The legendary Knife & Fork
is reborn, with nod to the past

By Eileen Smith
Courier-Post Staff

ATLANTIC CITY
It's a tick before 4 o'clock at The Knife & Fork Inn when Andrew Latz pulls on his blazer and claps his hands – the sound of impending doom for lobsters.

But to the servers snapping white linens onto tabletops and the patrons lined up outside for the early-bird special, it is a declaration of life – of a restaurant reborn.

The bouncing, boyish Latz is the new owner of the legendary restaurant, where Burt Lancaster romanced Susan Sarandon in the film Atlantic City. He is the son of the previous owner, Mack Latz, perhaps the resort town's most renowned curmudgeon.

"There's a little less ranting action from the owner now," Latz says. "l'm a bit more nerdy."

But the changes at the Knife & Fork are more a tribute to its celebrated past than a pronouncement of new management. Latz has pared back the dining rooms to the restaurant's heyday, when NBC news anchors Chet Huntley and David Brinkley came in for seafood after broadcasting the 1964 Democratic convention.

Smoking has been snuffed out in the dining areas. The dress code forbidding shorts and encouraging jackets is back.

And such recent additions to the menu such as pasta are gone – supplanted by the fare that made The Knife & Fork a Shore tradition – flounder stuffed with crab, fried oysters and whole, three-pound lobsters.

"To be successful in business, you have to know who you are and who your customers are," Latz says.

For most of his adult life, Latz thought of himself as the heir apparent to the restaurant with the striking Flemish facade, owned by his family since 1927. Mack and his brother, Jimmy, took over the business from their father in 1948, eventually dividing the operation. Mack ran the restaurant; Jimmy took charge of the parking lot across Pacific Avenue.

Two years ago, the brothers decided to sell. Andy Latz, who had worked 15 years in anticipation of taking over the restaurant, was devastated.

"I felt like Ashley Wilkes after the war," he says.

Latz's hopes of continuing the family business seemed gone with the wind when the restaurant elite began to troop through the property.

The Craig family, owners of the stellar Washington Inn in Cape May, made inquiries. Neil Stein, founder of Philadelphia's luminary Striped Bass, considered the site but didn't nibble.

Prospective buyers were put off by the tiny kitchen and the restaurant's warren of rooms. They dismissed the parking lot as too inconvenient, and they balked at Jimmy Latz's rumored $2 million asking price.

So the building was boarded up. The family rabbi drove by and said he could feel the restaurant crying.

The junior Latz had embarked on a career as a financial adviser when his prayers were answered. His father agreed to a deal with him, brokered by their mutual accountant.

Because the restaurant was staying in the family, Latz could avoid having to update the property's quirky layout into areas that comply with modern standards for accessibility. And his father would give him several years' grace before Latz had to begin making mortgage payments.

"They both needed a good dose of reality," says restaurant veteran John Byrne of the Latz family's deal. "I think they got it."

Now owner of La Campagne in Cherry Hill, Byrne got his start at the Knife & Fork in the 1960s as a 19 year-old cashier, quickly rising to manager.

He applauds the work the younger Latz has done on the restaurant, jettisoning layers of dried flowers to expose ornate woodwork and transforming a ponderously dark upper dining room into an airy, elegant salon.

Latz, 47, drew his business acumen and demand for quality ingredients from his father. His inspiration for the surroundings came from his late mother, Elaine, a glamorous fixture in New York cafe society.

She would appreciate that the black-and-white tiles on the floor of the intimate bar room are still in place, a checkerboard reminiscent of an Escher drawing. A 1927 menu is posted, describing a multi-course lobster dinner for $2.

Patrons sipping martinis might contemplate whether the brass placard "To Life Boats" provides emergency instruction or a suggested toast.

Byrne remembers Andy Latz strolling into this setting as an adolescent, a red-haired youth excitedly visiting the restaurant inextricably linked with his family. He recalls the elder Latz, tanned and athletic, bounding into the restaurant with Bert Parks after the Miss America parade.

To this day, Byrne admires Mack Latz's attention to service, so demanding he would whisk the water glasses off every table if he discovered a smudge on a single goblet.

"Andy is also a stickler for detail," Byrne says. "And he's a people person, the kind of guy who's wonderful with customers and staff."

Among Latz's innovations are a three-course, early-bird menu for $17.95. He is adding a house salad and baked potato to entrees, a break with the Knife & Fork's pricey a la carte offerings. And he is marketing the restaurant to concierges in hopes of attracting tourists and casino patrons.

But before he officially opened for business earlier this month, Latz wanted to welcome back old friends. He and his wife, Adrienne, gave a party in April to celebrate the restaurant's revival.

"People came with tears in their eyes," Latz recalls.

Ninety-year-old Doris Krauter stopped by, swathed in tartans and mink despite the unseasonable warmth.

Her father had gone to Edinburgh in 1910 to fetch the drawings by the Scottish architectural firm that designed the restaurant's distinctive facade.

And Mack Latz, 81, came to pass the baton to his only son.

"He said it was very nice," Latz notes, "which was a lot for Mack."