(Re)making Book

book club: Renovations at Bookbinder's restored its original supper-club glamour with contemporary elegance and architectural details. Photo By: Michael T. Regan

Sleeker and sexier, this isn't your parents' Bookbinder's. Or is it?

by A.D. Amorosi

In 1865, Samuel Bookbinder opened a luncheonette when Old City was still youngish. In 1944, Bookbinder's was purchased by John M. Taxin, who turned it into a city of 54,000 square feet and 800 tables of Brown Derby-level glamour where celebs wined and dined with the Taxins. They, in turn, picked up their checks and made Sinatra, Ali and Liz feel like family.

In 2001, third-generation owner John E. Taxin closed Bookbinder's, effectively ending an era.

Or did it?

At 12:15 p.m. on Feb. 3, Bookbinder's filled up the country's largest circular lobster tank, and by Feb. 16, Bookbinder's was swimming with the sharks again. This seems so old school. You could almost imagine celebs popping in from The Mike Douglas Show as we settled into the handsome comportment of the President's Room. Next thing you know, we're eating snapper soup and strawberry shortcake.

But John Taxin doesn't just want you to eat Bookbinder's famed dishes. He wants to create new traditions, too.

This isn't the Bookie's your folks took you to where you gaped at the lobster chest or spied Leonard Tose sucking down a martini. This one's soaked in new-school panache.

The new Floss Barber-designed Bookbinder's starts at its reception area. Gone is the old tile lobster from the entryway; the new tile mosaic has as its centerpiece a smiling lobster wearing a crown.

Look up from King Lobster. The technical heart of Bookie's includes a curved stainless, mahogany and granite raw bar as well as that lobster tank; an acrylic unit holding upwards of 350 lobsters and 550 pounds of water between its circular display and the basement, "the true guts of the tank," says engineer Raymond Stevens.

Stevens, Bookie's project manager, takes me on a journey away from Barber's French bistro-inspired design, past the state-of-the-art open kitchen into the biological realm of saltwater, stone and sentiment.

What's sexy is the dining room. Deco swirls in the ceiling, a pepper-speckled marble bar on the right, banquettes done in burnt-sienna stripes, a lavish chandelier and a gorgeous architectural lighting system starring clamshell shapes is enveloped by buttery, amber-colored walls. While tin ceilings are coated with perforated silver to lessen noise, Bookbinder's east wall is lined with big windows to open the dining room; it's a room bookended by a private cinnamon-colored area with a wide chef's table and a memorabilia-filled lounge featuring a marble fireplace and an original stained-glass mural of angels going about heavenly duties.

The President's Room, Bookie's VIP room, has remained nearly untouched. Pass through its ship's wheel and its dusky male-centric mahogany charm is highlighted by the burly old bar John M. Taxin bought from a Nevada ghost-town saloon and dark, handsome refurbished banquettes in gold and brick red. Only the delicate, elongated light fixtures above the bar seem feminine.

Nothing stands more solidly at Bookbinder's center than John M.'s grandson. At 39, John E. has been an employee of Bookie's since age 8, making shrimp cocktail and shucking oysters. "Always doing something," says Taxin while at play with his two baby daughters in Bookbinder's offices. "It was by default. I would've preferred to have had time after college (he got a culinary degree at Johnson & Wales University) to get a business degree. Then again, I would've liked to have become a football player."

Most Philadelphians believe the '90s signaled Bookbinder's demise what with the restaurant renaissance of 1989 (the Palm) to 1994 (Striped Bass). But 1995 through 1998 were Bookbinder's best years. The problem was its antiquated, deteriorating structure — collapsing roofs, electrical systems. "We couldn't serve tuna tartare because our kitchen got too hot," says Taxin.

It wasn't until 9/11 that Bookie's took a nosedive, losing 75 percent of its biz — hundreds of thousands of dollars a month with the approach of January and February, their slowest months. Rather than lose half a million or go bankrupt, Taxin closed the restaurant, serving Bookbinder's last meal on Dec. 31, 2001. Until he could get a deal to redevelop the location, Bookbinder's was dark.

That didn't happen until Renaissance Properties' Stanley Taraila took over the building, got historical tax credits, demolished what wasn't historical and created condos (of which tenant Bookbinder's is one). "I could've sold the business," says Taxin. "But selling it would've made less sense financially. Could've bastardized the family name. But with our Richmond restaurants doing well, I knew we could keep this going, proudly."

What Taxin has fashioned for his new Bookbinder's — with interior designer Floss Barber and executive chef David Cunningham — is a smaller, tighter, hip-and-historic 380-seat version of his family's traditions in seafood and socializing. "I wanted to make this new look a familiar and fun one," says Taxin. Make it more affordable. Keep it beautiful. But we're Bookbinder's. We don't have to be, or pretend to be anything else than what we've always been."

125 Walnut St., 215-925-7027