One of our favorite restaurants caught fire last week and it’s like a death in the family. The news stories describe the Palace Grill as iconic, but that’s a vacuous description for a place that became part of so many lives over the past eight decades. An iconic place is widely known, but the Palace is loved. It’s the center of a billion tiny moments over a million one-off visits that transform a not-so-flashy diner into home. It’s the place we landed when we moved back into the city a dozen years ago, the place we met the kids and grandkids for weekend breakfast, the wobbly table where we posed with the Stanley Cup after the Blackhawks brought it to Chicago. It was the first restaurant our grandson visited, on the way home from being born, and it was the spot I was taking him before the Auto Show on Saturday, except that suddenly it wasn’t. You gotta love the American diner, where the food is always decent, none of the servers are aspiring thespians, and the final bill isn’t much more than McDonald’s. You can order your food however you want it and nobody sniffs that Chef prefers it otherwise, because there are no chefs, only cooks with superhuman juggling skills and stress tolerance. It's the institution that invented comfort food. And then, at this particular diner, there’s George, the owner, who stops by every table to thank people for coming, check that they’re being taken care of, and share whatever new joke he’s heard. George transforms a meal into an experience, and a lesson in marketing, as he connects with whatever cross-section of America has settled in that day. George is the heart of the place, and it was heartbreaking to visit with him on the morning after the blaze. A handful of customers and family loitered outside, waiting to pay our respects and mumble a few words of comfort. We could offer a handshake and a hug like we would at any wake, but we have nothing to offer. We can’t tell others how to mourn, how to cope, how or whether to move on. Can the place reopen? Sure. Should it reopen? Only one person can answer that question. One of these days, George will decide what to do next, if he hasn't made his decision already. Maybe he’ll rebuild and keep the place going until its 100th anniversary celebration. Maybe he’ll have a fire sale for all the Chicago Blackhawks posters and relics that survived the blaze. Maybe he’ll demolish the place and put up an apartment complex. There’s no doubt he’ll be getting all kinds of advice about what to do, how to do it, what’s best for him, what the customers need, yada yada, but this isn’t our journey and we just need to STFU. All we can do on the periphery…all we should do…is wait and, whatever happens, tell him he’s made the right choice.
3 Comments
Betsy
2/11/2024 12:19:47 pm
Beautifully expressed. I’m disappointed that I never knew about the Palace Grill. Our go-to diner is the Griddle on Chicago Avenue, but it’s not the same as the Palace. Does anyone know the origin of the fire?
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David Brimm
2/12/2024 01:56:05 pm
Good call on the Palace.
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Frederick Nachman
2/26/2024 01:16:18 pm
Didn't know you were a Palace guy. Was a regular stop before Hawks games. Last time I was there, Bobby Hull was holding court in the corner. I bought a signed Original Six hockey puck and told him how my college roommate and Bruins PR guy punked Bob Pulford before the night Bobby's number was retired. George is a survivor; I'm sure he can weather this one.
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Who writes this stuff?Dadwrites oozes from the warped mind of Michael Rosenbaum, an award-winning author who spends most of his time these days as a start-up business mentor, book coach, photographer and, mostly, a grandfather. All views are his alone, largely due to the fact that he can’t find anyone who agrees with him. Archives
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