Not my Waldorf story, but my father’s.

My father immigrated to the US from his island in Greece after WW2. After odd-jobbing it for some time, he landed a position as a waiter at the Waldorf Astoria. He was employed there from 1954 to 1965. Growing up my father would tell us stories of the fun, comradery, and hijinks that went on behind the scenes with the staff. He was very proud of the people he worked with and the famous people he served. After getting off work, he would take the hundreds he made in one night (a lot of money in the 50s and 60s) and go out drinking and dancing with the women who also fled Europe after the war. I am confident the best time he ever had was working at the Waldorf Astoria. After leaving the Waldorf in 1956, he went into the bar/restaurant business never forgetting his family at The Waldorf. My father, James P. Grimes passed away in June 2007.