Savoy Hotel London...At Last

This hotel has it all

LONDON -- Do you ever dream of being in the best hotel in the world? Choosing one is a subjective business. Youthful backpackers will come up with something in Earl’s Court or the beach at Goa, while canny seniors will swear by Motel 6 anywhere.

Some are wonderful for lunch, like the Splendido at Portofino, or for a romantic dinner by the sea Hawaii’s Halekulani is perfect. Others have great spas, such as La Costa in California, while Turnberry in Scotland now has a world-class spa to match its peerless golf courses. And a precious few have great bars for people-watching, like the Regent in Hong Kong.

But one hotel has it all -- the Savoy in London.

It is a hotel I used to hear a lot about. When I worked in Fleet Street and we had put out a paper that pleased the editor he would dump a case of beer on the sub-editors’ table, and then take the back bench (the senior editors) to the Savoy.

Our forum was Auntie’s pub where we’d discuss the day’s seven editions over more beer and shepherd’s pie; the Savoy was out of our league, but we were working to get there.

Also this was London of the Sixties, when Time did its cover story on the swinging city. We were having a good time at the Scarsdale and the Cafe des Artistes; the Savoy could wait.

Times change, but the Savoy, which opened in 1889, has endured as a venue for celebrations. There is something so elegant and gay about the Savoy’s rooms that they simply look undressed without champagne in a bucket draped with the familiar pink linen napkin.

The hotel got off to a good start with Ritz and Escoffier as general manager and chef, Johann Strauss conducted Viennese waltzes in the restaurant, Pavlova came to dance and George Gershwin to play Rhapsody in Blue.

Marconi made the first wireless broadcast to the U.S. from the hotel in 1923, and when a German bomb fell in the Strand during the Blitz, knocking the pianist off his stool, Noel Coward stepped in to play and sing the night away. Some said it was his finest performance.

Unlike some institutions the Savoy has not been allowed to decline, and the adjacent theatre, home of the D’Oyly Carte operas, is still going strong and recently acquired a health club and swimming pool on the roof.

The location is superb, just off the Strand and across the street from the bustling Covent Garden market, the West End theatres, and if you go out the back door on to the Embankment there’s a lovely little park with some fine historical statues. Walk a few steps and you can take a footbridge over the Thames and catch the Eurostar train to Paris.

The Savoy is not above promotions, so check with the hotel or travel agents for special offers, sometimes tied in with sister hotels such as the Berkeley, Claridge’s, the Lygon Arms in the country and perhaps a game of golf at Wentworth.

Finally, no other hotel in the world can boast a club of former Savoy receptionists who call themselves the Gastronomes.

One tells of the time he threw open the door of a Savoy suite for inspection by a party of French travel agents: “This is one of the most interesting rooms in the hotel,” he said ... and there was a couple making love on the bed. Being French, the travel agents surged forward for a better look.

The confusion of doors in a Savoy suite has dented the dignity of many a receptionist. Julian Payne, later an admired hotelier, once recalled: “There is a knack to making an exit from a suite, with a $5 note in your greasy palm -- without backing into a wardrobe, as I once did.”

Author: David Wishart