"The customers who patronized "21" when it was a dingy Greenwich Village speakeasy came for good food and drink. Those who patronize today, when it is one of the half dozen most famous restaurants in the U.S., still come for the superb food and drink. They also come to be seen by everybody else who comes to be seen. "21"s clientele, which consists largely of New York and Hollywood residents, is made up of rich and celebrated people, some of whom are also important and talented. On those whom they consider a credit to the place, "21" lavishes its loving attention. Lesser customers are treated politely but with no fuss. But to people who look dubious, "21" has an icy way of saying 'Sorry, no reservations.'"
Life
In the April 15 issue, Life magazine visited '21' for its regular feature "Life Goes to..." Oddly, '21' was usually written within single quotation marks. Few readers of Life would have been made to feel welcome at '21' in 1946, as notorious for treating nobodies shabbily as it was for fawning over the elite. It was not enough at '21' for mere mortals to be given the table by the kitchen door or wait station. Scoring even one of those tables in the main dining room was something of a social coup. At '21' outsiders were escorted to Siberia, a concept that '21' was said to have invented. In this case, Siberia was a dining area off to the side, away from the people who mattered. Some of the banished might have seen it as an honor to have been allowed into the restaurant, something they could brag about to the folks back home in St. Louis or Brooklyn, embellishing their account with the names of the movie star or Broadway personality they had quickly glanced as they were paraded into exile. Most likely, some social climbers endured repeat trips to Siberia in the hope that a display of loyalty might some day be rewarded with a table in the main dining room. In the vicious hierarchy of Manhattan's upper orders being able to secure a table at '21' was a necessity for social survival unless your position was so exalted and secure that it did not matter. A Sunday Times Magazine story, "To Eat, Drink and Be Mentioned," on February 24, 1946, noted that '21' was one of four pillars of Cafe Society, along with the Stork Club, El Morocco and the Colony. "If you attend these, all or any of them, with fair regularity, you are in cafe society," the Times story claimed." If you have made a name for yourself in one of the arts or in business, you'll be prominent member."
For all its emphasis on its celebrity patrons, like haute Manhattan establishments to this day, '21' actually depended financially on a mix that included the big-spending advertising and sales men dining out on expense accounts, the casual visitors celebrating special occasions and the well-heeled tourists as well as the rich and famous. The trick to continued success was maintaining the proper mix and properly "dressing" the room, which is to say making sure that the "right people" got the right tables and were made to feel special, a fine art in which '21' excelled. Walter Weiss, who had joined the staff during the War, had the difficult job of handling reservations and seating at the 150 tables. "The challenge was in striking a balance between tradition, the prominence/ego of customers and the '21' reputation for class and style," Peter Kriendler wrote in his memoirs "21" Every Day Was New Year's Eve. The regulars expected to have the same table each time they visited. The celebrities wanted to be placed at a table where they would be noticed. Weiss had to time the bookings to avoid conflict. Unlike scenes in the movies of the time, palming off a twenty to the maitre d' was not going to get you a good table at '21.' In fact, the practice was strictly forbidden, although staff members otherwise did quite well with tips, even the bathroom attendants.
People drank a lot in 1946, even at lunch, and '21' was as much a saloon as it was a restaurant, but its proprietors insisted, it was never a night club. No music interfered with the flow of convivial conversation, abetted by the flow of alcohol. The front room on the main floor was the bar. It is interesting to contemplate that many of the decisions at the highest levels at this time were made by people who were half-crocked much of the time. Dealing with inebriated patrons, particularly those who were regulars or celebrities was an ongoing challenge. Writer John O'Hara was a particularly belligerent drunk who had caused a number of scenes. Bartenders were supposed to cut patrons off when they had reached their limit. If the patron refused to cooperate, the bartenders would sometimes water their drinks. If the patron reached the point of no return, a staff member would escort him out the door and into a taxi, taking their wallet and car key.