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he worked extremely hard in the months preceding the opening date, June 1. He commuted from our home in New Orleans to the hotel almost daily, it seems, and I recall my mother saying that he literally turned grey in that period. I am sure that he felt at the time that the investment in money and in the time necessary to supervise the restoration, were worthwhile. It was after all, the accomplishment of a longed-for dream: an ambition of my father for many years had been to own the hotel.
My eldest brother, Wilfred Jr., has more vivid recall of some details. He remembers the arc-shaped drive leading up to the front steps beneath the four Roman columns of the portico. He and I also can picture the oleander plants flanking the steps, and remember that they must have already been old, judging by their size. Wilfred Jr.'s memory also includes the facts that the restaurant had been opened before the hotel, and that it was furnished with brand new kitchen equipment. He can still picture stacks of new mattresses which our father had had made in New Orleans. They were stuffed with Spanish moss. One of my own vivid images is of the interior of the attic and the enormity of the cypress beams; this was probably the only time my father allowed me to climb the stairs to the attic, from which I remember the view high up above the grounds.
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