Remembering the Cottonwood Room

Here's a postcard of the "Cottonwood Room" in the Blackstone Hotel in Omaha.

The Cottonwood Room was one of my first experiences in grownup sophistication. It was dark, but not at all seedy. (What looks like windows in the back there are actual photographic transparencies of the cottonwood on the Missouri River. The tree at the bar was actually gold metal with tiny lights in it) My parents would occasionally dress us up and drag us out to dinner at the Blackstone (in the Orleans Room). Before dinner, however there was the Cottonwood Room for cocktails.

You see, even in backwards Nebraska, children could be in bars, as long as there were adults who were willing to claim responsibility for them. (As opposed to Washington State, where we are really weird about alcohol, and which I believe leads to inappropriate fetishization of booze by young adults)

Obviously, we couldn't just belly up to the bar and order a scotch, but we could have out Shirley Temples or Roy Rogers in an adult glass with a maraschino cherry and a dollop of dignity.

We were expected to behave of course: Keep your voice down, don't dominate the conversation, don't fidget - we knew that we were strangers in a strange land and had damn well better observe the local customs. But the air of mystery and glamour made up for those restrictions. The cocktail waitress, with her short dress and tall hairdo, the serious looking bartender in his red jacket, the laughing adults, the fruity looking guy in a tux who played piano - it was all marvelous, and almost made up for the ridiculous short-pant suits my mom dressed me in on all formal occasions until I reached the age of five (she had a thing for Jon-Jon Kennedy. Either that or she fancied herself Jackie).

The stairway between the Cottonwood Room and the lobby (where the Orleans Room was located) was a treat in and of itself: lined with autographed photos of all the stars and celebrities who had stayed at the hotel. It was just like Hollywood!

Dinner itself was always a dull affair: Meat, gravy, mashed potatoes and steamed vegetables, with endless cups of coffee and cigarettes after desert. The Orleans Room itself was one of those tedious 60's glam affairs, with lots of pastel colors, foofy chandeliers and wall sconces, and mirrors. The less said about it the better.

But still, I sometimes long for the Orleans Room when I go to restaurants where "they let kids be kids" (in fact, that very phrase makes me shudder) "Kids" are "kids" 24/7 - there's no reason why they can't be expected to reign it in for a few hours while the adults are adults. Plus it gives them valuable insight and social skills for later in life. Knowing both how to act in a bar and when you are bored are two of the best skills an adult can bring to the workplace.