When the next history book about New York City is written, the chapter on people and power will almost certainly require a section covering something that began in 1975 and ended on Wednesday: The modern Manhattan power breakfast.
That term, power breakfas t, may not have originated at the Loews Regency Hotel, but for politicians, lobbyists, media personalities and business executives through five mayoralties and seven presidencies, the Regency was the place to see and be seen. That is why the index of that history book will probably say, âSee also: âMovers and shakers.'â
That is why, every morning, the Lincoln Town Cars lined up outside the Regency, at 540 Park Avenue at 61st Street.
That is why, every morning, backs were slapped and cheeks were air-kissed, introductions were made, A-list types were seated at their usual tables, things were discussed - mergers, acquisitions, candidacies, donations - and deals were agreed to. Oh, and money was spent. An omelet cost $24; coffee, $9.
But the Regency is about to close for what Jonathan M. Tisch, the chairman of Loews Hotels, described as 10 months of top-to-bottom renovations. So on Wednesday, the hotel invited Regency regula rs to what it promoted as the final power breakfast. But it was not a goodbye: Mr. Tisch and his cousin James S. Tisch, the president and chief executive of Loews Corporation, want the power-breakfast crowd to move to a temporary home, a restaurant at 100 East 63rd Street.
âSo the lost tribes have somewhere to wander to,â said William J. Bratton, the former New York City police commissioner, who met his wife, Rikki Klieman, at the Regency. (âAt Table No. 1,â he explained. âRikki was having breakfast with her new boss from Court TV,â he said. They exchanged business cards; one thing led to another; and they married in 1999.)
Other regulars talked about unlikely combinations of high-wattage personalities. âOpposites attract,â James Tisch said, remembering a morning when the Rev. Al Sharpton was at one table and Senator John Cornyn, a Republican from Texas, was at the next.
Another morning, James Tisch said, Eliot Spitzer held forth near Kennet h G. Langone, a founder of Home Depot and ally of a Spitzer target, Richard A. Grasso, who had been chairman of the New York Stock Exchange. Mr. Langone had been on the board of the exchange and had been chairman of its compensation committee, which had approved Mr. Grasso's pay. Mr. Spitzer went to court demanding that Mr. Grasso return most of the $139.5 million he had received. The state's top court ruled later that the money was his to keep.
On yet another morning, James Tisch said, Joseph J. Lhota, who was a deputy mayor under Rudolph W. Giuliani and is now the chairman of the Metropolitan Transportation Authority, arrived for breakfast. So did the City Council speaker, Christine C. Quinn, a Democrat.
Mr. Sharpton, Mr. Lhota and Ms. Quinn were on hand on Wednesday, as was David N. Dinkins, the former mayor; Leslie Moonves, the president and chief executive of CBS; Barry I. Slotnick, a high-profile lawyer; and Kathryn Wylde, the president and chief executive of the Partnership for New York City.
Even in such a crowd, there were memories of celebrity sightings. âAndrew Cuomo used to come and sit by himself before he was anybody,â said Herb Wilson, a cosmetics executive. âWhen I used to see himâ - away from the Regency - âI'd say, âAndrew, I see you at the diner.' He'd say, âThat's some diner.'â
Mr. Sharpton said his introduction to the Regency came from another well-connected political figure.
âThe first time I came here, Percy Sutton brought me,â he said, referring to the lawyer and radio-station owner who was the Manhattan borough president from 1966 to 1977. âI was in my early 20s. He said he would come and sit here with the powers that be and make them uncomfortable.â
Across the room, Scott M. Stringer, the current Manhattan borough president, also remembered his first breakfast at the Regency. âI think I was a newly minted Upper West Side assemblyman,â he said, recalling an order of scrambled eggs and potatoes. âI never knew things could be so expensive, and that was 1993.â (According to the menu, the Regency now charges $34 for a breakfast with juice; two eggs; potatoes; toast, a bagel or an English muffin; and coffee or tea. The eggs by themselves are only $14.)
What about the Regency's temporary home, at a restaurant that changes with the seasons? It is Park Avenue Winter now. By the time the Regency reopens, it will morph into Park Avenue Spring, followed by Park Avenue Summer, and will probably transform itself into Park Avenue Autumn.
âWe'll try it,â said Mr. Wilson, the cosmetics executive. âBut nothing has the cachet. The vibrancy. The excitement. You spend an hour here, it's like 10 minutes.â