I can’t possibly talk about Lo Sano and Hartford present without first staring down some Hartford nostalgia. Like many buildings of a certain age, this one does not have only one former life. Its first iteration, along with its second, are seemingly forgotten.
Murray’s Fountain & Lunch, or Murray’s Luncheonette, looks to be the second tenant in the space, and has not been pined over in local social media groups. From about 1937 to 1941 they advertised booth, table, counter and curb service. The fare: casual and unpretentious. They advertised “wimpies,” which I had to look up to learn were sloppy joes. They sold hamburgers, hotdogs, baked beans. Coco cream. Fish on Fridays. Scallops. Coney Island clam chowder. They applied for and got a liquor license in 1941. . . but within six months, closed without fanfare.
What filled 678-680 Maple Avenue the longest — 1942 to 1995 — was The Hearthstone, a restaurant absolutely doted on by the newspapers. When they opened, they advertised “businessmen’s lunches” and boasted that the Maple Avenue buses stopped right at their door. Imagine today, a place associating itself with luxury, daring to also mention that it is serviced by public transit! For perspective, the fancypants restaurant in downtown circa now not only does not advertise its convenience to bus stops, it actually played an active role in stopping expansion of bus service to the street it’s on, all while letting customers know they can access said fancypants restaurant without having to step outside.
As for Hearthstone, air cooling was used to lure visitors, as was the “Colonial motif.” Early advertisements pitched this as “Broadway Comes To Hartford!” while describing a menu of lobster and steak. Patrons could select their own meat from the refrigerator before having it prepared. The contents of the meat locker could be viewed through a window from outside the building.
It was fancy. With table-side cooking, dressed up waiters, a coat check, this was a place for the elite.
It should not be missed that they opened during the war, and perhaps needed to sell themselves even harder. One advertisement reads: “Yes, we are new, and our cooking methods are new . . . TO HARTFORD and Connecticut.”
If you want to know why it closed in the Clinton Era, you need not look beyond the description provided by the Courant of the decor, several decades later: “It is a masculine kind of luxury, like you imagine Ronald Reagan’s den to look. . . . There is fine old woodwork everywhere, fox hunting prints on the wall, and two etched glass panels of horsemen and their dogs.”
When hypermasculinity fell out of vogue, so did this joint, regardless of how many food reviewers remarked on its “landmark” status and “plush” decor. The newspaper writers could not get enough of what must have been the height of sophistication. In another Courant write up The Hearthstone’s interior was praised: “the dining room was opulent, dominated by two fieldstone fireplaces and a mural of a British fox hunt.”
With money and will, the interior could have been updated once it lost its luster — and there was some attempt to remodel in the early 1980s — but it was more than that.
Corporate dining went out of style, perhaps alongside the escargot ravioli, pecan scrod, and monkfish.
While the food was considered top notch, the reviews varied — back in the time when a reviewer would tell you what was wanting instead of omitting the negative part of the experience. One felt the complimentary bread was boring. Another was unimpressed by the complimentary crudités. The chocolate mousse could have been amazing or meh depending on which decade it was tasted in. A Courant reviewer in 1982 shared that the “chocolate mousse ($2.95) was as pallid in color — beige — as it was in flavor. Mud pie was sticky and unremarkable,” while another one in 1991 said this: “The restaurant’s sweetie, a chocolate mousse cake, was rich beyond the dreams of Robin Leach.”
Some places must last only as long as they do because of the mythology built around them. It’s heyday was in the 1950s and 1960s, but over its ~50 year run attracted diners like Ed Begley, JFK (before he was president), Mayor Mike, and other politicians including former Senator Dodd, Governor Weicker, Governor O’Neill, and Governor Ribicoff. Later, this would be a meeting spot for the Maple Avenue Merchants Association.
Lest anyone think everything about The Hearthstone was ruggedly wholesome — it wasn’t.
A former owner of the building had been investigated for organized crime connections and in 1985 was shot in his legs in East Hartford at the trucking and trash-hauling business he managed. There were reports of rampant gambling happening at the restaurant. One waiter had a notorious temper. Friends claimed when his team lost, he had — more than once — heaved a television set. That was back when tvs were heavy boxes and the tossing of them was that much more dramatic. Once, police watched as, when his team lost, he removed his car radio in a rage and threw it into the pond at Goodwin Park. I wonder if they fished it out when they dredged the pond last year.
