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At about the time of my graduation a new hotel was opening in London's Knightsbridge. It was to be called the Carlton Tower and to be operated by Hotel Corporation of America, the first new hotel to be built in London after the war and the first belonging to an American operator. Completely against the advice of my college professors, I applied for, and was offered, a position as a front desk clerk. 'How can you throw away four years of college by taking such a lowly job?" they winged. Quite simple. The pay was to be ten pounds per week with the chance of some extra cash from tips and I had to do my bit to feed and clothe two children. Something else, however, had stirred in me. By taking this job I was not following the crowd; most of my fellow graduates were routinely taking positions in executive training schemes with British hotel companies. I was doing something different and, even though it was the lowliest of jobs, something individual. But most of all I was putting my foot into the door of America