The [n-y-c] files: When a nickel was magic

Horseradish

By Michael Sitzman, Columnist

Come find out what you can't know; see what's not there. It's no more, but it used to be -- in humanity's hometown; you know where. These are the [n-y-c] files. *

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"Ottoman?" she asked.

"No, automat. Ever heard the word?" I must have asked six friends from the New York area, and only one knew what it meant -- after a hint. It's a sure sign of the times, I guess, when not even New York kids know about it, even though it was once as much a part of their city's daily landscape as the Empire State Building or Ebbets Field ...Oops; too young for that.

On the Facebook, reminiscing is all the rage with such groups as "I Get 90's Nostalgia Already." Have a go at this intro: "For those of you kids now who have no idea what we're talking about when we mention [Polly Pockets, trolls, Beanie Babies, pogs]..."

Friends, judging by the Facebook, it looks like we're young enough to be ...old! So pass the Geritol and we'll re-visit the days when a nickel was magic for a generation of kids.

Where would you go for lunch in Manhattan back in 1912? You might have your choice of upscale restaurants. If you couldn't afford them or just wanted a quick bite, you had some random saloons to choose from with their sometimes-sketchy clientele. Definitely no place for a lady back then. A city with a growing workforce simply needed a place to eat. Then the automat appeared on the scene.

When Philadelphia restaurant owners Joe Horn and Frank Hardart opened their first New York eatery at Broadway and 13th Street, modeling it after an automatic vending machine in Berlin, they called it the Horn & Hardart Automat. It wasn't the only one of its kind for long.

Imagine you're a little kid who loves gadgets, as most kids do. You're growing up, each day wanting to try doing new things on your own. Imagine you're out for a big day in New York City -- and you're hungry. There's a new place in town where it's fun to eat, where you can get the food all by yourself. In fact, the whole place is kind of like a big toy...

The walls of the restaurant were full of long rows of coin-operated stainless-steel and glass lockers with various food-items behind the windows. You could drop a nickel in, open any door, and take whatever you liked. A "nickel thrower" would make change for customers at a booth in the center of the restaurant.

Kids loved it. Midtown office workers flocked to it. Families would dine there for the sheer novelty and convenience. Horn & Hardart's slogan: "Less work for Mother."

What Horn and Hardart had invented was essentially the fast-food restaurant. For the first time, fast food wasn't the take-your-chance affair you'd find on the street at some hot dog stand. It was always dependable in quality, and served in clean, shiny surroundings, with real crockery, glasses, and steel utensils. In short, it was like nothing that had existed before.

This innovation soon became a New York institution, famous for dishes like creamed spinach, baked beans, macaroni and cheese, meatloaf, pies, puddings, and everything we think of today as comfort food.

The automat saw its heyday during the 1930's, as thousands of unemployed residents, needing an affordable place to eat, found a daily source of reliability and sustenance in Horn & Hardart's eateries. The poorest New Yorkers, if they could afford nothing more, would stop in each day for just a cup of that famous coffee.

Automats proliferated throughout the Depression and the war years. They continued to prosper well into the 1950's, at one point numbering over 180 locations in New York and Philadelphia.

As burgeoning suburbs drew people away from New York, the automat began to fade from the landscape. Drive-in restaurants, well-suited for the automobile age, became the new fast-food fashion in the 1960's. The changes heralded the automat's slow demise. New York's last automat, and a piece of history, quietly closed in 1991, an event barely noticed by a new generation.

Friends, I don't like sad stories. Fortunately, this one has a twist: A brand-new automat, calling itself BAMN!, opened last summer on St. Mark's Place in the East Village. The food won't be quite the same, and it sure won't cost a nickel. Still, I wish the owners well. I guess a part of me just loves to see an old idea reborn for a new generation. And yes, I plan to go as soon as I can.

Will I see you there? I'll be the sucker with a tear in his eye, watching some wide-eyed kid running up to the glass wall and dropping the money in, just as his grandfather may have done, back in the days when a nickel was magic.

* First in a series:
  [ D-train to Stillwell Avenue ]
  [ The man who drove the bums out ]

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