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My mom on the right standing with Bruce Balch, the former owner of one of my favorite diners ever, the Sunny Day in Lincoln, New Hampshire in 1998.My mother, Elaine Garbin, passed away on April 8th of this year at the age of 82. I feel it appropriate to pay tribute to her here not because she ever owned or even worked in a diner, but because I think I can safely say we lost Roadside’s biggest fan.
Truth be told, my mother actually did her best to keep her family out of diners as we grew up. Though born in Palmer, Massachusetts, I didn’t step foot into the Day & Night Diner until my late twenties. As a child, I might glance quizzically at the little Worcester diner on Main Street, but I wouldn’t dream of opening the door. We didn’t have many diners in my area, but I avoided them all.
Though I don’t remember much about it, I have no doubt that I enjoyed my first visit to the Day & Night, because how could I not love a place run by Karl Williams? I’m sure I stepped inside and wondered what took me so long. A couple of years later when I finally got around to write a feature about Karl and his diner, I turned to my mother, who also grew up in Palmer and asked her if she ever stepped foot in the place when she grew up. The diner arrived in town about ten years after her birth, but she claims she never went, because, “Good girls didn’t go to diners.”
After we returned from our first trip to Diner Land, we produced this Issue 19 of Roadside Magazine The last time I had the pleasure of visiting with Jerry Berta, I found a man worn down like a president after two terms in office. On my previous visit in 2000, he still wore his trademark white horned rim glasses, and he still had energy and ebullience I saw when I first shook his hand in a Boston art gallery in 1990. By 2002, I almost didn’t recognize the guy. The man who brought Rosie’s Diner to Michigan had had enough. He wanted to go back to making art, not food.
Roadside issue #19, published after our 1995 trip out to Diner Land (or World) at its peak. I could almost bank on Jerry’s unbridled enthusiasm for all that he did, and his ability to render golden everything he touched. As the legend now goes, Jerry started out as an artist, sculpting clay into whimsical but recognizable icons of roadside Americana. During his youth in Flint, Michigan, he frequented Uncle Bob’s Diner, which became his in 1987. Jerry bought the diner to truck across the state to his eleven acres on 14 Mile Road in Rockford, setting it up as the Diner Store, his workshop and studio. At that time, the desolate location north of Grand Rapids was little more than a remote feeder to exit 101 on the US Route 131 expressway.
So many people stopped by the diner looking for something to eat, he figured it made sense to set up another diner to serve actual food. Jerry mounted a large neon sign that said “Diner Store,” but people only saw the word “Diner.” Why else would someone put a diner there if not to serve meals?
Jerry had a long string of successes in his career starting from the day he came home from his first art fair with over $2500 in cash, a sum that promptly silenced any further criticism from his previously disapproving father. How hard could this be?
Gordon Tindall is something of a missionary for diner restoration. A zealot, if you will. In the late 1980s, he got it in his head to buy the diner he and his father would would often visit together. Trouble was, at the time, Gordon lived in Decorah, Iowa and the diner sat in a field in New Jersey.
The restoration of the Clarksville Diner, chronicled in the pages of Roadside at the time, became something of a cause célèbre in the diner world. Few people exist with Gordon’s skill, determination, and diner dedication, which he has proven three times over. He would rescue, restore, and reintroduce into service not only the Clarksville (a Silk City), but the former Lackwawanna Trail Diner (a Tierney), and now a one-of-a-kind 1927 Goodell Hardware diner he calls the Spud Boy Lunch.

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