Our Quaint Spirits
A 1yr-old tiger cub is racing around the lobby. He bounds and leaps down the main hallway, creeps by the lobby tables and pounces on the stair steps. With his muted “Rawwwwrrr,” he terrorizes the guests – terrorizes them with his cuteness.
It’s Halloween and this adorable nipper is certainly getting in the spirit of the holiday. While ghouls, witches, and zombies prowl the streets outside, the Pfister remains ghost-free.
Or does it?
Of the millions of people who pass beneath the red canopy and through the revolving doors on Jefferson Street, a few are bound to haunt…
The Fuel of Magnificence
“When I first decided to be a professional artist, I wanted that fishbowl experience, so I got a storefront studio,” Reggie says.
“It’s not intimidating to discover an artist in public space,” adds Caitlin.
A group of us are seated in the Lobby Lounge, discussing the two residency programs the Pfister has developed for art and writing. As the current artist-in-residence, Shelby Keefe, is out of town, the inaugural AIR, Reginald Baylor, joins us instead – along with his business partner Heidi Witz. One of the managers, Jessica, is also taking part in the conversation, at the head…
Words in Blu
An artist, a summer camp director, a theatre operations manager, a board member, and two poets walk into a bar. There is no punchline, this is something that happened a few weeks ago.
“Hello sir,” the bartender greets them as they arrive, setting a napkin on the bar, “what can I get you to drink? Do you need to see a menu?”
The menu is taken by all, perused slowly – considering all the flavorful options. The bartender offers to “whip something up on the spot, we’ll just charge you by the ounce.” Tonight, charging by the ounce would go…
Letter to a New Narrator
As the proverbial pen is about to passed to the next Pfister Narrator, recently chosen through hours and hours of deliberation by a committee of writers, editors, marketers and businessfolk, and soon to be announced, I wanted to pass the pen not only to my successor, but also extend it to those who didn’t get selected or who have yet to apply.
Dear New Narrator,
So it begins: your quest to write about the people, events, and moments that occur within the historic Pfister Hotel. Where else can you walk the same floors tread by every U.S. President…
Not Everyone has a Story
And sometimes not having a story is the story.
Let me give you an example.
Today was a day so busy – everyone moving to or from something, and even the gathered groups in waiting are in stasis, with any outsider’s approach treated as an interruption – that the person most eager to chat is on his way into the men’s room, pausing briefly as he views me scribbling with a pen, to ask, laughing, “You taking a survey?”
Among all the sparkling movement of scarves and high heels, suits and even a kilt, there was one spot of stillness…
A Knock at the Door
Knocking once, Blake calmly sings out, “Rooooom ser-vice.”
Silence. Through the door, we can hear the sound of a television. Blake raises his hand slightly, the one that isn’t balancing a tray, considers knocking again when a voice comes from within, “Just a minute.”
The door opens. “Evening Ms. ——, how are you?”
One hand on the door handle, the other removing an earring, she replies, “tired, and very hungry. I’m so happy to see you,” moving aside to allow entrance.
A moment later, he reappears, backing up and closing the door behind him as he grants the…
Finding Your Roots in Milwaukee
Joe, the newest addition to the lobby bartending staff, is standing behind the green marble countertop, polishing a glass; his black pants, stiff white tuxedo shirt and black vest with gold-threaded “ThePfister” monogram crisp in its newness. “I just had the best calamari in the city,” he says, “at Umami Moto.”
The female half of a couple, seated nearby, jumps in, “We’re from Seattle, we can’t do sushi anywhere else. Where does it come from out here?”
Joe, with his earnest smile, ever striving for perfection, giving his all to this new position (previously he was a…
Clap, Clap, Clap-Clap-Clap
Milwaukee is hot with Brewers fever right now. Skyscrapers have windows lit up in a pattern that reads “GO MB!” and the scrolling signs on the fronts of the city buses stream route numbers alternating with “Go Milwaukee Brewers!” Sculptured sheep that graze peacefully in empty storefronts now wear team garments.
