Waiters in blue jackets walked through the crowded restaurant, balancing trays of martinis. A woman stroked her finger along a wall where her children's heights were displayed. Longtime regulars said goodbye to their servers with firm handshakes.
It was the last night at Pietro's, a longtime Italian steakhouse that has been in midtown Manhattan for decades. Among the devout who came to pay their respects on Thursday was fashion designer Michael Kors, who sat at a corner table with his husband, Lance Le Pere.
“Without Pietro, there is no Carbonet.” “It’s great,” Mr. Kors said as we waited for the house special, Shells a la Nat, pasta with bone marrow sauce.
“I came here because the Michael Kors office is in Midtown,” he said. “I’ve always liked the fact that you can still feel a part of the ‘Mad Men’ era here. Pietros is the last of the Mohicans.”
Alan Appel, a tax law professor at New York Law School, ordered veal parmigiana for a farewell meal. “I am now 73 years old. “When I heard that Pietro’s was closing, I said to myself, ‘I’ve lived too long already,’” he said. “I feel like I’m at a funeral.”
Pietro's is considered the last survivor of Steak Row, the row of restaurants that defined New York's days when business centered on meat, martinis and cigarettes. Thirty years ago, former New York Times restaurant critic Ruth Reichl wrote that it was “the best steak I’ve ever had in New York.” The lease at 232 East 43rd Street expired and operations were terminated..
The owners have said they hope to reopen nearby Pietro's with a stylish redesign, but regulars gather to enjoy one last meal in the restaurant's time-capsule atmosphere, which includes a New York sports team pennant over the bar and a pay phone next to the entrance.
“I heard they are going to reopen,” Mr. Kors said. That way, I will be the first person there. But I hope they don't try to sugarcoat it too much. I'd like to see a carpeted floor. “I want to see waiters in blue jackets again.”
Paul Nix, a retired attorney who had flown in from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, for the event, was sipping a martini at the bar.
“I’ve had hundreds of martinis over the years at this bar stool,” Mr. Nix said. “When I heard that tonight was the last night, I dropped everything to get on a plane and come here. I know they hope to relocate and I am optimistic. But I hope they still have the old, uncomfortable bar stools in the new location.”
Leaving after dinner was Joseph Califano, 93, once a political aide to President Lyndon B. Johnson.
“My last Pietro’s dinner was veal, chopped salad and Scotch cheese over ice,” he said. “The food is just as good now as it was when my father took me here. “I never took Johnson to Pietro’s while I was working for him, but I think he would have liked it.”
Pietro's was founded in 1932 by brothers Pietro and Natale Donini from Parma, Italy. Today, David Bruckman runs the restaurant with his father, Bill, who started working as a busboy at Pietro's in the 1980s. (Another son, Billy, manages the Long Island outpost.)
In their cluttered office, father and son said the closure was related to the recent sale of the Pfizer building that houses Pietro's. They also addressed the anxiety of regulars who were worried about the next repeat.
“It’s bittersweet, but it’s time to bring Pietro into the 21st century,” Elder Bruckman said. “Even if the lease is renewed and the building doesn’t sell, this is a very old space. You won’t miss having to repeatedly kick the air conditioner to get it to work.”
David Bruckman loaded up a new rendering of Pietro on his desktop computer. One blueprint depicted a retro-chic concept with bistro tables, tile floors, green leather banquettes and chandeliers. The summary is as follows: “It’s a new take on the old school ‘Mad Men’ era of the New York City Institution. “It has been reborn as a shining, historic space.”
“Our vision is to have a traditional red source facility,” Bruckman said. “There are people here tonight who want the next Pietro to be like this one, but it’s time for this place to move out in style.”
His father recalled a rainy lunch.
“There was so much cigarette smoke that I couldn’t even see the person in front of me,” he said. “Young people these days have never even seen an ashtray. And they drank so many martinis that they were bouncing off the walls. If I hadn't seen all of this with my own eyes, I wouldn't have been able to believe it had even happened.
“The fax machine finished my three-martini lunch,” he added. “After that, people no longer had to do business one-on-one. That was the beginning of the end.”
As midnight approached, several guests sat at a table chatting over sambuca and tiramisu. The gang's final showdown hung out by the bar while Leonard Cohen and Bob Dylan played on the speakers. Among them was financier Jason Weyeneth, who wiped a bottle of Blanton's bourbon with a straw.
“I’m afraid they won’t open again. “I’m afraid that even if we reopen, we won’t be able to recreate what we have here,” he said. “Cities are living creatures. They evolve. Not everything lasts.”
The 67-year-old Bruckman was busy saying goodbye to regular customers, but he finally captured the closing scenes while drinking beer. Considering that he started working for Pietro's in his twenties, he remained remarkably stoic throughout the evening. But as a waiter in a blue jacket cleared the table next to him, he took a moment for self-reflection.
“They all left in tears tonight, but I want them to know that we plan on coming back,” Mr. Bruckman said. “Maybe I don’t feel like it yet tonight, and it may take a while for that to happen.
“I had a hard time out there all day,” he continued. “Because I can’t see you breaking down in front of so many people. “But today I had to leave the restaurant a few times to be alone.”