Melrose Aternum

Or coffee and last suppers...

Changeless consistency, endlessly guiding us toward the comfortable , the known, the safe. A mother’s womb holding her children forever in court. That is the Melrose diner., so safe , so predictable, so South Philly.

It stands there like a sentinel on Passyunk Avenue watching the rise and fall of men, politicians, cultural icons; but always true to its coffee, its butter cream cake, its platters… It may sound silly but I ask anyone from South Philly- am I wrong??? My old cousin Dunni can rise from her grave at Holy Cross and come to the Melrose and think she were as yet alive and it was 1973.. or 1963.. or 1953 for that matter… Palumbo’s has gone under , as has the Latin Mass, the Broadway movies, the Aqua Rama, , Vet stadium, the Dante.. Moyamensing prison. Yet Melrose remains . I am certain that were I to enter the Melrose now at anytime of day or night, I would be greeted with a bouffant of twisted hair and a black uniform and a what you want hon. I can’t even get that kind of consistency from my own family.

The Melrose, its counters, its solid and weighty tableware , its communal booths, it’s fresco along the wall of Industrial South Philly in the 50s? or is it 60s? Its consistently good food. It’s little ticker with nonsense information slivering round the cornices. The cash register with the miniature toboggan track attached that caused the coins to tumble and fall into a small plastic cup directly in front of you. I was always very intrigued by this machine.

The Melrose captured SP’s beat - changing menus 3 or 4 times a day to meet the needs of its clientele. The breakfast, lunch and dinner crowds and then the late night- the real magic time .. from 11 pm to 5 am , yes for who eats at these hours save those with some magic in their life. ? Late night at the Melrose would usually begin with the Gamblers fresh from a bus to Atlantic City or the track. Gambling is perhaps the greatest vice in South Philly. I never in my life ever knew anyone that ever became successful or wealthy from speculating at the track, the casino or in the numbers. Indeed I know of a number of fine people brought low by this vile addiction. The Melrose provided a respite for the speculative kind. After a big loss at the trifecta ( what ever the hell that is) when your pony ran in the wrong direction- come to mother Melrose for a coffee and a platter, gain courage before you return home to tell the wife.

The more interesting sorts came in after the closure of the Discos and night clubs. Disco was a religious cult in old south Philly, and Melrose was its sacristy. More may have actually gone to the larger Penrose ,but Melrose served the hierarchy of South Philly Guido Culture. At any give Sunday morning at around 3 am in the late 70’s , you could see a who’s who of South Philly youth and criminal elements.. At the Melrose you could compare notes about who spoke to whom , who danced the best , and who would most likly be locked in Venus’s embrace and with whom…. Might even see the odd exchange between two fellows as a result of some ill chosen action or words at one of the great discos like Valentino’s or Her Place in New Jersey or La Dolce Vita or the Branch in Philly. But few fights ever happened at the Melrose, that went against the tradition of Melrosian sanctuary.

However this sanctuary stopped at the cashier’s booth, for there were people who left the Melrose to never be seen alive again, perhaps as a result of mob business or some South Philly bravado.

There once was a disreputable red headed youth of fiery ill temperament who would shoot you if your cousin parked in front of his house and would punch you if you walked within 3 feet of his girl. He walked the line between bad and worse and one day his temper got the best of him. He made a distinctly poor decision - he decided to stab ( yes stab with a knife, how vulgar) two bouncers at a South Philly disco that existed on the side of McKean street where the sun sets. One bouncer died , the other recuperated in Methodist hospital as some kind of hero. As the owners of the bar belonged to a secret society of Sicilian origin the little red boy suddenly found himself held in a most pejorative light from said owners and secret society. This secret society had scant faith in local law enforcement’s ability to apprehend the red reprobate and bring him to justice, and so they decided to bring justice to the boy. So laddie went into hiding in South Philly. Why he chose South Philly as opposed to Wyoming I have no idea- he most likely was ignorant of the vast expanse of the American Republic west of 26th street. Still his South Philly hideout served him well for a few months , but youth is eager and he could not stay in hiding long. Perhaps his red hair gave him courage , coming no doubt from some distant Norman or Viking ancestor that plundered his way into Calabria. He was after all not the type to stay quite about anything. He reappeared, to our surprise and for all to see, in the Melrose one Sunday morning around the magic time of 3 am. The Melrose dinner at any time is not a place to seek anonymity. Even in an age before internet and mobile phones, word got out soon enough and by the time his cake came he had a escort waiting at the door to ferry the boy to the marshes that surround south Philly and a meeting with a bullet thought the top of the head as he knelt in submission. Swift and precise in old SP… This was not a mob hit , it was a mob fix- they fixed a problem and we all sleep easier. The Melrose had, by the way, nothing to do with any of these events , they just supplied the coffee.


Not everyone came to the Melrose for their last meal, some came to listen. The communal booths provided ample opportunity to eavesdrop and share ideas. You could listen to the conversation facing you or take pleasure in the fact that your neighbors were enjoying your stories. There calls to mind one rather strong memory impressed in my head- it was about 1971, a late spring afternoon. I went to the Melrose with my parents during a school holiday. We sat opposite two illustrative examples of South Philly cumardom. Two women in housedresses, one with immense hair that swallowed her head in a bleach blond rapture, and the other with short black locks. The women with the swallowing hair had that slow bleated speech pattern while the other had that husky voice somewhat reminiscent of a tired and ill Enzio Pinza. The Pinza women was discussing her morning , "Oh I been up since 5 , I had a pot of coffee and a pack of cigarettes for breakfast." Perhaps this accounted for her deep voice. Her friend with billowing high hair responded with, " oh you get up too early." the caffeine and nicotine addictions were not an issue. I would assume the women with the peculiar breakfast now lies where no cigarette could ever do her anymore harm… I wonder what became of her bleached advisor?

I also remember a time in 1970 when I decide to discuss with my father the living arrangements of my Uncle Louis and a women he was keeping company with at that time. I asked innocently enough if they were married or just living together ,which brought both sides of the booth down in hysterics or as they say in SP they bust out laughin’. I never did discover my uncle’s marital status.


When ask about Rome ,the British monk and mystic the venerable Bede said that "as long as the coliseum stands, Rome stands". Well I could paraphrase this …as long as the Melrose stands South Philly stands…. And I think it always will

For after all

Tutti che sappia va al Melrose
Everybody who knows goes to Melrose..