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Once upon a time a noted author wrote a fairy tale about hotels that became a bestselling novel. It continued on as a movie and finally a successful television series. I would be the last to question Alex Haleys research, but he simply did not live the life. This book is no fairy tale. It is written by a bartender that lived the life and knew the people. The managers were not all brilliant or considerate. In fact, many could be referred to as downright rude and not all that bright. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it and living it to get the material. I would not trade…mehr
Once upon a time a noted author wrote a fairy tale about hotels that became a bestselling novel. It continued on as a movie and finally a successful television series. I would be the last to question Alex Haleys research, but he simply did not live the life. This book is no fairy tale. It is written by a bartender that lived the life and knew the people. The managers were not all brilliant or considerate. In fact, many could be referred to as downright rude and not all that bright. I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it and living it to get the material. I would not trade anything on earth for the experience. Mike Addison The Real Hotel tells you the behind the scene stories of the small army of employees that take care of the guests in the historic old hotels that lie just off the Quarter in New Orleans. The author, Mike Addison, spent almost two decades working in the old hotels beside the numerous Cajun and Cuban workers, sharing their lives and stories. Combining humor and pathos, he tells their poignant stories in an earthy narrative that is very realistic and a pleasure to read. G.R. Williamson, Texas historian and writer
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Autorenporträt
Mike Addison was born Herbert Mills Addison Jr., quite a mouthful for a little kid, but my father had a plan for that too. (My father loved to plan things.) He had to name the first male baby after himself, hence the Herbert Mills, but he had always wanted a son named Mike. Therefore, the baby was called Mike. Family and friends in Crystal City still call me "Mikey," go figure. If a man wanted to be successful in Crystal City during this time, he usually did not wish to buck my father. My dad ran the local Del Monte Cannery and that was the main place to get a paycheck in good ole Crystal City. He did not have that much power, but I remember one day in the drug store he was having a cup of coffee with a man I knew vaguely had something to do with Crystal's politics. I found out later he was the county road commissioner and also owned the only farm pump repair company in town. My father was relating how difficult it was to get the trucks from the cannery to the end of the conveyer belt due to the recent rains. The problem was holding up canning operations and that was bad for everyone. I noticed the man was sweating even though the store was air conditioned, and he seemed to be nervously waiting for something. My father offhandedly mentioned he had noticed some road equipment sitting idle. Did the man think he could possibly pave the dirt road from the cannery to the waste dump? The poor man was really sweating when he replied, "Mills, you know that's county property we are talking about and it would be a breach of my oath of office to use it for commercial purposes." My father reflected for a few minutes, then told the man how much he admired his ethics and how proud he was to be his friend. The man kept acting like the "other shoe" was about to fall. Sure enough, my father asked him how much business Del Monte did with his pump company last year. No threats, nothing nefarious! The man managed to stammer, "I think we can have that equipment over there tomorrow, Mills." This is the best true story I can tell about the way I turned out. I have always been a maverick and suppose I always will be. Maybe it was not all my fault. I now live with my wife Carolyn and our three children in beautiful Helotes, Texas. Some people think our children look a lot like dogs, but we know better. My little Bichon Surprise is the light of my life. My dog Jack is the son I never had. Boomer rounds out the threesome. I never knew you could get so attached to an animal. They sleep with us, eat with us and travel with us. In the future I hope to return to New Orleans, get together with some old (really old) friends, and write a second book including more than than the memories of this formerly intoxicated bartender. I know it could be a bigger success than this offering.
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