Those Magicians at the Desk

By Martha Smilgis

The job description includes the ability to find a dentist who will pull a tooth late on a Saturday night, round up a photographer to shoot a corpse, book a flight out of a city shut down by snow, arrange blood tests for a wedding, deliver 24 rolls of dental floss to a rock band at midnight -- with no questions asked. Welcome to the world of the modern-day hotel concierge -- part detective, travel agent, secretary and magician. In medieval Europe, concierges were simply doorkeepers. Today's concierges are polished executive servants who are called upon to fulfill a traveler's every whim, often even if it is outrageous or eccentric. In a field once dominated by men, more and more concierges are women.

The professional concierge began to grow in popularity in America in the early '70s, when luxury San Francisco hotels provided the service to their increasingly sophisticated travelers. Today there are some 1,000 concierges, 120 of whom are registered with Les Clefs d'Or, the prestigious international association whose members wear crossed-key pins on their uniform lapels. Explains Jack Nargil, 39, president of the American chapter and chief concierge at the Four Seasons hotel in Washington: "People want service in a great hotel. Guests become loyal to people, not buildings." All across the U.S., hotels are hiring concierges as part of the "amenities war" to win loyal customers.

In Europe a hotel concierge is usually a man in his 50s who has climbed the hotel ranks to win the powerful, lucrative job; but in the U.S. about half the concierges are women. James Marquart, president of the New York State Hotel and Motel Association, finds women more sociable than men, with a better grasp of fine points like the ambience of a restaurant. He also points out that women are more resourceful shoppers. "They have a feel for where things are," says Marquart. "If someone asked me where Tiffany is, I would have to look it up. A woman would know."

For the young career seeker of either sex, money is a draw. Salaries can run + from $20,000 to $35,000 a year, plus generous tips. Providing such routine services as travel arrangements, sight-seeing tours, secretaries, translators and after-hours tailors and florists brings in respectable gratuities. Prestidigitation -- securing tickets to a sold-out play-off game or making last-minute reservations at the hottest restaurant -- can earn a hefty $100. Gifts from satisfied guests are not uncommon. "I never have to do any Christmas shopping," says Bettye Bradley, 61, of the Grand Hotel in Washington. "All I have to do is rewrap my gifts." Free meals, tickets, liquor and perfume also come from those eager for guest referrals. There is no doubt the job has growing clout. "We can basically make or break a restaurant," boasts Donna Eller at the Sheraton Grande in Los Angeles.

A good concierge keeps personal or computer files on the habits of regular guests, but the job has its hurdles. Bradley was able to find a dentist one Saturday night for Tennessee Williams. For Katharine Hepburn, a favorite guest who insisted on brown eggs, she traveled daily to a special market. Diana Nelson, 40, at the Hyatt on Union Square in San Francisco, recalls searching for a section of the city that looked like Taiwan for an advertising shoot. And then there were the ox gallstones requested by a Japanese businessman who believed they had healing qualities. At Chicago's Ritz-Carlton, Maureen Archer, 22, a recent college graduate, has learned to adjust to the unusual. "One gentleman wanted a plastic palm tree," she says. "I have no idea what he was going to use it for. I don't really ask too many questions." NolaCarol Murfree, 38, concierge at the Plaza hotel in Manhattan, has rarely been stumped by a request, perhaps because of her attitude. "I'll find anything that makes a guest happy, as long as it is legal," she says. "The thrill is in the hunt; the fun is in the finding."

Invariably, there are requests for so-called escort services. Some concierges refer guests to the yellow pages; others explain that such information is not supplied by the hotel desk. Direct propositions are turned away politely but firmly. Most exasperating of all are the guests who change their minds after a concierge has mortgaged his or her reputation to procure a pair of orchestra seats. "You say, 'I'm terribly sorry you won't be able to make it,' " says Cassandra Rafalko, 28, at the St. Regis Sheraton in New York City. "Then you hang up the phone, go to the ladies' room, and start screaming and bouncing off the walls." Eugenio Chinigo, chief concierge at the nearby Plaza Athenee, agrees: "You must be very patient, always smiling, even if sometimes you want to kill the person." Fortunately, there is always a more distracting challenge waiting on the next phone call.

With reporting by Jerome Cramer/Washington