Michael Twomey emigrated to the U.S. in the 1880s from County Cork.
The Twomeys primarily settled across the New York and New England region.
My dad, John Toomey (the name changed from Twomey to Toomey on arrival in America), and his brother owned and operated Toomey’s Diner in Brooklyn on the corner of Rogers Avenue and Empire Blvd, from 1935 to 1965. Since it was only two blocks from Ebbets Field, most people who ate there were rabid Brooklyn Dodgers fans and some of the Dodger players.
My dad used to have a little section for “crying towels” for those Brooklyn Bums who used to say, “Wait until next year.”
In my teen years, I was a waitress at Toomey’s, although I wasn’t old enough to serve beer and had to have another waitress carry it to the table.
My dad used to warn me not to keep playing the jukebox with my tips and say, “You’ll never be able to go to college if you don’t save your money.”
Toomey’s was a friendly place, and I knew most of the patrons, but one day a grubby guy came in and yelled at me while I was trying to clean the table he was sitting at. When my father heard the four-letter words this guy was spewing, he asked him to leave (accompanied out by the short-order cooks).
I was always so proud of my dad when he told the guy, “Nobody treats my waitresses like that.” He never mentioned I was his daughter.
When the Dodgers won the World Series, the diner went wild. “Next year is here!” the pennant in Toomey’s read.
A few weeks later, while I was waiting on the lunch crowd, a hush fell over the place. I went over to the table of men, and even I recognized Johnny Podres, the winning Dodger pitcher. I was cool, though, and only dropped my pencil twice.
My dad sold the diner in the early 60s, and the place is still there. It doesn’t look the same, but luckily my memories do.
Peg Toomey Fisk, John Toomey’s daughter, and aunt to Wall St. 50 honoree Chris Toomey, who submitted the above photo of his great grandfather, Michael.
Leave a Reply