Like Old Times : Seniors Find Elegance, Bit of the Past at Hotel
A bourbon-and-water in hand, Salome Scannell, 97, waited for the hors d’oeuvres during happy hour at the Breakers Hotel, which, in its latest resurrection, has become an elegant home for senior citizens.
“I’m too old to be sitting in a bar,” she joked on a recent Friday afternoon, wearing black-and-gold earrings that matched her blouse.
Scannell was in the ground-floor bar, with its walnut paneling and historic photos, being catered to by the staff as she and fellow residents with beauty-shop-fresh hair relaxed before dinner.
The Breakers, once the “grande dame of Long Beach,” closed as a hotel in 1988. It was bought by Ocean Boulevard Associates, which spent $23 million to remodel it, make it earthquake-safe and restore its 1920s-style Romanesque architecture. It reopened almost a year ago.
The 15-story landmark building at 210 E. Ocean Blvd., topped by the cupola that has characterized the downtown skyline for 65 years, now has a crisp, sand-colored look. The cupola still has an American flag stuck in its roof, like a miniature flag stuck in a cake.
The 38 residents, whose average age is 84, seem pleased with what they get for rents that start at just above $1,000 a month--three meals a day; housekeeping and local transportation; social programs; exercise classes; a beauty shop, and a nurse from St. Mary’s Medical Center who comes in weekly to assess health needs.
Muriel Buck, up in her fifth-floor apartment full of artifacts and satin dresses, looked out the window down Ocean Boulevard. “I like it here very much, believe me,” she said.
“My broker’s right there,” she went on, looking at a glass building next door. “I could throw a baseball into his window.”
Her husband, Frank Buck, who died in 1950, was a well-known hunter who captured wild animals for zoos. Because he rarely had to kill them, he was known as “Bring ‘Em Back Alive.”
In a voice that suggested Europe, she went on about her new life:
“I watch TV, I exercise. Then I have luncheon. I came here weighing 105 pounds, and now I weigh 120--that’s not funny. We go shopping in the afternoon. Then it’s time for dinner.”
That comes a bit early for this world traveler who spent many years in New York City: “I’m used to late hours and having dinner at 9 o’clock instead of 4:30.”
In its early years, the Breakers attracted movie stars, wealthy Easterners and bathing beauties who romped on the beach for newsreel features. The famous Sky Room--a restaurant and nightclub with stunning panoramic views of downtown, the beach and the harbor--was a meeting spot for military officers during World War II. A turret remains on the roof, though the antiaircraft guns it once held have long been removed.
“I danced up on the roof,” recalled Marilee Gillespie, 80, who moved to the Breakers recently from her longtime home in Long Beach. “It was a dating place, like the Brown Derby and Coconut Grove. It was the place to go.”
Today the Sky Room, which was still popular in the 1980s, is used by the Breakers’ residents for occasional dinners and entertainment shows. It can also be booked by the public.
Built in 1925 for $900,000, the Breakers became, following its first renovation in 1938, a Hilton hotel. It was sold in 1947, and for 14 years was known as the Wilton Hotel. But by the early 1960s, taxis no longer jammed the front drive, and the place went bankrupt, turning into what was called the West Coast’s largest pigeon roost.
From the mid-1960s until 1982, it was a senior citizens residence. It then reverted once again--after a $15-million restoration to first-class status--to a stately hotel. But it usually operated at 50% capacity.
Ocean Boulevard Associates, a partnership between Tobishima USA and Senior Living Development of Long Beach, bought the Breakers and began another renovation in 1989.
After the building was made seismically sound, it was water-blasted. Then new plumbing and windows were installed, and the kitchen and second-floor dining room were rebuilt, although the dining room’s termite-ridden dance floor could not be saved. Elevators were modernized and the guest rooms were remodeled.
“They did an outstanding job,” said Ruthann Lehrer, preservation officer for the city. “They restored the architectural design and the lavish ornament,” she said.
The building reopened in November, 1990.
Sitting in the lobby, Cyril Cook, 81, marveled: “There are even pictures on the walls downstairs in the men’s room.”
Dressed in a blue shirt and jeans, the former teacher was waiting in the lobby on a recent day to sing at a resident talent show. The show was held beneath blazing chandeliers and a 20-foot-high ceiling with ornate molding. Long, narrow mirrors on pillars reflected trees, an aquarium and a baby grand piano. Canes were propped against tapestry-style sofas. Cookies and coffee were served.
“Oh, how we loved those love songs we sang as teen-agers,” Cook told the dressed-up gathering. “The first time I kissed a girl it was rather clumsily, but I practiced and I got pretty good.”
He then launched, a cappella, into “Sentimental Journey,” “You Are My Sunshine” and every other song he could think of from the 1920s.
The Breakers offers “moderately priced” housing, said Mary P. Gallagher, its operations director.
But with rents starting at $1,075 a month, residents need more than Social Security to afford living there.
“It’s a little bit on the high side, but there’s definitely a need for this housing,” said Ralph Laudenslayer, superintendent of the Long Beach Senior Center. He said older people generally pay in the $500-$600 range.
There are 204 rooms--studios and one-bedrooms--in the Breakers, but only 19% are occupied.
The Breakers’ management had expected a higher occupancy rate by now. “We had hoped the economy would have done better,” Gallagher said. “To be at the national average after 12 months, we would have to have another 20 residents. But we’re very optimistic that it’s just a matter of getting people acclimated to our environment. Once they learn that, that word-of-mouth will be helpful.”
One drawback, she said, “is a perception that some of these (retirement) communities are ‘old-folks homes.’ ”
The slow real estate market also has contributed to the low occupancy, she said.
“There’s a number of people who have homes on the market or in escrow who will be coming in,” she said. “We have four move-ins next week.”
To Jim Miller, 81, a veteran of the labor relations field and one of only six male residents, the Breakers is “a place to live where people up in years do not have to worry whether they will be comfortable.”
A staff of 60 tries to ensure that comfort, but Gallagher points out that there is a fine line between pampering and providing services. “We try to encourage the residents to be as independent as possible,” she said. “And we encourage them to be caring, responsive and attentive.”
Gallagher said there have been few complaints. But not everyone is satisfied.
“We’re moving out,” Fred Hardaker, 78, had said during the recent happy hour. “The rooms are horrible--little tiny rooms. We think we can do better.” He and his wife intend to move to another retirement community.
And another resident, Audrey French, who managed the hotel dining room in the late 1970s, said while having dinner, “It’s beautifully decorated and the people are lovely . . . but it’s not the homey atmosphere it once was.”
But Dorothy Ward, 90, who has lived there almost a year, loves the place. “Does it seem like a hotel? No, not a bit,” she said.
So enamored of the Breakers is the impeccably dressed, white-haired former vaudevillian, that she wrote a song about it. She sang it at the talent show:
“If you’re 55, then you qualify.
Come on down, please come and look,
Living here is a picture book. . . .”
Ward seemed to typify the independent spirit encouraged in the building. After the show, she said, “I’m not crazy about being among a lot of old people, but I do my own thing.”
Then she had dinner with her friends and went back up to her tiny, immaculate studio apartment, to her great views, to her turquoise piano and to the large framed black-and-white photo of her son on the wall.
