It’s hard for 79-year-old concierge Thomas Wolfe to move through San Francisco’s historic Fairmont Hotel without a tale of celebrity or bit of high society gossip popping into his mind. 

A passing dog reminds him of when Lassie’s trainer, Rudd Weatherwax, stayed in the 1907 Beaux-Arts landmark. A settee prompts him to tell the tale of Vogue’s André Leon Talley taking up the entire piece of furniture with an expansive gown. 

“When they told me royalty was going to be here,” Wolfe told the famous fashion journalist, “I didn’t realize it was going to be you.” 

Wolfe, celebrating five decades of service, has cared for actual royalty (when he met the Queen Mother at the Ritz Carlton in London he knew “exactly what to do”) and celebrities ranging from Marlene Dietrich and Ivana Trump to Bob Hope and Tony Bennett. The Fairmont has been the choice of every president from William Howard Taft to Joe Biden. But a concierge doesn’t take care of only the rich and famous. 

Concierge Thomas Wolfe, left, speaks with guests Carole Quin, center, and Peter Quin, right, at The Fairmont, in San Francisco. | Source: Jeremy Chen/The Standard

The etymology of “concierge” is Latin for “fellow slave,” and the duty of a concierge is to “be subservient almost to a fault,” said Elizabeth Wilson, administrator of the prestigious Les Clefs d’Or society for elite members of the profession.  

Not every concierge receives the distinction of entry to the Les Clefs d’Or (it’s more difficult to become a member of the group than to get a job at the FBI, people have told Wilson), but everyone in the field aspires to it. Now with 44 member countries in the organization, Wolfe set up the American chapter himself as the first representative of the profession in the U.S. 

“He is a treasure,” said Evan Baker, director of communications at Les Clefs d’Or. “No concierge in the USA would be where we are today without him.” 

The proof of a Les Clefs d’Or concierge is the organization’s signature pin—two crossed golden keys in honor of both its name (it means golden keys in French) and the profession itself, since concierges used to be the ones to keep the keys for Medieval castles, the only ones trusted with access to all rooms. 

Wolfe greets every person who passes by with a smile and a cordial greeting. For him, there’s nothing more important than showing people they are valued—something everyone needs but which can feel in short supply these days. 

“It’s not just taking care of the guests,” Wolfe said. “But all the people who are around you.” 

The Art of a Concierge  

Everything about Wolfe makes you feel like you’re interacting with a character in a Wes Anderson movie—more specifically, M. Gustave in The Grand Budapest Hotel. Wolfe sports bright red glasses and long coattails; he has a half-Chihuahua, half-Greyhound service dog named Chanel; he cracks witticisms and inside jokes. 

Wolfe landed his first hotel job as a humble desk clerk in Washington, D.C., before moving on to a similar position in 1967 at a swankier venue: the Ritz Carlton in London. It was there that he first fell in love with the job of concierge, a position that didn’t yet exist in the U.S. 

“I was amazed by his great style, by the way he carried himself,” Wolfe said of the concierge he met in London. “I thought to myself, I’ve got to have this job, this is the job for me.” 

But he soured on the idea after learning how long it could take to become a concierge—as much as 18 years—and moved to San Francisco in 1973, lured by the sophistication and quality of life in the city.  

Within a month of his new job at the stately Fairmont, hotel owner Richard Swig told him of his dream: building the first concierge program in the United States. Swig said he wanted Wolfe to start it, in part because of his European experience.  

“That’s not opportunity knocking,” Wolfe said. “That’s opportunity smashing the door down.” 

Concierge Thomas Wolfe types on an old typewriter at his desk in The Fairmont. | Source: Jeremy Chen/The Standard

That wasn’t the only time Wolfe seemingly manifested his reality, according to his recollections. After Donald Trump bought the Plaza Hotel in 1988, Wolfe heard Ivana Trump—who was in charge of managing the new acquisition—talking on television about her vision for Manhattan’s most famous hotel. 

She wanted the best of everything, including the “best concierge in the country.” Wolfe took note, and he eventually wrote a letter to Ivana Trump in the language the family understood: highly self-confident. 

He referred to The Plaza in flowery terms, calling it the “jewel of Fifth Avenue,” and then he staked his claim: “You said you wanted the best concierge in the country,” Wolfe wrote. “Mrs. Trump, I am that man.” 

Wolfe sent off the letter almost as a joke, assuming it would never reach her and that it was more likely to end up in a dumpster, unopened. 

Four days later, he received a call from the Plaza. Ivana wanted to know how quickly he could get there. Two weeks later he flew to New York City for what he thought was a job interview, but upon arrival, he was told where his desk would be—he already had the job.

Wolfe worked at the Plaza for five years, where he fielded some off-the-wall requests. Once a business magnate from Switzerland demanded a Ferrari GTO, one of the rarest cars in the world. 

The concierge didn’t miss a beat. He asked: “Do you have a color preference, sir?” Wolfe’s love of cars (the concierge drives a black MGB sports car) came in handy—he procured it for the hotel guest by the end of the day. 

