Tribute to Newell's Cafe

For twenty-two years, 784 Queen Street was home to Newell’s Café. As of the first of May, Newell’s has been closed and the Riverside neighbourhood has been feeling the loss.
Frank and Eddie Newell served more than good food at a reasonable price. It was a gathering place where people of all ages and backgrounds could meet for coffee, a pitcher of beer, or Frankie’s meat loaf. Depending on the time of day, you knew who would be there, almost setting your watch by the arrivals.
There was the breakfast club, dedicated caffeine hounds who were there before the doors even opened. Men waiting for calls about day jobs, women having that first coffee, and Frankie serving up breakfasts as fast as he could, making his movements behind the counter almost like a ballet. The residents of Jilly’s and the old Edwin, before its closure, were regulars. Customers on scooters were a fixture, usually at the first table at the front, and helped in and out of the store if necessary.
Later in the day, there was lunch, with specials like pork chops or the wonderful meat loaf, sandwiches, endless orders of fries. Western omelets with cheese were no problem.
Eddie did the second shift, which was more the drinking crowd. The juke box had a good selection of classic country and western, and the crowd often sang along.
The brothers often fed people on tick till cheques came in. They helped in ways that formal agencies never could. Eddie had been fighting a leg problem for over a year at the time of the closing, but Frank kept the restaurant open with a little, not much, extra help. Later openings and earlier closings made this possible.
Holidays were special at Newell’s. Frankie made turkey dinners and people who would have been alone had a family atmosphere for Thanksgiving and Christmas. A turkey dinner with all the fixings could be had for six bucks, along with company and laughter. Superbowls, Grey Cups, Stanley Cup playoffs were all holiday events on Newell’s calendar.
There was an atmosphere of helping at Newell’s. If someone needed a government form filled out and there was a literacy problem, someone else would give their time and effort to help get it done, and check u to see if there had been a response. Advice, good and bad, personal and financial, was freely dispensed from one customer to another. We weren’t just in the same boat, we were in the same restaurant.
News and Newell’s were synonymous. Looking for someone? Try Newell’s. Looking for an apartment, a job, a used car? One of the customers would have a lead.
People might get a little rowdy and a little stupid. Forbearance and forgiveness were both available. Friendships were forged, alliances built. And if any of the pollsters really wanted to know what people thought, no one was shy about giving their opinion, from far right to far left.
Frankie and Eddie are still around the neighbourhood, but neither think that they are going back into the food business.
It wasn’t the forced laugh track of a bar like television’s Cheers, nor was it the Boulevard of Broken Dreams. It was comfort food, community, and acceptance. The customers may have dispersed to other restaurants and bars at both ends of the Riverside strip. But there is a hole in the heart of the ‘hood. The way to our hearts wasn’t just through our stomachs.