Farewell to Joe the doorman

Back when the Latham was the Latham - the place to be - back when presidents and starlets strolled through the marble lobby, Joe Broderick was always there to open the door.

He was hired as a doorman, but from the start, Broderick was always something closer to a concierge. Before all the big joints came to town, you had to stay at the Latham Hotel and you had to ask for Joe.

Joe would take care of you. Whatever the situation. Restaurant reservations. Tickets to the latest show. Tickets to an Eagles game. Once, he even found somebody a helicopter.

Broderick first donned his doorman's uniform five weeks after the Latham's grand opening in 1970. He will wear it one final time - 45 years, eight months, and seven days later, when the hotel closes its doors for good Monday, to be converted to apartments.

Through eight owners, 22 managers, through the galas and the glittering guests, through the suicides and lonely deaths, from his spot at the door, Broderick has watched Center City transform from a few fancy blocks surrounded by grime into what he proudly describes to his few remaining guests as a changed city.

"Back in the day, you never went to Philadelphia in the summer," Broderick said Thursday, working the door. "Now it's become world-class and all that."

The end of the Latham marks the end of one of the last vestiges of an old Philadelphia as the city remakes itself again. But for many, it's just a sad goodbye to Joe.

Listen to the chorus of adieus from his regulars.

"Guy knows the keys to the city, man. They don't make them like Joe anymore," said Rick Green, a tech business owner from Lumberton who's been doing business at the Latham for years.

"No one thinks of the Latham, they think of Joe," said Dave Schlossberg, a salesman who lives in the neighborhood and has been hanging at the Latham since its halcyon days.

"You need anything in this city, you just see Joe," said one of the Central Division patrol officers who check on Joe during their rounds.

Indeed, the old-school bellman has always worked by a simple credo: Know how to give the guests what they want. The answer to anything anyone wanted could be found in his thick "bible" of business cards.

"You want FBI, Secret Service, judges, Parking Authority, unions, restaurants, cars, limousines, Eagles, whatever you want, it's in here," said Broderick, flipping through the pages.

He was 18 and fresh out of Roxborough High when he applied for the job. Rooms went for $18. His salary was $1.25 an hour. His first day, he made $16 in tips.

He thought he had the world on a string. He figured he'd do the job until he figured out what he really wanted to do with his life. Then, it became his life.

The nobody kid from East Falls became a somebody by opening the door for everybody.

There were the movie and television stars in town for The Mike Douglas Show. And the legendary musicians who recorded at Philadelphia International Records. He arranged a police escort to the airport for Bob Hope and catered to the needs of a young Jessica Lange. He palled around with Lou Rawls and Stevie Wonder. He watched basketball with Gerald Ford. He got horseback-riding lessons for the Jackson Five.

He called out sick only nine times in 45 years. He was never late once. For him, the key was respect: "Respect others, respect yourself, and respect your job.

"I loved coming to work," he said.

It was working the door at the Latham that allowed him to raise his daughter, Joelle, who is 26 and makes him beam with pride.

Now Broderick struggles to answer the question his regulars keep asking: "What are you going to do?"

He hopes the phone will ring - that someone, in this age of Yelp and Travel Advisor, will want an old-school doorman and his connections. He's confident someone will.

"Maybe," he said, "someone will pick me up and say, 'Oh, yeah, you're the type of guy I'm looking for.' "

Then, the proud doorman excused himself. For a few more days, at least, there were guests to attend to.

mnewall@phillynews.com 215-854-2759 @MikeNewall