"Everything boils down to I just didn't have the strength" to keep the other restaurants going, says Roy, 63, adding that he has had eight heart operations in the past three years.
A former Marine, Roy sits ramrod straight on a stool at the counter as he pores over the restaurant's books. He says that he is negotiating with the new owner of the property and should know in about two weeks whether the last Little Tavern, which dates to 1983, will stay open. He is considering turning over day-to-day operations. He says he would still like to see new locations open.
For James Stein, 69, who drives from West Baltimore to the Little Tavern late at night, the restaurant is a link to his past. "Some of us guys used to come here and talk about the old days all night," says Stein, a retired sanitation worker. He orders breakfast - two eggs sunny side up, hash browns and toast with butter - from Rich, the night cook.
Rich pokes at the yolks with his spatula. "Can't have them too runny," he says.
A tall man who measures his words carefully, Rich says that he has seen many odd sights during his shift from 11 p.m. to 7 a.m. There was the stripper who jumped on the counter and took off her clothes, the female bouncer who bashed a man's head against the window for stealing a french fry and the numerous people, often drug addicts, who have robbed the place for the scant funds in the till. And, from behind the counter, he has watched sunrises brighten the sky over East Baltimore.
Stein, who often stops by here after a night dancing at the VFW hall or the Polish Home Club, pulls out a card with his picture that says, "I have been told that I am a superb dancer." Like the big band music he loves, the Little Tavern reminds him of a bygone age. When he was growing up in Highlandtown, all the teenagers used to gather outside the restaurant to goof off and eat burgers.
As the men chat, the bright lights cast harsh shadows on their faces. They look frozen in time, much like the diners in the Edward Hopper painting Nighthawks.
Stein points out that a band of neon lights that wrap around the ceiling has burned out.
"You should have seen it before," he says. "It was beautiful when it was all lit up."
julie.scharper@baltsun.com
