Serving Celebrities: The Complete Collection (29 page)

Greg is such a doofus, there is no way I’m attaching him to knowing Springsteen’s nickname. “The boss is getting married?” I asked, “I thought he was gay!” Greg stares at me stunned, “Bruce Springsteen is gay?” What a moron, of course Bruce Springsteen isn’t gay. “I thought you were talking about our boss -- he’s gay.” “Yeah, he’s gay.” Greg agrees. “So Bruce Springsteen is getting married?” Greg looks around again, somewhat ashamed that he’s let the cat out of the bag. “Yeah, and the families will be staying with us.” “Thanks, Greg,” I said. You big doofus, I thought to myself.

Walk Like A Man

The doofus was right. The next weekend we were filled with Bruce and Patti’s families preparing for their wedding. I found out what pseudonym Bruce’s parents were using and then I made an outrageously one-sided deal with the room service waiter to deliver their lunch one day (he got to keep the charge, keep the tip, I would retrieve the tray and do his side work).

Anyone who has seen Springsteen in concert, and especially pre-1988, had heard all about Bruce and the difficult relationship he had with his father, since he usually dedicated half the show to it. Now I had a chance to meet the man in the flesh. This was the man who inspired so many songs;
Adam Raised a Cain, Independence Day, My Father’s House.
The door to the room opened and there they were; Mr. and Mrs. Springsteen. His mother is a short Italian woman and his dad looked like… a dad… like any dad. They looked like the parents of my friends. Both seemed impressed by the meal I had just delivered and were enjoying their stay at the hotel. It was so strange to watch these two “regular” people and think that their son had made such an impression on me. Bruce’s dad couldn’t figure out how much he should tip me (I wanted to say he didn’t have to but I knew that Martin, the room service waiter, would never trade with me again if he ever found out I refused
his
tip). Finally, Mrs. Springsteen told him to just put down twenty percent and that would be fine.

It was so weird watching Mr. Springsteen fill out the lunch bill, I had heard so much about him from Bruce at shows and on bootleg tapes. I had drawn this picture in my mind of a Dickens’ character like in Dombey and Son or Bleak House (of course Mr. Springsteen had a stiff-upper-lipped British accent in this fantasy which made absolutely no sense at all since they were from New Jersey). But here was the guy in the flesh as confused by the check as my dad would be if he was here. He finally finished filling out the check and gave it back to me. They good-naturedly said good-bye and wished me a good day as I left. I realized that this is one of the reasons why I so connected with his music, because he had my parents… and we both survived.

Glory Days

It was great fun calling all my fellow Bruce Springsteen fanatics and telling them that Bruce and Patti were getting married. I was tempted contact one of the tabloid rags but I so hate reading them that I couldn’t go through with it. It would be like ratting out your friend only because you could. I wasn’t the only one who was on the Bruce watch at the hotel, either.

There were a few employees and some other guests who were constantly looking for Bruce. One of them was Phil Collins’ wife at the time, Jill. I had gotten to know Jill well because, her, Phil and their young daughter, Lily, stayed often, months at a time. Mrs. Collins was very nice and down to earth. Before being Mrs. Collins, from what I understood, she was quite the groupie... and a big Springsteen fan. Sometimes when I was making my way to the villas, through the patio restaurant, I would spot Bruce and his family having lunch. I would continue through the gardens and up to the Collins’ villa. Jill might be hanging with some of her girlfriends on the villa veranda. I would slip in and nod to Mrs. Collins and ask, “Can I talk to you?” She would smile and say, “I have company now. Maybe later.” I would slip next to her and whisper, “Our friend’s on the patio.” A look would come over Jill, like there was a battle going on inside her and then finally she would announce to her company. “I have a package down at the front desk I have to sign for. Excuse me for a minute.” Jill would sprint down the hill to the hotel and patio restaurant. Of course, Jill had a much different relationship to Bruce and Patti than I did but I knew that if the places were switched I would want to know if “Our friend was on the patio” -- once a groupie, always groupie -- even if you’re already married to a rock star.

Through my whole time at the Sunset Marquis I would have these moments where everything would just stop, whatever I was doing, whatever I was thinking, whoever I was serving and I would realize, “Cool, Bruce is here.” It was fun just look upon him; he and his family sitting on the patio, while Steven Van Zandt called to Bruce’s son from the balcony of the room he was staying in, Bruce and his son, gently splashing the water in the pool to stop the kid from crying, Bruce reading a magazine in the lobby oblivious to everyone else around him whispering; “Look, it’s Bruce Springsteen.”

