(ACT II: SCENE 1, SEPT. 9, 1989)
The Village is alive with expectation. A chef has been chosen: Peter Schonman, a Chicago resident currently in Italy, where he has been cooking, will return in October. The younger generation chose him after a whirlwind weekend courtship, but their choice wasn`t challenged. ”He`s at our level of caring, he shares our philosophy,” Frank Jr. says, with enthusiasm.
They continue to ”plug away” at finding a name for the room, but this task is set aside with the entrance of Jordan Mozer, who doesn`t explode, but glides, into the room. Dressed in dark pleated pants and a gray turtleneck, he also wears a full head of unruly golden hair and a pleasantly expectant expression. He could be an actor arriving for a rehearsal, but his work-worn hands are those of an artisan. He`s not large, but he stands out. In conversation, he`s polite but determined, guiding his audience toward his goals with the patience and persistence of a sheep dog.
His mission, he says, is to create an image for the `90s and a statement for the third generation while conveying a sense of history-of Italy, of the Capitanini family, of the Village. He is to do this with a minimal
interruption of business. He feels the space, long and narrow rather than square or round, is ”tough,” yet he`s been told to change it as little as possible. The balcony is to stay. So is the bar area.
It`s charm time.
”Aesthetic restrictions,” he proposes, ”usually generate better design.” The layers of tradition, a ”62-year-old patina of personalities,” makes the job ”more interesting.” The need to please so many people, including longtime patrons, is ”sort of intimidating.” His aim is to
”create excitement-emotional impact and drama” while guaranteeing each table a measure of ”acoustic privacy.”
He turns to the younger Capitaninis, who sing in chorus:
”Sophisticated, romantic.”
”Understated elegance.”
”Not so stiff and formal.”
”Comfortable enough for someone with jeans.”
”But nothing rustic!”
There follows a ballet in which Jordan produces elements of the design that is forming in his mind. He teases them with visions of tubular-steel bar stools with upholstered backs, a ”wild gazebo” of wrought iron at the entrance, visions of spiral shapes and snail images that will be used throughout the room, a new stairway to the balcony inspired by the entrance staircase of the Medici library in Florence. He shows them four column shapes and then a slide of naked gods holding up a ceiling.
Groans from the assembled Capitaninis.
Gina: ”I don`t think this could ever get by a board of directors.”
Mozer: ”Humor me, guys.”
Mozer twists finger-size pieces of clay into column shapes, talks of the illusions illumination can create, of commissioning handblown glass fixtures and the enormous conic chandelier (with a diameter of six feet) he wants fabricated by a company that makes nose cones for airplanes.
Alfredo and Gina (more or less in duet): ”We don`t want to get to the point of ruining a good thing. Maybe there`s too much going on.”
But Mozer is in orbit. He reveals a ”tic-tac-toe design” for the ceiling, copper kickplates for the kitchen doors and drop lamps on long cords that will hang over the tables.
Alfredo (hesitantly): ”We vetoed those drops, didn`t we?”
Gina (forcefully): ”They make me think of a naked bulb hanging over the kitchen table in an old house.”
Mozer (backing off but adding a teaser): ”Keep in mind that they will provide visual punctuation.”
The meeting ends with Mozer and the younger generation standing across the street from the Village looking at the facade and trying to decide how and how much to change it.
(SCENE 2, SIX WEEKS LATER)
Mozer greets Capitaninis of both generations in his cluttered office/
studio, a loft above a parking garage in an old building on West Illinois Street. In the background are half a dozen of his employees and a pet baby pig. (Later, as the pig grows larger and tensions mount, the younger Capitaninis propose cooking and serving it at the party to celebrate the restaurant`s opening.) Among Mozer`s staff, at least three, who will remain silent here-John Bolchert, the senior architect; Mike Nicholls and Frank Gartner-had vital roles in executing and realizing the design.
There is good news. A name has been chosen. It is Vivere, (pronounced VEE-ve-ray) the Italian word for ”to live.” The younger generation is enthusiastic. The older Capitaninis have decided they can live with it. Also, the actress Kim Basinger had lunch at the Village that day, her presence animating staff and customers alike.
There is bad news of greater weight. Mozer`s vision has been reduced in scope if not size. The exterior will not change. The gazebo will have five columns instead of eight. The show-and-tell that follows is punctuated with attempts to pin the designer down on specifics.
These include the location of the reception stand, the placement and comfort of a banquette that has been dubbed ”Booth No. 1” in homage to the Pump Room, the aesthetics of a large cabinet that emphasizes the graceful curved shape that Mozer intends to be the restaurant`s design signature. He feels it ”will be a real focal point.” From Frank Sr.`s point of view, ”It looks like a thing from Mars.”
They talk about the upkeep of the proposed wood floor and whether carpeting is needed to help deaden noise. Frank Sr. decrees that the appropriate glassware and bottles must be measured before shelves are built in the bar.
Throughout the session, which lasts several hours, Mozer is reasonable, calm, deliberately low key and not totally together. He talks to the group but almost invariably directs his pitch to Frank Sr. The elder Capitanini, in turn, plays the role of a judge searching only for full disclosure rather than that of a prosecuting attorney seeking a verdict.
Mozer compares the emerging design to jazz music: ”It`s got strong rhythms, but a lot more can be suggested. We don`t want something rigid, we want it to be multifaceted, complex and rich. We want life!”
