New Haven Oral History Project

Some of the problems came along pretty good, especially with the Redevelopment Agency. They were going to tear us down. The fact that we had made the first steak sandwiches and the first hamburger sandwiches in the U. S. and A. didn’t faze them in the least bit.

Now, I learned something about these people when they tore down the whole center of town. If you’re old enough to remember, I think it was about 1955, where there was a lot of mom and pop stores from the Green all the way down to the end of the parking garage where you could buy zippers, yarn, buttons – all these little things. Now, where are they? Can’t find them. You have to buy the whole dress.

So, anyway, we were right across the street from this. And it bothered me to see these poor people. They didn’t know where they were going to go. They’re aged, 70s, you know. What’s going on here? They can’t work at their shop anymore – they don’t have any shop!

So, I went to high school with a boy named Laden. “Laden and Lassen” were pretty close together, so we got to know each other pretty well. And his father was the man that was doing all this renovation – destruction. And Instead of doing it block by block they did the whole darn thing all at once, and then it laid fallow for five years – with bottles and newspapers and weeds and everything else. For what?

So, I talked to this boy. I said, “Ask your father if I can work over these buildings. I want one brick from a building that only had one business, and if there was five businesses in the building, I want five bricks. I want to pick them out myself. And I don’t want anybody to get in trouble. How do we work it?”

So he talked to his father. The father says okay. Then when the time came when they thought the building was safe enough that I wouldn’t get in trouble, they’d call me, and I went over, and I searched the ruble to find the brick that I was looking for, or the several bricks I was looking for.

Well, everybody said “you’re crazy.” There’s too many tears over there not to be crazy! All those poor people. What are you going to do?

I took my bricks home and washed them and cleaned them and put them away, not knowing what I was going to do with them.

Now, came my turn. Move the building. And I told the people, “if I can’t stay in this building, then I will fold up Louis’ Lunch and phase it out of business and go about my merry way.”

With all this mish-mash, the press got a hold of this thing. And here’s this 20 foot by 18 building that’s causing all this confusion and conflict. Finally, we were doing talk shows, two o’clock in the morning. You know, “what’s going on up there?” Well, we told them: that they’re trying to dispose of our business and I think it’s wrong. We furnish this viable product for the people, and we want to stay in business. And we want to stay in the building.

Pretty soon the phones start ringing on the other end. “What’s going on here?” “This guy’s got a problem here.” Next thing you know, “How can we help.” Well, I’m licked if I go to Hartford, I’m beat if I go to Boston, but if I go to Washington – maybe it’s a little more even playing field. The power of the press.

So, it worked out that the write-in from all these people into Washington—we told them, write to the Department of the Interior. Now we’re getting someplace. Rumor has it that there was such a write-in for our 12 by 20 building that they said, “What’s going on up there?!” So, rumor has it that they sent somebody up to check it out. And whoever came up never made themselves known or anything. They must have enjoyed what they saw — because I was bound and determined the windows are going to be sparkling, the paint is going to be breathtaking, you know, if they’re going tear down this monument, by golly, it’s going to really smell.

So, they liked what they saw. Then things started to change a little. We talked to the Redevelopment Agency, the seers over there or something. Well, anyway, things started to change. We dickered a little bit and I spent all my life savings and bought the piece of property we’re on now, on Crown Street.

And now to move the building. The Redevelopment Agency said, “we’ll pay for the moving charges, split it 50-50.” Okay, it turned out to be they paid three thousand dollars and I paid five. That’s 50-50 to the Redevelopment Agency.

I was beat either way, so I hired these guys and I told them, “I’m going to have trouble paying my share, but I’ll do it.” They said okay.

And the bricks that I was telling you about? They made the fourth wall on the inside. All those tears were accounted for right then and there.

I really enjoyed that, to say that these people were not forgotten. Not forgotten.

When we first reopened up on Crown Street, about a month or two later, this oldtimer walked in the door and I happened to be standing in the lobby at the time. And he says, “you know, I’ve been following your story all these years and,” he said, “I made my son bring me down here to talk to you, and to see if you changed anything. “No, we’ve still got the same stoves. No, we’re still doing the meat the same way.” “Okay.”

He says, “You know, where all those buildings torn down… I used to work at a bakery there.” I said, “Gilbert’s Bakery?” He said, “Yeah.” I said, “Next to the Oanico Hotel?” “Yeah!” “Next to Sears-Roebuck?” “Yeah!”

And one tear from the bakery traveled down his check and that paid for the whole thing.