Dan's Diner: How to get into roadside heaven

Published on Monday, 23 August 2010 20:53

Written by Randy Garbin

We had some discussion of late about the idea of creating the opposite of the Lou-Roc Award, given to an owner who brings a diner back from destruction or desecration. If we stayed true-to-form, we'd name it after a diner that exemplifies this degree of preservation, and to me, the most obvious choice would be Lamy's Diner, now located at the Ford Museum in Dearborn, Michigan. Unfortunately — and with apologies to Mr. Lamy — I'm not crazy about the name's other connotations.

Dan Rundell describes the task of renovating a 1920s vintage diner.

However, if I did create such an award, Dan Rundell might get the first one. In 1990, he purchased the Durham Diner located in Durham, Connecticut after a small fire had closed it for good after about seventy years of service. Having only just started Roadside a few months before, I managed to catch one hazy glimpse of this diner, early one evening as the sun hovered over the horizon. I couldn't see much through the streaky windows, but I remember the enamel-coated stool bases I hadn't seen before or since. Soon after, Dan Rundell carted the diner away and sequestered it from the world in his barn and workshop, beginning a slow and steady restoration.

Travelers coming around the bend and seeing this diner for the first time might wonder if they'd entered the land that time forgot. If you took a black & white photograph of this diner today, you could tell people that you found the image in an old trunk up in your attic and no one would doubt you. It looks that good.

I didn't have the chance to eat here on this visit. I missed closing time by about fifteen minutes, but I did catch Dan tending to some task on the property. Though we had corresponded in the past, we had never met.

How can anyone who accomplished such a feat of preservation be anything but friendly and eager to talk? Much like his one and only peer in this regard, Gordon Tindall the restorer of three other vintage diners, Dan's handshake, kind smile, and welcoming demeanor spoke of another time, much like the one from which came this diner. He took me on a tour, which didn't involve much walking, but did involve the telling of a two decade history tearing this unit down to its frame and rebuilding it almost from scratch.

Some of the jaw-dropping details included a hand-laid tile floor, a heated, pink marble countertop, vintage stools, an original refrigerator with a freshly tiled interior, remade etched glass windows, working transom window vents, and more. Dan hardly left any detailed untouched.

Frankly, I see this level of work and it almost breaks my heart because in the twenty years Dan Rundell spent bringing this diner back to its original luster, dozens of others got demolished or remuddled, with still more in grave danger.

"So how much do you think you've spent on this so far?" I just had to ask.

Dan just laughed and shrugged. "I don't know. I didn't keep track." When he saw something that needed doing, he just went and did it. He didn't have to build that stone foundation, but given his background he could hardly just plop the diner on concrete. He also didn't have to fashion the wrought-iron guard rail at the entrance, but Home Depot doesn't sell them. Given that people have little exposure to pocket doors these days, he certainly didn't have to bother restoring the two in his diner, but he did. I have to think that Jerry O'Mahony smiling down from diner heaven gave his approval to the affixed stylistically sensitive screen doors on the outside to help with the ventilation and screen out insects.

Business-wise, Dan admits that a little diner such as this one in such a remote location probably won't break the bank anytime soon. He doesn't run the place himself, but instead rents it out, and so far he's on his second operator within a year.

Obviously, Dan didn't do this to make money, and says that he's happy if he breaks even on the whole thing. Now in his early 60s, he hardly looks at this project as his ticket to retirement. I have to think, however, that he looks upon this achievement with a heavy helping of pride. Every man needs a hobby, so goes the saying, and we could us a few more with the inclination to do what Dan has done.

I can only hope that people turn out in droves to visit this remarkable landmark in Spencertown. While no one, least of all Dan, expects to get rich from this little enterprise, it couldn't help but flourish with a great show of appreciation for all the hard work on display.

Sometimes love is all you need.

Dan's Diner is located on Route 203 in Spencertown, New York. It's a short drive going east from the Taconic Parkway. Dan's is open for breakfast and lunch most days.