Antonio Gutiérrez opened his namesake restaurant on Melrose Avenue more than 50 years ago. The famed Mexican eatery closed recently to the dismay of many local patrons. (photo by courtesy of Antonio’s restaurant)

April 6, 1970, is a date that will live famously – and fondly – for Antonio Gutierrez and his family.

On that date, Antonio went to work at the Warner Bros. commissary kitchen in Burbank, as he usually did. But this day would be different. After his shift, he drove home to Hollywood, took a quick nap, showered, dressed to the nines and then drove to 7470 Melrose Ave. because that night was opening night of Antonio’s, his very own restaurant.

That April 6 night was much more than the beginning of his own restaurant career. Antonio’s very pregnant wife, Yolanda, went to the restaurant at Melrose and Gardner, proudly admired the place, kissed her husband, greeted the first customers and promptly went into labor. Later that evening, Antonio, Jr. was born.

“A restaurant and a son in one night,” said Antonio’s daughter, Rebecca. “That is what you call a joyous occasion.”

Fifty-two years later, the joy of April, 6, 1970, was replaced by sadness as Antonio’s closed on Jan. 22, the victim of the economic effect of COVID, rising crime and the general weariness and poor health of its now 83-year-old patriarch, Antonio Gutierrez.

Weariness was not ever something Antonio knew about when he came to Los Angeles from his native Monterrey, Mexico, in the early 1960s. Bursting with energy and a desire to conquer the New World, Antonio soon found a job washing dishes. Yeah, you might say, “big deal, washing dishes.” But as you will see, Antonio had a talent to get into the right places. This dish washing gig was at Perino’s, Alexander Perino’s legendary Northern Italian restaurant at Wilshire Boulevard and Norton Avenue that was not only considered the single best restaurant in Los Angeles, but one of the greatest restaurants in the United States.

Within two months, however, Antonio moved on to another classic Los Angeles Italian restaurant, Chianti on Melrose Avenue. It was here he worked his way up from a dishwasher to a busser, to a waiter. And it was here he met Emilio Baglioni, an immigrant from Abruzzo, Italy, and they hit it off, two dreamers off to grab their dreams.

Emilio became the culinary host to Hollywood stars when he was employed by Jack L. Warner as the head of the commissary and executive dining room at Warner Bros. Studios. When he left Chianti for Warner Bros., he took Antonio with him.

“My dad loved it there,” said his daughter Rebecca, adding he waited on Natalie Wood, Jack Lemmon and Tony Curtis during the filming of “The Great Race” and to Fred Astaire for “Finian’s Rainbow.” But the biggest treat of all was looking after Frank Sinatra when he made such movies as “Marriage on the Rocks.”

“Frank was a magnificent gentleman to my father,” Rebecca said. “Frank made him feel extra special.”

By 1968, Emilio had moved on to open his own restaurant – Emilio’s at the corner of Highland and Melrose where Mozza is today. Emilio’s move only inspired Antonio to do the same, and a few years later, he did.

So, when word slowly went around the neighborhood recently that Antonio’s had closed, there was shock and sadness.

At the House of Intuition, a shop that sells candles and crystals a few doors down from Antonio’s, several employees were stunned to learn the restaurant had closed. They had all dined there but they were not regulars.

“They were a cornerstone of the block,” said employee Kenneth Darby. “I didn’t go there much but it was like a rock.”

The next block east, at Brooklyn Projects skating and clothing shop, the employees knew of the closing and were dismayed.

“We’re very upset and sad,” Keagan Johnston said. “And we’re mad because they closed because of all the crime.”

Several highly publicized crimes, most notably two robbers with a gun confronting three diners on a Melrose Avenue sidewalk, led people to avoid the area.

One was Kathleen St. Ives, who was leaving the CVS at Melrose and Gardner, when I encountered her. “I live nearby, I shop here during the day, but I don’t want to eat here at night anymore,” she said.

Throughout the pandemic, when business was slow and she needed to be uplifted, Raishana Lauderdale, owner of Redolent Aura’s Body Boutique, would step out onto the sidewalk and listen to the guitar being strummed across the street in front of Antonio’s restaurant.

“Now there is no more guitar and it’s so sad,” she said.

On Monday night, I was at a dinner downtown with seven others when Rebecca, Antonio’s daughter, called. She filled me in on some more details of his life as we spoke for about 15 minutes. When I returned to the table, I told my friends about the call.

Lissa Doumani was in the group, with her husband, Hiro Sone. Lissa told an Antonio’s restaurant story that sums up his legacy.

It was 1983 and she was a pastry chef at the original Spago on the Sunset Strip. She was given the task of picking up Hiro who was coming in from Japan to work at Spago and eventually lead the Spago Tokyo team. Lissa didn’t know Hiro yet and took him to Antonio’s as his first stop in L.A.

Hiro didn’t speak English at the time, but he had a most delightful evening. The food – carne asada burrito, shrimp enchiladas, rice and beans – was all very good, but it was the workers, the environment that was so sweet and welcoming, that made it special.

“Antonio’s was magically drenched with an Old-World Mexican graciousness,” Lissa said.

I think when Antonio’s shut down, our city didn’t just lose a good Mexican restaurant. It lost a swath of its graciousness, too.