A Brief History of the Most Important Restaurant In New York

When the doors of the famed Four Seasons shut for good this July, the golden age of the New York power lunch comes to an end. We talked to the most powerful people in New York about the scene.

"There has never been a restaurant better keyed to the tempo of Manhattan than the Four Seasons, which opened recently at 99 East 52nd Street." —Craig Claiborne, food editor and critic, New York Times, October 2, 1959

People assume it's always been all about the money inside, but that's a facile way to peer through the flowing chain curtains of the Four Seasons Grill Room. With its soaring, 22-foot-tall glass windows, this French walnut-encased cocoon is a pantheon of accomplishment much more than a mecca of money.

Even from the earliest days of the power lunch, in the 1960s and '70s, the editor who shepherded a blockbuster into print held more sway than the scion who ran Daddy's company into the ground. For more than five decades, the Four Seasons Grill Room has been a place for the great accomplishers of Manhattan to take a victory lap around tables filled with people who run and influence every major industry in their city. Here companies were merged, divisions spun off, book deals signed, ideas financed. And in the process titans rose, then were trampled, and then were lauded in second, third, and even fourth acts.

Housed in the Seagram Building, on East 52nd Street, the Four Seasons has new owners, Aby Rosen and Michael Fuchs of RFR Holding, who plan to revamp both the Pool and Grill rooms, which together comprise the Four Seasons restaurant, once the lease held by the current owners and managers, Edgar Bronfman Jr., Julian Niccolini, and Alex von Bidder of Classic Restaurants, expires this July. Von Bidder, clearly unhappy about losing the space, says, "It was not something we had planned on, but it is not a new story in New York."

Rosen is intent on keeping the same clientele while bringing in a younger set—a hard concept to grasp for the longtime regulars, who will wait to see if the place retains the insider allure it has had for 57 years. He told us, "This masterpiece of classic modern design, created by Mies van der Rohe and Philip Johnson, has been resting on its laurels for years. We are receiving a lot of support from patrons who recognize that the restaurant is not what it used to be, and are looking forward to an improved experience." Some regulars we spoke to are open to change; more are aghast that their high-end cafeteria might be altered in the slightest.

One thing is for sure: The codes that governed the Grill Room for so many years will be laid to rest. The table hopping is choreographed like a ballet, with diners checking in on other patrons— but not lingering a second too long. This dance has been a way to convey that the deal closed and a high-five is in order, or that, frankly, it tanked—but don't you dare count me out.

Nostalgia is to be expected. In 1959, Mies van der Rohe's cereal box building opened, replacing a posh apartment building called the Montana. The Four Seasons restaurant soon followed, on the ground floor, and suddenly all manner of New York establishment types were strutting through the doors, with each decade bringing in a new crew from an industry midboom. The '70s and '80s were heavy on publishing and press people; many say they were following the leads of Lillian Hellman and Nora Ephron. In the '90s it was Wall Street that commandeered the best tables. In this century, as the Internet took hold, there were fewer editors and more captains of industry and glad-handing politicians.

People talk about the signature swirling cotton candy dessert, but most of the true regulars have never ordered the pink confection; they go there because they want a quiet place to plot, plan, and prevail in privacy.

Here, the chieftains and high priestesses of the Four Seasons expound on what made the place so central to that insular, incestuous, and very New York brand of power.

Richard Plepler, chairman and CEO, HBO: I remember the first time I walked up those steps and into that room. I was a kid starting out in New York, over 25 years ago, and I had only one distinct, overriding reaction: I like it in here.

Tommy Hilfiger, designer: When I first started going to the Four Seasons I was much younger, and I was in a room of major power brokers from all different industries. I was slightly blown away, because at any given time there was Henry Kissinger at one table and Leonard Lauder at another, and the Bronfmans holding court.

Vernon Jordan, senior managing partner, Lazard Frères: When I go, I have to stop at six tables. Its what "21" used to be when I first came to New York. The fellowship is kind of fraternal in that you know everybody in there. If you're notorious like I am, everybody knows you. People speak to you at tables, but they don't disturb. They pay their respects and move on. They don't sit there for 20 minutes. They know I've got business.

Henry Kissinger, former Secretary of State: The Four Seasons is an institution, not a restaurant. Its layout facilitates privacy. Its ground rules permit table-hopping. Its code of conduct imposes restraint. Half the guests come to be in familiar circumstances. The rest come to observe the regulars, who enjoy the clubby atmosphere and their function as an exhibit. Julian orchestrates the ensemble and disciplines it by a Machiavellian subtlety in table assignments, producing in hectic Midtown a respite for the soul.

