[Congressional Record Volume 141, Number 45 (Friday, March 10, 1995)] [Senate] [Pages S3802-S3803] From the Congressional Record Online through the Government Publishing Office [www.gpo.gov] BILLY'S RESTAURANT CELE- BRATES ITS 125TH ANNIVERSARY Mr. MOYNIHAN. Mr. President, 125 years ago this March 13, the incomparable Billy's restaurant in New York City opened its doors for the first time. Billy's is known as ``New York's oldest family-owned restaurant,'' but it is much more than that. It is an institution in New York, a regal old establishment that has catered to coal-yard workers, lawyers, politicians, actors and actresses, even a princess on occasion. Billy's is a special place to my wife Elizabeth and me; we dined there often during our courtship, back when Billy's occupied a corner near 56th Street and First Avenue. Billy's has moved a few blocks south since then, but still has its original mahogany bar, gaslight fixtures, and those red-check tablecloths. A fine article in the March 9, 1995, edition of ``Our Town'' details the history of Billy's restaurant, Mr. President, a history that mirrors a great deal of the history of New York. Billy's 125th anniversary celebration begins on Monday, and I simply wish to congratulate Joan Condron Borkowski, the third generation proprietor of this venerable old establishment. Mr. President, I ask unanimous consent that the article from the March 9, 1995 edition of ``Our Town'' be printed in the Record, and I commend it to the attention of the Senate. There being no objection, the article was ordered to be printed in the Record, as follows: [From Our Town, Mar. 9, 1995] Family Recipe (By Nelson Williams Jr.) It's seven o'clock on a Monday night and Billy's is bustling. The bartenders are mixing martinis for businessmen flanked by briefcases at the bar, and waiters in red jackets and bow ties maneuver through tables toting plates of thick steaks and chops. There's no music, just the convivial rumble of conversation coming from patrons in the dining rooms dotted with red checked tablecloths. It could be 1895 or 1995--it just so happens it's the latter. Yet if restaurant founder Michael ``Mickey'' Condron walked through the swinging double doors up front this evening, he'd immediately recognize the place. Believe it or not, Billy's hasn't changed much in more than a century. The gaslight saloon has moved twice--once, in 1880, from its initial location at First Avenue near 56th Street to the southeast corner of the same block; and 29 years ago, when its Sutton Place building came down. Now at 948 First Avenue, between 52nd and 53rd streets, Billy's is less than five blocks from its first location and still boasts its original, hand carved mahogany bar, gaslight fixtures, six-handled ale pump, and walk-in cooler. This week, New York's oldest family owned restaurant turns 125 years old. Stop by from March 12-18, or anytime for that matter, and third-generation owner Joan Condron Borkowski will give you a hug and lead you past old photos of New York dating to 1860 on the way to a table. While seating you, she'll likely tell a tale or two about Billy's the East Side watering hole her great-grandfather founded in 1870. Mickey and Bridget Condron were just over from Cork, Ireland, then and catered to the thirsts of coal-yard workers and drivers from the local breweries. They wouldn't serve women or mix drinks, but all the food you could put away was free as long as you kept emptying your glass. As was the custom at such Old World pubs, the floor was covered in sawdust to soak up the spilled suds, and buggies rolled right to the front door of the Upper East Side saloon. ``Fifty-sixth Street was the end of civilization'' in those days, says Borkowski, 50, who recalls ``dancing on the bar'' when she was three years old. In the beginning, before the turn of the century, the saloon had no name, but everyone called it ``Mickey's,'' after the round-faced man behind the bar. After they'd been open a decade, Mickey got it in his head that a restaurant should be on a corner and talked the grocer at the end of the block into swapping shops. He brought his son, William, aboard in 1902. With William came his wife, Clara, a squat mountain of a woman who stood just four-foot two yet strained the scales at 450 pounds. Routinely stationed at a tale in the center of the main dining room she was referred to simply as ``Mrs. Billy.'' During the First World War, the story goes, a general was waiting at the bar for a seat when Mrs. Billy sidled up to him and barked, ``Hey, sergeant, your table's ready!'' Perhaps because of her considerable girth--or because the military man knew he was outranked--the general didn't say a word while being relocated, ``She didn't know what all the stripes meant,'' chuckles Borkowski. William Jr. and his wife, Mildred, had joined the business by this time and when Prohibition was repealed in 1933, State liquor laws required that each drinking establishment be registered under a formal name. Thus Billy's was born--and began to thrive, building upon its neighborhood, working-man core to include among its clientele some of New York's most notable businessmen, politicians, writers and celebrities. Even today, regulars include Henry Kissinger, Bill Blass and William F. Buckley Jr. Regardless of clout, Billy Jr. served everyone conversation and drinks from behind the bar while ``playing the piano''--a euphemism he used for running the register. After