Tips for a New Start : Brotherhood Crusade Cites Need for Black Waiters, Waitresses

The coffee cup must be placed upside-down with the handle squarely pointed at 4 o’clock. Don’t hold the wine bottle by its neck. And the dessert spoon should be just above the place setting, as though a reminder of the sweeter dish to come. Fingernails must be clean. Pepperminty breath is just fine but no chewing gum.

These are some of the do’s and don’ts learned by the next generation of waiters and waitresses during a special Brotherhood Crusade training program that ends with graduation today.

For many of the 17 students, some of whom are ex-convicts and former drug addicts, graduation means a second chance. For others, it means they have learned a practical way to make ends meet until they land on their feet.

There are social overtones here as well as personal ones. The organizers of the training program are African Americans who believe that an unintended consequence of the “black pride” movement has been to discourage blacks from seeking service jobs, even thoughsuch jobs are the fastest-growing segment of the economy. The issue is made more complex by the fact that huge influxes of Latino immigrants into service jobs have forced wages lower and dramatically reduced the presence of black workers.

Edward Donnell, 41, who is black, said most of his friends raised their eyebrows when he announced he was training to become a waiter.

“Most people think of waiters as basically being servants,” he said. “But in the end, everybody serves somebody. So I don’t mind being a servant.”

In the last two years, 194 students have graduated and 94% are working, said Ken Collins, a spokesman for the Brotherhood Crusade, an economic development group that runs the free class and gives graduates a uniform of their own.

It’s because of the school’s track record in helping graduates land jobs that Ineatha Allen enrolled.

Allen, 36, was addicted to cocaine for 15 years. She spent days in a drug-induced haze where her greatest worry was scoring her next high. Today, Allen, drug-free for 14 months, has more constructive goals. She wants a job so she will be able to support four of her seven children, of whom she was recently awarded custody.

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It’s not been easy. Last week, Allen’s face was tense with concentration as she took a practice exam. Her task: setting one place for a banquet of breast of chicken, rice with herbs, fresh baked rolls and salad. To complement the place setting, Allen carefully crafted the 24-inch square napkin into one of the trickier folds: the bishop’s hat.

When instructor Mildred Simmons saw the bishop’s hat, she veered over to Allen’s place setting and with rapid-fire questions, she put the young woman through her paces.

What’s this meal? Simmons asked. Dinner, Allen offered timidly.

What type of salad dressing? “Vinaigrette,” Allen said stumblingly, her poise beginning to unravel.

But it was the final question that almost proved to be Allen’s undoing: Where’s your centerpiece?

“My what? What do you mean my centerpiece?” she said, beads of sweat pooling on her brow. Then she collected herself, scanned her server’s instructions and noticed a small item. “My centerpiece is a mirror on the table,” she told Simmons.

Exam over; Allen passed.

“I have to learn to have confidence,” said Allen, who has also enrolled in a Brotherhood Crusade computer class.

Collins said the waiter class grew out of an observation by the organization’s director, Danny Bakewell. Bakewell was sitting in a black-owned restaurant two years ago when he was struck by the fact that none of the servers were African American.

In response, Bakewell launched the class for prospective waiters and waitresses. At this school, being a waiter is viewed less as a minimum-wage job and more as a means to a decent salary (once tips are added) and possibly a springboard to other opportunities.

“It’s not for a lifetime but it’s something to get me over the hump,” said John Gardener, 29, an ex-convict who works as a roofer except for the four afternoons a week that he attends class.

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Would-be waiter Edward Donnell said he has worked for the past six years repairing car radiators. It’s a dead-end job, he says. He gets $6 an hour and no benefits. It’s not as though there’s room for professional advancement. He’s tired of being soiled with motor oil.

So he hones new skills. He can, for instance, set a formal table for 10 diners in eight minutes. Concerned about his napkin folds, he took one home to practice the bird of paradise, lotus flower, and of course, the bishop’s hat. Today, his napkins are folded crisply, with the exactness and clear lines of architectural renditions.

Donnell is excited about the future. “Some waiters I talked with, the sky is the limit in terms of what they earn,” said Donnell, who like the other students, has been told that waiters and waitresses at the fanciest joints in town can earn $50,000.

Most of the school graduates, however, start work in non-union restaurants, where they earn $4.25 an hour plus tips. Overall, the school’s students have not done well on the test they must pass to join the Hotel Employees and Restaurant Employees Union, qualifying them for better-paying union jobs. Only 31% of the Brotherhood Crusade’s graduates have passed.

Because of these results, Simmons and co-instructor John Williams spent the final week before graduation rigorously preparing their students for the union exam, which involves a written test and a demonstration of skill.

Check the silverware and glasses, make sure to rub out water marks before the examiner arrives, Williams advised.

Anxious about their charges, Williams and Simmons quizzed them over and over before Monday’s test, which covered food and drinks that most students have never consumed.

Is minestrone a type of salad? No.

Is veal a type of lamb? No.

Is Chardonnay a white wine? Yes.

What is Rice Picasso? Rice mixed with herbs.

For Simmons, the payoff of the four-week class comes not with the test scores, which will be released next week, but today, at graduation.

“When students first come in, there are no smiles, their heads are down,” she said. “When I get through with them, they’re all excited, ready to work. They come in and walk out two different people.”