Alex von Bidder, Four Seasons managing partner: It's all about knowing the preferences of our customers, from where they sit at their tables— banquette or chair—to whether they eat a whole wheat roll or nothing at all. I cannot imagine who is going to handle all of these details. If that is updating, I would prefer our style of loyalty.

Joe Armstrong, former publisher and media executive:In the '80s the big lunch scene was in the Grill Room; it became the clubhouse for magazine and book editors and publishers, and big name fashion designers. When the '90s came there were budget and expense cutbacks at publishing firms; our places were taken by all sorts of financial industry types, whose expense accounts were unlimited. In the '80s there was an undiscussed code that people didn't table-hop. It was one of the most public places in town, but it was also private. But in the '90s, when the financial people came, they went table to table shaking hands and networking.

Edgar Bronfman Jr., managing partner, Accretive LLC; Four Seasons co-owner: It's like a club, except nobody knows the rules to join, nobody knows the rules to stay. There's a combinaion of camaraderie, competition, jealousy, and admiration. A lot of, "Whose zucchini is bigger than whose zucchini?" In particular, "Whose zucchini is extra-big this week?"

Donald Marron, chairman and founder, Lightyear Capital: It's a show. People walking around saying hello, people you know, people you just worked with on something a few days before. Most days I have their famous baked potato, with nothing except olive oil.

Aby Rosen, co-founder, RFR Holding: I remember, in 2000, I was having lunch at the Four Seasons and Julian [Niccolini] approached me. I told him I had just bought the Seagram Build- ing. He said, "Aby, you didn't have to buy the building. I would have given you a good table anyway."

Leonard Lauder, chairman emeritus, the Estée Lauder Companies: To me it's a fascinating game that goes on. If I were a great choreographer, I would do a Four Seasons ballet. The ambience of that room... It is quintessential NYC energy.

Robert Rubin, former treasury secretary: I remember having lunch with people— Kissinger, for example—always discussing the state of the world: geopolitics, business, the mar- kets. It's part of my life. This is the New York I love. I am very upset it's closing.

Martha Stewart, brand founder: There are no iPhones, no one is looking at e-mails. Rarely do you see a pencil. It's really the power brokers' cafeteria. When Philip Johnson was sitting in his corner, I felt as if there was some- one important in the room. And if there was a man in the room I had dated, I'd want to make sure I looked nice. But it's all buddy business. I say hello to everybody.

Leon Wieseltier, Isaiah Berlin Senior Fellow in Culture and Policy, Brookings Institution: The place feels mildly absurd to me. It's a museum of status, and it is, let us say, not exactly a heterogeneous place. Its homogeneity is the point, isn't it? Nothing makes a person feel important like the company of other people who feel important—whether or not they are important. For this reason the Four Seasons was not exactly fun. It was solemn, sort of embalmed. Like having marble for lunch: "I'll have the kale and marble salad!" Almost everyone eating there is profoundly satisfied that they have made it there. It is the head- quarters of the sorting process.

Beth Rudin Dewoody, president, Rudin Foundation: My dad Lew Rudin had lunch almost every day at the Four Seasons—52nd Street was named after him in 2001. He loved the food there but longed for the hot dogs from the stand on the corner of Park and 52nd Street. Julian Niccolini had the hot dog delivered to the restaurant and plated for him. When Dad turned 65 the family threw him a surprise party at the restaurant. The party culminated with his young grandchildren undressing to their underwear and getting into the pool.

Barry Diller, chairman, IAC: Lots of famous people walk into that room, and the room keeps talking. But one day Princess Diana came in, and literally the whole place of big talkers and big egos went completely silent. It's the only time I ever saw that happen. It was one of those New York moments—this room of people who are not unused to celebrity were all struck dumb.

Tina Brown, CEO, Tina Brown Live Media: I've hatched every one of my deals in the booths over that swordfish and salad, from the years editing Vanity Fair and the New Yorker to lunch with Harvey Weinstein when he was courting me to do Talk. I had lunch at the first table in the middle with Barry Diller when he was thinking of acquiring Bravo and wanted me to run it. And all the courting I did of people I wanted to hire myself. It was over lunch at the Four Seasons that I persuaded David Remnick to leave the Washington Post and come and work at the New Yorker. We sat at the Diller-designated table. David had just finished writing Lenin's Tomb, and I had seen an early manuscript and was determined to snag him.

