Gordon's Odyssey

By Randy Garbin

I bought Gordon Tindall breakfast a while back, and as we ate, he shared a tale of woe about his efforts to open his Red Rose Diner. Regular readers of Roadside may remember Gordon as the guy who bought, restored and ultimately sold the Clarksville Diner to a French television network to use as a corporate conversation piece. For all I know, French TV executives now sip their caffés and nibble croissants in the diner as I write.

Gordon learned that the former Lackawanna Trail Diner, a worn-out 1920s Tierney needed a new owner, during its transport from Decorah, Iowa to the docks at Newark. He failed to heed what has developed into our cardinal rule on diner purchasing: Do not buy a diner unless you have secured a location. This "buy now, search later" tactic almost always results in once-hopeful owners begrudgingly but inevitably unloading the structure for a fraction of their total investment. Profit comes not from the diner's sale, but from its operation.

Still, I write not to admonish Gordon, but to praise him. In the three years since the diner fell into his able hands, he has literally criss-crossed Pennsylvania and much of New York in search of a location. To date, Gordon has gone before the planning boards and city councils in a handful of towns. The diner takes up about as much space as a two small cars, and though he'll need to build an external kitchen and bathroom facilities, Gordon plans a classic two-man operation serving breakfast and lunch for a busy Main Street location.

This odyssey has lately led him to Bethlehem, Pennsylvania with a plan to install the expertly restored diner on a sliver of land in a distressed but rebounding section of the city. Gordon received the approval of the city's historical commission and according to his account, he has heard that he has the support of the president of Lehigh University (just up the hill) and the city's redevelopment office.

Yet, Gordon has hit a sadly predictable snag. He now faces the opposition of small-minded merchants in the neighborhood who see a 24-seat diner as a threat. Gordon ran into the same type of bigotry in Carlisle, Pennsylvania as well, albeit from a different source. There, the city's self-proclaimed arbiters of historical accuracy decided that this 1920s diner had no place in its 1920s downtown. Officials there wouldn't even allow Gordon to read letters of support from Richard Gutman, Brian Butko, and other experts. While downtown Carlisle has made great strides in its revival, it has hardly earned the right to such flagrant snobbery.

Finally, in Bethlehem, Gordon confronts a problem all-too-often faced by well-intentioned outsiders seeking to bring a little life to a distressed community. His business proposition has turned into a political struggle. Though the Wendy's chain had little trouble replacing the former Community Diner literally a block away, so-called businessmen seem keen to block a small, historic restaurant (made with Bethlehem Steel, incidentally) owned by a man with a genuine interest in the city's revival – most likely because they can. Apparently, these folks never heard the phrase "the more the merrier" and understand nothing of the concept of critical mass.

Because politics may ultimately determine the fate of such projects, prospective operators must rally those in the community who support their idea. Always bring to such hearings a well-designed and thoroughly researched presentation describing your plans in great detail.

In order to confront the ignorance of the small-minded but noisy individuals too stupid or short-sighted to know a true blessing if it robbed their parking space, prospective diner operators need to gather allies, present a united front, and prepare to play hard ball. Not everyone will ultimately see the value in your hard work and good intentions.

Take it from one who knows.

Update: Gordon did finally open his diner in Towanda, Pennsylvania as the Red Rose Diner.

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