One Step Up

It was so cool that Bruce hung out there and yet the hotel management couldn’t work harder to drive him away (as they did with many of their rock stars). They had this feeling that the hotel was better off without the rock and movie stars and continually tried dissuade them from coming back. Like any social climber, the hotel’s management wanted a higher class of people… but on the other hand, they really liked their money.

One time, around Christmas, the hotel planned a holiday party for the guests, friends and travel agents that favored the hotel. Myself, I believe good service is consistency and even if it is a holiday you can’t close the restaurants in a hotel. For this holiday party, they were going to close down the patio restaurant. I told the new nitwit F & B manager that if we’re going to close the patio, then let everyone know we’re closed. Nope, the F & B manager wanted to keep it open while we set up for the party, he wanted to squeeze every penny out of it he could.

While we were stripping the patio down, Bruce shows up and sits at a table… joined shortly afterwards by Bob Geldorf, they each order a beer each and started talking. We finished stripping the patio but now we can’t start setting the party up because of Springsteen and Geldorf. Nitwit F & B manager comes over to me and says, “Go over and tell them they have to go into the hotel, so that we can set up.” In open insubordination, I said, “Not me. I’m the one who said to close the whole thing. You can tell Bruce and Sir Bob they have to move. The first thing I say to Bruce Springsteen isn’t going to start with the words ‘Sorry, you have to leave’.” Nitwit F & B manager did what he always did in these situations… nothing. We started the party about an hour late because we had to wait for Bruce and Bob to finish.

Local Hero

Later in my time at the Sunset Marquis, I was a waiter in the patio restaurant. This was an okay job and I got to wait on Bruce and his family a lot. Granted, my discussions ranged from Bruce telling me that his young daughter had dropped some of the condiments onto the floor and that I should watch my step, to ordering for the kids. He was always cordial but never very talkative. Bruce had a way of sitting and giving off an obvious vibe of “Please don’t bother me, I’m with my family.” Occasionally, some knucklehead would approach his table but usually he would get them to leave while discouraging everyone else from bothering him.

One thing Bruce did like was silver-dollar sized pancakes (the staff used to call them
Bruce-cakes)
. They were not on the menu, but myself, and the other waiters would have the kitchen make them for him. Our kitchen, like most in L.A., was made up of mostly Hispanic cooks. These guys couldn’t understand why it was so important to take care of this musician (Luis Miguel -- that they could understand, but Bruce Springsteen?).

Everyone I worked with knew I idolized this guy. My great acting skills could never disguise my almost swooning nature around Bruce. I was taunted at every turn by my fellow waiters. A waitress would enter the kitchen and yell so everyone could hear “Bill, your boyfriend and his family is here!” I would shrink and kind of mutter, “He’s not my boyfriend.” “You still want the table?” she would taunt, “Yes. I want the table -- but he’s not boyfriend.” I would protest as I almost skipped to the table, leaving most of the Mexican guys saying, “Pinche hoto.”

I eventually left the hotel after three years in January of 1994. Two weeks later, there was a large earthquake in Los Angeles. One of my former hotel staffers told me that Bruce’s house in Beverly Hills sustain some earthquake damage and that he and his family spent two months at the hotel. Even with that information, I was done with the hotel. Though, I got a lot of stories out of it, but it was time to leave.

Blood Brothers

I continued to follow Bruce through
The Ghost of Tom Joad
tour. At a show in Santa Barbara, I realized that I was close enough to the stage that maybe I could go up after and bum a guitar pick (I have a collection of other artists) from one of Bruce’s roadies. It was a good show and I was able to get right to the edge of the stage as they were breaking down Springsteen’s equipment. I waited patiently, as other people begged the set list from the guys stripping the stage down. When I got my chance, I asked a guy who was breaking down the guitar equipment if I could have a pick. The roadie coolly turned and looked over by where he was boxing Bruce’s guitars, suddenly he lifted a handful of guitar picks from a dish.

Jack-pot! This guy carried the handful of Springsteen’s picks towards me and exclaimed, “You want some guitar picks?” I smiled and thanked him… then some young girls beside me started to scream, “I want a guitar pick!!!” The not-so-cool roadie quickly diverted from me and walked right to the girls, handing them the whole handful of picks. “Here ya go, darling,” he crooned. “Dude!” I protested, but he wasn’t listening. The young girls were jumping up and down in their excitement over the picks. I tried to ask one of the girls for a pick but suddenly they had all kinds of friends they needed to give a pick to. I don’t blame Santa Barbara…. Actually, yes, I do blame Santa Barbara and all those selfish Santa Barbarians.

My Beautiful Reward

In the summer of 1999, I was happy to learn that Bruce was releasing a
Greatest Hits
album and that there would be a reunion tour with the E Street Band. It was just what I needed. I had recently broken up with my girlfriend (after buying her an expensive present on my trip to Edinburgh, Scotland) and the tickets went on sale on my fortieth birthday. It being pre-internet sales, I got up at six A.M. to go and wait on line, in front of my local Ticketmaster.