David Remnick, editor in chief, the New Yorker: It's true: Tina invited me to lunch. To be honest, I had no idea why. I had pub- lished exactly one piece in Vanity Fair, about Mikhail Gorbachev's trip to California on the Forbes jet after he stepped down as head of the Communist Party and president of the now defunct Soviet Union. I never got to eat my 35-buck piece of fish—it was just one question after another. A few months later the reason for all the interest became plain: Si Newhouse announced that he was making Tina editor of the New Yorker. And not long afterward she asked me to join as a writer. The Four Seasons was never my place—when you do a piece on Barney Greengrass, give me a call—but that lunch was consequential, at least for me. And I am told the fish was very nice, too. I wouldn't know.

Wieseltier: Do I feel intimidated there? Not at all. I'm not there owing to my high net worth. There are many ways to acquire authority in society. Money is just one of them. In some sense, I guess, there is something meritocratic about the place. There are many people at those tables who should be respected for their accomplishments.

Joan Ganz Cooney, co-founder, Sesame Workshop: One time I was absolutely shaking at the thought of meeting Jackie Onassis there for lunch, alone. I got stuck in traffic, and I arrived about 10 minutes late and was huffing and puffing. And she said, "Now, take a deep breath, calm down." And then we talked about my becoming chairman of the American Ballet Theatre, and I said I couldn't possibly do that, but I would help her find someone. I don't think I knew the agenda before the lunch. She then started talking, and "Jack" flowed into the conversation. Then we talked about men in general being not totally dependable. Nothing personal, but just laughing.

Joe Armstrong, former publisher and media executive: When I'd tell Jackie we were going to the Four Seasons, she'd say, "We're going to the cathedral?" I recall having lunch with her and John Kennedy Jr. and Judith and Bill Moyers—Jackie was the editor of all of Bill's best-sellers. Jann Wenner came charging over to the table, hollering, "How did this happen? How did this lunch happen?" Back in the '70s I had been publisher of Roll- ing Stone during its high growth years, and Wenner was generous while I was there and vicious after I quit. He stomped off.

Fareed Zakaria, anchor, CNN: When I first came to New York, 25 years ago, I knew vaguely of the Grill Room but didn't know something crucial about it: the prices. I learned the hard way. I was then managing editor of Foreign Affairs, a great job but one that does not come with a great entertainment allowance. I had been taken to the Grill Room by people like Pete Peterson and Henry Kissinger, and I liked the place. One day I decided to play host. I invited Pete du Pont, the Delaware governor and onetime presidential aspirant, to lunch, hoping to get him to write an article on what a Republican foreign policy would look like. We had a wonderful time, a long, stimulating conversation. A few weeks later I got the bill in the mail and had a mild heart attack.

Bronfman: I had lunch with Dick Parsons when he was running Time Warner and I was COO of Seagram's, and we talked about business and our personal lives, and I told him I actually schedule lunches and dinners with my wife. I know that sounds pathetic, but that's what I do. About five years later I was in his office, and I was proposing to buy Warner Music from him, which I did, and Dick announced, "We're more than friends. Edgar saved my marriage." I said, "I have no clue what you're talking about." He said, "I left that lunch and I said to my assistant, 'Start scheduling lunches and dinners and long romantic weekends,' and it changed everything."

Plepler: I remember, before our movie Recount, on the 2000 election, was made, we had just a script. I hosted a lunch for the writers, the director, the producers, and former secretary of state James Baker. Everyone approached the lunch suspiciously, the writers thinking Baker would spin us and Baker thinking he was meeting a bunch of slick Hollywood executives. But I think the restaurant has always been a bastion of civility, and the environment relaxed everybody and they felt heard. The success of the movie started at that lunch.

Pete Peterson, co-founder, the Blackstone Group: I had a major responsibility for raising the money and getting clients when we started Blackstone and during its rise. Without exception, potential investors or clients of Blackstone were always happy to go there. While I'm fortunate enough to belong to a number of clubs, I use the Four Seasons far more frequently than all of the others combined.

Bronfman: The Four Seasons had this magic—the restaurant and space together—that will always be unique and can never be repeated. And we'll have to live with the changes. It's a sad parting.

Stewart: I don't even consider that it's closing, just that it's changing. There's a letter circulating from Aby Rosen to regular customers and friends reminding us: We are here, we respect you, and we want you to continue coming here. I feel good about that.

Jordan: I'm very upset about it closing. I can walk to it. I get good service. They all know me, the waiters and the waitresses and all the customers. I'm loyal to the guys who own it now; wher- ever they go I'm going to follow. I'm not interested in the new place.

Diller: I'm so sad about it. I'm angry. Usually you leave a tradition before it leaves you, and in this case it's leaving before you leave.

Rosen: The Four Seasons was conceived to be a great restaurant. Nothing in the world would compare: great architecture and design, great food, great service, and the finest clientele. We will restore this greatness.

