JFK stayed there. So did Louie Armstrong, and maybe Judy Garland, too. It’s difficult to imagine there was a time when the Sterling Hotel was anything but the condemned monster we see today. But, the aging beauty was once the standard for elegance in a community that valued such things.
 Photograph by kerifriedman.com
Walter Sterling, namesake of the Sterling Hotel, was a traveler who once sailed around Cape Horn, South America, to join the California gold rush. It’s no wonder that when the hotel opened its doors in 1898, it was the most modern, luxurious, and forward thinking facility of its kind in the City of Wilkes-Barre. In an age in which the coal industry and railroad were kings, the Sterling was poised for success as an elegant respite for travelers.
By the 1920s, Homer Mallow acquired the property and the tallest tower in Wilkes-Barre, the Plaza, was constructed behind the hotel. Eventually, the two were connected with a high-profile hall that became known as “Peacock Alley.” It was a place to see and be seen as guests made their way to dinner. The golden years continued under the ownership of Andrew Sordoni, who made the Sterling into more of a family hotel, with an elaborate buffet and in-house doctor and barber. By the late ‘60s, it was converted into apartments; in the ‘80s, a retirement facility; and, by 1998, it was condemned. The aging beauty awaits its fate on the corner of Market and River Streets in Wilkes-Barre, in a slow state of decay.
“The Waldorf Astoria of Northeastern PA” – Fred George
Fred George worked at the Sterling Hotel as a busboy in 1949.
“I was scared,” he recalled of his first day in the then-posh surroundings. “I wish you could see that lobby, it was beyond words.”
Bellhops scurried across polished marble floors and ladies of leisure sipped cocktails in high fashion. International chefs were on call to serve an array of cuisine that could not be rivaled. Eventually, George worked his way up to head chef and was featured on postcards that heralded the Sterling’s epic Smorgasbord. Sixty-five varieties of food were carefully laid out for guests– approximately 1,600 on one occasion.
“One Mother’s Day, the General Sullivan Dining Room got too full and people had to eat in the lobby, then the mezzanines, and so forth. I was proud of that,” George said.
“The Sterling has survived, but we will destroy it.” – Sean Corchoran
Looking up at the Sterling Hotel from the rear, it can be observed that there are no rain gutters. Or, rather, the pieces that are left might literally be from the 1890s. Sean Corchoran pointed to the gaping holes left from years of water cascading down the side of the building, and shrugged.
“Gutters don’t cost that much,” he said. “The floods have washed three or four bridges out here. The Sterling has survived, but we will destroy it.”
Pointing at two nearby vacant buildings, Corchoran noted that it is possible to maintain aging buildings with a bit of care. The Irem Temple and Sterling Annex are tightly sealed, mothballed, and show no signs of serious external wear. The Sterling is open to the elements, lacks windows, and the dank smell of mold wafts out of its dark interior. "This is criminal neglect, Corchoran asserted.
“When will it be repaired?” – Sally Healey
Sally Healey grew up with the Sterling. It was the place of her First Communion, her prom, and the numerous card parties her mother insisted on dragging her to.
“I was bored stiff, of course,” Healey recalled.
To entertain herself, she wandered, awestruck, through ornate balconies with the other children. In the 1990s she became a community activist. She helped relocate elderly and at-risk residents who were left behind when the building fell into distress. Today, she hopes to bring emphasis to the plight of the Sterling Hotel before it is demolished.
“Last week, a young couple in their 20s, from Pittsburgh, were walking by and asked, ‘When will it be repaired?,” Healey said. They were obviously thinking of their own downtown, where dilapidated train stations become elegant restaurants and architecture is a selling point.
“And, really,” Healey asked, “What do we have to show people besides this architecture?”
“My Titanic”– Wendy Atkinson, as related to Molly Bridger
When she was little, Wendy Atkinson truly believed that one day she would find the Titanic. It had not yet been discovered in the early ‘80s, and she was supremely confident that she was just the girl for the job.
“When it turned up, I was disappointed, but I was allowed to stay up late and watch as robots explored Turkish baths tiled in cerulean blue, ornate dining halls, and the grand stairwell,” she said.
Cafe Metropolis was a small 1990’s venue in the belly of the Sterling Hotel. Every detail, from the curly-cued fire escapes to the hulking marble columns, gave it a grand feeling.
“We drank coffee and listened to local bands, while homeless people circulated throughout the abandoned parts of the building overhead,” Atkinson described. “It was a dangerous place for a 15-year-old girl, and I knew it. But, I was not interested in the bands, or the company. I wanted to be in the energy of that building because I had never seen anything like it, and because it was the closest thing I would ever find to the Titanic.”
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