Diner Sinks Under Weight of Tunneling
Phil’s Diner survived the Depression, a few recessions and even fended off the rise of fast food. But it couldn’t survive the subway project.
A North Hollywood landmark that had specialized in greasy fare and homespun charm since the 1920s, Phil’s will close its sliding wood doors for good this afternoon.
Charles and Wendy Hong, who have owned and operated the diner for the last 20 years, say the tunneling that began two years ago for the Metropolitan Transportation Authority’s Red Line drove off customers from the once-thriving diner. Only the most devoted patrons braved dust and traffic from the adjacent subway construction site for a taste of steak and the past. But in the end, the Hongs say, their numbers weren’t enough.
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Like other business owners affected by the subway, the Hongs have filed a claim with the MTA, seeking compensation for lost business. If the claim is not settled, the Hongs plan a lawsuit. An MTA spokesman said the agency does not comment on pending claims.
Even in its prime, Phil’s--located near Chandler and Lankershim boulevards--was not a cash cow. Rather, it represented a comforting, traditional routine for customers and owners alike.
“This is a true mom-and-pop place,” said Robbie Harm, the Hongs’ attorney. “They put three children through college while working there.”
Customers--everyone from entertainment moguls to pipe fitters--savored the intimate, retro charm of the grease-filmed, wood-paneled spot. The tiny diner--it has only 14 counter seats--has often been featured over the years in movies and television and had been hailed by the L.A. Weekly as the city’s “friendliest heartburn.”
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“They always make a big fuss over you when you come in,” said Lisa Fancher, a longtime Phil’s regular and the owner of Frontier Records, a Sun Valley punk rock label. “There’s not enough of this kind of stuff in the Valley.
“I took everyone from out of town there, and they loved it. Even the vegetarians found something great to eat. And that ‘idiot’s mishmosh’ is great for hangovers.”
The recipe for the idiot’s mishmosh, as opposed to the plain old mishmash that also appears on the menu, was something the Hongs inherited when they bought the place. Even after 20 years, Charles Hong still isn’t sure of the etymology of the mishmosh, but he surely knows the recipe: home-fried potatoes, two eggs, fresh spinach and mushrooms, diced ham, salami, bologna, pastrami, and American and Swiss cheese.
He has no idea what retirement will bring. It might be easier to let go of the familiar, he said, were it not for the regulars.
“It’s very hard to explain what I’m feeling right now,” he said. “Twenty years is a long time.”
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A few more businesses in the neighborhood have also closed their doors, and other shop owners say the tunneling has either damaged their buildings or driven off clientele. MTA officials say they are trying to help businesses recover from any setbacks and say the Hongs never sought aid from the agency, a point Charles Hong concedes.
Since word got out last week that the Hongs planned to shut down Phil’s, customers have come by to offer flowers and hugs. Ardent fans have asked for memorabilia, including framed photographs on the walls showing Phil’s through the decades and old-time signs for Coca-Cola and Chesterfield cigarettes.
Today “will give the Hongs a way to thank their customers,” said Harm, who, like the Hongs, is Korean American. Harm took the case in part because the Hongs’ journey from Korea to running a well-known L.A. eatery intrigued her.
“I don’t think it was their dream to operate a little diner in North Hollywood,” she said. “But they somehow fell into it, and worked really hard. And this is an unfortunate end.”
Fancher, who plans a final mishmosh pilgrimage today, sympathized with the Hongs’ plight.
“I used to live [in North Hollywood], but I moved away because I couldn’t stand the dust and all the hassle,” she said.
“But I still thought someone might see the place was dying and come by and save it.”