I got there early enough to be fourth in line. I sat down and waited for the box office to open. While I was waiting, I noticed the attractive woman who was first in line, with two of her friends. We started talking about Bruce, shows we’ve seen (she had already seen this tour in New Jersey, a few months before) and the film business. I found out that she was a film editor from New York who had been living in L.A. for about a decade.

When the Ticketmaster opened we went through and we each got tickets to two shows. Realizing that they were still selling, this woman and myself, decided to go through again and see if we could get some more shows. It being Ticketmaster (please congress, if you’re not going to investigate how we got into the Iraq war then investigate why Ticketmaster isn’t considered a monopoly -- just to make us think you’re doing something), of course their computers crashed. We waited with everyone else for them to fix the problem, but it didn’t seem like that was going to happen. The woman and I wanted to go to the Tower Records on Sunset and try to get tickets there, but neither of us had a car since we both lived in the neighborhood. A guy, named Rand, stepped up and said he would drive us to Tower Records. We all crammed into his car -- I thought this woman was a little nuts getting into to a car with two guys that she didn’t even know beyond wanting tickets to a Bruce Springsteen show. Rand drove us to Tower Records and we got into line there.

While waiting in line, Rand turned to the woman and asked her if she was dating anyone. She blushed, embarrassed, and said she wasn’t -- then he turned to me and asked me if I was dating anyone. As you already know, I wasn’t. Rand then said, “You two make a nice couple -- you should go out sometime.” We both quickly changed the subject. Though, I didn’t totally discount the idea.

Ticketmaster being Ticketmaster, this machine crashed (please, please congress, take over Ticketmaster -- I know most of you people think that the government can’t fix anything but even you have to be able to do a better job than Ticketmaster). We went back to the original Ticketmaster to be dropped off. Taking Rand’s encouragement, I got the woman’s name, Debra, and her phone number.

Debra and I went on few dates before we went to two of the Springsteen shows together. Debra and I continued to date through the winter and on Valentine’s Day of 2000, I asked her to marry me. She accepted and she had the great idea of getting married in New York City (she was from the Bronx and my people were still in Massachusetts, so it was more convenient than getting married in L.A.)... and In June, Bruce and the E Streeters were finishing their tour at Madison Square Garden. We were married between third and fourth shows of the ten show stand. We also invited Bruce and Patti to our wedding. They didn’t respond and didn’t attend (we’re still waiting for a gift, B & P). Debra and I have been married for over ten years now.

It has been very special being married to Debra, because she is fun, sweet, smart, sexy, a giving person and a loving mother, but it also helps that when in 2005, I called her from work, with a great idea on how to spend our vacation. I pointed out to her that we have always talked about going to the Pacific Northwest; I told her that Bruce was taking his solo
Devils & Dust
tour up there and that we should follow him to Portland, Seattle and Vancouver, B.C. Debra being Debra, and my wife, jumped at the idea. You know you’ve got something special when you propose a real hare-brained idea on how to spend your vacation and your spouse is immediately on board with it. We had a great time -- visiting friends, seeing Bruce, sight-seeing… stalking Bruce, together.

In 2006, Bruce came to Los Angeles for the
Seegar Sessions
tour, the one show was at the Greek Theatre. Debra and I had a plan, we went to the show and then waited for two hours outside for Bruce to leave. There was only a handful of us there, at that time, so when Bruce’s Explorer approached the exit gate, we all gathered next to it. The Explorer stopped and one by one, people made their way to the passenger’s seat, where Bruce, quietly signed autographs. When it was Debra’s turn, she handed Bruce our
Born To Run
record album, a black sharpie and a piece of paper with what we wanted Bruce to write on the album cover. As Bruce wrote “To Deb and Bill, Bruce Springsteen,” Debra went through our story of waiting on line and meeting for the first time, getting married during the Madison Square Garden shows. Bruce listened while writing, he gave a small smile and handed the newly signed album to Deb. Debra took it and thanked him, happy to get him to sign it but a bit disappointed that our story had not made a larger impression on him. I tried to reassure her that everyone he talks to has a story like that (maybe not the meeting/getting married part) and he was probably tired and wanted to get going.

We went home and hung the signed album on our bedroom wall (where it is today). I often wonder if Springsteen realizes the effect he has on fans, like myself and Debra. If there is someone in his life (Dylan, Elvis) who has so touched him, that a single song can bring a flood of emotion and memories that can take him back to when he was a teenager? A song, or songs, that can bring back memories of concerts and friends long past? Does Springsteen have a musician that can bring him back to himself?