Cup & Saucer
VANISHING
For the past few years, now and then, I'd hear a rumor that the Lower East Side's Cup & Saucer luncheonette was closing. I'd run down there to discover that it wasn't. And yet it always was. It's been a place to often worry about -- an entry in my What to Worry About list, rapidly dwindling.
Now, The Lo-Down gets word that the Cup & Saucer's days have come to an end.
They write: "The reason for the closure is a steep rent increase, to $15,000 per month including real estate taxes. The last day in business will be next Monday, July 17."
Once again, it wasn't lack of business. It wasn't "people don't go to diners anymore." It wasn't "trends are changing." It was the rent.
Once again, the Small Business Jobs Survival Act could've saved this one. Once again, here comes more high-rent blight. Once again, another waste. Another little piece of New York's heart ripped out.
I thought the place would go back in 2007 when a condo started rising across the street. But it hung on.
One of the last of the greasy spoons. One of the very last of the long lunch counters, the swivel stools, the antique signage, the fluorescent-lit doughnut case, the short-order cook slinging hash and singing quietly to himself in his native language.
Greek, I think.
We have only a few days left. And this one hurts.
For the past few years, now and then, I'd hear a rumor that the Lower East Side's Cup & Saucer luncheonette was closing. I'd run down there to discover that it wasn't. And yet it always was. It's been a place to often worry about -- an entry in my What to Worry About list, rapidly dwindling.
Now, The Lo-Down gets word that the Cup & Saucer's days have come to an end.
They write: "The reason for the closure is a steep rent increase, to $15,000 per month including real estate taxes. The last day in business will be next Monday, July 17."
Once again, it wasn't lack of business. It wasn't "people don't go to diners anymore." It wasn't "trends are changing." It was the rent.
Once again, the Small Business Jobs Survival Act could've saved this one. Once again, here comes more high-rent blight. Once again, another waste. Another little piece of New York's heart ripped out.
I thought the place would go back in 2007 when a condo started rising across the street. But it hung on.
One of the last of the greasy spoons. One of the very last of the long lunch counters, the swivel stools, the antique signage, the fluorescent-lit doughnut case, the short-order cook slinging hash and singing quietly to himself in his native language.
Greek, I think.
We have only a few days left. And this one hurts.
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