L.A. restaurants, old and new.

Stalwart Palm Packs Them In With Meat and Potatoes 

At 6 p.m. on a Tuesday night, most restaurants in L.A. are handling the early-bird crowd. But not the Palm.

It isn't even dark yet and the bar is jammed with the usual assortment of Hollywood types and straight-laced businessmen (many no doubt armed with hefty expense accounts). Outside, there is the standard collection of Mercedes, BMWs and the occasional Rolls.

Patrons will be streaming into the West Hollywood institution throughout the evening - even past 10 p.m., when only the heartiest (or perhaps most daring) would consider taking in one of those $30 New York strip steaks, not to mention a baked potato stuffed with butter and sour cream.

For the past 24 years, the Palm has weathered trends, fad diets and intense competition from rival restaurateurs. The fact that it's still around is itself a testament, given the high mortality rate of upscale eateries. It wound up ninth on the Business Journal's list of highest-grossing restaurants, with 1998 sales of $6.6 million.

"It's one of the last great bastions of manliness," said Merrill Shindler, co-editor of the Zagat Survey of Los Angeles restaurants. "It's almost like a theme park. Big portions of heart-attack food, red wine and martinis. This is a cool place."

The restaurant derives much of its character from the cartoons of patrons tattooed on its walls and ceilings: people like Bill Cosby, Mike Ovitz, Mike Meyers, Dick Clark, Wilt Chamberlain, Frank Sinatra, Warren Beatty and Norman Mailer, whose image lost its head when the restaurant was renovated in 1991.

Until 1991, the Palm had sawdust on the floors, but the city of West Hollywood banned the practice because it could be a fire hazard. Insurers also claimed patrons might slip.

Also that year, the place got its first menus, so waiters no longer had to memorize the daily lineup.

"The key to our success," said Gigi Delmaestro, the affable, mustachioed general manager and maitre d', "is good food, good service and knowing how to take care of the customer. I want people to feel like they are walking into their living room. We never say no to anything someone asks us to make."

It's a simple formula, but it works.

"Good steaks never go out of style," said Barbara Fairchild, executive editor of Bon Appetit magazine. "Part of its success is also the atmosphere. It's very casual and welcoming. One they know you, you become part of the family."

Talk-show host Larry King is a member of that family. Every Tuesday night, he and a group of pals, including his new wife Shawn, grab a booth.

"We don't have to dress up here," said King, who orders grilled chicken or swordfish to keep his cholesterol in check. "For me, a big part of coming here is a feeling like I am in New York."

"It's a man's place," said Fred Hayman, one of the pioneering forces on Rodeo Drive.

The original Palm opened in 1926 on Second Avenue in New York, which, at the time, was an Italian neighborhood. The owners, John Ganzi and Pio Bozzi, both came from the Parma region of Italy and named their restaurant Parma. But patrons misunderstood their accents and called it Palm. The name took.

Gaining a reputation as a steakhouse, the Palm became a hangout for New York journalists. By the 1940s, the two partners' sons, Walter Ganzi and Bruno Bozzi, took over, adding lobster to the menu.

In 1972, at the suggestion of then-U.N. Ambassador George Bush, the Palm opened a branch in Washington. Bush and a group of friends invested $10,000 each in the new restaurant. The company eventually moved its headquarters to Washington, in part because its accountant lived there.

In 1973, Ganzi and Bozzi opened Palm Too in New York. The Los Angeles outlet was No. 4 - and also came about as the result of an enthusiastic patron.

William Peter Blatty, author of "The Exorcist," which was set in Washington's Georgetown area, turned the Palm in that city into his hangout during the movie's filming. "He said he was a big shot in Los Angeles and we should open a place there," Delmaestro recalled. "We would be partners."

Blatty put up $600,000 and the hunt was on to find a spot in L.A. (The author was bought out by the family-owned company more than a decade ago for $2 million.)

Originally, the owners hoped to locate the branch in Beverly Hills, but a deal for a site there fell through. They settled for a run-down, onetime auto-parts store on decidedly unfashionable Santa Monica Boulevard.

The restaurant hired a Hollywood publicist, commissioning him to bring his clients to eat there. One of them was Farrah Fawcett Majors, who thanks to "Charlie's Angels" had become the hottest star in the world. Her husband, Lee Majors, also had a hit series, "The Six Million Dollar Man." The buzz had begun.

"Gigi (Delmaestro) is fabulous with celebrities," said Shindler. "He makes them feel like they are in a place made for them."

Of course, not everyone feels so welcome; some admit they are afraid of the restaurant's gruff-talking, New York-style waiters. "It's an act," Delmaestro said. "Some people overhear them and they think it is for real. It isn't."

The L.A. Palm, which is open seven days a week, averages about 140 lunches a day and 300 dinners. Annually, the place serves about 52,000 lobsters and 40,000 steaks.

Prices are not low. Lobsters, which are flown to Los Angeles from Canada, go for $19 a pound, meaning they usually cost around $57. Steaks, which come from the Midwest, start at $30.

The Palm company, still a family-owned business, is now run by the founders' two grandsons - Bruce Bozzi and Wally Ganzi Jr. It operates 19 restaurants in such cities as Dallas, Las Vegas, Mexico City and San Juan, Puerto Rico. Revenues were $100 million last year.

Delmaestro said the company is considering opening a Palm near the Staples Center in downtown Los Angeles and another in Palm Springs. Two years ago, the company rejected a $70 million buyout offer - owners Bozzi and Ganzi wanted $100 million.

Each Palm has a marketing plan tailored to its own city. In New York and Chicago, the company forged a relationship with taxi drivers, who spread the word about the restaurant. (Cabbies are invited to free dinners throughout the year.) That tactic was tried in Los Angeles, not known for its taxi traffic, and is being discontinued.

The Los Angeles branch, however, has developed a strong bond with hotel concierges, who are invited to dinners and lunches. The restaurant, Delmaestro said, also targets Asian tourists, especially steak-loving Japanese.

To help nurture its relationship with its regulars, Palm L.A. also sends out gift certificates to customers on their birthdays and at Christmas and New Year's. The Los Angeles database has 10,000 names.

The Palm's longevity, however, has little to do with marketing campaigns. "Once a restaurant has reached a critical mass, it stays there," Shindler said. "The Palm has reached it."