Diners

By Leo Racicot

Diners are as American as mom and apple pie. In the late part of the 18th century, an enterprising Providence, Rhode Island man, Walter Scott, began serving night workers (newspaper employees, nighttime vending hawkers, graveyard shift factory workers) sandwiches and coffee out of his horse-drawn wagon. The service was an instant hit and soon evolved into the dining cars of today.      I love diners and diner food. Who in Lowell hasn’t eaten, or still eats, at The Owl Diner on Appleton Street? It seems to have always been there. When I knew it, it was owned by the Shanahan Sisters. Its sign read Four Sisters Owl Diner. One of the sisters, Bridget, owned a beauty salon out in Dracut. Bridget did my sister’s hair for many years and Diane always said Bridget was her favorite of the sisters. Owl’s tiny parking lot and the surrounding area is always packed-to-the-rafters, especially on weekends. Just try getting a table on Saturday and Sunday mornings. My routine on Sundays was to run next door to Palmer News, grab the Sunday Boston Globe, the Sunday NYTimes and eat my breakfast in The Owl while reading them. A delightful memory…The usually loud, bustling Owl boasts a diverse patronage: popular among politicians, tourists and college students, it’s become a classic comfort spot for generations.

The decades-old Club Diner on Dutton Street has been doling out hearty breakfasts and lunches since the 1930s. Run by the hard-working LeVasseur Family, the aromas emanating from its stoves dare you to keep walking without wanting to come in for one of its tasty breakfasts, homemade soups and lunches. When I first moved back to the city in 2007, I made it a habit to have breakfast there every morning. Breakfast, diner coffee and a newspaper are my idea of heaven. The Club was not a far walk from my house and I got to know the staff, Bobby, the cook, and his dad, also Bob, pretty well, looked forward to seeing their friendly faces each and every morning. I stopped eating there every day only when I noticed I was getting to be the size of The Hindenburg.

My friend and CTI co-worker, Connie Carrigg, loved to take me to Cameo Diner in Centralville. We often stopped in for a bite and cup of “Joe” in between shifts or on Saturdays. Connie knew everybody in the place, staff and customers. Connie was such a spirited presence, had what I call “star gravity” that whenever she ate there, she drew crowds around the table to hear her stories, her infectious “good time gal” laugh. Connie worked for a time as a waitress and liked to tell how, any tme a male customer took the liberty of pinching her on the behind, she’d quickly snap, “Buddy, it ain’t on the menu!” How I miss dear, funny Connie…

I think back on the great times my travels took me to diners outside of Lowell, During my years working at O’Leary Library, ULowell, I was befriended by a couple, N. Blau and Joe, and their interesting circle of musician and writer friends.  The Blau “set” always had a party going. N. was so exuberant and enthusiastic, she had the group feeling we were on our way to the Met Gala or the Academy Awards, even if we were just going up the street for coffee. She, herself, was a hoot. In those days, she was known as N. Blau, light opera star and phone sex operator (well, college tuition was steep, even back then). I was fortunate in the ’80s and early 90s to know a group of women, confident, attractive, who knew who they were and who let you know who they were: N., Connie, Jane Wall, Ruby Killelea.      Anyway — with N. Blau, many was the time I found myself coasting along a post-midnight highway towards Boston when she had a sudden impulse to eat at Boston’s Leather District’s Blue Diner. It was beyond fun to be there, while the rest of the city was dark and asleep, eating in its eerie after-hours lighting, surrounded by college kids, night workers on their break, mostly revelers spilling out of the nearby bars after last call. Food always tastes better in a diner, the greasier, the better, washed down with bottomless cups of fresh coffee, being regaled by story after story, eavesdropping on the people at the table behind, getting to see the latest nighttime fashions and fads, even spotting a celebrity or two refueling after a day’s grueling performance schedule. I’ll never forget my Blue Diner nights. I can still see the gigantic blue coffee cup on its roof, as we drove around the South Station neighborhood around and around in our search for a parking space.  Eating, chatting, laughing till sun-up, that, for me, was The Blue Diner.

In fact, I liked diners so much, it got so that whenever I’d run into one I didn’t know, I’d head inside to sample its fare, its ambience. Let’s see. There was The Rosebud in Somerville’s Davis Square, Average Joe’s in Action (where they’d shout out your name when your order was ready), The Paul Revere Diner in West Medford.      On one of our trips to New York City, Joe and I had to check out Manhattan’s historic Empire Diner. It did not disappoint. Years later, while strolling the west side of Chelsea with Edmund White, we both agreed we were “starving” and wound up in a diner close by. We were at the counter noshing away when I remembered the Empire (not remembering where exactly it was located) and said to Ed, “Years ago, Joe and I ate at The Empire Diner and loved it.” Ed smirked and replied, “Yeah, you’re in it. It changed its name a while ago.”   We both had a hearty laugh about that.

It bears mention that probably the most famous “dining car” I’ve eaten in was owned and operated by none other than the great Vincent Price. Audiences know Price most of all for his performances in ’60s and ’70s horror movies. But he was anything but scary. A very refined, very cultured man, he was a splendid gourmet cook and respected art collector. He loved travel, especially in the Pullman dining carsof his yesteryears,  and could discourse on the golden age of travel for hours. In about 1965, Price converted his Cortez Club Car into his own personal diner, installing it on Malibu Beach, turning it into a mini-restaurant and lounge for guests he liked to entertain with his plethora of recipes, gathered from his many travels throughout the world. His melt-in-your-mouth lamb sausage was out-of-this-world, so succulent and tender, you thought you were eating clouds… And why not?  I’ve often thought of diners and diner food as “pure Heaven”

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Club Diner

Blue Diner

Cameo Diner

N. Blau

The Empire Diner

Owl Diner

Vincent Price in his private dining car