Stop at the Red Apple

Elaine Freed Lindenblatt

Description

The Red Apple Rest was a legendary restaurant open from the 1930s through the 1980s on New York's Route 17. Located midway between New York City and the resorts of the Catskill Mountains, the restaurant served as a who's who of entertainment luminaries. Elaine Freed Lindenblatt was born into restaurant royalty as the youngest child of the establishment's founder, Reuben Freed. For her, the Red Apple was the "family room" across the road—one she shared with over a million customers every year. In this book fifty-plus years unfold in a series of lively vignettes—enhanced with photos, memorabilia, and even a closely guarded recipe—as she recreates what it was like to be raised in the fishbowl of a round-the-clock family operation. Stop at the Red Apple is at once an account of growing up in 1950s small-town America, a glimpse into the workings of a successful food operation, and a swan song to a glorious slice of bygone popular culture.
Part One: Beginnings

Prologue: Sold into Demise

1. A Seed Is Planted

2. In the Middle

3. The Restaurant Man

4. A Good Man

5. Checks and Balances

6. Dropping In

7. The Foster Child

8. From Depression to War

9. The War Ends

Part Two: Our Heyday

10. The Core of the Apple

11. The Habit of Eating

12. On a Bus

13. Doing My Job

14. The Calendar Turns

15. Comings and Goings

16. What We Leave Behind
By Alan Goodman

17. Away for the Summer

18. Hacking It

19. Tangents of Trade

20. Show Me the Food

21. One of a Kind

22. The Party Line

23. A Dream of a Specialty

24. Hot Dog!

25. To Be Frank

26. Stand—and Be Counted

27. A Sure Bet
By Morton L. Janklow

28. The Country Bumpkin

Part Three: Challenges Met

29. A New Generation

30. When Ruthie Met Joe

31. Scouting the Apple

32. The Road Not Taken

33. Sign Language

34. The Price Is Right

35. Fitting In

36. Wipe the Counter

37. Laundering the Crooked Money

38. Police Blotter

39. A Date in the Life

40. Driving Myself Crazy

41. Weather—or Not

Part Four: The Renovation

42. Can the Checks

43. Giving Thanks

44. A Day Off

45. Dinner at Grossinger’s

46. With Reservations

47. Where’s My Pig?

48. Cast of Characters

49. College Courses

50. Destination New York

51. The Danish Are Coming

52. Growing Pains

53. Tea at The Plaza

54. Two Weddings and a Robbery

55. Unrequited Recognition

56. Piano Man

57. The More It Changes

58. A Princess in Queens

Part Five: Constancy Amid Change

59. Feisty at Forty

60. The Dilemma of Uniqueness

61. Sal Versus Sol

62. Our Just Desserts

63. A Year to Remember

64. The Cast, Revisited

65. A Moving Experience

66. There’s No Business…

67. Wishful Memory

68. It Takes a Family

69. Hickory, Dickory, Dock

Part Six: It Ends

70. Forgiveness

71. Aftermath

72. The American Dream

73. A Guide to Ms. Pac-Man
By Suzanne Lindenblatt

74. Holding On

75. Letter to Elie Wiesel

76. Nothing Gold Can Stay

77. The Last Hot Dog
By Bob Barlow

78. Crossing the Road

79. Hindsight

80. The Bridge of Silence

81. Touch the Living

Epilogue: That Place Called Home

Contributors
Acknowledgments

Sujets

• Local history
• Region
• History of the Americas
• Regional

Informations

• Publié par: State University of New York Press
• Date de parution: 18 septembre 2014
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781438453699
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