The temper tantrums were not limited to those with gambling debts. The City of Hartford was planning to foreclose in 1982 because The Hearthstone had either around $23,000 in unpaid taxes (equivalent of $63,000 in 2021) or $100,000 owed in federal taxes (equivalent of $271,000 in 2021). In the prior year, it had been closed for a renovation that would have converted the joint into more of bar than a restaurant. This was drawn out because of building permits, and because neighbors caught wind of a rumor that there would be strippers. Despite Hearthstone being in a neighborhood, it seems communication between the suburban owners and the local residents was tense.
Before the foreclosure could happen, there was an arson attempt on the building. Neighbors complained about a strong smell of gas, and the place was secured before too much damage was done, but an explosive device was discovered; its timer was set to 4 AM on a Sunday. Around 100 nearby residents needed to be evacuated while safety was restored. One resident said he could still taste the gas that evening. Had there been so much as a spark. . .
Oh, and the building at the time was owned by that gentleman with the trash-hauling business, who later got shot, and whose name was somewhat associated with a later arson in Wethersfield, and who had used a bulldozer to move a police cruiser that had been blocking the gates to a landfill in Rocky Hill. Why were those gates blocked? Nearby residents had been upset that garbage trucks were coming through as early as 5 AM.
The restaurant closed after that. A bank purchased the building in a 1984 auction. Then, in 1985, Hearthstone was sold to a new owner and reopened. In another decade, without notice or fuss, the restaurant would shut down permanently.
When The Hearthstone closed, the owner acknowledged that the menu was dated, but really blamed the economy and how the media painted the neighborhood. That’s a justified grievance, as reporting on Hartford has only slightly improved since the 1990s; for those who learned of Hartford from the news, they’d be apt to believe that by merely stepping foot in the city’s neighborhoods, they would have to dodge bullets. To this day, you will hear people shame today’s graffiti in the neighborhood in the same breath that they lament the roast beef from days of yore, seldom admitting knowledge of the seedier activities from yesteryear.
Shortly after, the building was given new life. I can’t say if they smudged the interior or what, but a whole different energy was introduced by the Polo Club. Again, neighbors feared this would be a strip club. The Courant itself helped to spread the rumor in a pearl-clutching piece: “Male strippers reportedly perform at the Polo Club, the new gay bar on Maple Avenue.” When the paper sent a writer over to review the spot, the author sounded disappointed that the place serving Jello shots and roast beef sandwiches was indeed so chaste.
Polo lasted two decades in this location. You can read about its decline by looking at Yelp reviews. As LGBT folks gained more acceptance in society, perhaps there was less need for an exclusively gay establishment? With online dating and hookups normalized, a reduced demand for a safe space for people to meet face-to-face? Or is Hartford too small to have more than one place doing drag cabaret? Whatever the reason, two decades is a good run for the restaurant/nightclub industry.
In 2017 the current owner — Lo Sano Restaurant & Bar — purchased the building and applied for a liquor license. The menu includes tripe. Stewed oxtails, empanadas, plantains, mofongo, tres leches flan. Coronaritas. The interior now can in no way be mistaken for Ronald Reagan’s den. Loud brunch. Cigar pairings. Dancing. Really happening place. . . pre-Covid. They have the videos on social media to prove it. If you’re trying to remember what fun looked like, go watch. I did, and found myself picking outfits to wear when I go dancing after the under 65s can get vaccinated and living returns.
The Dominican restaurant has made adjustments to keep pace during the pandemic. For awhile they switched to take-out orders only, but have since reopened. They’ve kept their Wednesday night karaoke going, turning the parking lot into a patio.
There’s a chiminea for warmth.
And if there’s an element that connects this place back to the building’s origins, it’s that. City Glass & Plumbing Co. opened at 678 Maple Ave in 1932, a plumbing and furnace supply company.
Lo Sano Restaurant & Bar is located at 678-680 Maple Avenue.
Unhidden Gems is a series published every other Monday, spotlighting one of Hartford’s treasures that sits right out in plain sight. These are restaurants, clubs, cultural centers, and other places that are either on or easily visible from one of Hartford’s main streets.
