Coronavirus Shuts Some Beloved Local Restaurants for Good - The Wall Street Journal

Katharine Mancini, left, and Katrina Very at the Original Hot Dog Shop in Pittsburgh in... — Katharine Mancini, left, and Katrina Very at the Original Hot Dog Shop in Pittsburgh in 2016.
Photo: Tony Mancini

James R. Hagerty

The Wall Street Journal

Biography
@jamesrhagerty

April 29, 2020 8:20 am ET

PITTSBURGH—Officially, it was the Original Hot Dog Shop. To fans of its dogs and fries, however, the corner shop was known as the O—or the Dirty O, an homage to less-than-immaculate standards of cleanliness.

Founded by brothers Sydney and Moe Simon, the O opened 60 years ago on the fringes of the University of Pittsburgh campus, just before the 1960 World Series at nearby Forbes Field, where a home run by the Pirates’ Bill Mazeroski defeated the Yankees in the final game. Forty-five years later, an otherwise laudatory review of the O in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette said the bathrooms were apparently last cleaned during that World Series.

But who needed obsessive sanitation to go with hot dogs celebrated in national publications and french fries that regulars said were the real attraction?

Then came news earlier this month that the O had closed for good due to the coronavirus lockdown. The owners, descendants of the founders, couldn’t be reached for comment. But a local pastor said in a Facebook posting that the Simon family had closed the O and donated 35,000 pounds of surplus potatoes to local charities.

The Original Hot Dog Shop after its closure earlier this month.
Photo: James R. Hagerty/The Wall Street Journal

“We’re heartbroken,” said Tony Mancini, a 1979 Pitt graduate. “It’s like somebody we knew died.” He, his brother and four friends held a wake for the O on Zoom.

Around the country, others are mourning favorite local spots. Those succumbing typically had other problems, such as high costs or a fading commitment among the owners.

Coogan’s, an Irish-style bar and grill in Manhattan’s Washington Heights, also has closed for good. When Coogan’s opened in 1985, it quickly became a haven in a neighborhood then blighted by murders and drug-dealing, said U.S. Rep. Adriano Espaillat, a Democrat whose district includes the area.

Some of the earliest customers were police officers. “They kept a lot of the bad guys out,” said Dave Hunt, a manager who became one of the owners. Workers at nearby hospitals and other medical facilities adopted Coogan’s as a decompression chamber, enlivened by customers of many ethnicities. Lin-Manuel Miranda, who created the Broadway hit “Hamilton,” was a patron, his spokesman confirmed.

An order of hot dogs and fries at the O in Pittsburgh in 2019.
Photo: Tony Mancini

Shepherd’s pie and fish and chips were big sellers. Rep. Espaillat favored the french onion soup. Steve Simon, a New York City parks executive, estimated that he ate at least 3,000 meals at Coogan’s over 35 years. He relished the sense of community, the gossip and the brandied peach crepes.

Yet Mr. Hunt and the other owners saw little hope for Coogan’s to survive the pandemic. The formula didn’t lend itself to takeout, and Mr. Hunt believes it will be a long while before many people are ready for happy-hour throngs.

Lucchese’s Italian Restaurant was a dining fixture in Elkhart, Ind., since 1982. The second-generation owners were having trouble finding younger family members to take over. Frank Lucchese, the majority owner, closed in April after a brief experiment with carryout business. “Working our butts off for a whole week paid for about half of what we had to make that week,” he said.

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At Clarke’s Charcoal Broiler of Mountain View, Calif., founded in 1945, customers loved the hamburgers, served in baskets and topped with enhancements including pineapple and guacamole. The Blach family owners recently announced that the lockdown made it impossible to go on.

Fran Goodwin, who moved to Mountain View in 1993, said Clarke’s was one of the few local landmarks that hadn’t changed since then. “Everyone’s like, No! Not Clarke’s!” she said. “It felt like if Clarke’s was going to be there everything would be OK.”

Grief over Pittsburgh’s O runs deep for Pfeifer Hill, an 18-year-old high-school senior in a Pittsburgh suburb, who recalled sharing O fries with friends on weekend nights. “It was dark and I don’t want to say grimy but it really was,” she said. “I liked that kind of vibe.”

Coogan’s, an Irish-style bar and grill in Manhattan, recently closed for good.
Photo: Dave Hunt

Smittie Brown, a retired county administrator, got hooked on the O in the late 1960s and early 1970s when he was a history student and sprinting star on Pitt’s track team. His regular order was called a suicide dog, with all the condiments, “just laden down with everything you could possibly imagine.”

He and others prized the crispy snap of the dogs’ casings and the mounds of french fries, dunked twice in peanut oil. Some fans believed a large late-night dose of O grease could ward off hangovers.

Mr. Brown said the University of Pittsburgh should rescue the O by offering to buy it or at least include its food in students’ meal plans. The O is as important to Pitt’s heritage as the university’s gothic Cathedral of Learning, he said. A Pitt spokesman said: “Our priorities during this pandemic are supporting the well-being of our Pitt community and delivering a high-quality education.”

A glance through the windows of the O offers little hope of a fresh start. Menu signs have been stripped above a counter where countless customers pondered their condiment choices. One recent morning, the only sign of culinary life near the O was a single potato, overlooked by volunteers who carted off the donated leftovers, still lying forlornly on the sidewalk out front.