At the end of the M.A.D.-ness

Published on Thursday, 09 February 2012 19:29

Written by Randy Garbin

Taking in the last days of the Miss Albany Diner

You will have a hard time finding two people happier than Bill Brown and his mother Jane these days. After Sunday, they can do some fairly simple and common things that they haven’t done in over twenty years. For instance, they can accept invitations. They can buy tickets to shows and movies and go to matinees if they choose. After Friday, if they want to do nothing, they may, and if they want to get involved, they can devote themselves full time. After Friday, they can say goodbye to twelve-​hour work days, worries about refrigeration, the cost of eggs, absent employees, or a late delivery of bread. The next time they go to a diner, they will sit down, relax, and let someone else serve them.

Jane Brown takes a minute chats with customers during her last week at the Miss Albany. After Friday, February 10, 2012, Bill and Jane Brown will no longer own the Miss Albany Diner, ending a twenty-​three year run in New York’s capital city. In that twenty-​three years, they have endured struggles that would have crushed the ambitions of most would-​be foodies, and they shared not a few triumphs that often-​fleeting, have made their little enterprise one of the city’s most beloved landmarks. And most happily, they walk away free and clear of all its financial obligations.

The sale ends a search for a buyer that began well over a three years before, and the new owner happens to be their next-​door neighbor, Matt Baumgartner who opened up Wolff’s Biergarten long after the Browns planted stakes in this dicey industrial “neighborhood.” In those two decades, they endured break-​ins, uncooperative neighbors, stifling regulations, ever-​rising food costs, unreliable help, idiot customers, and more.

Their perseverance helped to change, if even slightly, the perception of the location’s viability. Besides the Beirgarten, another pub, Stout’s, opened across the street. With ample remaining industrial space surrounding the diner, one can easily see a renaissance coming to North Broadway. Sadly, if it comes, the Brown’s won’t be there to enjoy what they started, except maybe as patrons of the businesses who can thank them for paving the way.

Let’s hope this little one has a diner to go to when she grows up. My last meal at the Miss Albany consisted of a “Calamity Jane” omelet served with the diner’s exquisite home fries, polished off with coffee and a slice of Jane’s carrot cake. The drive from Philadelphia took me a little over four hours. Besides the meal, I once again enjoyed the rare treat of sitting in the diner and in the presence of two of the friendliest, most genuine people I’ve ever met in the twenty-​two years of publishing Roadside.

I arrived at the diner and found it uncharacteristically packed for a Wednesday afternoon. Jane said that since the announcement of the sale, they’ve gone flat out. “Where were these people before?” she asked in bewilderment. I said, “Maybe you should have closed every five years, reopening a month later under a new name.”

Indeed, where were they? Originally Bill assumed that people just couldn’t get away during the week. Maybe so when the Miss Albany opened its doors in the late 1989, but since then the economy has evolved so that fewer and fewer people punch a clock. A state capital like Albany is lousy with professional types with flexible schedules. With the diner’s days now numbered, they had to get in one last visit. Every business that went out of business can appreciate that irony.

It took a long time for seats to open up during my visit. I could barely get in the front door when I arrived at 12:30. As regular readers know the family patriarch, Cliff Brown, died in 2010, but a story in the local paper had already announced their intention to sell. That publicity attracted all types — but mostly dreamers with either no real experience or actual money or both. Wisely, Bill and Jane stipulated that they would not hold any paper. One suitor asked him if he’d be open to creative financing, to which Bill responded, “That’s fine as long as you get creative, and I get the finance.”

The next chapter in Bill’s life involves traveling, visiting friends, doing mundane things he couldn’t otherwise do with a diner to run. He hopes to go to France to study under the great chefs. Jane can now see a movie with friends, but she’s also excited about the prospect of putting her soothing intonation to work by doing more voice-​over work.

Speculating about the diner’s future, Bill seemed confident that the new owners would do right by the diner. They bought the place recognizing the diner’s landmark status, both officially and culturally. One would think (and hope) that Baumgartner wouldn’t risk the outrage by gutting or otherwise destroying the structure, but who really knows except Baumgartner himself? His quote in the press saying that he has “zero interest” in running a diner could mean anything. Plenty of well-​preserved vintage diners serve anything but traditional diner fare. As long as the building remains intact, it might live on and give another generation a chance to appreciate a small piece of American greatness.