It was a Friday afternoon in April of 1993 on Doheny Drive in Beverly Hills, California.  The busy mid-week breakfast rush had given way to a languid early afternoon with the occasional order being taken on the phone and placed in the work window.

The Room Service phone rang again and a new order was quickly placed in the work window.  Thinking it may have been an order for the pool and an opportunity for a brief respite from the tedium of the shift, I grabbed the slip out of the window and put it down on a pre-prepped roller table.

It seemed like a pretty non-descript order and unfortunately wasn’t bound for the pool.

Cheeseburger (swiss), medium rare, order of fries and a chocolate milk shake.   Room 1404.

I immediately noticed the floor that the order had come in from and wondered who was on the other end of the phone.  The print-out stated the guest name as B. Holland but previous experience had proven that guest names were often intentionally incorrect.   The 14th floor was typically reserved for high profile guests; in fact, sometimes an order received from the 14th floor would also prompt the elevator door to open shortly thereafter with private security guards or even Secret Service personnel to observe the routine assembly of a room service order.

Today, however, there was no security staff in sight.

I noted the order time stamp and set out assembling the required items, the mini bottles of ketchup and grey poupon, mini salt & pepper shakers, flower vase and the rolled up linen napkin.  I lit a sterno and placed it in the bottom of the hot box  and wandered across the vast kitchen area to the dessert kitchen to call for the chocolate shake.  On the way I checked with the main service line on the status of the burger; it was about to be taken off the broiler and plated.

After picking up the milk shake I made my way back to the main line and picked up the covered cheeseburger and fries and headed back to the Room Service department.   The burger went into the hotbox and I wheeled the cart to the elevator and hit the up button.  After the doors opened I checked my watch; we were only 16 minutes into the 30 minute time frame following the initial order phone call.  I pressed number 14 and chatted with a co-worker as the elevator made it’s ascent up to the 14th service landing.

Reaching 1404 I customarily knocked and waited at the door.  I heard a voice on the other side of the door saying come in so I inserted my room pass key and let myself in.   Our hotel guest was seated on one of the sofas in the main living area of the suite with the TV on mute and a cigarette in his left hand.  The couch and his back was to me and  I proceeded to wheel in the cart and placed it next to the dining room table just across from couch and television according to the standard protocol.

At that point, our guest stood up and I acknowledged him with a ‘good afternoon’.  It was none other than Jerry Garcia, the counter culture icon and leader of the Grateful Dead.  I had grown accustomed to seeing and greeting scores of celebrities in this celebrity preferred hotel but this was really something else.  I told him it was a pleasure to meet him and said I hoped he enjoyed his lunch and left it at that.  Garcia, wearing jeans and a button down blue shirt smiled and simply said, “Hey thanks a lot.”

After leaving the room and closing the door I smiled as I remembered reading a recent interview in which Jerry had professed to be on a diet and had quit smoking after a major health crisis relapse in late 1992.

Turns out Jerry was in town for two nights appearing with his other band at UCLA.

Stepping off the elevator and upon my return back to Room Service,  I noticed that four more order slips had stacked up in the window, it looked like a late lunch rush was upon us.

Here’s vintage Jerry with the Grateful Dead, Sugaree, 1981