On a Personal Note: From Wally's to Rush Street.
When the Bagel Nosh first opened, I was still working part-time evenings at Wally's Deli in the Milk Pail in Lincolnwood. I was in high school, juggling classes and shifts, learning the ropes of deli life one sandwich at a time. One day, Al Marcus—who knew Wally—called to ask if he knew anyone looking for a weekend gig. Wally turned to me: "How'd you like a Saturday and Sunday breakfast and lunch job at a new place on Rush Street? Cash under the table. Free meals too.
The Bagel Nosh began in New York City in 1976.
Al Marcus and Sanford Adams co-owned the franchise rights for Illinois and opened the company's 41st restaurant in 1978 at 1135 North State Street in Chicago. They hoped to woo the Rush Street drinking crowd and affluent residents of Chicago's wealthy Gold Coast neighborhood.
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| 1135 North State Street, in the Gold Coast neighborhood of the Near North Side community of Chicago. |
The interior was chic-rustic, featuring large circular windows (replaced), thick, rough-cut wood walls, bentwood chairs, industrial steel light fixtures, butcher block tables, and plenty of live hanging plants. A very calming environment, with the entire 2nd floor available for additional seating to accommodate approximately 60 people.
They did a bang-up take-out business. The line never stopped, or so it seemed. Customers would line up northbound on State Street, then the line would turn east on Elm Street. Once inside, customers waited in a cafeteria line, finally being confronted with a ceiling-high wall-mounted menu that would turn old-time deli owners pickle-green with envy.
The "water" bagels were made behind a glass wall next to a deli counter that customers passed while in line, making the entire area viewable. The bagels were made with high-gluten flour. The dough was formed into its doughnut shape by machine, refrigerated until needed, boiled for 30 seconds, and then baked in batches of 35 for 17 minutes at 500° F. The result was a larger, chewier Bagel with a crunchy outside.
Bagels (plain, salt, onion, poppy seed, sesame seed, garlic, cinnamon raisin, pumpernickel, and rye) at 15¢; lox or Nova, and smoked sturgeon sandwich at $3.25; corned beef, roast beef, hot pastrami, tongue, brisket, and turkey sandwiches on your choice of bagel at $2.45; cream cheese, chive cream cheese, vegetable cream cheese, lox cream cheese, whitefish salad, shrimp salad, baked salmon salad, chopped liver, gefilte fish, herring in wine sauce with onions, potato knishes, cheese blintzes, and 'homemade chicken soup' (Yiddish: khoummeyd hindl zup) ...
I was interested in finding out how much a 15¢ bagel in 1978 would cost now. The Inflation Calculator says 15¢ in 1978 is 75¢ today (2025). So I called three popular Delis for the cost of one bagel:
- New York Bagel & Bialy in Lincolnwood charges $1.75 per bagel.
- Manny's Cafeteria & Delicatessen in Chicago charges $2.00 per bagel.
- The Bagel Restaurant and Deli in Chicago charges $2.15 per bagel.
The lox, Nova lox, and Belly lox (about 1/4 to 1 lb. of belly lox per salmon, depending upon the size and the salmon species) were premium quality, flown in weekly from an old fish house in Philadelphia. The same fish house provided smoked fish, including sturgeon, sable, chubs, and whitefish.
The food was cooked in view of the customers on one 24-foot, 12-burner flat-top grill and one 4-foot, 4-burner flat-top grill. One person could handle about 15 egg orders on the 24-foot grill at a time, while the smaller grill was used for lunch items. It was like a fast-paced cooking show with people watching you cook over your shoulder.
Al Marcus explained to me why they placed the grills at the front of the restaurant, as Bagel Nosh does in New York. The grill would be the last point before the customer pays, ensuring they receive the hottest food before finding a table or taking it to go. He also quoted Steak' n Shake, whose famous slogan is "In Sight, It Must Be Right," from the 1930s.
In the first week, thousands of noshers consumed or bought 200 pounds of lox and 150 pounds of hand-sliced lox.
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| Most deli countermen never got the hang of slicing lox this thin. Since lox is sold by weight, slicing it paper-thin would nearly guarantee a customer's return. |
Also sold the first week was 300 pounds of corned beef, 130 pounds of pastrami and hot pastrami, 90 pounds of roast beef, 100 pounds of chopped liver, 500 pounds of coleslaw, 600 pounds of cream cheeses, 1,500 pickles, and 16,000 bagels, which were made in the traditional method of boiling first, then baking them.
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| Lox, Egg, and Onion Omelet. |
A second Bagel Nosh opened at Plaza Del Prado at Willow and Pfingsten roads in Glenview, Illinois.
ON A PERSONAL NOTE
When Bagel Nosh opened, I was working part-time at Wally's Deli in the Milk Pail in Lincolnwood, Illinois, during evenings in High School. Al Marcus knew Wally and called him to see if he knew someone who wanted a part-time, 16-hour, weekend job. Wally asked me if I'd like a Saturday and Sunday breakfast and lunch job at the Bagel Nosh, where I'd be paid under the table and receive free meals while working.
