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Sleep-deprived but still sprightly, Levy and four of his friends clinked their coffee cups in a predawn toast to the reopening of O'Rourke's, the beloved local culinary icon that was badly damaged in a fire nearly 18 months ago.
Levy's friend, senior English major Susie Lake, said her visit to the diner was a way for her to follow in the footsteps of her father, a 1975 Wesleyan graduate who, after college, returned to O'Rourke's with his young daughter.
"I remember eating steamed cheeseburgers as a little girl," Lake said.
Levy and Lake were part of the first group to arrive at the diner before it opened at 5 a.m. Monday. Biting wind gusts and single-digit temperatures didn't stop customers and visits from Sen.
"It's been a year and a half since I've had his corned beef hash. That's way too long," Ethan Platt of
"Setting my alarm at 3 a.m. was a little crazy but I knew it would be worth it," Schickling said minutes before the door opened to the Main Street diner that's been a popular gathering place in
Monday's mood at the diner—which saw a steady stream of customers, who at times crowded into the doorway while waiting for a table—was much different from the morning of Aug. 31, 2006, when waitresses and cooks arrived at work, startled to find a gutted and smoldering diner. Investigators determined a hamburger steamer left on overnight started the fire.
Now, though, longtime waitresses Janine Janaki and Barbara Feegel hugged as they prepped the shiny counter and tables and memorized the day's specials.
"I'm shaking, I'm so nervous," Janaki said to Feegel, an 18-year veteran at O'Rourke's.
Feegel, whose own anxiety disturbed her sleep the night before, calmed Janaki's nerves.
"It's like riding a bike," Feegel said. "You'll be OK. But just yell to me and I'll be right there with you."
Feegel's supportive words were reminiscent of those that owner Brian O'Rourke and his colleagues have heard since the fire threatened to put an end to an important part of Middletown's history.
O'Rourke, who grilled his first order at the family diner in 1962 and, along with his cousin, purchased it from his Uncle John in 1977, did not have fire insurance. When loyal customers and O'Rourke's friends heard this, they quickly formed a rebuilding committee that conducted numerous fundraisers and sought donations of building materials and contracting work.
Nearly $200,000 was brought in during the fundraisers and skilled experts and professionals donated their time and talent to the project. O'Rourke's secured a $200,000 bank loan and the city council voted to give a $25,000 federal community development grant to the diner.
The rebuilding committee also helped O'Rourke get the business side of his restaurant in order, including making sure he had the proper insurance when the diner reopened. O'Rourke has admitted being a poor businessman and many criticized him for not having insurance.
But supporters, aware of O'Rourke's generosity to local groups and his donations of food to the poor and jobs to unemployed locals with hard-luck stories, overlooked his flawed management and pledged to help him rebuild.
O'Rourke, 56, has said the new diner is something he could only dream about before the fire. It's filled with things he's never had before, like central air conditioning, a state-of-the-art ventilation system and kitchen equipment donated by Wesleyan University.
"I think he's fulfilled," O'Rourke's sister, Maureen Maley, said as she watched O'Rourke, a master chef known for putting his own spin on his grandmother's legendary recipes, stack baked goods in cooling trays. "He can't wait to have his community back in here."
Shortly before Monday's opening, a smiling but serious O'Rourke emerged from the kitchen wearing a chef's hat. His black T-shirt was dusted with flour.
"It's just another day," he told the staff. "It's 5 a.m. and it's time to flip the switch."
About a dozen customers outside cheered as business manager Lance Whalen lit up the diner's signs. Once inside, customers said they were amazed at the sparkle in the shiny new interior, a dining-car-style restaurant that's been touted as a slice of Americana in books and publications nationwide.
But talk quickly shifted to the real reason for their visit. Nearly everyone commented on the sweet and spicy aromas coming from the kitchen. Within minutes, order slips were tacked above the grill.
The first order? O'Rourke's famous Dubliner omelet, a $10.50 culinary favorite with corned beef hash and Irish cheddar and soda bread.
Filmmaker Rob Leitzell traveled alone from
"Brian carried me through all of my thesis work," he said.
As Leitzell's omelet was served, cameras flashed and customers waited for a critique of the diner's first bite of the day.
"Just as I remember it," Leitzell said.
Platt, the first customer, said his belly was "happy." While walking out, he talked about his next visit to the diner.
"If I'm in the area today, I'll stop for lunch," he said.