Concierge Thomas Wolfe poses for a portrait in front of his 1980 MG MGB Limited Edition car at The Fairmont. | Source: Jeremy Chen/The Standard

Wolfe has also been on the receiving end of some good fortune, thanks to his position. Of all the celebrities Wolfe has met, Tony Bennett remains one of his favorites. When the beloved baritone came to San Francisco for the 50th anniversary of his legendary song “I Left My Heart in San Francisco,” Wolfe received a surprise call after he had left work. 

The announcer for Bennett’s show had laryngitis, and the Fairmont’s manager had a request: could Wolfe, with his radio announcer voice, step in to introduce Bennett in the Venetian Room, where the singer had first crooned his famous San Francisco-themed ballad? Of course, Wolfe said yes. 

“That’s it,” he later told his wife. “I’ve done everything now.” 

It’s not all glitz and glamor—Wolfe is also part security person at the Fairmont, attending to some of the more quotidian duties of the job. Walking through the hotel’s elegant lobby, he tells a guest to get their feet off a coffee table and chides children for playing with the revolving door. He takes care of the grande dame just as he does his guests—all of this wouldn’t exist without her. 

Concierge Thomas Wolfe poses for a portrait at The Fairmont, in San Francisco on Wednesday, August 9, 2023. | Source: Jeremy Chen/The Standard

While Wolfe has handled the fabulously wealthy for five decades—from London and Tokyo to New York and San Francisco, once rolling out a (literal) red carpet for the diva Marlene Dietrich all the way from her room to the service elevator to the stage and then rolling it up again—he demurs when asked what it’s like to have intimate access to such elite characters. 

“No matter who it is, we’re just a couple of people here,” he said. 

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Just as the fog settles over San Francisco in July and the cable cars are overcrowded with tourists, the ovens in the kitchen of the Fairmont Hotel go on and the staff is busy.

They bake gingerbread cookies and mark the beginning of a five-month attempt to build a gingerbread house with the stature and complexity of a Victorian Queen Annes.

This year’s house plan called for 8,000 gingerbread cookies made from a typical recipe that includes flour, sugar, molasses, spices and butter. These were produced in summer and autumn and stored in a temperature-controlled room until construction began in November.

“It gets stale, but the stale the gingerbread, the harder the brick and the more stable the house,” says Emma Curtis, the hotel’s kitchen and restaurant manager. “It still smells good. You see people walking through the lobby and sniffing it.

“We don’t promote it, but we see people eating it too. The adults are the worst.”

Like the Christmas tree in Union Square and the wreaths in the windows of Macy’s, the Fairmont gingerbread house – now in its 11th year – has become a lovable San Francisco vacation tradition. It is enjoyed by hotel guests and locals who go on trips to the two-story House of Sweets annually while their children explore the sweet delicacies while sipping sparkling wine in the lobby.

The 2019 creation is the largest yet at 25 feet high and 45 feet wide; It has a private dining area that can seat up to 10 people. The exterior is adorned with twinkling lights, swirls of royal frosting, and a mix of candy. Lollipops grow in the planters, gummy candies frame the arched windows, and marshmallow sugar peeps in the shape of trees, reindeer, gingerbread and snowmen are used everywhere.

“Candy is ordered months in advance,” says Curtis. “We bought the last 15 boxes of peeps trees from Peeps. We’ll keep peeps in business.”

A total of 1,900 pounds of candy were used and everything was put together with 3,500 pounds of royal icing.

A team of six has spent more than 1,200 hours assembling this year’s house. Among them was Larry Walton who worked on the last 10 houses. Walton works as a painter for the hotel for most of the year, but in the fall he changes to the role of senior engineer at the gingerbread house, taking responsibility for the lights and animation display.

This year the main room features a scene in front of Santa’s house with letters flowing out of a mailbox. The letters were written to Santa Claus by the children of the hotel staff. One elf plays peak-a-boo, jumping in and out through a hole in the ground, and another elf climbs a ladder to the top of a reindeer barn.

Walton is handy and uses small motors made from everyday objects to set the figures and lawn ornaments in motion. He used a car seat motor to kick Santa’s legs out of the chimney.

On the gingerbread roof, Walton has put together a scene from Lombard Street, which is surrounded by Victorian houses, themed after “A Christmas Carol”. A cable car goes down the crooked road and the trees are shrouded in lights.

“I spent a day and a half putting all the Christmas lights on the miniature houses,” he says. “You have to cut the wires in half and re-solder.”

Walton says the team has learned from its mistakes over the years and is constantly improving the design.

The kitchen staff once tried adding vinegar to the icing because they heard the recipe would last longer. “You didn’t love the result”
he said. “It changed the smell.”

Another year a ceiling painted with chocolate melted and dripped on the heads of the visitors. Once a smoke machine placed in the chimney produced moisture and made the floor slippery.

“I kind of know what works and what doesn’t, and I can say, ‘Hey, we have to do this because I went through it,'” said Walton. “We used to hang gingerbread on the ceiling. And pieces cracked and fell on people.”

Amy Graff is a digital editor for SFGATE. Email: agraff@sfgate.com.

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