The weatherman said: coats and scarves. New Yorkers are worried about getting the flu. Bundle up.

Over at Michael’s at six o’clock they were celebrating their fifteenth anniversary. Fifteenth here in New York. Michael’s in Santa Monica is about twenty-five.

Michael McCarty

Michael McCarty was a kid from Chappaqua who grew up in a family where weekends were for cooking and dinner guests. Nothing fancy, just feasts and friends. When he was sixteen he chose to spend a summer in France. The night before his departure, his father who was an advertising executive in New York, brought him into Manhattan and took him to dinner at a real restaurant – Laurent, then located on Park Avenue.

It was the first time he had ever been to a real restaurant. The teenager was bowled over by the linen tablecloths, the silver, the china, the flowers on the table and the menu. It was an “aha!” moment in his life. A seminal moment, an epiphany. His summer in France clinched it. After high school, it was back to Paris where he studied at the Cordon Bleu while working for an American caterer in Paris. When he came back to America, he went to work for a man who owned the biggest wine store in the West (in Boulder).

Later he started his own foie gras business. By that time he knew he wanted to open a restaurant – an American version of a French style restaurant. His parents had moved to Southern California. He followed. Santa Monica became the location.

I remember when Michael’s opened in Santa Monica as I was living out there at the time. Everyone was talking about it. The prices, the menu, and the phone number which was unlisted. As it happened, when the phones were being installed before the opening, GTE, the phone company in West L.A., notorious for its bad service, had installed the restaurant’s reservation line in the ladies’ room. Therefore when anyone called, they didn’t get an answer. Soon it got around town that Michael’s had an “unlisted” number. An accidental but brilliant marketing ploy in a town that that hungers for any kind of exclusivity. Their reputation was made. Ever since, no matter the time of year, the state of the economy, Michael’s in Santa Monica has done (good) business.

A couple of years later, Michael decided to open a restaurant in Manhattan. When he came here to look, his agent showed him a restaurant called the Italian Pavilion (which was owned at the time by Bruno Caravaggi, father of Robert Caravaggi, one of the partners of the currently popular Swifty’s). The restaurant, located on West 55th between Fifth and Sixth, is surrounded by a wall of glass behind which is a lovely garden in its back dining room. The first sight of this immediately convinced Michael that this was the space for him because it mirrored the garden in his Santa Monica space. The only problem was the owner who decided last minute NOT to sell. In 1989, he changed his mind and everything else is history which we all celebrated last night.

Tony Hoyt and DPC sign the poster board

As NYSD readers know, I lunch at Michael’s frequently, sometimes five times a week. I was first taken there by an editor of mine at the time, Larry Ashmead, who recently retired as executive editor of HarperCollins. It’s a lovely airy space, its ivory walls hung with some of Michael’s extensive collection of contemporary art including several works by Kim McCarty (Mrs. Michael in real life).

It’s a very friendly restaurant which has a big appeal with members of the publishing industry, media and celebrities with a nose for where it’s happening. The general manager Steve Millington is as friendly as a kid in a candy store. The girls behind the reservations desk – Loreal and Nicole are as welcoming as old friends (to anyone who enters). There’s not a member of the staff, captains, waiters, waitresses, busboys who isn't friendly and welcoming to EVERYBODY. So it’s like everyone's own private restaurant

A reporter called me a couple of days ago and asked me what was the most memorable day I’d ever spent at Michael’s. He was hoping I’d recall someone I’d seen there who was more fascinating that another. I couldn’t recall. I’ve seen so many interesting faces there — Mick Jagger comes to mind. Bill Clinton comes to mind. But the list of the famous is long and even everyday. Joe Armstrong, known as “the mayor of Michael’s” often entertains the most prominent and the most famous at his table which always has its floral arrangement popping out of a small cowboy boot (Joe’s from Texas). I’ve seen so many celebrities there I can’t remember who. On a daily basis, one sees the editors, the writers, the publishers, the bankers, many of whom make the decisions that affect our lives and our thoughts. For me it’s the personification of the pulse of daily New York. Surely I’m exaggerating in some way, but that, baby, is little old New York and that is Michael’s.

Email
A
Friend