4. FWIL

If you grew up in Brooklyn in the '50's and '60's you know those initials.

I grew up feeling that there were some areas in the borough that were 'non-neighborhood': Flatbush Av, Downtown, the Highway, the Junction. There were some institutions that belonged to the borough and not to a particular neighborhood or high school: the downtown theaters, Brooklyn College, the main public library on Flatbush Avenue, Prospect Park, Ebbets Field, and ... Lundy's, for example. 

Come on. You know a trip to Lundy's was a special occasion. Not the every Sunday type of occasion that warranted a trip to Fong Fong. We're talking about the original Lundy's - not the puny remake that emerged in the nineties that could seat only seven or eight hundred people. I'm talking about the original - and according to some - the largest restaurant in the country, if not the world, with seating for close to three thousand! 

Special occasions in our family were celebrated with food.

You graduated from elementary school, finally? Let's eat out. You got accepted to your fourth choice college? Let's eat out before you move to Idaho and we'll never hear from you again. Promotion? How about if we celebrate with a fancy meal before you get to be such a big-shot you won't want to eat with your family that loves you.

Special occasions did not always mean happy occasions. "Hey, we never liked him, anyway. Let's go to Lundy's and forget about the jerk.

If you were looking for a truly special place to dine, there was no place more special than F.W.I.L - Lundy Bros.

And, you could be assured your special occasion would be shared with up to three thousand others in intimate dining.

We're talking about the original Lundy's - the restaurant was a city block long with two kitchens and multiple dining areas on two floors.

Stop trying to figure out the names of the Lundy Brothers.  Here's the scoop: Frederick William Irving Lundy opened the restaurant in 1934 as part of his family's retail fish business.  One person's name. That's it.  No mystery. What? You ain't never known someone wit' four names? (That's one way to satisfy all the grandparents!)

The original was a seafood shack on a dock in Sheepshead Bay condemned by the City in the 1930's as part of a neighborhood renewal project.  The new two-story Lundy's was built on the site of the old Bayside Hotel at the corner of Emmons and Ocean Avenues.

You just didn't walk in to Lundy's, and wait to be seated.  There was no maitre d' and no reservations.

I know, your parents had a favorite waiter who remembered your family from three months ago. Yeah, right!

One of the vivid memories I have of eating at Lundy's was the act of securing a table.  

Assuming you made it inside, finding a table was left to the customer. My father would elbow his way through the large dining room, lead us upstairs to the long narrow room facing the Bay, find a family nearing the end of their meal and then hover territorially nearby.  Not to make them uncomfortable, because then they'd stall and ask for more coffee or whatever.  Typically, the law of the jungle would prevail; rarely was there any dispute.  It was a very genteel clientele -  typical of all Brooklyn residents.

There were the certain rituals: You were given a lobster bib and the after-meal cleanup involving a finger bowl with lemon.  It was not unlike a religious event. First-time diners were often seen drinking the contents of the finger bowl, which provided the only entertainment the restaurant offered.

Lundy originally hired only blacks for his wait staff - from the captains to the busboys, the 200+ front line employees in their starched uniforms were all African-Americans.

Think about the Lundy's Shore dinner: for starters, a basket of steaming hot miniature biscuits accompanying a shrimp, clam or crab cocktail; steamed clams, half a lobster, half a chicken, potatoes, vegetables, coffee and dessert.  Not just any dessert,  hot blueberry pie with Breyers vanilla ice cream. Hey, stop chewing on your keyboard!

Lundy's outlasted the Depression and World War II.   It thrived through the '50's and '60's.  In all those years, little changed in the way the restaurant did business.

But, little by little, the middle-class, who had comprised the bulk of its customer base, were moving to the suburbs and by the 1970's the restaurant was no longer profitable.

And in 1979, just months after Irving Lundy's death, the restaurant closed its doors.

Until sixteen years later, when a smaller Lundy's opened with seating for only 800 diners.

And now, even the puny off-shoot is shuttered.

Ain't nothin' sacred no more.