One night last week in the lobby bar, Jeffrey was playing his airy, light beautiful tunes while on the TV in the corner, Corey Hart silently hit a home run, cheered on by more than 40,000 mute fans on their feet in Miller Park. Bernie launched himself at…
Dinner for Books
“Life is a bunch of crazy!” interjects the young man seated across from me at a table in one of the back rooms of Mason Street Grill, as he shakes his head with slow acceptance of this fact. Nate, 14, is the son of one of the dinner guests, herself the long-lost childhood friend of the guest of honor, Lisa McMann. Lisa’s other guests are all fairly nondescript, which is not a surprise once you find out they’re all booksellers or librarians. Book people aren’t known for their flamboyance, but they certainly get animated when you…
Faith, Family and Friends
This Sunday, thousands of women who were breast cancer survivors and fighters, along with their friends, families and supporters, gathered in the rain at the lakefront for the annual Susan G. Komen race for the cure. Somewhere in that crowd were some folks likely staying the night in one of the InterContinental Hotel’s Pink Rooms.
Just last Thursday, only a few days before the race, a large crowd gathered in the lobby of the InterContinental (a sister hotel to the Pfister, in the Marcus Hotels family) to celebrate the one year anniversary of the Pink Rooms. Servers circled around…
Relakin
In Colorado, you have “relatives” and in Kentucky you have “kin.” So what happens when a group of people from both states work together and play together so often they consider each other family? Well, the Colorado folk now have kin, and the Kentucky folk now have relatives! And what happens when you get adopted by this affectionately slapdash family? You become “rela-kin.” Or, at least this is what I learned late one night last week in the lobby lounge.
At the end of a long day that consisted of 8 hours of my day (sometimes night) job, followed…
The Turk's Head
Jimmy McManus sits at a table in the lobby bar, having a beer. He’s heavily bearded, gruff and scruffy, in a t-shirt featuring a skull & crossbones, drinking a nice pint of beer. His appearance indicate you might not want to run into him in a dark alley, but he has the biggest, friendliest smile on his face. Jimmy is a regular visitor to the Pfister, but only for beer because his home, at least for the summer and early Fall, is the S/V Denis Sullivan, the world’s only re-creation of a 19th century three…
Feeling Famous
When hearing a front desk employee greet a savvily dressed guest, it’s hard not to wonder, “who is that?” and lunge for a newspaper, cross-referencing to see if it might be a celebrity. It’s no secret that the Pfister is one of the hotels of distinction for sports and entertainment stars of all kinds. Now, I’m the sort of oblivious person who could sit down next to Harrison Ford and not realize it, saying something like, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Harrison Ford?” and embarrassing myself. (Though rumor has it that even…
Made in Milwaukee, Found in the Pfister
A foursome of guests was querying Roc, the concierge, about what to check out nearby the Pfister today. He shared with them a few restaurants and then suggested they check out a little festival in its third year, called “Made in Milwaukee.” Featuring local bands, local food and libations, as well as local arts and local businesses, Made in Milwaukee was taking place all day today in Cathedral Square Park, just a few blocks from the Pfister.
Meanwhile, in the lobby, I met someone from New York who was visiting Milwaukee for his first time and wanted to know what…
Honor
The sort of gentleman who would be described as “distinguished,” John Harris is 67 years old, though I told him he doesn’t look a day over 61. Straight-backed, and impeccably dressed in a tailored suit for the wedding he’s here to attend, John drapes both his hands over the top of a cane, the first few fingers intertwined, gold rings alight underneath the lobby chandeliers.
“Is it always this busy?” John asks as he sits in the chair opposite me at one of the lobby tables where I’m observing all the action of a Saturday afternoon…
Fall Right Through
Gwen and Adam are seeing their daughter off to college at the University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee. They’re in town to help their daughter settle in to her new life here, as well as renovate a cottage near Oconomowoc for future visits. Originally from Waukesha, Gwen met Adam, an Ohio native, and they moved to West Palm Beach, Florida where they now make their home. Gwen says she misses Wisconsin, with its mild summer and changing seasons. While staying at Hotel Metro, they come to the Pfister for drinks nearly every day, on top of seeing other Milwaukee sights. In…
Who Let the Dogs In?
