Posts about Sidewalk Cafes

More activity on the sidewalk is a good thing. We want it. Sidewalk activity is what makes for good cities.

To be fair, there are occasional places where adding a walk-up window would be troublesome. Especially narrow sidewalks that already have especially heavy pedestrian traffic, for example. A hypothetical walk-up window at the corner of Wisconsin and M Street might get in the way, and ultimately harm walkability by inconveniencing too many other people. That's a legitimate concern.

But 99.9% of the time, walk-up windows are great. The proposed walk-up macaron shop in Georgetown is way up Wisconsin Avenue, well north of the busiest area, on a stretch of sidewalk with plenty of room for existing shops to put out clothes racks and wicker furniture. It should be approved.

And hopefully there will be even more proposals in the future for these great features of urbanism.

The building was on a stretch of E Street (between 13th and 14th Streets NW) that was once considered to be part of Pennsylvania Avenue and that was known since the mid-19th century as "Rum Row" for its drinking and gambling dens.

According to journalist George Rothwell Brown, the bottom floor was occupied by John Lawrence Kidwell's drugstore, and it had marble floors and interior woodwork of beautiful carved mahogany. Kidwell was known as the "Quinine King" for having supplied various pharmaceuticals to the Union Army during the Civil War.

Upstairs was the celebrated gambling house of George Parker, where the "best known faro bank in town" operated. "A Chinese restaurant now serves chop suey in the rooms which in the hectic past were dedicated to the Goddess of Fortune and which echoed to the whir of the roulette wheel and the click of dice," wrote Brown in The Washington Post in 1923. By 1887, a tobacconist by the name of Daniel Loughran had moved into the ground floor. He and his sons ran their business there until 1929.

Over the next ten years, an assortment of other commercial enterprises came and went, including offices of The New York World and the National Press Club and what Brown called "various drinking clubs." Then in 1939 Max Bassin opened his restaurant there.

Born in New York, Bassin had moved to D.C. as a child and attended Cardozo (Business) High School. He worked at the Treasury Department from 1933 until he decided to quit and start Bassin's Restaurant. He went in on it with his wife, Sarah, and her brother, Harry Zitelman. Bassin's was a rather ordinary lunchroom-style restaurant for many years, concentrating on selling corned-beef sandwiches for 25 cents and hot dogs for a dime. Then in 1949, Bassin decided to quit the business and devote his attention to real estate. He left the restaurant in the hands of his sister and Harry Zitelman.

Zitelman, who was the son of Russian immigrants and had grown up in Baltimore, capitalized on Bassin's prime location near the National and Warner theaters, various newspaper offices, the Willard Hotel, and the District Building. As time went on, Zitelman built Bassin's up until it was a well-known Washington institution. He expanded into the building on the corner, making Bassin's a sprawling complex that was frequented by both tourists and natives alike. And like all top-drawer restaurateurs, Harry Zitelman was a consummate showman. He didn't just work hard to promote Bassin's; he made sure everybody knew he was doing it.

As reported in The Washington Post, Harry Zitelman and Jean Moran of L'Espionage at 2900 M Street NW sought permission in early 1959 from the District's Board of Commissioners to set up sidewalk cafés. The request was not well-received. One concern was a 1934 law that banned consumption of alcoholic beverages on District sidewalks—although it was not clear that serving any kind of food or beverages would be legal.

Opinions about the proposal touched on many other issues as well. The Post talked to Leonard Carmichael, secretary of the Smithsonian, who said he had "enjoyed looking at sidewalk cafes in Spain and Rome, but I'm not sure I would enjoy them in Washington." Why not? He apparently didn't say. Prominent socialite Gwendolyn Cafritz held that "Washington is just perfect the way it is. I don't think the tempo of Washington is suited to sidewalk cafes. Nobody would have time to sit in them."

These were just the opening salvos in the two-year struggle to bring sidewalk dining to Washington. While Moran seems to have dropped out of the fight, Zitelman kept pushing.

In late 1960, a ruling came down denying Zitelman's request on the grounds that alcoholic beverages couldn't be served on the sidewalk. Zitelman responded by asking for a permit to open his sidewalk eatery without the alcohol. At a March 1961 hearing before the Board of Commissioners, Zitelman presented a stylish, Parisian-looking sketch of how his proposed sidewalk café might look. But not all hearts and minds were won.

