Saturday, Sept. 15 was the last day for business at Brennanās. The 60-year-old restaurant, now located at 700 University Ave. in West Berkeley, opened at 11 a.m. to serve its classic menu of āold-fashioned hot platesā served with homemade mashed potatoes, vegetables and a roll with butter.
At 10:55 a.m., though the doors were still locked, the air already smelled heavy with gravy and 32 people were lined up outside, waiting for one last hot plate.
Diana Hume was born just a few blocks over, but hadnāt started coming to Brennanās until 1994 when her partner introduced her to the place. Since then, the two had been regulars. āEvery time we have people from out of town we bring them here,ā she said.
Since the closure was first announced, longtime regulars and fans had been coming in to get their last meals at Brennanās. Over the past few days, the line had snaked from the register, around a rope divider and out the door.
Hume had come early to get turkey leg dinners for herself and her partner. āHeās so sad,ā she said, ābut weāve got a couple of cards, and theyāre full, so maybe weāll get a couple of free dinners.ā
She pulled two weathered customer cards covered in stamps from her wallet. āHe never brought it with him when we had people over and it says āgood for one yearā so Iāll see what they say,ā she said with a laugh, noting one of the cards was dated 2015. It was worth a try. Come Sunday, the cards would only be good as souvenirs.

Just in front of Hume in line, Tobin Davis had come to Brennan’s from Martinez with his partner Deb Sampaio. Davis grew up in Berkeley and had been coming to the restaurant since 1971, when he was 6 years’ old, āso this became a regular place where my family would go,ā he said. For several years, Davis worked at the nearby and now-closed Fantasy Studios.
āIf I had a bad day Iād come down here and have a passel of Manhattans and then go back to work and my day would be better,ā he said. āThis is one of those places where you could have one of those ādrink-too-muchā lunches that donāt happen anymore,ā he said, then added, āThat I wouldnāt do anymore. This was when I was in my 20s.ā
Another memory stood out. āThe first year after my divorce I came down and had Thanksgiving here,ā he said. āItās better to come down here [for] Thanksgiving. You donāt have to clean up or do anything and itās just as good.ā
āI swore at the time I was going to do that every year until forever,ā he said. āSo todayās my last Thanksgiving dinner here.ā

Davis credits Brennanās reliable hofbrau-style service as part of the reason he and others kept coming back. The menu and cafeteria setup had not much changed since founder John Brennan opened the original restaurant across the street on Jan. 16, 1959. Even after his granddaughter Margaret Wade took over the business and the restaurant relocated in October 2008 to inside the old Berkeley train station, Brennanās restaurant kept its solidly mid-century menu that staff and regulars alike refer to as Thanksgiving and St. Patrickās Day, served every day of business ā plates of roasted meats and softened vegetables, liberally sauced in gravy.
Brennanās standard menu included roast turkey, roast beef, corned beef and brisket with a few specials on weekdays: pasta and meatballs on Tuesdays, meatloaf on Wednesdays, prime rib on saturdays. The bar was similarly uncomplicated, offering beer, whiskey and a few basic cocktails. In a time when Bay Area watering holes try to distinguish themselves with ācraftā offerings and mixology, Brennanās was the place you could still order a highball. Though here, Irish coffee was the preferred drink.
Davis had come for dinner a half dozen times since finding out about the closure. The last few times theyād run out of turkey.
āOh no!ā said Hume.
Davis assured her that he had spoken with a staff member last time who had said they would have turkey for the last day of business. āJust get here early,ā he said. Which they had.
āIām just really grateful to Margaret for having kept it open for so many years,ā said Davis. āItās just one of those places thatās just kind of always been there for their customers. Not too many places like that,ā he said. āOne of the last places you can get a really filling meal for 20 bucks.ā
At 11 a.m., staff opened the doors opened, clicked on the neon āOpenā sign and people filed in. Behind glass, the first of the dayās roast turkeys was on the carving board, the drumsticks already cut off. Hume was quick to notice.
āThere arenāt any legs!ā she said.
āThey cut them off and set them to the side,ā Davis assured. And they had.
By 11:10 a.m., the early customers had all come inside while dozens of new ones joined the line for service until it once again stretched from the register to the door and out to the sidewalk. The bar filled quickly with Irish coffees and draft beers.
The day before, owner Margaret Wade had gone out for 13 turkeys, bought approximately six gallons of cranberry sauce and purchased an extra 76 stemmed glasses for Irish coffees. Wade had begun working at Brennanās in 1982 at the age of 17, and the decades of experience had given her a sharp eye towards figures. Sheād been in and out for much of the morning purchasing smaller items ā soft drinks, sugar, half gallons of cream ā hoping to have estimated well enough to both limit additional resupply runs and avoid being stuck with leftovers.

