Fond Memories of a New York City Restaurant Legend

When Elaine Kaufman sauntered up Second Ave. over 50 years ago and opened Elaine's, New York's Upper East Side was hardly the high-society neighborhood it is today. The rickety elevator trains still hovered above Third Ave. and Yorkville, the German enclave known for Sauerkraut and Wienerschnitzel, was the setting for Kaufman's new gig.

Elaine's however, was born despite the nay-sayers who claimed uptown travel to a restaurant was out of the question. The Bohemians of Greenwich Village quickly made the jaunt an adventure, and the joint quickly became the literary hangout for authors and wannabes.

It remained that way -- on most nights-- until Elaine passed away last December.

Last week the contents and memorabilia of Elaine's famous restaurant were auctioned in New York. The iconic Table No. 1 attracted a number of famous bidders. The four-top that only played host to those anointed by Elaine went for $7,000. Other collections of signed books, sketches, and paintings garnered almost $400,000.

But the value of Elaine's was not in the memorabilia on the walls or even the ingredients in the food. The regulars' fondest memories will be of those lavish late nights where smoke hovered just above eye level, jeans mingled with tuxes, dresses sat next to slacks, and voices shouted out songs, salutes, or sarcasm as one can only do in a saloon where everyone knows everyone.

And Kaufman ran the room better than anyone could. Elaine was tough, good-hearted, and friendly. On my first visit to Elaine's I was attempting to impress my date, Amory Hubbard. Although I was trying to land a writing gig, I was paying my rent by tending bar at a saloon Elaine once frequented.

When I questioned why the house had charged me for four refills of my Coca-Cola Elaine appeared at my table.

Are you the guy who wants to know why we charged for each Coca-Cola?

Yes, I'm a bartender at Allen's, and I was wondering why you do that. We don't do it at Allen's.

Well, I do it because I have to pay the *#@&# rent. And, in the restaurant everything I sell has to contribute to that rent. Whether you have one Coke or four Cokes, rent is rent. Don't ever forget that.

And tell John Cobb he should stop giving away free Coke. Enjoy your evening. Thanks for coming.

Elaine abruptly turned away and never looked back. It took the waiter another 10 minutes to reappear at the table. When he did he quietly asked -- with a wink -- if I would like another Coke. 

I got the point.

But as quirky and abrupt as Elaine could be, she could be equally as kind. She helped struggling writers, actors, and artists more than anyone knew. I know that from first-and experience.

I became a regular at Elaine's. And it took almost six years to get my first turn sitting at Table No. 1. I decided to watch the Academy Awards at Elaine's. The room nearly was empty. The stars were either at the Awards or attending one of the parties.

Only Elaine was at Elaine's that night. My guest and I were seated at a table within arms reach of her at Table No. 1. I hoped I might get the call. And, eventually we did.

Just before the Best Picture award, Elaine asked us to join her. We had made it to Table No. 1.

Elaine and her restaurant will be missed. And there will be a void until another bon vivant fills the space and opens the doors for New York society to enter another world.

But my most important memory of Elaine's is not the night I stole a kiss in the back banquette, nor was it the nights I over-consumed standing Stoli Martinis with famous people. 

It was the first night I went to Elaine's. The night I met Elaine. The night I learned to charge for Coca-Cola. Because rent is rent.