Bassin's in 1967 (Source: Historic American Buildings Survey)

As reported in the Post on March 17, 1961, an assortment of D.C. government witnesses outlined a litany of perils that would befall the hapless citizenry if sidewalk cafés were allowed in the District. These hazards included the following:

• Pedestrian traffic would be disrupted. People would be forced to walk in the streets and probably get run over.
• Food would be exposed to dust, dirt, and "windblown foreign matter," creating a health hazard.
• Hungry birds, insects, and rodents—especially squirrels—would discomfit patrons, and the city's rodent control problem would be "multiplied many times."
• Chairs and tables would interfere with the laying of hoses during a fire.
• Street litter would be exacerbated.
• Street-spraying trucks might splash water over the curbs and on to customers.
• It would be harder to do utility work, which might require tearing up the sidewalks.
• The cafes would be a "potential source of disorder" because café patrons might brush against sidewalk pedestrians, possibly leading to fisticuffs, etc.
• Passersby might steal pocketbooks or other valuables from café patrons.
• And finally, according to Deputy Police Chief Howard V. Covell, "this type of operation would provide a favorable setting for ladies of easy virtue as they ply their trade up and down the street."

After all that, according to the Post, Chief Commissioner Walter N. Tobriner observed that he "couldn't understand how, with all the calamitous eventualities foreseen by city officialdom Europeans have been able to operate sidewalk cafes all these years." Concluding that "anything which would enhance the innocent enjoyment of Washington... should be allowed," Tobriner then ordered that regulations be drawn up that would allow sidewalk cafés while affording adequate safety.

Indeed, it became clear that city officials had overstepped in their opposition to the idea. The Post ran an editorial favoring it; Art Buchwald wrote a column making fun of the city's objections.

By the time a public hearing was held in June, most everybody was behind the idea, with rare exceptions, such as H.B. Niece, executive vice president of the Organized Bible Class Association. As the Post reported, Niece thought the cafés would encourage public drunkenness and panhandling and amounted to "a Castro grab of public property." His objections were overruled, as it were.

Postcard from the collection of David White

The Sidewalk At Bassin's opened with much fanfare in August 1961 and was an instant success. Zitelman found his overall business up 15 percent. Still, there were complaints that the café should serve "something beside malts," so Zitelman worked to get the alcoholic beverage ban lifted, which he achieved the following year. In 1962, Washington's second sidewalk café opened at Chez Francois on Connecticut Avenue NW. By 1963, some 20 different restaurants had joined in, and the sidewalk café had become an established part of D.C. culture.

The sidewalk café wasn't Zitelman's only innovation at the Bassin's complex. He also opened one of the city's first discotheques, called the Top O' the Walk Twist Room, in the former Atlas Club upstairs from the dining room in 1962. According to the Post, Zitelman got the idea after seeing Chubby Checker dancing the twist in New York.

The Post's arts commentator, John Pagones, visited in April 1962 and was very enthusiastic. "The Fred Astaire dancers give twist lessons every night but it seems like bringing politics into Washington. Those people can really twist. The supply seems bottomless."

Ranging about Bassin's, Pagones noted that in addition to the dining room and cafeteria, there was also a lounge where "Jerry White knocks the daylight out of a piano with his honky-tonk songs," as well as a "noisy, chummy rathskellar" in the basement called L'Escapade Room. These were Bassin's salad days, so to speak, and unfortunately there would not be many more of them.

Bassin's is seen here in 1979, after it had been gutted by fire. The large building to the right is the Munsey Building. All these buildings (except for the National Theater, just visible on the far right) were torn down to make way for the J.W. Marriott hotel. (Source: Historic American Buildings Survey).

Bassin's was picketed in the mid-1960s for its hiring practices. It was accused of keeping most African-American employees in the kitchen and using mostly whites for the "out front" positions, such as waiters and waitresses. Bassin's agreed to hire more equitably, but business began to decline anyway after the April 1968 riots.

In 1976, the restaurant was sold to a wealthy South Vietnamese family that had decided to move to Washington and get into an American type of business. Then, after only two years, the restaurant was gutted in a suspicious pre-dawn fire in October 1978.

The police arson squad told the Post that they were 75 percent sure that the fire was started by igniting a flammable fluid. However, by that time the building was already slated to be torn down to make way for a massive new hotel/office complex. Within a year, with the blessing of the Pennsylvania Avenue Development Corporation, the burned-out structure was razed. The J.W. Marriott Hotel now stands on the site.

