contributed photos
91 Diner owner Stavros Karadimos with his son, decades ago.
On its last day, the diner's door "kept revolving" with customers saying goodbye.
“I feel like I’m grieving a death,” said Georgette Ieraci, as she described the feeling of saying goodbye to the Middletown Avenue diner her family opened and ran for 38 years.
Ieraci’s dad, Stavros Karadimos, and grandfather opened the 91 Diner at 420 Middletown Ave. on July 6, 1987.
On Sunday, April 6, the diner closed its doors for the last time.
A development crew bought the property from Karadimos in February for $1.225 million, with plans to convert the interstate-adjacent diner into a gas station and convenience store.
Ieraci, 35, said she grew up at the diner, and spent her summers driving up from Trumbull with her dad and grandfather and spending every day there. Those are some of her favorite memories, she said.
She began working at the diner when she was 16 years old. One day they were short-staffed, and her dad said, “Here, put an apron on.”
“ ‘I don’t know what to do!’ ” she recalled telling him, laughing at the memory even as she felt exhausted following a weekend of goodbyes. “ ‘I don’t know how to talk to people!’ ”
She learned quickly, and continued working at her family’s restaurant for the last 19 years. “Now, I could do it in my sleep,” she said. Even during the seven years she spent working as a teacher at Strong School, she waitressed on the weekends.
Part of the reason why Karadimos sold the diner, according to his daughter, was because he suffered a fall last year that he hasn’t fully recovered from. While she knows closing was the right decision, she said, “Honestly, I’m heartbroken.”
91 Diner’s goodbye was fitting, as a steady stream of regulars filled the restaurant for its final weekend, according to Ieraci and social media posts documenting the diner’s closure.
Over the years, Ieraci said, the diner had established a strong community. “It was like Cheers, where everyone knows your name,” she said. She saw families “grow and shrink,” and celebrated countless birthdays and holidays at 91 with the “amazing clientele.” On that last day, customers cried with her family and staff and shared their favorite memories over the years. She said the door just kept revolving.
In a post on the diner’s Facebook page from Monday, after its last day, Ieraci wrote a note dated for 5:26 a.m.: “As the sun comes up I sit here with so many emotions as today we will not open those front doors and turn on the OPEN sign.”
She thanked their customers for their final visits and received emotional responses.
“Crying a lot today!! No lentil tomorrow!!” Louise Abate wrote on Facebook, with a sad emoticon.
Sharron Ross wrote: “I enjoyed breakfast there every Sunday morning before church the food was amazing.”
“Always loved going there with my husband and his brother Benny who went there several times during the week. Always great friendly service and delicious food. Thanks for the memories,” wrote Ginny Bellucci Ruszczyk.
Update — East Rock Alder Anna Festa, whose ward includes the diner, said that she visited with her kids a few times for breakfast. She agreed that “it’s almost like grieving.”
Festa congratulated the Ieraci’s family for successfully keeping the diner open for 38 years. “It’s a hard business,” she said, and their ability to retire is something to be proud of. “They will be greatly missed.”
Festa said that she hopes the incoming gas station continues some of the diner’s legacy. “I hope the gas station builds a family like the 91 Diner did,” she said, “and takes care of the community like the 91 Diner did.”
Ieraci fondly remembers spending holidays working with her mom, dad, grandfather, and sometimes her brother. She loved their whole menu, and said the chicken souvlaki was her favorite. She learned patience, resilience, and that everyone has a story. Now, she has no idea what’s next, but she’s “looking forward to the next chapter.”
As for the gas station conversion, she said she doesn’t have any strong feelings. She recognizes that the world is a different place now than it was then, and that might be what makes sense.
“I’m not sure diners are appreciated like they used to be,” she said.
Karadimos and daughter Georgette Ieraci, outside of the diner on its last day.
Some of the crew.
Customers say goodbye.
Thomas Breen file photo