for the north. So, I drove the car to the pump (gas cost about 35 cents a gallon then) and waited for an attendant to fill up the car and check the oil.

By this time we were not surprised to see the desk clerk, porter, and cook arrive wearing a baseball cap on which a winged red horse advertised Mobil Oil or some such gas company.

The desk clerk, porter, cook, now gas station attendant asked, "Fill 'er up folks?"

"Yes," I replied, "and check the oil.

After paying with my gas credit card, he waved us good bye. I wondered if he wore a different hat when he mowed the lawn or washed the windows.