Still, a few shards have survived of this venerable little building that witnessed so much of everyday Washington life. On 8th Street NW, just down from the other little commercial building we recently profiled, a few of the metal window hoods and sills from Bassin's are hung ghost-like over large vents at a Pepco substation. If they look a bit pathetic hung up that way, what's worse is that there's no sign telling where they came from.

Elements of the Bassin's building now on 8th Street NW.

Cross-posted at Streets Of Washington.

In particular, there are no residents on this corner and very few anywhere nearby. According to DePillis, Carney (whose district I live in) argued that the hotel patrons across the street need quiet too, but Will Stephens, whose district encompasses the commercial area on 18th Street between S and U, suggested that the hotel patrons might also want a place to eat and drink late at night after a late flight or a long day of meetings.

In fact, one adjacent hotel told Wexler that they actually have soundproof windows because of the existing volume of emergency vehicles on both 16th and K. No hotel asked the ANC to oppose the liquor license application.

The Dupont Current's Katie Pearce wrote recently (enormous PDF) about a shift on the ABC Board under new Chairman Charles Brodsky. Previously, the Board would acecpt and enforce virtually any VA. Now, it seems to be taking a skeptical view of all VAs.

Perhaps some VAs were too restrictive in the past. In some cases, small groups of residents pushed for strict restrictions and restaurant owners felt blackmailed into accepting them. However, many other VAs are entirely appropriate, as the law's one-size-fits-all rules allowing establishments to stay open until 3 am on weekends may be right for some areas but not for others.

When an ANC takes a knee-jerk position against a liquor license with no adjacent residents and no opposition from the adjacent hotels, it potentially weakens the case for VAs more broadly. The Dupont ANC would have more credibility with the ABC Board if it pushed for reasonable restrictions but restrained itself in other cases.

Even the Dupont Circle Conservancy, the neighborhood's historic preservation organization, supported the cafe, which will take up some of the green space along 16th. Some have argued that this green space is "historic," though the official description of the 16th Street Historic District doesn't list the green space as a contributing element. (Disclosure: I am a member of the Conservancy but did not vote on the resolution concerning this property as I had missed the initial presentation by the applicant.)

The Conservancy split the difference to some extent, supporting the cafe as long as it left a substantial green buffer and emphasizing that it didn't want this to set a precedent for every other establishment adjacent to 16th to get a cafe. (Personally, I wouldn't mind if other cafes appeared as well.)

As I wrote in the past, the Conservancy has generally eschewed the "allow no change" view of preservation and instead diligently differentiated between what is estimably historic as opposed to just long-standing. Of course, there's always plenty of room for debate about where to draw that line.

The more neighborhood organizations try to truly balance the issues at hand instead of being absolutist for or against anything, the more effective they are. Just look at the ARTS Overlay committee of ANC 2F, which spent months researching the zoning issues along 14th and U Streets and produced an excellent report which has gained substantial acceptance from the Office of Planning and Zoning Commission.

That's a model other groups should emulate. Instead, Dupont's ANC took a small step backward for VAs everywhere and neighborhood group credibility with their fierce defense of nobody at all.

The park, which gained citywide attention due to Ruth Samuelson's September City Paper cover story about park benches, had gone through a design process in 2006 but did not have funds allocated for construction until now. Turnover at DPR, on the ANC and within the community at large will make it near impossible for this project to pick up where it left off.

Although a DPR representative said at the meeting that the park could be completed by September, that goal seems unlikely as ANC members expressed interest in having DPR revisit elements of the design. A better picture of where this project stands will emerge at the coming community meeting.

Also at Wednesday's meeting, Social received ANC support for a public space permit that would allow it to begin outdoor seating on 14th Street. A restaurant representative said that the restaurant is looking to begin outdoor seating as soon as feasible. Neighbors in the area hope that outdoor diners will provide a counterbalance to the 3500 crew as a presence on the corner.

Though police action has yielded some results, the 3500 crew persists. As the weather warms and the 3500 crew begins to spend more time outdoors on the corner of Meridian and 14th, these issues will become more pressing. Although the park reconstruction will not be complete until after this summer, establishing a permanent group of "eyes on the street" in the form of outdoor diners and wait staff may have an impact on the 3500 crew's constant presence on this corner.

The crew on the corner of Meridian Place and 14th Street is known as the 3500 Crew because they once operated out of the apartment building located at 3500 14th Street. That building, formerly known as The Cavalier, was completely rehabbed and renamed Hubbard Place. Since some "problem tenants" were evicted by building management as part of this rehabilitation, the 3500 Crew has moved down 14th Street to the corner at Meridian.