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What's really up, Doc?

Category: Eat in Diners

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Written by Randy Garbin

Nobody but Doc Goode really knows why he's closing his diner. Unfortunately, he's yet to give anyone an answer that makes any sense.

For those not following this too closely, Doc Good, the owner of the Little Gem Diner in Syracuse, New York started making noises about six months ago that he needed to expand his diner or he would have to sell it and leave. Not long after that, he used the local media to announce his intention to sell his 52-seat restaurant for $399,000. As explained in a story run on a Syracuse TV station:

To find the root of the diner's problem, all you have to do is walk into the 52 seat eatery on a weekend morning. Every seat is filled and people are lined out the door.

"I had to turn away 60 people away that came and wanted breakfast," said Good talking about the crowd that waited outside his diner a couple weeks ago.

Am I missing something? Apparently in Doc's diner bizzaro world, he has a problem when every seat in his diner is filled. Most diner owners I've met set full capacity as their goal.

Finally, after a couple more TV appearances and news reports, Doc sent in a letter to the local paper where he further explains his plight:

Over two years ago, I noticed a subtle change in customer dining habits. From Friday evening through Sunday nights at 10 p.m., over 450 customers would seek dining elsewhere as the diner had no available seating. When you lose over 65 customers in a 15-minute period, you recognize the need to expand seating. My primary bank could not relate to the problem; hence, there was no financial support for diner expansion.

First of all, not that I have a whole lot of love in my heart for banks, but here we have to thank them for doing the right thing for a change. Before banks loan money, they assess the cold hard financial realities of the risk. In Doc's case, these risks involve a business in a historically troublesome industry, collateralized against a tiny piece of property that couldn't accommodate the parking lot of a CVS. Given Syracuse's ice cold real estate market at the moment, the lot without a diner on it would hardly fetch $100,000. Doc's previous asking price of $399,000 was certainly based having an operating business on the premises, which no longer exists. Because it is now closed, the diner is worth little more than the cost of demolition.

And finally, could Doc please explain where he gets his numbers? How does he know that exactly 450 customers go elsewhere on the weekend. Do they stop in and tell him this? And 65 customers in a 15 minute period? Again, how does he determine that?

So, in effect, Doc wants us to know that he can't stay in business because from Friday dinnertime to Sunday night, a span of about 60 hours, his diner is at capacity. Doing a quick crunch of the numbers, this means that Doc's weekend business alone generates over $1.9 million in revenue per year. This is failure?

Those of us who have followed the saga of Doc for a while might remember that not long ago — about two years ago, in fact — he threatened to close his doors after the smoking ban, and this has somehow disappeared as an issue. Could the cleaner air have attracted more business?

Believe me. I know full well the difficulties that people like Doc face in running this kind of enterprise. The challenges can overwhelm the most prepared souls who venture here. Having met Doc on a few occasions, I can say that I genuinely liked the guy and thought he'd take good care of his stainless jewel.

I'm sure that Doc has his reasons for closing the doors on this Syracuse institution after twelve years, but he hasn't told them to us yet. I only see feeble attempts to spread the blame around to everyone but himself. As I see it, Doc's disingenuous media plays have accomplished nothing except to deprive us all of yet another good diner to visit.