He opened doors, and some hearts
 |
|
||||||||||
We all hold things about those we know inside of us: Their kids' names. Their dreams. The songs they whistle when they think no one is listening or the way they could say just the right thing.
Only when they're gone do we realize how much of them we've been carrying around.
That's how it was the other day at the Sheraton Seattle Hotel and Towers. Housekeeper after executive after guest showed me what they held of Al Rogers, who in the personnel files was a doorman, a so-called little person. Yet, he did big things.
Rogers could get you Mariners playoff tickets or a table at an overbooked restaurant. He would spin your mother around in his arms like she was a little girl and remember your name from when you met a year ago. Bill Gates trusted him to watch his car when he came downtown.
Best, Rogers could clear the thickest clouds just by opening your car door. No wonder Seattle magazine once named him one of the "100 People to Know in Seattle."
Rogers, 42, died Friday at the University of Washington Medical Center. His wife, Regina, found him on the floor of their Seattle house at 3 a.m. Dec. 10. He had suffered an aneurysm.
"We probably have the two best doormen on the West Coast," said Eric Fotinatos, the Sheraton's assistant front-office manager. "And we just lost one."
Rogers started as a houseman when the Sheraton opened in 1982. He kept trying to get to the "front of the house," as they call it, and when managers finally moved him, they wondered why they hadn't done it sooner.
"He had the skills, the joie de vivre," said Frenchy Lamont, the senior doorman, who loved Rogers like a brother. "I can graciously greet them. But Al could inspire joy."
The hotel staff has been breaking the news to longtime guests all week. Some are coming from as far away as Japan to attend his funeral.
Bella Umali, director of reception, remembered Rogers standing across the street from the hotel to get a better look at how things worked at the door.
"He kept an eye on the choreography, the dance," she said. "How the doors were being opened, how quickly the cars moved. He had very high standards."
He knew to scan luggage for a name and could read a person's mood like that! He tossed the service-industry script and hugged people.
Ken Griffey Jr. once tipped him $100. The head of a Las Vegas hotel, $500. And from their high-rolling hands to Rogers', the money sometimes found its way to the homeless. They knew Rogers, too.
"That could be me someday," he used to tell Mike Mitchell, the assistant manager for parking.
The father of four, Rogers was an elder at the Unity Church of God in Christ in Seattle. And when he wasn't ministering, singing in the choir or opening car doors, he was fishing.
He loved barbecuing and sweet-potato pie. He was a smart dresser. He had a bit part in the movie "Black Widow" — as doorman of a (gasp!) Hilton.
Services will be held Saturday at the Unity Church of God in Christ, 8302 Renton Ave. S. in Seattle. Burial will follow at Greenwood Memorial Park in Renton.
"We're gonna fill it up," said Ernestine Hunter, the hotel's public-area manager.
When Mark Bistodeau, guest-services supervisor, did the schedule the other day, he had to leave Rogers off. First time in a decade. He had to put his pen down.
"I saw a rainbow on Saturday," Bistodeau said. "And I thought, 'That's Al, saying he was OK.' "
Behind him, Rogers' mailbox, which for years had held letters of praise and thanks from guests and management, now held only toothpaste and shoelaces.
But the best of Rogers carries on, held dear by staff and guests.
"That smile is deep inside of me," Bistodeau said. "That's not going anywhere."
Nicole Brodeur's column appears Sunday, Tuesday and Thursday. Reach her at 206-464-2334 or at nbrodeur@seattletimes.com. More columns at www.seattletimes.com/columnists. Amazing who can open doors in life.