I used to spend a LOT of time at Lou's Diner. Lou was amazing - here's a blog post I put up back in 2005 about it... on uh... coughcoughmyspacecoughcough. edited to remove a bunch of unnecessary punctuation and whatnot.
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lou's diner. that's a piece of history, really. closed down several years ago - like 2000, 2001? I don't know, it's not documented anywhere I've ever seen on the internet, but it was kind of this spot where...
christ, it's hard to explain what it was...
it was a diner.
best after-bar-diner ever in Toledo. someone famous once wrote a song about Toledo sitting there waiting for a train to come...
Worst coffee ever, but for 2.10 you could get the lou's breakfast special - 2 eggs, toast, hash browns, a bunch of bacon, and coffee - 24 hours a day. Lou personally apologized to the diners when it was raised to 2.35.
There were pinball machines, an old centipede machine, a jukebox that perpetually seemed to be playing Mercedes Benz by Janis Joplin, transvestites, prostitutes, pimps, transvestite prostitutes, homeless people, bands, drunks, straightedges, punks, preps, elvises...
It was located in the bottom floor of a hotel for vagrants down by the trainstation downtown called the Park hotel - seedy as it gets.
Lou had been running it for as long as anyone could remember, a kind old lady with white, perfect hair and perfect manners who you did NOT piss off. You did NOT put your feet on the chairs. You did NOT neglect to say please and thank you with the orders. You did NOT neglect to say hello and chit chat with Lou before departing once she decided you were family (and so many of us regulars were). Her son Dan was always available behind the counter refilling the coffee and cooking the food, always had the worst and most offensive possible joke onhand for all takers.
It was as free and safe of a place as I remember having in Toledo, really. Where the true underbelly showed up and mixed with the upper crust and where, despite the occasional overdose in the bathroom, things went on like they would anywhere else in the world.
I had the neck to the first guitar i broke hanging on the wall there, signed by that entire band (jim's gone fishin' - rest in peace), spent what seems like years meeting new people, playing pinball, smoking, playing euchre, recovering from nights of drinking....
a few years ago, the Park hotel was bought by a couple of people from out of town and they gave Lou a few months to vacate. the day I heard the news was the same day I found out that the cancer Lou had been fighting off for years had turned ugly and that she was done fighting.
I don't know what happened to Dan or Lou or most of the regulars from that place other than my closest friends, but it feels like they died there on that last day of business when the last velvet Elvis painting was pulled off the wall.