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JOURNAL
January 2006
SATURDAY MORNING SADNESS
I walked up the steps to The Market Diner on Eleventh Avenue at 43rd Street and was greeted with a hand-scrawled note taped to the door: "On behalf of everyone at The Market Diner, we thank you for your years of patronage. We have closed." That was it! No warning!
The Market Diner had been around since, I think, the early '60s and I suspect a few of the waitresses had worked there since the first day. They served up the eggs almost as fast as the attitude. My favorite was Mary, who once was interviewed on the local news and asked to comment on President Reagan's death. She enjoyed her brush with fame with her usual crusty commentary.
When most people think of New York, they think of the typical New York landmarks: Empire State Building, Statue of Liberty, Radio City, Rockefeller Center, New York Public Library, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, and on and on. Those of us who have lived here for a while might have a favorite dive bar; a funky blues club; a spot in a neighborhood park; a specialty shop. We love to show these treasures to our tourist friends. But if I had to choose one thing that represents the quintessential New York, I'd have to pick the diner, and The Market Diner was among the best of them. We often pass by diners on odd corners and don't give them much of a thought. They aren't attractive, they are not often marketed for the tourists' eyes. But when a New Yorker wants to enjoy a lazy, late morning without spending a lot of money, there is nothing quite like the neighborhood diner.
For years, I've had a pattern to my Saturdays. I'd go to Crunch, my gym on Eleventh and 42nd, and take my Urban Rebounding class (think of bouncing on your own personal trampoline), then Abs & Stretch. After that 90-minute workout, I felt no guilt whatsoever about stopping at The Market Diner — picking up my dishy New York Post along the way — and settling in at the counter to order my two-eggs-over-easy-bacon-french-fries-toasted-bagel-coffee-and-orange-juice. I love my Saturday mornings. It's the rare window of time when I'm not in a rush to do the next thing and can enjoy reading the celeb gossip, sipping my java, and fantasizing about the million-dollar houses in the color real estate section.
You can imagine my shock when I saw the empty diner last Saturday. I stood on the steps for a good minute, not knowing where to go, what to do. I finally decided to walk to the new Theater Row Diner on 42nd Street, near Ninth Avenue. The vinyl seats were firm and unscruffed. The tables and partitions gleamed. The dark-haired waiters in their tuxes were polite and efficient. The Marilyn posters on the wall were a noble imitation of a '50s-style diner. And my French Toast and eggs and bacon was a pretty darn good meal. But it wasn't the same. The Theater Row Diner is trying too hard. I couldn't quite relax.
When change comes to your neighborhood, your city, unexpectedly, it is like a death. It might be a grand tragedy like the loss of the Twin Towers, cut down suddenly in their youth, and we're still trying to get over it. Or it might be the long, expected demise of places like McHale's Pub (closing its doors this week) or Howard Johnson's in Times Square. It's like losing a beloved relative to cancer: it's slow and painful and you can do nothing to stop it. And then there are the sudden losses like The Market Diner, like the sudden heart attack that takes your grandparent. These changes alter our landscape, disrupt our routines. Eventually we find new places, new activities, without ever losing our love for the places that represented our good old days.
And so, goodbye Market Diner. I'll never know why you left us so suddenly; you always seemed to have a crowd. You were unheralded in this big, busy, gleaming city. But off in the far west reaches of midtown, you were loved and you will be missed.
For a time, I will wander aimlessly on my Saturday mornings, in search of another welcoming countertop. As old New York gives way to fancier real estate and Manhattan's escalating rents, that may be hard to find.
What's Your Opinion?
KevScoHall@Verizon.net