STOP AT THE RED APPLE
STOP AT THE RED APPLE
The Restaurant on Route 17
Elaine Freed Lindenblatt
Photos “ Greyhound Bus Stop ” “ ‘ Frankfeuters’ for Sale ,” Chap. 3, “ And a Map ,” Chap. 33, are from the collection of Gregory W. Buff and his daughter, Laura Buff, and reprinted by permission.
Published by State University of New York Press, Albany
© 2014 Elaine Freed Lindenblatt
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of America
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission. No part of this book may be stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means including electronic, electrostatic, magnetic tape, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission in writing of the publisher.
Excelsior Editions is an imprint of State University of New York Press
For information, contact State University of New York Press, Albany, NY
www.sunypress.edu
Production by Jenn Bennett
Marketing by Fran Keneston
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Lindenblatt, Elaine Freed.
Stop at the Red Apple : the restaurant on Route 17 / Elaine Freed Lindenblatt.
pages cm. — (Excelsior editions)
ISBN 978-1-4384-5368-2 (paperback : alkaline paper)
1. Red Apple Rest (Restaurant : Tuxedo, N.Y.)—History. 2. Lindenblatt, Elaine Freed—Childhood and youth. 3. Lindenblatt, Elaine Freed—Family. 4. Restaurateurs—New York (State)—Tuxedo—Biography. 5. Jews—New York (State)—Tuxedo—Biography. 6. Fathers and daughters—New York (State)—Tuxedo—Biography. 7. Red Apple Rest (Restaurant : Tuxedo, N.Y.)—Employees—History. 8. Tuxedo (N.Y.)—Biography. 9. Tuxedo (N.Y.)—Social life and customs. 10. Catskill Mountains Region (N.Y.)—Social life and customs. I. Title. TX945.5.R43L56 2014 647.95747'31—dc23 2013049699
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
For my father, Reuben Freed, a great restaurant man
—Herbert Freed
Contents
Part One: Beginnings
Prologue: Sold into Demise
1. A Seed Is Planted
2. In the Middle
3. The Restaurant Man
4. A Good Man
5. Checks and Balances
6. Dropping In
7. The Foster Child
8. From Depression to War
9. The War Ends
Part Two: Our Heyday
10. The Core of the Apple
11. The Habit of Eating
12. On a Bus
13. Doing My Job
14. The Calendar Turns
15. Comings and Goings
16. What We Leave Behind
By Alan Goodman
17. Away for the Summer
18. Hacking It
19. Tangents of Trade
20. Show Me the Food
21. One of a Kind
22. The Party Line
23. A Dream of a Specialty
24. Hot Dog!
25. To Be Frank
26. Stand—and Be Counted
27. A Sure Bet
By Morton L. Janklow
28. The Country Bumpkin
Part Three: Challenges Met
29. A New Generation
30. When Ruthie Met Joe
31. Scouting the Apple
32. The Road Not Taken
33. Sign Language
34. The Price Is Right
35. Fitting In
36. Wipe the Counter
37. Laundering the Crooked Money
38. Police Blotter
39. A Date in the Life
40. Driving Myself Crazy
41. Weather—or Not
Part Four: The Renovation
42. Can the Checks
43. Giving Thanks
44. A Day Off
45. Dinner at Grossinger’s
46. With Reservations
47. Where’s My Pig?
48. Cast of Characters
49. College Courses
50. Destination New York
51. The Danish Are Coming
52. Growing Pains
53. Tea at The Plaza
54. Two Weddings and a Robbery
55. Unrequited Recognition
56. Piano Man
57. The More It Changes
58. A Princess in Queens
Part Five: Constancy Amid Change
59. Feisty at Forty
60. The Dilemma of Uniqueness
61. Sal Versus Sol
62. Our Just Desserts
63. A Year to Remember
64. The Cast, Revisited
65. A Moving Experience
66. There’s No Business …
67. Wishful Memory
68. It Takes a Family
69. Hickory, Dickory, Dock
Part Six: It Ends
70. Forgiveness
71. Aftermath
72. The American Dream
73. A Guide to Ms. Pac-Man
By Suzanne Lindenblatt
74. Holding On
75. Letter to Elie Wiesel
76. Nothing Gold Can Stay
77. The Last Hot Dog
By Bob Barlow
78. Crossing the Road
79. Hindsight
80. The Bridge of Silence
81. Touch the Living
Epilogue: That Place Called Home
Contributors
Acknowledgments
Part One
Beginnings
Prologue
Sold into Demise
Gray skies and rain. An appropriate backdrop for my destination, as I set out for the half-hour drive. Force of habit, I flick on the traffic and weather updates. Congestion on the Hutchinson Parkway, fog in the five boroughs. Then the news briefs: demonstrators at Ground Zero mosque, another hate crime in Staten Island, new credit card rules … all indications that time is moving forward. But today I go against the grain. I go back.
