I'm Pam Walters, the granddaughter of Bob and Rose Walters. They were one of the original owners and started the restaurant back in 1932. They lived in a large apartment upstairs of the restaurant, and for a long time my mother, father and I lived upstairs with them. Grandpa was behind the bar and Grandma was in the kitchen. I was born in 1948, at the height of its popularity. I was told that Grandpa ran the speakeasy that preceded the restaurant.
I can remember the commotion when -- late at night -- Sinatra would show up with his entourage. My parents and I would hop out of bed. (Grandma and Grandpa were still downstairs with the late night crowd. The kitchen would be closed, but Grandma would, good-naturedly, fire up the ovens and the broilers.) I'd run around the big, family-style table in the back of the restaurant -- where Sinatra and "pack" would be seated. I got to sit on everyone's lap, including Sammy Davis Jr. At first, this was an uncomfortable moment for my grandparents and parents -- racists to the core -- but Sammy bounced me on his knee and said "Pammy, are you Sammy's little girl?" Everyone had a good laugh over that.
Somewhere I have the original recipe for the ribs and the sauce. The problem is that the ingredients were for groups of 50 and more. It's hard to break that down to accommodate dinner for 2.
I'm an author now. My first book, Peanut Shells Stuck To My Veil, has a big chunk in it about Grandma and Grandpa and the Twin Anchors. My second book is about my grandparents. There'll be lots of stories about the bar/restaurant in it.