I said yes.
Initially, the Bagel Nosh opened at 6 a.m. on Fridays. But the Rush Street crowds didn't sleep, and neither did we. Within weeks, the hours shifted: the store was now open at 5 a.m. Friday and closed at 10 p.m. on Sunday. Nonstop Service. The line wrapped around the block, and the grill never cooled.
After a couple of weekends, they taught me how to use the grill. It took about 150 eggs, but I finally nailed it—cracking four eggs at once with two hands, straight onto the flat-top. I learned to manage orders, maintain the rhythm, and navigate the chaos. The grill was 24 feet long, and I used every inch of it. Onions and potatoes cooked low and slow at either end, filling the air with that unmistakable aroma that drifted out to the street and pulled people in.
One day, one of the countermen handed me a raw cinnamon raisin bagel and said,
"Neil, drop this into the deep fryer for about four minutes until it's medium-deep brown. Flip it, cook the other side the same, then let it drain and cool for a minute."
I buttered mine.
Wow. It was phenomenal—crispy on the outside, warm and chewy inside, with the raisins caramelized just enough to make it feel like a secret dessert disguised as breakfast. A cinnamon raisin bagel Donut.
That job wasn't just a paycheck. It was a masterclass in speed, precision, and flavor. And it gave me stories I'll never forget—stories that still smell like onions and sound like spatulas on steel.
The Grill Was the Show: A Morning at Bagel Nosh, Rush Street (circa 1980)
You could smell it before you saw it.
Somewhere between the perfume of late-night clubs and the diesel of early morning delivery trucks, the scent of caramelized onions and fresh bagels would hit you like a warm slap. That's when you knew you were close. Bagel Nosh, tucked into the Rush Street scene like a secret you hoped wouldn't get out, was already alive. And if you weren't in line by 7 a.m., you were in for a wait.
The line wrapped around the block, 200 deep on a good day. But no one complained. You waited because you knew what was coming. You stayed because Bagel Nosh wasn't just a deli—it was a ritual.
Inside, the place buzzed like a subway platform at rush hour. Orders flew, coffee poured, and the grill was the main event. Twenty-four feet of flat-top fury, manned by a kid who couldn't have been more than seventeen, moving like he was born with a spatula in each hand. I cracked four eggs at once, flipped pancakes without looking, and kept a mountain of onions and potatoes cooking low and slow at either end of the grill, as if it were a sacred offering.
You didn't need a menu. You just needed to know your bagel. Rye, if you were old-school. Salt, if you had a hangover. Everything if you couldn't decide. They were boiled first—30 seconds in the kettle to get that glossy snap—then baked until the crust blistered just right. You could hear the crunch when someone bit into one across the room.
And the schmear? Not a whisper of cream cheese. A slab. A drift. A geological layer. If you were lucky, you got the house-made lox spread—salmon blended into cream cheese so smooth and salty that it should have come with a warning label. The real lox, hand-sliced behind the counter, was $32 a pound in the 1970s. That was steakhouse money. But people paid it, gladly.
You'd sit down with your plate—maybe a sesame bagel, toasted, with lox spread and a side of those griddled potatoes—and you'd watch the show. The grill guy never stopped moving. He was part short-order cook, part magician, part rock star. And when your food hit the table, hot and heavy on a ceramic plate, it felt like you'd earned it.
Bagel Nosh didn't last forever. Places like that never do. But if you were there—if you stood in that line, smelled those onions, heard the hiss of the grill—you remember. You remember because it wasn't just breakfast. It was Chicago, in all its noisy, greasy, glorious soul.
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The hours changed shortly after the Bagel Nosh opened. They opened at 5 a.m. on Friday and didn't close until Sunday at 10 p.m. due to the crowds on Rush Street during the weekends.
After a couple of weekends, I was taught grill cooking and order management. It took me about 150 eggs, but I learned to break four eggs at once with two hands, cracking them straight on the grill.
One day, one of the countermen handed me a raw cinnamon raisin bagel. "Neil, drop this into the deep-fryer for about 4 minutes until medium-deep brown. Flip and cook the other side for the same amount of time, then remove and let drain and cool for a minute." I buttered mine... WOW... It's Phenomenal.
One day, one of the countermen handed me a raw cinnamon raisin bagel. "Neil, drop this into the deep-fryer for about 4 minutes until medium-deep brown. Flip and cook the other side for the same amount of time, then remove and let drain and cool for a minute." I buttered mine... WOW... It's Phenomenal.
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| A deep-fried cinnamon raisin bagel with a light sugar glaze. |
Copyright © 2022 by Dr. Neil Gale, Ph.D.
#Jewish #JewishThemed #JewishLife
That deep-fried cinnamon raisin bagel was called a Fragel and it had powdered sugar on it. Unforgettable!
ReplyDeleteI remember Rio worked there, he was great and he lived across at the Cedar motel.
ReplyDeleteAllan worked hard, I owned Robert’s deli on western and Devon in the 60s, not to many authentic delis around anymore. Irwin
ReplyDelete