One morning as I enjoyed breakfast with a writer friend in the Café, talking books and playing cribbage, I watched a compact car pull up to the valet; hanging out the back window was the enormous, shaggy, tri-color head that’s signature to the Bernese Mountain Dog. A little later in the afternoon, I was in the lobby when he sauntered in, tongue lolling out and panting from what could only have just been a vigorous walk. Doug, accompanied by his owners Anne and Andrew, looked like a 100+ pound stuffed animal as he was remarkably calm and well…
To Walk or To Ride?
There was a steaming mist in all the hollows, and it had roamed in its forlornness up the hill, like an evil spirit, seeking rest and finding none. A clammy and intensely cold mist, it made its slow way through the air in ripples that visibly followed and overspread one another, as the waves of an unwholesome sea might do. It was dense enough to shut out everything from the light of the coachlamps but these its own workings, and a few yards of road; and the reek of the labouring horses steamed into it, as if they had made…
Something borrowed, something blue
Summers in Milwaukee are made for weddings, with blue skies, light lake breezes and sunshine peering through drifting white, fluffy clouds. Any picturesque historic locale books up far in advance, even in a mid-size city like Milwaukee. There’s a lot of competition options for weddings in this town: Villa Terrace Decorative Art Museum, Lake Park, The Grain Exchange, Renaissance Place, Milwaukee Art Museum, and I’ve been lucky to attend weddings at several of these gorgeous places. One place where I’ve seen numerous weddings, but haven’t known a single person getting married, is here at the…
Something Old, Something New
I recently got to get acquainted with a freelance marketer, sports journalist and travel blogger from Texas named Jayme Lamm, who I met at the Pfister because Jayme was connected with the Astros and had heard about how wonderful it was from both the tour and booking managers for the team. Referred to me by the marketing director at Travaasa Hana in Maui, where she’d recently stayed, Jayme was described as “a fun, bubbly blonde who looks stereotypically Texan, but then she opens her mouth and what comes out doesn’t match, at all.” I’d nosed around on…
History in the Air (Pt. 2)
<continued from Part 1>
“Every Sunday – it was a must – they’d take walks together, down to the lake. There wasn’t a house or building there, it was all grass. Just imagine how beautiful that was. One time they were walking through an alley together, as a group, joking and having fun – and my mother said, ‘Oh, look at the red light there, isn’t that pretty?’ It was kind of high up on the building and one of the guys laughed and laughed and said, ‘Don’t you know what’s that for?’ and my mother…
History in the Air (Pt. 1)
“Let us remember that, as much has been given us, much will be expected from us, and that true homage comes from the heart as well as from the lips, and shows itself in deeds.” -Theodore Roosevelt
I park in front of the Bay View home of Eleanore Hinich, admiring her vast garden of butterfly plants and wildflowers as I approach to ring the doorbell. She’s expecting me, because she has a story to tell me. I’m meeting her at her home because, at 93-years-old, she doesn’t drive anymore. The door opens and a very…
9 o'clock on a Saturday
While the evening was waning for most of Gallery Night attendees in the Third Ward — and elsewhere around the city — in the main ballroom off the Pfister lobby, Rouge, the party was just beginning. In the center of the room, quite literally taking main stage, was a set-up ready for a rockstar. Elevated dais, multi-colored lights on metal scaffolding, a screen to the left featured a close-up of the canvas and easel standing center and a screen to the right featured a close-up of a paint palette. The canvas center stage was awash in colors – shaded…
Games People Play
There’s a clattering sound that breaks into the still, Sunday afternoon quiet of the lobby lounge. It’s startling, but muted enough that nobody else turns to look. When I do look, I see wooden blocks, scattered over the top of one of the lobby tables, as three young men in t-shirts and shorts settle in for a game of Jenga.
Within seconds, I’m parked in the fourth chair for a round of this tricky, wooden block stacking game. Introductions are made: Michael, Mike and Mikey* all offer up a firm handshake and a slight southern accent…
Things That Make You Go "Mmmm!"
I’m standing with one of the bellmen at the main entrance when a hotel events coordinator approaches to let the young man know about an important arrival: 30 boxes of cookies that will need to go immediately into a refrigerator, so she needs to be notified as soon as they are here. The thought of 30 boxes of cookies arriving by mini-van on a Friday in the middle of the afternoon might be noteworthy if we were someplace else, but we’re at the Pfister, where anything can (and does) happen, so neither of us flinches except to…
