This is just so sad. The Gotham Bar and Grill on East 12th St. will close tonight after 36 years. It’s partly due to the virus panic, and somewhat because time has marched on. Here’s their statement:

“We have been forced to make the very difficult decision to close the Gotham after 36 wonderful years because the unforeseen situation created by the coronavirus has made operation of the restaurant untenable. As you can imagine, this has been a very painful decision to make but one that is necessary given the current circumstances. We are grateful to our staff and guests who have supported us over these many years and will now look forward to doing what we can to help our industry and city recover.”

The Gotham is my neighbor and has been since it opened in 1984. Alfred Portale’s gorgeous old school looking palace with new wave food was an immediate hit if only because Gael Greene, who then wielded enormous power in New York magazine, sang its praises day and night. She was right, of course. This was the restaurant of a generation. The Gotham opened to ride the wave of the Baby Boom. It was expensive, but everyone had money then. Reagan was in office. It was high times, indeed. Everyone was on an expense account. No one stayed away.

This was also the era, uptown, of Le Cirque. This was the beginning of the end for table cloths and crumbed tables, diners still dressed well. No one wore shorts or sneakers in the Gotham. No one was tattooed. There was a breeze of success and glee in the room.

It was in the late 1980s that I first read Dawn Powell, rediscovered as the female version of F. Scott Fitzgerald. She wrote about the Village of the 30s, 40s, and 50s. Nearly all the places she wrote about were gone, except the Cedar Tavern, which is now a nail salon. (The people who did that should shunned publicly.) I’d read about the hotels, bars, and restaurants of that era and wonder what happened to them. I used to think, that won’t happen again. We will hold on to our favorite places. But you can’t stop it. That’s what happens. The charmed people move on. They get tattoos, wear vans, vape, drop their Starbucks cups wherever they want. They have new places to go, where there’s better wifi, and no gluten. The hell with them.

Thanks to Alfred Portale, who decamped the Gotham a short time ago, perhaps seeing the writing on the wall. Thirty six in restaurant years is 100. The fact that he made it as long as he did is a wonder. When the Gotham opened, Fairchild Publications was across the street. John Fairchild and Womens Wear Daily– they were titans. Also across the street, on the same block, was the Asti, where the waiters sang opera as they brought your food. At night the block sizzled. At the University Place corner, everyone went bowling. Then they crowded into Stromboli Pizza. You hung out in Reader’s newsstand to get the new magazines. You went to Bradley’s for jazz, to the Cedar, to the Cookery to hear Alberta Hunter.

It’s all gone now. One day Dawn Powell and I trade notes.

We don’t want to be out of the loop.

All day and some of yesterday I’ve been receiving email after email from every institution and organization I’ve ever encountered. They all want me to know what they’re doing for me during this time of crisis.

This means Macys, GoDaddy, Google, Bloomingdales, a tailor I haven’t seen in years, art galleries, Banana Republic, banks, even Tavern on the Green has something to say about all this. Everyone is wishing me good luck and assuring me they are on top of it. They can’t cure the virus or stop it from spreading. But they’re cleaning themselves, which is not reassuring. How dirty were they in the first place? What other diseases could I have picked up in their stores prior to this? The Broadway theaters are getting “deep cleans.” Yikes! What about last fall? Or ten years ago?

So I feel incumbent to tell you about what I’m doing here at Showbiz411.com to keep our stories free from the corona virus. Wait. I am doing absolutely nothing. Nada. I mean, I am using hand sanitizer from Bigelow’s. I still have my cough from last year, but I’m not being showy about it, like, this is a vintage cough. I don’t want to make people feel bad. I’m trying to wear more cashmere, if possible. But it’s been a warm winter and some of my sweaters never really got used.

Basically, there is nothing I can do. I am actually looking for large gatherings where celebrities or people of interest will show up. I am thinking of having a party for 499 people. You can only come if you’re famous and feeling a little light headed. We will not test for any virus. But you’ll get a good item out of it. All I can really promise is to stay out of Corona, Queens, at least until it gets warmer and we visit the Ice King of Corona. Then all bets are off.