Richter’s Readies For The End

As a regular tipped back one of his last pints of Sierra Nevada before Richter’s bar goes out of business, owner Dieter vonRabenstein voiced a warning to other downtown publicans: You’re next.

Richter’s is the latest downtown bar to succumb to economic forces and shut its doors, following Christy’s on Orange Street, which closed several months ago. The Chapel Street pub will have its last call on June 25, just shy of an eviction date of July 1.

Other bar closings will follow soon after, predicted vonRabenstein, who has owned Richter’s for 10 years and worked there for 23. The recession and a worsening business environment will claim other bars before the summer is out, he said.

The 49-year-old barkeep made his prediction Wednesday afternoon at a corner table in the back room of his bar, which is lined in dark, 150-year-old carved wood paneling. Over a club soda and two Camel cigarettes, he told the story of his more than two decades at Richter’s, and how his time has come to a close, thanks to changing regulations and a changing bar culture.

“I’m not making any money,” vonRabenstein said. ​“I haven’t paid myself in well over a year.”

VonRabenstein said he’s a victim of the recession, which has decimated his lunchtime business. More and more people are bringing lunch from home, he said. Meanwhile, increasing liquor and health regulations have been making it harder and harder to turn a profit, he said. On top of that, vonRabenstein is in the middle of a court battle with his landlord over the rent, which he hasn’t paid since February.

“I’ve got two kids in college,” vonRabenstein said. ​“I’ve got to make money.”

The bar has been struggling for years, and vonRabenstein hasn’t been able to pull in enough money to reinvest in the business, he said. He rattled off a list of things that need to be repaired, from the facade to the electrical system to the bathrooms. But he’s got no money to pay for it, he said. ​“That’s frustrating as all hell.”

The regulars who used to come for lunch three or four times a week now come only once every two weeks, he said. It costs the bar $1,600 a day to do nothing more than turn the taps on, he said. Without the $800 he used to get from lunches, there’s no way to end up in the black at the end of the day, he said.

Summertime becomes a ​“triple whammy,” vonRabenstein said. With all the schools out of session and people away on vacation, ​“It’s like a ghost town.”

Even in the best of times, the bar used to lose money in the summer. ​“On good years, I lose about 10 grand a summer,” vonRabenstein said. The last three years, it’s been more like $50,000 lost, he said.

VonRabenstein said he’s also been hit by increased governmental regulations. The U.S. Environmental Protection Agency wants him to spend $4,000 on a new grease trap that he’d have to reconfigure his whole kitchen to install, he said. If he didn’t put it in by July 1, he’d be fined $300 a day, he said.

As for local government. vonRabenstein had no kind words there either. ​“The city has no leadership,” he said, as he decried the midnight meter plan, which he said will hurt downtown businesses.

Besides regulation changes, Richter’s has also suffered from cultural shifts. People are afraid to drink these days, for fear they’ll get a DUI. ​“What’s the fun in drinking if you can’t drink?”

There was a time he used to get up every morning and enjoy coming to work, vonRabenstein said. ​“This business that used to be a lot of fun is not anymore. This has become a chore,” he said.

History Teacher

Things were more fun when he started, vonRabenstein said. He had his first day of work March 22, 1988, just over five years after Richter Elser opened the bar on Jan. 6, 1983.

Elser, the Yale grad and later Republican mayoral candidate who started the bar, took over what had been part of the Taft Hotel, vonRabenstein said. The hotel was built in 1911, and had its heyday in the ​‘20s, ​‘30s, and ​‘40s. ​“This was the tap room for the hotel,” vonRabenstein said, pointing to a rear door that once led to the main hotel.

The carved dark wood paneling that makes Richter’s so distinctive is much older, vonRabenstein said. The paneling dates from the 1850s, when it was installed in the New Haven Hotel, which stood on the same location before the Taft. When the old hotel was demolished to make way for the new one, the paneling was carefully removed, then reinstalled in the new building, vonRabenstein said.

Fast forward to the late 1980s: vonRabenstein was hired on staff and soon took over as manager. He regularly put in 80-hour weeks running the place. He was there so much that most people thought he was Richter, vonRabenstein said. When he bought the bar in 2001 from Richter, vonRabenstein kept the name along with the oars and other memorabilia from Richter’s time as a coach on rower for the Yale crew team.

Richter’s now has eight full- and part-time workers, vonRabenstein said. The longest-serving has been there for 19 years. The second longest? Eighteen years.

“This place is really like Cheers,” vonRabenstein said. ​“Everybody knows your name.”

“It might be trite, but this place is like the place on Cheers,” said Richter’s regular Wes Wright, moments later, unprompted. ​“Everybody knows each other. It’s just a place with good energy.”

Wright walked in at about 4:30 p.m. on Wednesday, and bartender Christi Messore was already pouring a Sierra Nevada pale ale for him, unprompted. Richter’s is that kind of place, she said. When a regular walks in, she has his drink ready by the time he sits down.

“I’m sad to leave my customers,” said Messore, who’s worked at the bar for four years. ​“I don’t know where they’re going to go.”

She said she didn’t know where she is going to go either. Neither did 64-year-old Richard Claxton, the cook of 19 years. He was too modest to say so, but Massore said people pre-order his meatloaf when he makes it as a special. She said she texts customers when he puts it on the menu and they text back to reserve a portion.

VonRabenstein said he doesn’t have another job lined up, but he knows what he’d like to do. ​“In a perfect world, I’d like to teach high school history and tend bar at night.”