Crazy/Dutiful

Romoglia was hired as a runner, and a few days later, when he came in for his first evening service, he was taken into the kitchen and introduced to the chef — the same cute little fellow he’d talked to, Wolfgang Puck.

Ma Maison helped launch the ’80s food revolution in Los Angeles. The clientele were largely film-industry people; the phone number was unlisted, but the place, far from being stuffy and exclusive, was casual and bistrolike in atmosphere, if opulent and formal in its food and service. "Wolfgang’s food was so good and hearty and healthy and sorefined," says Romoglia. Waiters wore white-piqué bow ties with matching white-piqué shirts and vests, a short black tux jacket, black pants and a long white bistro apron. "The evening lineup was very old-fashioned," Romoglia says. "The managers inspected your clothes, smelled your breath, looked at your hands, quizzed you on the daily specials." At the same time, Romoglia might take an order on his knees. Personality — in the right context — was an asset. Romoglia clearly had a feel for the right context.

He worked at Ma Maison until 1980, when, having received his degree from the Fashion Institute, he took a job as a furniture coordinator for May Co. He arranged store showrooms. "They put up with me for a year. I got a really bad review — they said I was uncooperative — and no raise." He quit to work for a designer, who shortly decided to move to Phoenix. Romoglia did not want to move back to Arizona.

Wolfgang Puck had left Ma Maison by then and was working on a new restaurant. He called Romoglia and said, "Johnny, come see the new place. Your mother will be so happy. We’re serving pasta and pizza . . ." And before he knew it, Romoglia was back working in restaurants, this time for good.

Before Spago opened, Puck and his staff sat down and discussed service for the new restaurant. "Technically, we wanted the service to be very, very good, casual and chic, with incredible four-star mechanics. Not robotic fine service, but service with personality. More relaxed and welcoming. Wolfgang wanted people to feel comfortable, as if they were in a home," says Romoglia. Waiters were to be friendly, efficient but extremely professional. "This was not done at that time. Other restaurants had professional, formal service, but there was more posturing and formality."

Even before the first customer walked through Spago’s door, Puck knew that the window booths in the dining room would make for a booking nightmare. He also knew that his loyal customers, the ones who would follow him from Ma Maison, would want to have Johnny Romoglia as their waiter. Puck decided to use Romoglia to lure people into a side room. But the clientele didn’t fall for it; they’d demand a window andJohnny. One night, the maitre d’ discovered Romoglia had 14 tables. "Oh, was he furious," says Romoglia. Eventually, inevitably, he was moved to a window station — the middle window station — and for the next year worked the most coveted station in all of Los Angeles, any waiter’s dream piece of real estate.

But Romoglia had grown up "a military brat." He was accustomed to moving around and living in different countries. Staying too long in the same place, however ideal, made him restless. In April of 1983, Puck ä asked him to help with the opening of Spago Tokyo for a month. Romoglia ended up staying in Japan for four years. He lived in a Western-style company apartment and served as Puck’s vigilant ambassador at this new Spago, where the clientele routinely included diplomats, the heads of corporations, Mr. Mori, Issey Miyake and members of the royal family.

Romoglia returned to Los Angeles in May of 1987. Puck wanted him back on the floor at Spago, but in a different capacity. "Float the room," Puck said, and told him to wear a suit. He was to make sure that all the waiters were doing what they were supposed to be doing. At the time, this was a fairly novel concept. "I’d never heard of it before," Romoglia says. "I was a fifth wheel, sort of like a floorwalker in the old department stores. It was a little confusing for everybody at first. My former customers kept thinking I was a guest."

Because Romoglia was so particular about service, when Spago started catering, Puck asked him to get the business going. "I knew nothing about catering," says Romoglia, "so I treated every event just as if it were the dining room at Spago." Soon enough he was in charge of catering and private parties. Catering is hard work, with long nights and endless logistics of food and furniture and staff. Romoglia’s perfectionism in all these matters paid off. The catering arm grew — one September he put on 27 parties in 21 days. But such a hectic pace took a toll on his health. Eventually, he asked for a change. He told Puck that, for once, he wanted to work 9 to 5, Monday through Friday, at Spago Beverly Hills. Puck thought about it. "Okay," he told Romoglia. "So you take over lunch."