The Diner (Pt. 1)
New Jersey's single greatest cultural contribution.
What to the New Jerseyan is The Diner?
Meeting place, lunch break, first date, family celebration… so many different things come to mind when I sit down to write about the great New Jersey institution that is The Diner. It’s such simple concept that even the Californians know what I’m talking about. And yet, when you break it all down, there’s actually a lot to it.
So the editors here at Jersey Boy Eats have decided to break this week’s post into two parts. In part 1, I share the story of my great grandfather’s famous last meal at the iconic Bendix Diner.
Next week in part 2, I sit down with Anthony Scalia (the filmmaker, not the deceased Supreme Court justice) to talk about his award-winning documentary Bendix: Site Unseen, and what it’s like to meet another jabroni from NJ who’s both obsessed with diners and makes true crime podcasts. That’s right, I’ve met my doppelgänger. Stay tuned.
Let’s begin part 1 with some writerly indulgences on the diner as cultural phenomenon.
First there’s the aesthetic. Those sweeping curves, shining chrome and flashy neon signs are instantly recognizable, effortlessly evoking a feeling of deep nostalgia for the the past, a time of carefree optimism when Americans hopped in their automobiles and took to the road, defining American travel culture for the first time. This original diner aesthetic has been copied, exported, remastered, and adapted across a huge range of forms from cinema to album covers, fashion, video games, interior design, music videos, visual art, and more. For a full breakdown on the diner aesthetic, I highly recommend this entry on Aesthetics Wiki.
Then there’s the menu. Seven to eight pages at minimum, you’d be hard pressed to find a more expansive menu than at the diner. They make literally everything - from classic sandwiches and burgers, to dinner specials and pasta dishes, to Greek, Chinese, Italian, Jewish and Mexican food, all united under the common banner of comfort food. Sure, the diner’s take on tacos or spaghetti with meatballs might not be the best around, but hey, they got it if you want it! Grilled cheese with bacon? Matzo ball soup? Sunday pot roast? Muffin on a plate? Big ol’ slice of cake? Milkshake at 7am? Homemade lasagna? French fries with ketchup? Mints in a dish? Pickle on the side? They got ALL of that and more.
And then, there’s the culture. Diners (especially the 24-hour ones) are a liminal space that seem to exist outside the barriers of space and time. They are a true cultural meeting place where people from all walks of life come together and interact in a way that is pretty damn rare these days. The diner is a place of conversation and exchange. It’s a place for business or romance, family time or friendship, a place to be alone with your thoughts or to make a new friend. What else do six teenagers, a long haul trucker, a pair of cute old ladies, and a family of four on the way home from soccer practice have in common, except for the fact that they all hang out at the diner?
Where do the main characters in a movie go when it’s time to hatch schemes? The Diner of course! It’s truly a linchpin of American culture.
Speaking of schemes, in 2013 a true-to-life murder mystery unfolded at the famous Tick Tock diner in Clifton. It involved a young counterman plotting to have his uncle killed by a hitman so he could plunder the family safe. I’m serious, it was in the paper!
In addition to their undeniable mystique, another appeal of diners is the fact that they’re one of the very few things in American life that really have not changed since the 1950s. Although most diners in California are modern, kitschy, overpriced takes on a vintage look, the Garden State still boasts dozens of authentic diners, some of which have been in business for more than 80 years.
I should know, I grew up as diner connoisseur. Whether it was the Tick Tock in Clifton, the glorious Pompton Queen, the classy Suburban Diner, or the beloved Bendix, I’ve wiled away hour after hour in diners all across the state. In fact, when I was 13, I set out to document the best diners in New Jersey - my very first attempt at journalism. Unfortunately, this project failed, because I didn’t know how to drive and was not yet in control of my own life. Now, 18 years later, I’m finally getting around to finishing that project. The only thing that’s changed since then is they no longer ask you “Smoking or non?” when you walk in (NJ didn’t ban that until 2006).
One of the most famous diners in New Jersey is undoubtedly the Bendix in Hasbrouck Heights. The Bendix occupies a tiny triangle surrounded by highways, right next to Teteboro Airport, which used to be called the Bendix Airport. It’s truly the armpit of New Jersey.
This diner has been written about many times. But that won’t stop me from getting my opinion in here! The reason we’re reviewing this particular diner, is because my great grandfather famously ate his last meal at the Bendix. The story goes like this.
In the year 1965, Albert Papa, my great grandfather, was a second generation Italian American and father of six living in Clifton, New Jersey. Al worked at the Bendix Corporation, which the diner (and the nearby airport) was named after. Back in those days, Bendix was a big defense contractor with the US government, making all sorts of aeronautics equipment, and Al worked there as a “product expediter,” which sounds like a very 1960s sort of job to have.
Like a lot of men in those days, Al was a heavy smoker, finishing three packs of unfiltered camels a day. Just picture him… a strong-looking Italian man hustling up and down some assembly line, clipboard in hand, lit camel dangling from his lips, yelling at the workers to go faster or whatever it is a “product expediter” does (I honestly don’t know).
One day, Al felt woozy and broke out in a cold sweat. He must have looked pretty bad, because someone put him in a car and drove him to Hackensack Hospital. But Al’s primary doctor worked 20 minutes away at Passaic Hospital, not Hackensack.
“You better get over here right this minute!” his doctor ordered through the telephone.
So Big Al hailed a taxicab and set out to meet his doctor at Passaic.
But right at this moment, Al was struck with a wave of hunger. Figuring he’d be at the hospital for a while, and remembering that hospitals are known for their terrible food, Al told the taxi driver to pull over and make a pit stop at the Bendix diner, just down the road.
We’re not sure what he ordered that day, but my grandpa thinks it was probably eggs over easy with bacon, hash browns and rye toast.
It’s hard to say how long he lingered there at the counter, sipping a coffee or a Coca Cola, thumbing through the newspaper, or idly chatting up the wait staff. He definitely sucked down a few camels, that’s for sure.
When Al Papa finally arrived at the hospital, his doctor was furious for making him wait. They checked him in, but couldn’t seem to find anything wrong with him.
Al made it through the night.
The next morning, when the nurse came in to check on him, Al was in high spirits. “What am I even doing in here? I should be out golfing!” he joked. Then, just as the nurse turned her back, she heard a big sigh. When she turned around again, Al was dead. He suffered a blood clot to the heart.
That’s got to be the most 1960s way to die I’ve ever heard in my life.
Al Papa was just 51 years old, leaving behind his poor wife Clementine to care for their six children (including my grandpa). My Grandy, God rest her soul, didn’t even know how to drive! But that’s a story for another time.
In the end, I don’t resent the Bendix for possibly killing my great grandpa. I think that probably had more to do with his unhealthy lifestyle. Still, the romance of having your last meal at the diner is something one hardly forgets. No surprise it looms large in our family lore.
Next week in Jersey Boy Eats, we’ll talk about a different family, the one that runs the Bendix diner today. That’s the subject of a new documentary that was an absolute joy to watch. And we’ll definitely be reviewing some of their food.
Until next time, keep eating!