The curtain falls with Frank Sr., extended tape measure in hand, trying to visualize the proposed diameter of Mozer`s ”magnificent, monumental”
chandelier. He looks horrified.
(SCENE 3, DEC. 11, 1989)
Mozer is in his studio summing up the project and sharing his philosophy with a reporter. At 31, he has been in the business professionally for seven years. Since Scoozi opened three years ago, about 65 percent of his work has been in the restaurant and nightclub field.
”Restaurants are high-profile because they have become the new form of public entertainment,” he says. ”Today`s restaurants are noisy, but that noise plays a role. It makes things both more casual and more private. The restaurant itself became a subject of conversation.
”Here, I`m taking an unmodern approach. I`m trying to create visual complexity and idiosyncrasy by infusing the design with little details. I`m on my third redesign. Some of my first ideas were cubist, hard-edged. But Al likes curves, and I responded to that. What has evolved is a modern interpretation of baroque. There are 120 seats, and I`m hoping that if you try each one, you will have a different visual experience.”
He is crazy about the Capitaninis. They are ”open, warm, extremely modest” people who have inspired him to try to create something ”elegant and friendly at the same time. They`re in the process of handing the baton from one generation to the next. As more control goes to the younger generation, there`s a gradual loosening of control by the older.”
Professionally, he says, they know how a restaurant should be run, are good decisionmakers and are tough to please, ”which is good. I`ve talked to the staff and am amazed by their loyalty. I`ve gone through the archives and listened to family stories. As a result, it`s become a much richer project. I feel it`s the neatest thing I`ve ever done. If it comes out as planned, I`ll be one happy guy.”
The arrival of Peter Schonman has made him even more optimistic.
”I can design a kitchen that will function,” Mozer says, ”but I can`t fine-tune it without a chef. It`s been a lot easier since Peter has been involved.”
(SCENE 4, THE NEXT DAY)
In Schonman, dressed in chef`s whites, eager, bright-eyed and unfailingly polite, the younger Capitaninis have hit pay dirt again. He is of their generation. He is a hometown Chicago boy with recent, prolonged exposure to the cutting edge of contemporary Italian cooking. He possesses a work ethic to match theirs and-miracle of miracles-an amiable disposition. All he appears to be lacking is experience as a head chef and ego. One can be gained, but so, too, can the other. He speaks:
”I`ve always had an urge to be around food. My mother was a single, working parent, so I was cooking meals at home by the time I was 13 and got my first restaurant job at 14.”
By his sophomore year in high school, he ”knew” he wanted to cook professionally. The path he followed took him through the culinary course at Washburne Technical High School, restaurant-management studies at Parkland College and five years with the Levy Organization, broken by a cooking stint in California. By 1988, ready for ”a heavy cooking experience,” Peter set out for what became 14 months in restaurants abroad-from Tuscany to Venice to Lombardy to Piedmont and back to Tuscany again.
”Everywhere I went, I got to work at responsible jobs. Food I made was going out of the kitchen and being served in Italian restaurants, and I was learning regional cultures and the language. Then the Capitaninis called and flew me home the weekend of Aug. 20.
”I loved what they were looking for, and they loved what I was doing and believed in. It was infatuation. We talked and tasted for two days, took a break and had a formal meeting on Tuesday. They said OK, and I said OK. I went back to Italy until Oct. 6 and started here Oct. 7 so I could have maximum input into the kitchen design.”
He returned here convinced he could lead the Chicago audience ”to some degree,” but agreed with the owners that the food ”shouldn`t be things the customers have never seen before.”
As for his style: ”I don`t like New Age words like `nouvelle` and
`innovative,` so, in a word, it`s clean. To me a dish has to have eye-appeal, aroma, taste and be digestible. If any of these four factors is missing, I`ve missed.”
(SCENE 5: THE FLORENTINE ROOM, FOUR DAYS LATER)
All five Capitaninis are seated at a round table. In turn, five dishes are presented, tasted and dissected. Wines are poured and appraised in relation to the food.
There is surprisingly little discord. An intricate combination of artichoke and shrimp is applauded, though Frank Sr. wonders if it can be reproduced in quantity when the dining room is full. A plate of rare smoked-duck slices and shredded crepe is criticized as ”not Italian enough.” The flavor of smoked-duck slices placed around a mound of arugula wins raves, but the two sauces presented with the dish-one walnut and the other pesto-are faulted. A chocolate mousse-meringue dessert is a hit with everyone.
Schonman appears along with Mary McMahon, the newly hired pastry chef. He is at ease and not at all defensive, speaking up for some items, readily volunteering possible changes in others. ”We`ll work on it and have a new sauce ready on Tuesday,” he says amiably. To this point, he explains, he has created 35 to 40 appetizers and soon will move on to the rest of the menu. For their part, the Capitaninis are interested but react mostly as consumers. They won`t be driving the chef crazy telling him how and what to cook. It seems a good fit.
There is a stomach-knotting threat to digestion, however, that has nothing to do with the food. As the session ends, the younger Capitaninis admit being worried about when the project will be finished.
”Jordan doesn`t know when to stop being creative and get down to business,” Alfredo comments.
Two weeks later, the Florentine Room closes forever. There`s laughter at the demolition party, but that sound will be heard less and less in the ensuing months.
