Bill Murray and Prince's Mission Impossible Possible

Fall of 1996
As I was showing the ballroom of the Saint Paul Hotel to a group of 5 people for a wedding in the future, I heard a voice call out, “John, John are you there.” He walked into the promenade, wearing a black baseball cap. Stepping over to all of us, Bill Murray stood face to face. Graciously he pardoned himself, then said, “Hey, John could you help me with something?” My escorted group didn’t mind being interrupted by a celebrity as Mr. Murray.

Standing in the doorway of the ballroom, he came up with one of the most bizarre request I’d ever heard. As one of the principal owners of the St. Paul Saints, he was staying in the hotel for the Northern League Baseball playoffs, which the Saints were in. That night the team was playing the final game of the series. “John” he said, “can you get a hold of the phone number for Prince, I want to call him and give him tickets to the game tonight.” As a true concierge, I said, “I’ll do my best”

He left to have lunch in the St. Paul Grill. Turning around, my tour group had their mouths open in awe. After finishing up with the tour, I went back to my desk. Saying to myself, “How am I going to do this?” Putting on my clever thinking cap, I began my quest. Knowing that his name wasn’t in the phone book under Prince, at this time he was known as a symbol not a name, I called Paisely Park, his one time recording studio, in Chanhassen. There was no answer (it was Saturday). Then I called a few night club owners in the area, asking them if they knew how to get a hold of Prince. To my surprise, Kenny Horst, at the Artist Quarter, gave me the number to some of his band members and his producer.

My best bet was to call the producer. After finally getting in touch with him, I told him the situation. Unfortunately, he wouldn’t give out Prince’s phone number. Then I asked, “What if I put you in touch with Bill Murray personally? Would you give him the phone number?” To my surprise he said, “Yes.”

I transferred the call to Bill Murray, as he ate his lunch in the Grill.

Mission accomplished!!!

Bill made the call to Prince but he was not home. He did give the producer two tickets for the game.

That night the Saints won the championship. After the game I got a big thank you, a $20 gratuity, signed “Thanks, Bill Murray”.

Day 19927 Michael Leavett and the Clock Tower Blow Out

May 11, 2004, Tuesday

On Sunday night May 9th, a storm came through downtown St. Paul. Winds clocked as high as 70 miles an hour blew through, knocking out 2 faces of the clock on the Landmark Center. After the winds died, staff from the hotel picked up the broken pieces along with the hands of the clock.

In the St Paul Pioneer Press newspaper the next day, a picture of Steve Wigen’s, one of the Saint Paul Hotel engineers, holding the hands of the clock with the Landmark in the background ran on the front page. With its uniqueness the paper put it on the AP and the New York Times picked it up. That paper ran it on the 16th page of the A section. On that same page there was an article about, "Tougher Emission Rules Set for Big Diesel Vehicles" and quoted Michael Leavitt, administrator of the EPA.

At 7PM, Monday, that same day, he walked into the hotel and checked into the hotel, staying in the top suite, the Ordway. It location was the closest room to the clock tower. His bedroom window, sat at the same level, just 88 yards away.

Day 17088 The Scent of Sophia Loren

August 2, 1995

Knock, Knock. The sound of my knuckles echoed down the hallway as they hit the side of the door of the Apartment, room 1104-06.

In my hand I held the information about her phone calls the last 2 weeks. Someone had to go over it with her; I was the man to get it done.

The lock clicked open, down went the handle, the door opened. Standing in front of me with a smile was one of the greatest movie stars of all time. Sophie Loren said, “Come in.” Dressed in a comfortable outfit, her long curly hair hung down to her shoulders, even at 63 her beauty radiated.

She sat on the couch, as I got comfortable in the chair next to it just a few feet apart.

“I hope you are enjoying your stay with us at the Saint Paul Hotel.” I said. “It’s been a very nice time so far.” She said.

Explaining the bill did not take to long. We continued with small talk for another 30 minutes. We discussed how the filming of “Grumpier Old Men” was going. Her impression of Jack Lemmon and Walter Matthau were very high, happy to be working with such gifted actors.

Thinking those two old guys probably felt the same way about working with her.

Paul Shaw, the manager of the production of “Showboat” performing at the Ordway, had talked to me about getting her tickets for the play. He said George Grisard, one of the performers, had met her and would like to get together. The singer who does “Old Man River” told him her son had taken singing lessons from him. Mentioning these items, she didn’t recall knowing either gentleman. She said, her two sons never sang, one a director and the other played the piano.

Asking her what she likes to do, she said, “Staying in her room, reading, going over lines, and listening to classical music.” A stack of CD’s sat on the coffee table next to her. During our entire conversation the television was on with the news.

Her hands were manicured and polished. Long fingers with pudgier palms struck me as uniquely distinctive. It wasn’t something you would expect. I was very fortunate; there would be very few men that would ever remember her by her hands. Her beauty was overwhelming; I was humbled in her presence.

She wore made up on this day and everyone after, her eyes highlighted to the utmost, Cat like, even though she wore glasses.

Her English was good but at times she had difficulty getting the right words out.
I left her room with a handshake and a farewell.

We did have a connection after that meeting in her room. When she passed my desk in the lobby to depart for her filming for the day, she would come up to me, say hello and give me a handshake. One of the last things before leaving her room, she would apply perfume. Splashes of it would be on her hands. Upon touching her skin, her favorite fragrance Irisa, would jump off and caress my hand.

Once she walked out the front door to her waiting limousine, I would bring my hand up to my nose, smell her scent. The scent of Sophia!! I didn’t wash my hand all day long.