Open Writing

The other day, in an idle moment, my mind turned to the Royal Hotel in Scarborough, Yorkshire. I have no idea why. I had stayed there in 1974 and hadn’t thought about it much since then, but my curiosity was peaked, so I typed the name in my web browser and was surprised to find a number of references.

I guess my surprise arose from the knowledge that we live in times of change, and nothing is forever. As far as I could tell from the web pages, the venerable hotel is alive and well, and if anything more beautiful than I remembered. The modern facilities listed there showed clearly that it had also moved with the times.

The place has quite a history, and wasn’t so much “built,” as “grown.” The site on St. Nicholas Street, with a commanding view of Scarborough Bay, was originally the location of “The Long Room,” a high class venue for balls, meetings and entertainment. It was opened in 1725, and later provided accommodations for visitors. It was renamed the Royal Hotel in 1839. In 1862 the Long Room was extended, and in 1867 the present Royal Hotel was built.

Famous people appear to have been drawn like a magnet to the Hotel, and they include onetime owner Thomas Laughton’s brother, who was the Oscar winning Hollywood star Charles Laughton of “Captain Bligh” fame, not to mention “The Private Life of Henry VIII” and many other notable roles. Winston Churchill visited during his time in public office, as well as privately, and suites are named after each of these famous people, as well as the poet, Dame Edith Sitwell.

The Regency period interior décor is rich with embellishments and color, and the view into the main floor from one of the surrounding balconies is stunning. According to the web page, the private rooms have been brought up to modern-day standards.

My personal experience with The Royal is one of the most surreal of my life. I had married for the second time in the February of 1974, and had only a few days available for a honeymoon, so I was looking for a hotel within a short drive from my hometown, Sheffield. Naturally, it needed to be somewhere special.

At that time, the Royal was offering an out of season, weekend package from Friday to Sunday that featured a dinner dance on Saturday night. I inquired if it would be possible to stay from Wednesday to Sunday, and was told “yes.” Little did I realize what a departure from their normal arrangements this was.

We arrived in late-afternoon on our wedding day, exhausted from the experience, wanting nothing more than to rest and relax before dinner. We were shown to a smallish room, richly decorated in period style. In the center of a dressing table was a huge bouquet of flowers that friends had ordered, with a card that must have given the game away to the hotel staff.

We had no sooner settled in than the phone rang. Our caller asked if we would be down for dinner that evening. Thinking it strange, we confirmed that we would indeed be eating in. Dinner would be served, we were informed, “In the small dining room.” Only then did it dawn on us that we might be among just a small number of guests in this huge, 118 room establishment.

We subsequently discovered we were the only guests! Not too many people are drawn to the Yorkshire coast in the middle of winter. As we stepped from our room on our way down to dinner, over the balcony we saw a small group of staff clustered round the restaurant entrance looking expectantly up at us.

Our appearance immediately sent them into a flurry, and by the time we had walked down the grand staircase they were all in position, seemingly pretending this was all part of their normal routine. Though there was no mention of our newly wedded status, or our singular presence in the hotel, the deference with which we were treated was palpable.

From that night on, whenever we moved from our room we were closely observed, and rather obvious signals were passed indicating where we were and where we were headed. Though this could have been unnerving, we were really quite flattered; our main concern being that the Saturday night dinner dance might be cancelled.

We need not have worried. By late afternoon on the Friday, a steady trickle of guests was checking in, and the cathedral silence of the previous two days had been replaced by a steady buzz of activity. It was a relief not to be the center of attention. The dinner dance more than fulfilled our desire for an elegant, memorable evening.

Unfortunately, the marriage wasn’t durable, but the grand old lady of Scarborough thrived, as she has through the centuries. Long may she endure.

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