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Skee's Diner: An unwelcome development

Category: Preservation

Published Date

Written by Randy Garbin

At Mr. Gutman's talk, the Chamber handed out these sheets that encouraged you to "Build your own Skee's Diner." In about five years, this may be all we have left of it. Click on the image to see a full size version. 

The Waterbury Republican-American recently reported that the project to move Skee's Diner, renovate it, and reopen it as a welcome center just increased in price to an even $400,000, up from $375,000. I could hear the collective groans of the unemployed of northwestern Connecticut from here.

I stopped at the 90-year-old diner last year to check on its general condition. Just driving through the area, I had wondered how eight years of disuse and controversy had treated the old girl. Not long afterward, someone involved with the project to move and restore the diner contacted me in response to the article inspired by that visit, where I laid out my five-year prediction for Skee's ultimate demise.

Eventually, this person asked me to speak at a planned gathering and perhaps give a little pep talk about the diner's prospects and possibly sway some of the thinking behind the plans. Scheduling conflicts forced me to cancel, and Richard Gutman took my place. From the reports that I received after his visit, it looks like I made the right decision — at Mr. Gutman's expense.

Skee's is currently owned by JoAnn Ryan, the president of the Northwest Connecticut Chamber of Commerce. She bought the diner from the St. Maron's church in 2009. Despite its Christian mission, the church did little to save this structure's soul  in its two decades-plus of stewardship. A series of operators came and went, and most of those I spoke with bitterly complained about the church's negligence and failure to provide basic maintenance. About 2000 or so, St. Maron's put the diner on the market for a reported $150,000, a princely sum for a shuttered, obsolete, 16-seat restaurant. That kind of money could buy you five classic 60-seat, ready-to-move O'Mahony's in good condition providing you could find them. Or you could buy a Subway franchise. 

Instead of serving food, Ms. Ryan planned to put the diner to dubious use as part of a welcome center in a little-used commuter lot near the intersections of Routes 8, 202, and 4 to "inform people of the opportunities of living, working and visiting northwest Connecticut." Though Ms. Ryan bought the diner outright for an undisclosed sum, I'm left to wonder who ends up owning this diner after its relocation. I frankly don't yet know, but in 20-plus years observing this industry, I doubt that it will much matter for the diner or the people of Torrington. I believe only the contractors hired for the job will benefit from this folly. Or perhaps Ms. Ryan herself who might possibly be renting the diner to the Chamber?

Since the announcement of this project in 2008, its estimated price tag has ballooned from $300,000 to the $400,000 recently announced. According to the Republican-American article, someone forgot to include the cost to fill the hole left behind by the diner. This hole, by the way, will measure about 12 feet by 20 feet by 5 feet deep. I don't think it would cost $25,000 to fill it with pearls.

The history behind these projects indicates a pretty bleak future for Skee's. Again, what will likely happen is this: The diner will move with great fanfare. If indeed they do complete the renovation (an important distinction from restoration), the city and Chamber will point to it with great pride. After the first year, its ambitious 6-day a week operation will retract to just weekends when the steady stream of visitors fail to materialize.

With budgets shrinking (as they always do), the second year will see the three people hired to staff the center losing their jobs, replaced by college students on a work-study programs and volunteers. These disinterested folk will barely know how to direct you to the bathrooms much less tell you about the diner or the Northwest Corner. By the fourth year, the Center will be open two days a week for four hours a day.

By the end of the fifth year, after the remotely located diner sustains steady vandalism, the Chamber will quietly close the center and you will see a diner in as bad a shape as you see it in now; forgotten, unusable for any kind of food service. The visitors it was intended to serve that do come to the area come with the latest in mobile technology and simply pass the diner by. Everything they need to know, they'll get from the Internet.

With any luck, someone will scoop it up and restore it lovingly in their back yard for private use. If not, then the city will eventually heed the calls from local citizens to "demolish the eyesore." Despite its listing on the National Register, a hundred years of history will end up in a landfill.

Forgive me if I don't get all pie-eyed and spout happy talk about the prospects of Skee's, but this has all happened before to a few too many diners already. Diners in the public realm not used for food service end up destroyed.

Even if this idea had any merit, Ms. Ryan would still botch the execution, because she refuses to listen to anyone who actually gets this. I couldn't explain any of this to her personally, but Mr. Gutman tried. For starters, he recommended restoring the diner within a controlled environment, away from public view, transferring it only upon completion to a fully prepared site. Further, her inflated budget numbers make little sense given the diner's size and proposed use. You could restore this building for food service for less money. I look at this project, and I see a $200,000 job. Where is all that money going?

Ms. Ryan handled the advice like a warm turd. With palm raised to otherwise good counsel, she'd shake her head. "My engineers tell me..." she repeatedly countered. And how many diners have her engineers restored? Zero. It would appear that the Chamber and Ms. Ryan completely wasted Mr. Gutman's time, dismissed his credentials, and squandered any chance she might have had to set this project on its proper course.

We have here yet another looming preservation disaster. In a perfect world, St. Maron's Church would have sold the diner for five dollars to someone with good intentions and serious credentials in either restoration and/or food service. Given its age and inherent obsolescence, I would have settled for the appearance of a wealthy benefactor seeking to add a beautiful piece of early twentieth-century Americana to his back yard patio.

Instead, JoAnn Ryan has consigned this exquisite diner to another five years of tortured decay.