Stay & Play
Midtown Manhattan’s Algonquin Hotel
by Randy Mink
A fixture in midtown Manhattan since 1902, the Algonquin Hotel Times Square, Autograph Collection is a revered landmark with a tale to tell. Its storied past revolves around a group of literary luminaries who met there daily for long lunches in the 1920s.
Tucked away on a quiet block of West 44th Street, within easy walking distance of Broadway theaters and Rockefeller Center, the 181-room hotel is inextricably linked to the Algonquin Round Table, a jocular band of writers, illustrators, journalists and show business folks who showed up to socialize and trade barbs. Among its members: Robert Benchley, James Thurber, Dorothy Parker, Edna Ferber, playwright George S. Kaufman and Harpo Marx of the Marx Brothers. They convened at a 15-seat round table amid the clubby, chandeliered splendor of the Rose Room, a restaurant that no longer exists.
An oil painting of Round Table regulars graces the lobby’s Blue Bar Restaurant and Lounge, today’s gathering place for hotel guests.
While I have to admit that I’m not familiar with the works of many of those literary giants, I think I woke up just a little bit smarter after a good night’s sleep in my fourth-floor suite. And while the word “cozy” may seem out of place in describing anything in midtown Manhattan, I immediately developed fuzzy feelings for this historic hotel. The resident cat probably had something to do with it.
Most people walking past the hotel probably don’t notice the kitty sleeping by the window. But if they stop to read the sign, they’ll learn about the Algonquin’s cat while being advised, “Cat Napping. Please do not tap on the glass.”
As the sign explains, the hotel cat during the 1920s was Billy. Two days after he died in 1933, a stray cat wandered into the building and was named Rusty. Believing the name was too common for such a fine property, actor John Barrymore, a hotel resident, renamed the pet Hamlet in honor of his greatest stage role. Over the years there have been eight Hamlets and three Matildas (the name for female cats). Hamlet VIII began his residency in September 2017.
Two mornings I saw the ginger-colored feline ambassador roaming the lobby/bar. He didn’t seem to be afraid of people; it was easy to get close enough for pictures.
Distinguished by white, Corinthian-crowned columns, the Blue Bar extends from the street entrance to an area with bookshelves, a grand piano, and, as a nod to the past, a round table suitable for large groups.
My suite, Room 406, featured a lounger couch, a small dining table, 60- and 48-inch flat-screen TVs, antique-style telephones and a collection of New York-centric books, including one about the Algonquin Round Table. Fresh flowers gussied up the entranceway, living area, bedroom and bathroom (notable for its pretty teal sink).
Wandering around one night, I came upon guest room doors bearing quotable witticisms from Round Table wordsmiths. Adorning the hallways are framed cartoons and vintage covers from the New Yorker magazine (whose co-founder and editor-in-chief, Harold Ross, was part of the Round Table).
One door had this Robert Benchley quip: “It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous.”
