February 23, 2001
Over Burgers and Fries With the Mayor

By Victoria Looseleaf

Pantry Owner Talks Carmelite Nuns, Cholesterol and City Hall

He's conducted tango music at the Hollywood Bowl, hosted 50,000 Democrats in Downtown , and bicycled in Europe with famed New York City ballerina Heather Watt and acerbic writer Fran Lebowitz.

He's Mayor Richard Riordan and yours truly is chowing down on burgers, fries and hot apple pie with him at his 24-hour eatery, The Pantry.

The mayor's agenda has been varied during his eight-year tenure, but we're at The Original Pantry to eat, not dish politics. Not wishing to divulge his cholesterol level ("It's none of your business," he says with a chortle), the mayor explains why he bought the 1924 restaurant on Figueroa and uses more than 2,400 eggs every 24 hours, not to mention the 20 head of beef cattle needed to supply the diner with its daily dose of steak.

Dressed nattily in a blue-stripe shirt, collar jauntily open, and an immaculately creased pair of gray slacks, Riordan is loquacious and quasi-relaxed: "I bought the whole block in the 1970s for development. I sold off everything but the Pantry, because I really fell in love with it."
It was during breakfast as he read the paper that he said a waiter told him, "Hey, buddy, if you want to read, the library's at Fifth and Hope."

"He reminded me of New York, where I was born, and although a company offered me a higher bid to tear it down, I wouldn't do it," he said.

Thus a legendary institution was preserved. "We've tried to keep everything exactly the same," he noted. "Even with the new linoleum, it had to look old."

The mayor says he eats here at least three times a week (he'd already eaten a breakfast of eggs over easy this morning), and admits he likes dining at the community table. For now, however, the politician is happily ensconced near the back, regaling with jokes (if you ever meet him, ask him to tell the one about the Carmelite Nun), favorite pastimes and former diners.

Never Closed, Never Without a Customer
Plates of cole slaw arrive, crisp and creamy, and coffee mugs emblazoned with the Pantry logo are refilled. "When I bought the Pantry they were using plastic cups," he notes, "but I found they would crack under the heat of dishwashing. I went with the mugs and they're a big hit. People can buy them."

From CEOs to truck drivers and celebrities, the Pantry has seen the passing parade. Now in its 77th year, its motto remains the same: "Never Closed, Never Without a Customer." And still without locks on the doors.

People thank the mayor for their meals as they pass by our table. Everyone seems genuinely pleased.

"Cardinal Mahoney's been here about 12 times," he says. "So have [the late Mayor] Tom Bradley, Burt Reynolds, Dustin Hoffman, Chris Tucker, Jackie Chan.

"I understand that Clark Gable used to come in the back so he wouldn't be recognized," he continues. "About 10 years ago Mikhail Baryshnikov and Lucille Ball were both eating here-with separate parties."

You cannot call yourself a true Angeleno until you've had a repast at this bastion of so-called "Greasy Spoon" cuisine. The burgers arrive: Juicy meat patties with slabs of cheese, raw onions and mayonnaise slathered across the tops of soft buns.

"Why can't we make our burgers famous?" the mayor asks, as if he didn't have enough on his plate. "We've tried to match the Apple Pan, but ours are too good. I suppose ours are too lean."

Famous or not, they're delicious. Mario stops by the table to make sure everything is up to gustatory snuff, as big plates of crisp fries are served. The Pantry uses 364 tons of potatoes per year; more than seven tons per week, and the mayor tells me to follow his lead and dip them in the bowl of barbecue sauce. I do and I dig it.

"Our two biggest days are Saturday and Sunday. Families have a tradition of coming here. We're trying to get more drop-ins, but it's a destination point."

The Dish
Speaking of points, the mayor admits to being an analog thinker-one who takes a point here and a point there, ultimately matching them up. He is also a voracious reader, and one who, with his wife, Nancy Daly Riordan, hosts a book club that meets every six weeks. They recently had Steve Martin at their Brentwood home, discussing the actor/writer's latest tome, "Shopgirl."
The mayor, who says he gets a computer every four years, likes to order books on Amazon.com.
Born in 1930, Riordan graduated from Princeton in 1952 with a degree in philosophy, before serving in the Korean War as a field artillery lieutenant for the U.S. Army. He then earned a law degree at the University of Michigan and in the early 1970s formed the law firm of Riordan & McKinzie. The rest is political history.

American as Apple Pie
"Who wants hot apple pie with a spicy sauce?" he asks.

He's got a taker in me, and since he is somewhat of a fitness buff-besides hiking, one of his favorite things is pre-dawn bike rides to the Venice Boardwalk, a book in his hip pocket-the mayor also indulges in a slice. On a par with Mom's, the flaky pie goes down smoothly.
Riordan, who usually makes a number of appearances around town in the course of a day, has already been photographed with a crop of schoolchildren this morning. He informs me, however, that his schedule is light for the rest of the afternoon and, to unwind, this uber-Type A personality says he skis, loves nice gardens and golfs.

"I also throw darts at pictures of City Council members."

The mayor says he plans to toil on the job until the very last day of his term on June 30. "I've got too much work to do. Everything comes to an end sometime," he says, "but I'm most proud of getting new blood on the school board. The second thing I'm most proud of is improving the quality of life for the poor through safety and cleaner neighborhoods in this city. And creating more jobs."

When he leaves office the mayor plans to work for the school district by using computers to educate children. For now, though, he still has time to do what he calls "strategic thinking."
As we get up from the table, our hearty meal already a memory, the mayor adds, "I think I'll go kick some butt over at City Hall."