By Terry Trucco
I swiveled on my worn leather stool, sipping a chocolate egg cream and taking in the scene from my spot at the formica counter. There aren’t many places in Times Square where you can get an egg cream anymore let alone one as delectable as mine. But come Monday, there will be one less.
Cafe Edison, the coffee shop at the Hotel Edison, closes its doors for the final time when the last customer leaves tonight.
The Edison is no ordinary hotel coffee shop. A plucky survivor from Times Square’s pre-Disney era — no celebrity chef, no Golden Arches — the 34-year-old Edison serves up classic New York diner fare with Polish inflections — matzo ball soup and cheese blintzes head the menu — and doubles as an unofficial canteen for Theater District aristocracy. August Wilson composed three of his plays on Cafe Edison napkins. Neil Simon was a regular. And you see producers, writers, musicians, stagehands and actors doing deals, learning lines or just hanging out over goulash soup and turkey sandwiches at tables next to the tourists. (more…)