Simply arriving at a Larry Ellman restaurant
can be a challenge to belief. A diner bound for Manhattan's Orangerie,
for instance, can be picked up and delivered at the restaurant by a
customer-service Citron painted all over with orange blossoms. In the
foyer he passes a concierge ready to order theater tick ets or call
home to see if the wife and children are O.K. Seated on a black vinyl
banquette beneath the leaves of a plastic orange tree, he swills down a
triple martini poured from a Boodles bottle and served in a pitcher.
By then he may or may not be equal to the doubt ful delight of a tough
country pate made with pistachio nuts.One day, when somebody writes an encyclopaedia of restaurants, the name
Ellman may be close to Escoffier — and not just alphabetically.
Auguste Escoffier left the world crepes suzette and peach Melba, but in
his own way Larry Ell man is equally inventive. He has given the world
the trompe l'oeil restaurant.
His idea is to sell atmosphere and let atmosphere sell food.Stagecoach Rides. Ellman's flair for this sort of thing, based on a
canny assessment of the average diner, has made him one of the most
successful restaurateurs in the U.S. Starting with a $2,000 investment
in ten Coke machines in 1949, Ellman built up a thriving
vending-machine and cafeteria business that he sold for $50,000 in 1958. He
then sank the proceeds into a modest Man hattan steak house. He
redecorated it in dude-ranch western, renamed it the Cattleman,
promoted it fiercely with various gimmicks, including free stage coach
rides for the kiddies. The weekly gross quintupled, from $12,000 to
$60,000, within a year and a half.Two years ago, Ellman decided to expand. For $250,000 he bought control
of Longchamps, a New York restaurant chain. He incorporated the
Cattleman into the chain, and began buying other restaurants,
concentrating on decor. His catering empire now includes 115
restaurants in seven states, and will gross an estimated $75 million
this year.Sailor Suits. Among his latest acquisitions are two Manhattan landmarks
—Luchow's, where the schnitzel has been unadorned for decades, and
Charles in Greenwich Village, where the menu used to be sensible and
the decor genteel. Now Charles has burst into a kind of bordello
Byzantine, where a female harpist plucks away and the lighting is too
dim to see the food . So far, mercifully,
Ellman has left Luchow's alone.But at the Steer Palace, near the new Madison Square Garden, diners
perch on the observation platforms of fake railway cars. At La
Boufferie, waiters dressed in French sailor suits prance amongst the
tables while, over the loudspeakers, Tiny Tim sings Tip Toe Through the
Tulips.