āI keep reminding myself that at some point, itās OK to be out,ā she said. āBecause weāre not looking to last. Weāre not looking to be open tomorrow.ā
If the restaurant ran out of something, customers would have to make do with whatever was still left.
āWe have a few oddball things that have been around here for years that Iām really hoping people will drink up,ā she said, gesturing towards the bar.
By 2:15 p.m., the bar was already nearly out of Irish coffee glasses and had begun serving the drink in other vessels. The staff had kept pace cleaning used stemmed glasses as soon as they came back across the bar. The shortage was not because of lack of supply, but owing to fewer and fewer glasses being returned. Customers had been walking out the door with them. The bar was down to about 10 glasses. If Wade had known beforehand that the glasses would be such coveted mementos she would have ordered branded keepsake ones and charged $25 apiece instead of the usual $8.75.
āLive and learn,ā she said. āNext time I go out of business.ā

At the end of the bar, customer Pat Dempsey was drinking an Irish coffee out of a highball glass. Next to him, his wife Tina was seated. Dempsey had been coming to Brennanās since around 1960 when his grandmother would drop him off at the old location while she went to do errands. Heād become a regular sometime in the early 1980s. Dempsey has lived his whole life in Antioch, and had a career in Lafayette, yet nonetheless in the ā80s and ā90s would make the trip out to Berkeley two or three times a week, ābecause it was Brennanās.ā
āOur first date was here,ā he said, turning to put a hand on Tinaās arm. āIāve had many a first date here. Didnāt always marry them though.ā
āBut Iām your last one,ā said Tina.
āI figured if a woman didnāt like it at Brennanās, well, then to hell with her,ā Dempsey said with a laugh.
āWhen I would describe Brennanās to people I would say, you could be sitting at the bar and on one side of you would be someone who was trying to speak to the space shuttle without a radio and on the other side would be the engineer who designed it, and everything in between,ā he said. āFrom soup to nuts, you might say.ā
āIt was really a mixture of people. Probably the best cross-section of people in the world,ā Dempsey said, describing the old location.

Founder John Brennan had been a contractor before he had gone into the restaurant business, and had designed the old place along the lines of a military mess hall, capable of seating several hundred customers. Portraits of the patriarch still looked down from the walls.
Jerry Figone was at the opening of the original Brennanās in 1959. He grew up in Berkeley and El Cerrito and his family ā the Spengers and Figones ā have been close with the Brennan family since the early 1900s. He worked on and off at Brennanās throughout the years ā āabout four-and-a-half years out of 40 years of eligible employment,ā according to Figone ā and had returned to help out with the last few days. Wade refers to him as āall but a family member.ā Brennanās was the place where children from both families had grown up.
āIt was a place where even if you hadnāt been here in a while, youād always run into someone you knew. Or someone who was here had seen someone that you knew,ā Figone said. āYou could kind of catch up on people.ā

Because of its reasonable prices and spacious seating, the original Brennanās had been a popular place for visiting athletic teams to grab dinner before or after a game. One day in the early 2000s, the United States Naval Academy rugby team had come to Berkeley for an invitational tournament, and the team came into Brennanās.
āThey came in, in their dress whites, to get dinner before playing Cal the next day,ā said Figone. He pausedĀ and took a breath to catch himself. āAnd they got a standing ovation.ā
āWho knows what people think about Berkeley before they get here, but here they were, these young guys in their dress whites, in the old Brennanās,ā he continued. āAnd the old Brennanās was huge. There had to be 300 people in there when they walked in.ā
What gets Figone in the telling of it was the common respect shown by the Berkeley community, āwhich we donāt see a lot of these days,ā he said, his voice breaking a little. āBut I was very happy with that afternoon.ā
āItās a good Berkeley story and a good Brennanās story.ā
A little before 7 p.m. the beer ran out and Julie the bartender finished up the eight hours of her shift and the 22 years of her career. Seated on the near side of the bar with the customers, she alternately downed shots with friends and dabbed at her eyes.
āIāve just met a lot of really nice people here and itās hard. Itās a hard day,ā she said tearing up. āIāve been here a long time. Iāve known a lot of really good people. Iāve seen them every day for 22 years and itās just hard to have it all end.ā

At 9:06 p.m., the 13th and final turkey was on the cutting board and was nearly down to its carcass. Margaret Wade stood as the last person in line to make sure no one else joined the queue.
āWeāre just stopping food service. People can stay, but weāre not doing 1:30 a.m. last call,ā she said.
At the bar, Diana Wood finished her drink. āI always felt hopeful that everything would come and go in Berkeley but this would still be here,ā she said. All four of Woodās children grew up going to Brennanās.
āI feel so attached to this place because I feel that thereās no other place like it in any part of the Bay Area,ā she said. āI feel comfortable here because itās a blue-collar place; itās not a yuppie place. Itās a family place.ā
Wood said she felt closure could have been avoided if either the owner had spoken up, or had customers voluntarily taken initiative.
āIf [Wade] had said earlier in the year āIām struggling, I donāt know if I can make it, Iām trying to sell this place, I have no buyers for itā all these people might have rallied for her defense,ā said Wood. āAll these people that have been coming here for weeks might have shown up.ā
āI would do anything to save this place,ā she said.

Wade is not convinced that community initiative would have kept Brennanās around. Revenue was going down, and had been for years. A recent 25% rent increase wasnāt what killed the restaurant, though it was certainly a determining factor in Wadeās decision to close. What was killing Brennanās was age.
Despite customer regard for Brennanās as a family place, it was mainly older families who visited. Wade noted the majority of customers were over 45. She could have reinvented Brennanās or made additions to it, but Wade had no interest in running a different business. As the third-generation owner, this was the business she had inherited, the one sheād run, and the one she felt ready to let go.
She did not regret that Brennanās was closing or how it had come to its an end. āItās very bittersweet but Iām so happy that a lot of my staff have really good prospects,ā she said. āThat this is all happening at a good time economically for people hunting for a job.ā
āPeople ought to be snapping up the staff here because theyāre all great employees who show up, are honest and hardworking.ā
At 9:31 p.m., the line that had been going nonstop since 11 a.m. came to an end, and the last of the old-fashioned hot plates was served.