The Roadside Diner in Transition
Who in their right mind would buy, move, and/or restore a vintage diner? These people. Maybe. Plus, does losing our diners cause more loneliness?
In today’s reality, there exists little value proposition for finding, prepping, moving, restoring, and reviving a classic pre-fabricated diner. I have lost track of quite a few diners that someone bought and moved to new locations at great expense just since 2000, never to be seen or heard from again.
Moving large objects long distances over the road can cost well into six figures, depending on the size and the number of state lines crossed. Because of this, a vintage structure brings little if any added value to the business. It usually makes more sense to hire an architect who understands the aesthetic to custom-design a fully code-compliant and modern replica.
But some haven’t seen that memo.
To that end, I dip my toe back into the diner waters and spotlight a few transitions that took place this year. Indeed the sale of diners, operating and otherwise, does still happen, but not nearly at the pace we saw in the 1990s.
If you’d like to learn more about diners and where to find them, I suggest visiting Michael Engle’s thoroughly comprehensive Dinerville listing.
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Daddypop’s Passes the Spatula
A friend and fan passed the news a couple of weeks back that Ken Smith, owner of Daddypop’s Diner in Hatboro, Pennsylvania finally hung up the apron after more than 35 years. Thankfully, this diner will stay put, and hopefully ride Hatboro’s rising tide of the past twenty years or so. The new owners have a restaurant background, and based on my recent visit, have a good sense on how to run a diner.
As regular readers here know, I interviewed Ken about how the imposed pandemic policies affected his business and his world outlook. You can read that here.
Over a year ago, Ken reached out asking me if I know anyone who wants to buy a diner. I sighed, and replied that the market for moving these things has ground to a halt in recent years and suggested retaining a business broker.
Shortly after hearing the news, I met a friend at Daddypop’s to get a sense of this transition. All too often the news that long-time, beloved owners have retired or otherwise moved on tends to foreshadow unwelcome changes for both employees and for regulars. I’m happy to say that based on my latest visit, this hasn’t happened.
The Shawmut Redemption
In October, the Shawmut Diner in storage since 2014, sold at auction for $20,000. According to WPRI, Providence, the new owner plans to move it to Norwich, Connecticut. WPRI identifies Evan Blum as the new owner and describes him as a collector who owns a salvage company called The Demolition Depot and Irreplaceable Artifacts.
According to WPRI, “…he plans to place the diner in the parking lot of his Norwich, Conn., warehouse, which itself is an old cardboard box factory that is being repurposed to house his “mammoth-sized” collection of architectural artifacts.”
Will Mr. Blum bring the Shawmut back to life? Let’s just say I wouldn’t bet breakfast on it.
Quickly Picking Up Rosie’s One More Time
Rosie’s Diner has sat shuttered and moldering since the early 2000s, after a succession of owners and/or operators attempted and failed to recreate the impossible magic of Jerry Berta, the artist and entrepreneur who brought the iconic diner to Rockford from Fort Lee, New Jersey in 1990. In that decade, Jerry created a sensation so big, he inspired the import of at least another eight diners into that state. One fanatic, Al Sloan, purchased four and opened one in Alpena.
By 2003, Jerry wanted to focus more on making art than on running a restaurant, and at first found people to lease the operation. When that didn’t work, he shuttered the entire complex, which included the Diner Store, an O’Mahony used as his studio, and the Deluxe Diner, a Silk City intended for more upscale dining.
Jerry then sold off the whole idled complex to a local car dealer, who professed no plans for Rosie’s or the others that flanked it. They sat there for at least a decade with little word about their condition.
Last month, on October 20, woodtv.com reported that Rosie’s will get “its new home in central Missouri, about halfway between Columbia and Fulton” thanks to Dawn Perry, a restaurant professional with 25 years experience. According to the report, she plans to open within three years. I wish Ms. Perry the best of luck and hope that it doesn’t land on a growing list of diners sold off and put in storage that became something of a trend starting in the early 2000s.
Off the top of my head, some of these diners (with last known locations) include:
Ingleside Diner (Lancaster County)
Avoca Diner (Washington, DC)
Cheyenne Diner (Birmingham, Alabama)
Boston Trolley Diner (Chattanooga, Tennessee)
Moondance Diner (Green River, Wyoming)
Lemoyne Diner (Chatham, Ontario)
Silver Top Diner (South Attleboro, Massachusetts)
Forbes Diner (Salisbury, Connecticut)
If you have any new information about the status of any of these diners, please share in the comments.
Hit or Miss Adams
Since Barry and Nancy Garton left the Miss Adams Diner behind in 2001, the diner has taken several gut punches to its preserved condition. Under the couple’s ownership, they did their best to preserve and restore the 1949 Worcester while serving some of the best meals in the Berkshires. Subsequent owners stripped a great deal of its charm away or buried under dubiously chosen decor.
I don’t believe that the diner in the post-Garton era has stayed open for much longer than two year stretches. With each transition, it lost another original feature, it seemed.
This year it closed up again and landed on the auction block. New owners hope to have it open in April 2024, but like its previous owners going back to the Gartons, it will face some strong economic headwinds. The Adams/North Adams communities have never quite recovered from the decline of manufacturing in that region, and seasonal tourism trade gets divvied up between too many fine restaurants.
Still Standing…
At least as of two weeks ago, anyway. Read more about the West Taghkanic sign here:
Do Diners Prevent Loneliness?
Fellow substacker Sara Eckel recently penned an excellent piece about the spreading problem of loneliness and how the new trends in the restaurant industry seem to make matters worse. She illustrates her points with people sitting alone at window counters with their coffee and phone in hand.
Sara makes the point that when communities go hip, (like hers in Brooklyn), the restaurant scene tends to make this transition from convivial to aloof. She cites an old fave called Tony’s where:
…there were families and retirees—men in New York Giants hoodies, women in pastel sweater sets. On nights that we sat at the bar, we usually ended up talking to whoever was next to us; one night it was the head of the city’s Democratic party; another night the guy who fixed the roof of our house.
This describes my initial diner experiences in Henry’s Diner in Allston, Massachusetts. Located since the 1940s in a light industrial area and a stone’s throw from Harvard Square, one could sit at its counter in the 80s and 90s between a professor of anthropology and a UPS driver, while fueling up on a huge breakfast for short money. Today, Henry’s is no more — the diner itself got demolished last year. What today usually replaces such diners in such locations? Usually a version of the fast-casual trend. Walk up to a counter, place and order, and maybe someone you’ll never see again will drop it off at your table.
In Sara’s neighborhood, Tony’s will be replaced by “…three different businesses: an upscale slice joint, a high-end ‘provisions’ market, and a wine bar and small-plate bistro.”
The article paints, from my own experience, an accurate but rather bleak picture of how the industry today serves us.
However, Sara did not account for the sheer number of restaurants we have today compared to twenty, thirty, or more years ago. With so much empty retail space now available, much of it is being filled by restaurants of all types.
Yes, the trend overwhelmingly runs toward fast-casual, but the local pub is alive and well. In fact, after I'm done writing this, I hope to head down to mine and share a pint of freshly brewed ale with a room full of complete strangers where I usually get into some kind of friendly conversation.
If not there, I can also count on my local coffee shop for some lively discourse. I know the owner, and I often see the same people there from week to week. No, maybe it’s not Lynn’s Capitol Diner, where despite my ten-year absence, Marie still recognized me as she dashed by to fill an order, but I’ve found many places capable of helping us make a connections.
In Sara’s case, maybe it isn’t so much the restaurants. Maybe it’s Brooklyn.
Read Sara Eckel’s insightful observations here: