The El Cortez Hotel in San Diego has been recognized by numerous architects and engineers as a pioneer in design. Indeed, it has set trends in various ways, but there’s more to its story. During its heyday, it was regarded as one of the nation’s most sophisticated hotels, becoming a preferred destination. Guests chose it not just for San Diego’s attractions, but for the experience of staying at the hotel itself. Eventually, its fame and the resulting high occupancy led the management to conclude that the hotel’s single elevator was inadequate.
The hotel’s affluent and well-educated executive team, along with a group of equally affluent and educated architects and engineers, embarked on a project. Their unanimous decision followed conventional wisdom: they planned to cut through each level, from the basement to the roof, to make room for an additional elevator. It seemed like a logical solution, didn’t it?
One morning, just as construction was about to commence, a janitor at the hotel caught wind of the conversation happening in the main lobby. With a discreet push of his mop bucket, he edged closer to the gathering and eavesdropped as the team members presented their segments to the hotel’s management. The proposal was impressive and seemed logical. Yet, the janitor, with utmost respect, inquired about the nature of their discussion. The engineers and architects, judging him by his attire, were somewhat taken aback by his intrusion. Nonetheless, a team member explained the current elevator’s capacity issues and their intended solution of installing a new one.
The janitorThe janitor listened attentively to the full explanation, observing the team’s confident affirmations. He then pointed out the obvious drawbacks: the significant disruption and noise from heavy machinery, drilling, and hammering, which could negatively impact the guests’ experience. An engineer quickly countered, stating that the hotel would close during construction, rendering the janitor’s concerns moot.
Undeterred, the janitor highlighted another clear issue: the financial burden of the project. Moreover, closing the hotel for an extended period would lead to job losses, exacerbating the already high unemployment rate. He questioned what the employees would do for employment during this time.
An architect, weary from the ongoing debate, posed a direct question: “Do you have a better suggestion?”
After a brief pause, the janitor responded with a query of his own, asking if the possibility of constructing the elevator on the hotel’s exterior had been considered. The team took a moment before acknowledging that an external elevator was unprecedented. The janitor listed several immediate advantages: the hotel could operate uninterrupted during construction, thereby maintaining revenue to fund the new build. There would be no need to dismiss nearly a hundred workers, and the absence of interior demolition meant no internal cleanup.
The project for the inaugural external elevator commenced posthaste. To some, this hotel represents the origin of a novel architectural concept. My perspective on the hotel and its backstory is one of insight. It teaches us that the most educated or skilled individuals don’t always hold the monopoly on the best ideas. This underscores the importance of diversity in our endeavors. Reflecting on General McDew’s commentary last month, I penned his definition of diversity as “a reflection of what makes us unique.” Embracing our individuality and the contributions we each bring is essential, ensuring we continue as the foremost global force in air, space, and cyberspace.
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