New York City changes fast. One day your favorite bagel shop is a bank; the next, a historic landmark is suddenly "permanently closed" on Google Maps. But the shuttering of the New York City 21 Club hit differently. It wasn’t just a restaurant closing its doors in Midtown Manhattan. It was the end of a specific kind of power.
If you walk past 21 West 52nd Street today, the iron gate is still there. So are the lawn ponies. Those iconic, brightly painted cast-iron jockeys—donated by wealthy patrons like the Vanderbilts and the Mellons—still stand sentry on the balcony. They look a bit lonely. For nearly a century, this place was the ultimate "if these walls could talk" location.
Honestly, the 21 Club was never really about the food. Sure, the "21 Burger" was famous, and people swore by the chicken hash, but you didn't go there for a culinary revolution. You went there to see who was sitting in Section 1 of the Bar Room. You went there because every sitting President since Franklin D. Roosevelt (except for George W. Bush) had dined there. It was a museum where you could get a stiff martini.
The Secret Architecture of a Prohibition Legend
The New York City 21 Club started as a speakeasy. That isn't just marketing fluff; the place was literally engineered to survive federal raids. Jack Kriendler and Charlie Berns, the founders, were smart. They knew the cops were coming, so they hired an engineer to build a disappearing bar.
When a "prohibition agent" pushed through the front door, the bartender would press a button. Shelves would tip. Bottles would slide down a chute and smash onto a bed of rocks and sand, draining the evidence into the city sewers before a single badge hit the floor.
Then there was the wine cellar.
It’s hidden behind a two-ton brick door that looks like a solid wall. You had to insert a meat skewer into a tiny, specific hole to trigger the mechanism. During the 1930s, the feds spent hours tossing the place and never found the stash. Today, that cellar still holds private collections from people like Elizabeth Taylor, JFK, and billionaire CEOs. It’s a damp, chilly time capsule.
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Why the Jockeys Are Actually Important
People always ask about the jockeys. They aren't just random decor. In the world of high-stakes horse racing and old-money New York, gifting a jockey to the New York City 21 Club was a massive flex. It meant you had arrived. Each one is painted in the specific racing silks of the donor's stable.
There are 33 of them out front. When the club closed in 2020 due to the pandemic, rumors swirled that they’d be auctioned off. Collectors went into a frenzy. But for now, they remain. They are the most photographed part of 52nd Street, representing a lineage of American wealth that felt permanent until, suddenly, it wasn't.
The Famous "Section 1" and the Hierarchy of Seating
If you were a regular at the New York City 21 Club, your status was determined by where the captain sat you. The Bar Room was the place to be. Specifically, the front of the room.
- Section 1: This was the power corner. If you were seated here, you were likely a titan of industry or a Hollywood A-lister.
- The Ceiling: Look up, and you’d see a chaotic mess of toys. Model airplanes, trucks, and footballs hanging from the rafters. These weren't from a toy store.
- The Tokens: Each item was a gift from a famous regular. Howard Hughes left a model plane. JFK left a PT-109 boat. It looked like a rich kid’s messy bedroom, but it was actually a map of the 20th century’s most influential people.
Humphrey Bogart proposed to Lauren Bacall there. Think about that. In the same room where Richard Nixon loved the meatloaf, a Hollywood legend was starting a marriage. It’s that weird intersection of grit, politics, and glamour that made the New York City 21 Club impossible to replicate.
What Really Happened in 2020?
The pandemic was the official reason given for the closure. But if you look deeper into the business side, things were already complicated. The club is owned by Belmond, which is owned by the luxury conglomerate LVMH (Louis Vuitton Moët Hennessy).
When the world stopped in March 2020, the overhead of maintaining a massive, historic townhouse in the middle of Manhattan became a nightmare. Then there were the unions. The 21 Club had a long-standing, dedicated staff—some waiters had worked there for forty years. Negotiating the future of the restaurant with the labor union while the doors were shuttered created a stalemate.
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In December 2020, the news broke: the restaurant would not reopen in its current form. Over 200 employees were laid off. It felt like the air went out of Midtown.
The Misconception About the "Dress Code"
Everyone thinks the New York City 21 Club was some stuffy, miserable place where you couldn't breathe. Kinda true, but also not. Yes, jackets were required for men. If you forgot yours, they had a "loaner" closet.
The funny thing? The loaner jackets were often better than what the guests brought. You might end up wearing a vintage blazer that fit perfectly and cost three grand when it was new. The dress code wasn't about being "fancy" as much as it was about maintaining a sense of theater. You were part of a show. When you walked in, you were stepping into a version of New York that ignored the passage of time.
Is it Coming Back?
The short answer is: probably, but it won't be the same.
Belmond has been very vague. They’ve said they are "exploring ways to adapt the club for the future." In the world of luxury real estate, that usually means a private club model. Think Soho House, but for the billionaires who find Soho House too loud.
There have been filings for renovations. There’s talk of turning upper floors into more exclusive suites. But the soul of the New York City 21 Club was the fact that, while it was elite, you could technically book a table if you had the cash and a jacket. If it turns into a member-only fortress, that specific New York magic—the idea that a tourist could sit in the same booth as a former president—dies.
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The Meatloaf and the Burger
Let’s talk about that burger for a second. It was one of the first "luxury" burgers in the city, long before Minetta Tavern or Peter Luger’s started their grinds. It was a mix of prime beef, celery seed, and nutmeg, seared in a cast-iron pan. No bun at first—just the patty. It was expensive, simple, and perfectly executed.
Then there was the "Seneca Lodge" venison or the various Dover soles. The menu was a tribute to mid-century American dining. It resisted the farm-to-table trends. It resisted the fusion trends. It just did what it did.
Why We Should Care
Losing the New York City 21 Club matters because it represents the thinning of "Old New York." We live in a city of glass towers and sterile lobbies. 21 had character. It had the smell of old wood and expensive cigars. It had the weight of history in its floorboards.
When places like this close, the city loses its texture. You can’t manufacture a century of secret handshakes and hidden wine cellars. You can’t "rebrand" the fact that Steinbeck used to drink at your bar.
Actionable Insights for the "21 Club" Enthusiast
Since you can't currently grab a table at 21, here is how you can still experience that specific era of New York City history and prepare for whatever comes next for the site:
- Visit 52nd Street: Walk by the gate. Look at the jockeys. It is one of the few places in Manhattan where the exterior hasn't changed in decades. It’s a free history lesson in architecture.
- Explore the Alternatives: If you want that "21" vibe, head to Keens Steakhouse or The Palm. They carry that same DNA of dark wood, history, and classic New York service. Keens, in particular, with its pipe collection, offers a similar "living museum" feel.
- Track the Renovations: Keep an eye on the NYC Department of Buildings filings for 21 West 52nd Street. This is where the real news breaks. If you see major permits being pulled for interior changes, you’ll know the "new" 21 is finally happening.
- Read the History: Pick up "The 21 Club" by Peter Kriendler. It’s the definitive look at how two cousins built an empire during the craziest era of American history. It’ll make you appreciate those lawn ponies a lot more.
- Check the Auction Circuit: Occasionally, memorabilia from the club’s past—old menus, matchbooks, or silver—pops up on eBay or at local estate sales. For a collector, these are the ultimate New York artifacts.
The New York City 21 Club isn't gone from our memory, even if the kitchen is dark. It remains a symbol of a city that was once defined by its secrets and its social hierarchies. Whether it reopens as a hotel, a private club, or a revamped restaurant, the ghost of the speakeasy will always be hiding behind that brick wall in the basement. You just need to know where to poke the skewer.