We all want to live a long life.  However, if we live long enough, we will end up outliving things that bring us joy such as our favorite restaurants.

Case in point, the Original Pantry Café in downtown Los Angeles which survived over a century before closing last week.

Former Los Angeles Mayor Richard Riordan who died in 2023 loved the restaurant he owned so much that in 1985 he made sure that the air space above the one-story structure (where it moved to in 1950) would be protected from development.

Those managing his trust which benefits several charities want to maximize the wealth of its portfolio by selling the restaurant at the intersection of 9^th and Figueroa to generate more revenue.

I will miss the grilled sourdough toast, the overflowing plate of crunchy-on-top potatoes and the bottomless mug of joe.   All of that could be resurrected if a new location could be found, but what will forever be lost will be the physical space which remained unchanged for 75 years as well as the employees, some of whom had decades of experience.

The décor remained constant:  high-back wooden chairs, white Formica tables with condiments, huge menu boards adorning the walls, and the line of people outside, always a line, wrapping down its 9^th Street side as if hugging an old friend. 

As everyone patiently waited for one of the waiters to step outside to call the next customer, it was easy talking to strangers in front or in back of you, one of the few downtown places where pleasantries were exchanged; it made everyone feel connected to our common city.

There were two doors guarding the interior:  one for entering and the other for exiting.  In order to leave, the traffic flow led customers to a small enclosure (like an old bank) where the cashier sat on a stool.  Your belly was full and life was good.

That small corner piece of real estate created countless memories for those of us who frequented it as one of the few eateries open 24 hours (until the Pandemic), a beacon for night owls like my friends who would head over there following a 10:00 p.m. movie at the Grauman’s Chinese Theater, or a 4:00 a.m. breakfast after staying up all night.  In either case, it was the perfect L.A. nightcap. 

I was a teenager when I “discovered” The Pantry, always ordering breakfast. When all the other restaurants in the L.A. area were closed, you could always count on getting something good to eat at the Pantry and feel blanketed by its history.  

When I last went to The Pantry months ago it was celebrating its centennial.  I purchased a new Pantry mug since the logo on my one at home had long ago vanished.  Now that the Pantry has vanished, I cling to the new mug I have, a reminder of good times.

Angelenos are familiar with the heartbreak of iconic restaurant closures, most notably the Pacific Dining Car (1921-2020).  We still have century-old establishments such as Cole’s (1908), Philippe’s (1908), Musso and Frank’s (1919), Tam O’Shanter (1922), and El Cholo (1923). That’s why it behooves us all to keep returning to them while they remain.

When a business lasts for over 100 years in Los Angeles it is a miracle.  And now we have one less miracle in our lives.

The Pantry was THE diner of Los Angeles, a “welcome to L.A.” ambassador that lasted through 17 U.S. Presidents.  It nourished us not only with comfort food, but history of the city.  People need places like these to nourish one’s soul.  Like a friend who passes away, it’s painful knowing that you can never go back to it again.