Bidder: We have always treated this as New York's legacy, not ours. We do believe our personal care and service cannot be easily replaced, but we wish them well.

Wieseltier: But among all the precious things that are vanishing from this world, a restaurant, any restaurant, is not high among the priorities of mourning. The swells who populated the Four Seasons will somehow find each other again.

This is the sort of thing that exemplifies why we don’t want ANYONE even remotely connected to New York City, e.g. Hillary, Bernie, Donald, to be President.

NY state is not just the city. yes, our votes get cancelled but there are a tremendous amount of Conservative voters where I live upstate.

Have a good weekend!

Reading about NYC’s heyday is like reading about life in Constantinople in 1452; it was already a dump when I visited family there in the 1970s. Talk of a revival is just sales talk for money grabs; it is a Third World city.

Loved the tabloid cover months ago with the guy peeing on the sidewalk; that was the REAL New York City...

I went there years ago as part of some business event. I had heard all the hype and had some big expectations. I was completely unimpressed. I found “21” — with all its sports memorabilia — was more fun and interesting.

I don’t remember those being on the menu. LOL

Actually the Pool Room is probably the most beautiful places I’ve ever had dinner. It is incredible with tall windows, trees, and a pool in the middle. It’s beautiful. And mercifully quiet.

Perhaps the most historically important pretentious restaurant in NYC was the original Delmonico’s. Opened in 1827 by the Swiss brothers John and Peter Delmonico, it was the birthplace of the widely imitated Delmonico steak. It was also the first restaurant to employ a separate wine list and to allow patrons to order from a menu à la carte. Its patrons included Jenny Lind, Theodore Roosevelt, Mark Twain, Arthur Sullivan, “Diamond Jim” Brady, Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde, J.P. Morgan, Nikola Tesla, Edward VII, then-Prince of Wales, and Napoleon III of France.

But without a doubt, the most historically important NYC restaurant of all kinds is Lombardi’s. In 1905, Lombardi’s was licensed by the City of New York, thus becoming America’s first pizzeria.

My encounter w/ the Four Seasons.

I was in the neighborhood and dropped in for lunch sans reservations. “We don’t have any tables in he Grill Room. Would you like to sit in the Poool Room?” I was asked.

“Why yes,” I said, barely able to contain my glee at the prospect.

We walked down the hall to the exclusive Pool Room where I was seated in a luxurious red banquette overlooking the famous pool, surrounded by incomparable art.

Did I mention...I was the only woman in the room?

Mmmmm.... it was a kick making eye contact w/ the Captains of Industry dining all around me.

A very nice $100 lunch....and even when I finished, the maitre’d let me sit there enjoying the wonderful art and architecture at my leisure.

Yes, you clearly avoid all that by getting an Ivy League lawyer with a DC and White House background.

And nothing in the story about the menu or their food. Odd.

Oops......this was meant for Miss M.

My encounter w/ the Four Seasons.

I was in the neighborhood and dropped in for lunch sans reservations. “We don’t have any tables in he Grill Room. Would you like to sit in the Poool Room?” I was asked.

“Why yes,” I said, barely able to contain my glee at the prospect.

We walked down the hall to the exclusive Pool Room where I was seated in a luxurious red banquette overlooking the famous pool, surrounded by incomparable art.

Did I mention...I was the only woman in the room?

Mmmmm.... it was a kick making eye contact w/ the Captains of Industry dining all around me.

A very nice $100 lunch....and even when I finished, the maitre’d let me sit there enjoying the wonderful art and architecture at my leisure.

I’m so jealous! I just asked my husband if he had ever been there and he said: many times! He was the guest of Martin Segal one of the founders of the Lincoln Center Film Society.

I never even saw the interior - which always struck me as so amazingly beautiful in that modern, 60s way.

When the Four Seasons opened I was going to Columbia. My uncle, an executive for Texas Instruments came into town often for business meetings.

During his visits, he’d take me—and somettimes my roomates or dates—out on the town to show me around the upper crust places in the city like the Four Seasons on his expense account. It was a reconaisance trip where I’d learn the layout and who to tip or how to ask for a table.

He taught me a very important thing about NYC highlife on a college boy’s budget. “You can just go sit at the bar without having to eat in the dining rooms. You get all the ambiance, the drinks are good, and it doesn’t cost much more than a lesser bar.”

I used that information to the hilt. When I wanted to impress a date, I’d take her to the Four Seasons bar for a drink before or after our planned activity. I could point out famous celebrities as they came up the stairs and passed us at the bar. My savoire faire impressed my dates no end. Halcyon days.

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