I near the exit of the New York State Thruway. I’m counting on my morning coffee to see me through—though, as the car veers onto Route 17 north, I feel queasy. “Yard Sale Today” a sign along the road reads. That would be a welcome diversion—but this isn’t the day for browsing. At least not for tchotchkes. In Sloatsburg I pass a turnoff for Route 17 south—it occurs to me I could still turn around and head home. After the old four-mile sign, around the curve into Tuxedo and here’s my school, with the new gym dedicated to Coach. So many memories locked within its walls, if only I could get at them.
Now the final stretch up the highway—and the roadside utility poles tell me I’m getting close. Past Duck Cedar Inn—no two-mile or one-mile sign any more … the cutoff to 17A and Sterling Forest … at the top of the hill the small red and white sign, peeling and ignored. And I’m there.
A huge decrepit hulk of a building confronts me. My god . The once clean white façade of the restaurant is a vision of neglect. The big “Red Apple Rest” letters above the outdoor restrooms are chipped to near-obscurity. As I get out of the car, the ballpoint pen I’m holding slashes a line across my arm, as if to say Null and Void . I start at the southern end of the stand, the window frames and roof corroded, the paint and undercoating long gone. Whatever once were doors, vents, passageways are beyond recognition. The backyard, always a hub of activity with the upstairs office, staff dining table, storage cellar, entrances to the kitchen and stand, candy room, pie refrigerator, the comings and goings of delivery trucks, is now reduced to a heap of refuse. Roof parts hanging precariously and weeds overgrown outside the bolted gate tell the story. The only intact item is a utility meter on a pole connected to some high wires nearby, a travesty on its disuse.
The place is not in disrepair, it is in terminal demise. And yet, if the right person were to come along, someone with vision—to say nothing of money—maybe they still could. … We have within the family, in the next generation, two trained chefs, a short-order cook, an investment consultant, an architect, a financial coach, a few accountants, a real estate developer. As well as two psychotherapists, which is what I need to even be thinking of it.
The rain drizzles down on me. I move under the overhang of the back dining room. Part of the addition put on in 1960, it was Daddy’s pride and joy. I peek through the slats covering the windows, the view obscured by dirt and haze. The chairs are piled high on tables, like a warehouse. Funny, the small trees scattered in the window beds outside are surviving okay, proving that nature does transcend human folly.
A ladder sits in the entryway to this addition, with some equipment on it. Apparently a repair-in-process abandoned. And an empty chair. Who is that chair for, I wonder. One of us who waits in vain, clinging to a pipe dream amid the shambles? To my right, the parking lot, once packed with rows of chartered buses, echoes the empty silence.
Visible through the windows to the main dining room—on a wooden divider that encloses the checkout area—is a sign “Welcome to Red” with an apple underneath. About time somebody noticed my arrival. Beyond, the arc of the food counter, menu boards still in place. It’s a reprieve that I can’t make out the food items listed—their unfamiliar names and prices would only disturb my memories. I spot the corner niche, its table gone, that was always a good bet for a private conversation.
I turn the corner to the front sidewalk, and a lone cigarette butt stares up at me. A vestige of the time when nearly everybody smoked—and I didn’t get a sore throat being near tobacco. From this vantage point the original coat hooks are still intact along the side wall—no time or inclination for customers to check their coat. (Later on, with the advent of air-conditioning, people were wont to linger longer over their food.)
The rest of the main dining room is all out of place, a storage hodgepodge of tables piled one on another, serving carts, garbage cans, open ceiling panels with loose wires hanging, the floor covered with debris. And where’s the table to the side of the registers, where the cashiers ate? Under a plastic-flower latticework, installed by the new regime, hangs the “Rest Rooms” sign. I realize I could use one. Ironic, we had so many stalls, inside and out—and not a one when I need it.
A lone car cruises along the sidewalk where lines of customers once waited to get inside. A man and woman peer out of the window. I wonder who they are: would-be customers, somebody ascertaining