to document America\u2019s steakhouses in all their guises<\/a>. It was Donohue\u2019s, in fact, that inspired the project\u2019s title: While admiring the Gothic blackletter and sweeping cursive on the oxblood sign out front, we were reminded that steak house was historically two words.<\/p>\nDuring that visit, Christmas was around the corner. We met bartender Johnny Kelly and took his portrait. \u201cI like making people feel welcome even if they\u2019ve never been here before, like an Irish public house,\u201d he told us that night. \u201cDo I get tired of it? Between us, after 40 years in bars, I can see Florida and the sunset. But it\u2019s been good fun.\u201d We still got the sense that he wasn\u2019t going to retire until the circumstances made the decision for him.<\/p>\n
This time, when we stopped in, it was Johnny\u2019s final Saturday shift ever. We approached him with a copy of the book, already open to the spread with his portrait to refresh his memory. It had been a long time, but the precaution proved unnecessary. \u201cMy friends,\u201d he said, before letting us know he\u2019d be right back after tending to a few customers at the bar.<\/p>\n
It was four o\u2019clock in the afternoon on the day the Knicks would go on to win game five. The bar was already full, but the \u201cdining room in rear,\u201d as the space continues to be advertised in the window, was empty save for a woman sitting on one of the black-leather banquettes alone. There was a nearly finished Bloody Mary and two coffee cups by her side. She paused from working on her laptop to apply some lipstick.<\/p>\n
We ordered our drinks, a wedge, and the famous burger. The tables around us began to fill with regulars. Kathleen Hale had perched\u00a0at the bar since we arrived. She was quick to share two details: her late husband John Lawrence was the first and only journalist to be jailed during Watergate, and the couple ate dinner here until practically the day he died. \u201cJohn called it our kitchen,\u201d she said. \u201cI remember crying with Maureen at the end of the Donohue\u2019s meal we knew would be his last.\u201d<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, Marcus had already been invited into the kitchen by our server, Jake Robbins. The cooks seemed eager to show him around. It filled us with a particular flavor of elation \u2014 the exact feeling that had compelled us to continue adding stops to our steak tour, even though we knew our publisher would never grant us the extra pages we kept begging for.<\/p>\n
Several restaurant groups have been vying to take over the space. Whoever moves in will have to use a new name: It won\u2019t be called Donohue\u2019s. Ever since Donohue-Peters announced the impending closure, one of us \u2014 Gabe \u2014 has been stopping in. He\u2019s not alone: A day before closing, there was a 30-minute wait for a solo bar spot at lunch.<\/p>\n
Jake Robbins, a server, joined the team in 2021 after graduating from Tisch with an acting B.F.A.: \u201cThey took a chance on the kid and it was tough at first, but I slowly earned my place. I\u2019m going to miss walking out the door at the end of a jammed Saturday night. I\u2019ll miss seeing the seasons change from this view. Life happens here.\u201d<\/p>\n
The sensation of walking into a cool, dark steak house in the middle of a hot day is surpassed only by the crunch of a fresh wedge washed down with a martini that comes accompanied by a pint-glass sidecar. Eric regards this one-two punch as a great achievement of American culture.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe\u2019re gonna have to find someplace else, but we don\u2019t know if we\u2019re ever going to find it,\u201d says Carol Ackerman, whose husband Herbert recently celebrated his 97th birthday. Later on, as she made her way out the door, Ackerman confirmed it was their farewell meal. \u201cWhatever comes next, I hope they at least try to keep what was here going.\u201d\u00a0<\/p>\n
Donohue-Peters says that a family crest has adorned the walls of all of their restaurants. At one point, there were five businesses between her, her father, and her siblings. Among other virtues, the coat of arms is said to reflect sincerity, loyalty, and survival.<\/p>\n
Everybody gets the burger, a big, sultry thing by midcentury standards that\u2019s almost subdued by today\u2019s. It\u2019s cooked in the broiler of a vintage oven, not the flat-top. The blend is lean. \u201cDouble-ground chopped prime meat, that\u2019s it,\u201d says Donohue-Peters. <\/p>\n
Self-described \u201cjack-of-all-trades\u201d Julio Santes, porter Mardoqueo Torres, and chef Elvis Jaquez. Santes\u2019s father worked at the restaurant for ten years; his son has been at it for 14. \u201cWe\u2019re dedicated because Maureen is magnificent to work for,\u201d Jaquez says.\u00a0<\/p>\n
Eric\u2019s old pal Sandy Heyaime was in town from Florida and stopped by. \u201cIt feels classy but humble in that very New York way,\u201d she says.<\/p>\n
As a young man, Donegal-born Johnny Kelly gave computer programming for the IRS a shot. When offered the opportunity to take a sabbatical in New York, he grabbed it, and never went back. \u201cYou walk in the door and what you see is what you get,\u201d he says of the restaurant where he has spent the better part of the last 15 years. \u201cEverybody is treated the same here.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cNever once did I even consider using anything but a calculator and a pen, no matter how busy we got,\u201d says Donohue-Peters. \u201cIf it isn\u2019t broken, don\u2019t fix it, which wound up working just fine.\u201d <\/p>\n
\u201cWhen I drop that last check, it\u2019s going to break my heart, because at that point I\u2019ve said good-bye to my father,\u201d says Donohue-Peters. \u201cEvery day when I walked in and every night before leaving, I toasted to him, and now that I won\u2019t have that bar, I won\u2019t have him.\u201d<\/p>\n
\n Photographs Marcus Nilsson\n <\/p>\n
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