The car pulled into the parking lot, made a wary circle around the back, and then exited on Abrams. yet another customer had discovered that an era was over.
I saw this little drama at Dan’s Lakewood Cafe from across the street, in the Minyard’s parking lot. I saw it more than once in the first couple of weeks after Dan’s closed this fall – someone who hadn’t heard the news and who still expected to be able to find some of the quintessential greasy spooniness that made Dan’s Dan’s for almost four decades.
Elsewhere in this month’s Advocate, you can read the who’s and what’s and how’s that explain why Dan’s closed in favor of a bank. The building, always looking as if it was about to fall down, may even be gone by the time you read this. And, to be honest, Dan’s had been on life support for years, ever since long-time waitress Billie, she of the marvelous bouffant hair-do, and long-time owner Dan Miller died around the same time. After all, all things end; it’s just a question of when.
But that doesn’t mean they can’t be appreciated, and there is much to appreciate in Dan’s passing. I had chicken-fried steak for breakfast for the first time ever at Dan’s, a revelation for a Midwestern boy who had never seen a grit and thought that gravy came once a year on thanksgiving.
When I moved to town 20 years ago, there were joints like Dan’s, Brownie’s on East Grand and Brink’s down on Gaston, all long gone now but once somewhere to get breakfast at 2 in the morning or a chili cheese omelet that would cure any hangover. Today, in our IHOP and Starbucks world, when will these slices of East Dallas real estate become so valuable that the Gold Rush or Barbec’s or John’s Diner become dry cleaners and convenience stores?
Having said all this, I’d also be less honest if I didn’t point out that there were many who didn’t appreciate Dan’s. For one thing, it was filth. Always. Forever. Nasty Dan’s some called it. The duct tape that patched the tears in the vinyl covering on the booths was shredded itself, and there was a poster of John Wayne hanging on the wall that I don’t ever remember not being frayed. It was not a place to go if you wanted to impress someone.
But times change. Neighborhoods change. Today, the people around here who would have gone to Dan’s have died or moved away or don’t have time anymore to sit in a booth and drink coffee and read the paper. Meanwhile, the newcomers go to Cafe Brazil or Legal Grounds instead. That’s neither good nor bad – that’s just the way it is.
The most important thing is that someone should remember, and pass their memories on. What you don’t want to happen is what happened on Dallas’ Only Newspaper ran its obligatory story on Dan’s demise, but didn’t mention Billie or Jack the cook or Dan sitting by the front counter and bellyaching with the regulars. The article read like every other article the papers run when neighborhood landmarks close, when the paper sends a reporter to write the story who has no idea why it’s a landmark. Another day, another 12 paragraphs.
Well, I do know. And I will remember, even if I have to go elsewhere now for my breakfast chicken-fried.
