I’ve gotten some more feedback on the Book-Cadillac Hotel article, including some more first hand memories of that hotel. I suppose with the hotel’s 1,136 guest rooms and it’s six decades of operation, there should be a few of the hotel’s former guests among Weirs Times readers. This article’s Ramblings are going to take us out of state too, and I predict that more than one loyal reader will also have memories of this topic to share.

Back in the early 1950s, when my parents and I lived in White Plains, New York, my mother loved to take trips into New York City and when she did, she often dragged me with her. She loved to shop at Macy’s huge New York department store. As a little kid, I found Macy’s very boring, especially the women’s apparel department, where my mother usually wound up.

I do remember the store’s big brass & mahogany elevator cars, each manned by a uniformed elevator operator. He operated a big wall mounted disc with a brass handle at its outer circumference. Somehow, his artful rotation of the disc in alternating directions resulted in the elevator’s velvet smooth starts and stops, always with the car’s floor being in perfect alignment with the floor’s landing.

Each trip to Macy’s held out one promise to me that I looked forward to. That would be a trip to Macy’s impressive clock department. I’ve always loved real clocks of the type that rely on the earth’s gravitational pull to keep them ticking. I particularly enjoyed seeing Macy’s huge assortment of Black Forest cuckoo clocks, especially the massive ones with impressive carvings and huge weights. I begged my way into owning a small cuckoo clock, but it took years of skillful begging! I wore my first clock out and replaced it. Today I still have the replacement plus two others. When there are three well synchronized cuckoo clocks in the same small house, the resulting (dis)harmony is music to my ears!

When my mother and I were in New York City, we both enjoyed having lunch at one of the famous Horn & Hardart Automats. The first of these famous restaurants opened in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania in 1902. Their first location in New York City opened in 1912 at Times Square. Even in the early1950s when I was being towed along by my mother, the Automats in New York City seemed very futuristic to me. Futuristic in the fashion of the classic Woody Allen movie, Sleeper, that is! Except for that movie and the Automats themselves, it was a future that never got here!

At the Automat, there was a wall of coin-operated windows, four or five windows high. Below the lowest row of windows there was a rail for customers to slide trays along as they peered into the windows. When they saw something that they wanted they fed the requisite number of nickels to that window’s coin mechanism, opened the door and withdrew their selection. It was fun looking at the choices and feeding the coin slot the required number of nickels. Occasionally, the spell of the futuristic machinery would be broken when an arm and hand would appear from behind and place a selection in a previously vacant window!

The Automats of Horn & Hardart were wonderful examples of the fabulous Art Deco style that first became popular in the 1930s. The Automats that I remember were huge, glistening palaces that were very busy with a potpourri of people from all walks of life. It seemed that there were no class or race distinctions made at the Automats; instead strangers often shared tables with one another.

At the peak of Horn & Hardart’s business, there were 180 Automats that fed 800,000 customers each day! Their popularity was insured by the high quality of the offerings behind each window and the fair price that was asked for them. And then too, there was their famous coffee.

It was famous because it was excellent. So excellent in fact that while it has been 15 years since the last surviving Automat closed, the chain’s coffee is still one of its best-remembered offerings. High quality coffee, prepared by the drip method, was never kept longer than 20 minutes before it was replaced with a fresh batch. As much business as the famous chain did they probably dumped very little coffee while enforcing this self-imposed rule.

Besides their coffee, the Automat was famous for its wide variety of pies, baked beans, macaroni & cheese and fresh sandwiches. Each wholesome offering was available for a modest number of nickels. Nickels were available at Art Deco change booths in the center of the palace-like cafeteria. In exchange for your dollar bill the lady in the change booth would instantly dispense 20 nickels, no more, no less! When inflation turned the nickel into a curiosity, Horn & Hardart converted to the use of tokens, operating much in the manner that today’s Funspot operates its games with tokens.

Food was served on real plates; no massive piles of paper and Styrofoam trash were generated. Coffee was served in real cups as well. Knives, forks and spoons weren’t plastic but rather real flatware. Real bottles of ketchup and other condiments were available in the center of each table, instead of trash magnifying individual packaging.
But the real Automat was not the largely automated machine it seemed to be. Out of sight, behind the walls of the coin operated windows, was a large but unseen staff of people. While some locations did not have much in the way of on site food preparation, there was still a large staff required to restock the coin-operated windows, operate the dishwashing equipment, empty trash and otherwise clean and maintain the premises. Of course the food items had to be prepared off site if not on site. Food was prepared for the entire chain at their larger locations.

The success of the Automats hit its stride during the “Great” Depression and the chain remained robust for about three more decades following World War II. The chain’s association with New York City and Philadelphia did not work in its favor as those two cities declined, especially during the 1970s and ‘80s. While the concept still provided a viable way to operate a big and busy restaurant, the coin operated food windows passed from being a state of the art novelty to a concept that became outmoded by virtue of the chain’s own longevity and success.

Eventually there was only one Automat left, the one at 42nd Street and 3rd Avenue in New York City. Many of the previous locations were sold one by one to fast food chains, especially Burger King. The closing of that final Horn & Hardart location happened without any advance notice to the press or public. Instead, on April 8th, 1991, the restaurant’s doors were locked at 6:00 PM to any further entrance to the location. Those inside continued to enjoy their meals, oblivious to what was really taking place. By the usual closing time of 8:00 PM, the last Automat was empty. Without ceremony the doors of that Automat were never to be opened again!

Of course, no institution whose history has spanned nine decades vanishes without leaving some indelible marks behind. Some of the original Horn & Hardart Automat is on permanent display at the Smithsonian Institute. It also lives on in song in Irving Berlin’s “Let’s Have Another Cup of Coffee” and in one made famous by Marilyn Monroe, “Diamonds Are A Girl’s Best Friend”.

In art, the Automat is immortalized in Norman Rockwell’s painting that he called “Saying Grace”, which is set in a downtown Philadelphia Automat. Artist Edward Hopper was even more direct when he named his painting “Automat”. The painting portrays a woman drinking a cup of coffee at a New York City Horn & Hardart’s. Automat interiors appear in a number of classic films.

I’m sure that many Weirs Times readers have their own memories of the New York and Philadelphia Automats. If you have the time, I’d love to hear of them (as long as it’s after 10:00 AM & a weekday). Or, better yet, send your Automat memories via email. Unlike the New York World’s Fair of 1964-65, I can still remember the Automat as I am Rambling Through History!

Note: The author, Mal Fuller, is now available to provide the electrical restoration of your vintage tube-type radio. Mal’s phone number is (603) 569-1946. Mal’s E-mail address is radiodoc@localnet.com.