discouraging his college educated daughter from working at the restaurant--saying it was ``no place for a woman''--he hired her as a waitress. ``He didn't like juggling the tables and say I could do it,'' Borkowski says. She learned grace under fire the day in the late '60s when a First Avenue ticker-tape parade for astronaut John Glenn resulted in an overflowing house--she was the sole waitress on duty. Glenn himself didn't dine in Billy's that day, but Borkowski remembers when Grace Kelly did after returning to the States for her father's funeral. ``Everybody felt you should bow to her,'' recalls Borkowski, who took over full time for her late father in 1988. When Princess Grace asked for a hamburger with grilled onions, her brother's jaw dropped in amazement. The former film star shrugged off his objection, insisting that ``the Prince won't let me have one at Monaco, so I'll have it here!'' During regular visits to Billy's, Marilyn Monroe had a special table in the back. Once, when her mink stole fell to the floor, busboys and waiters jockeyed to replace it around her shoulders. ``Don't worry about it,'' Borkowski recalls the actress giggling, ``I've got seven more like this one at home.'' Billy's itself made a cameo appearance in the blockbuster Robert Redford-Barbra Streisand movie. ``The Way We Were,'' providing the setting for a lengthy scene that appeared in Alan Laurents' novel of the same name. ``Most of it ended up on the editing-room floor,'' says Borkowski sadly, ``All you see is a red checked tablecloth. In a ``Philadelphia Inquirer'' article, actress Helen Hayes once called Billy's her favorite restaurant in the world, according to the owner. Still, it's the everyday folks who have made Billy's an East Side Institution. ``It's a time capsule,'' says regular Leo Yockin, who dines out six nights a week--at least one of those evenings at Billy's. ``The only thing I've seen change in the last 10 years is that [the maitre d'] doesn't wear a red jacket anymore.'' If the attire's slightly altered, the faces are the same. ``The staff hasn't changed since I've been coming here,'' says one customer, ``and I first ate here 20 years ago.'' Hostess Hermy O'Sullivan has been greeting and seating people at Billy's for 39 years. Waiters Joe Donadie and Gus Smolich have been scribbling orders for 32 and 27 years, respectively. ``The customers have kept me here,'' says Donadie, ``It's almost like a private club.'' The head broiler man, Ramon ``R.C.'' Diaz, started as a dishwasher two decades ago before graduating to the kitchen's top spot. Night bartender Sal D'Ambrosio has been pouring drinks for 15 years. ``They're still calling me the new guy,'' says waiter Ivan Sladen, ``and I've been here eight years.'' The king of all Billy's career employees, though, has been Alex Dombrowski, who the current Mrs. Billy says was ``like a brother to my father.'' After the war, during which Dombrowski was shot in the head and leg, Billy Jr. made good on a promise of providing his buddy with a job. Before his death in the 1980s, Dombrowski put in 44 years at the eatery, working his way up from hoisting the basement dumbwaiter to serving as manager. ``If I hire anybody as a waiter or waitress, they're not just technicians,'' says Borkowski, who lives with her mother, Mildred, and orders meals for them nightly from Billy's. ``I look for heart along with technique. They have to really care about whether diners are having a good time.'' That, by all accounts, is the key to Billy's longevity. ``There are cheaper places in towns,'' explains longtime customer Alvin [[Page S3803]] Levine, ``but no one pays attention to quality and service like Billy's.'' Borkowski, who say she learned about taking care of customers from her parents, reveals the family's secret recipe for success: ``Good quality food, good atmosphere, good service, and a reasonable price--if you don't have those four ingredients,'' says Borkowski, ``you won't succeed. You could serve the best meal in town, but if you throw it at the customer, they won't be back.'' Customers--and their children and grandchildren--have been coming to Billy's for steaks and seafood for more years than any other family-owned restaurant in the city (Barbetta was founded in 1906, and Grotta Azzurra Inn came two years later.) Bridging generations, Billy's has endured four wars, two stockmarket crashes, Prohibition (during which they continued to sell beer), 26 presidents and 15,625 days, as one customer recently calculated between courses. ``It's not an easy life--you have to want it,'' says Borkowski. ``You're married to it. But the customers keep you going. We share in their celebrations and their sorrows.'' From Sunday to next Saturday, Billy's invited old and new customers alike to share in its 125th anniversary celebration. Borkowski and her 24-year old daughter, Susan, who recently received a communications degree yet often puts in an appearance as the restaurant's fourth-generation heir, encourage diners to dress in late 19th Century costumes and eat to the sounds of Victorian music. ``We can't do what we originally did--give away all the food you could eat with drinks,'' says Borkowski. ``But with any entree, you get a free cocktail.'' Also, at the bar, your first beverage will be regular price and the second will go for its long ago rate--five cents for beer and 95 cents for liquor. Maybe they'll even throw sawdust on the floor. ____________________