Listen to the Audio Guide:
Art Design UNGHERIArte
Hungary inspired art jewelry
The birth of the New York Café
October 23rd in Budapest is a historic date that everyone knows well, a solemn anniversary celebrated every year: it marks the outbreak of the 1956 Revolution, which began on that very day.
But there is also another important October 23rd in Budapest, one that recalls fun, lightheartedness, playfulness, and art: it was on this day in 1894, a full 62 years before the Revolution, that the New York Palace was inaugurated.
As you may already know from travel guides, this sumptuous four-storey palace—built in a historicist and eclectic style that blends Renaissance, Baroque, and Art Nouveau elements—was originally the headquarters of the American insurance company New York Life Insurance Company.
In addition to offices, the building also housed several apartments for rent, and on the ground floor, alongside various small shops, stood the New York Café.
Mysterious presences at the New York Café
As you listen to this story, perhaps you are sitting at a table in the New York Café, or maybe you are about to visit the palace itself, built during the golden age of the Austro-Hungarian Empire with the contribution of Hungary’s finest manufacturing companies.
One of these was the renowned Zsolnay porcelain and ceramics manufactory, based in the city of Pécs—a place I highly recommend you visit if you can.
Before delving into the stories tied to the New York Café, it’s worth taking a look at its exterior walls, adorned, among other things, with fourteen statues of demons and fauns, the work of sculptor Károly Senyei.
One of these figures, according to numerous sources, is said to be El Ashmodáj—an allegorical character symbolizing the playful spirit of coffee itself, understood as a drink capable of stimulating thought. His presence was meant to inspire the artists who gathered here.
That may very well be the case, yet it must also be said that this interpretation of the statue’s spirit is something of a “decaffeinated” version of reality. In truth, the figure represents none other than Asmodeus, a powerful biblical demon also known in Islamic tradition—hardly the most friendly of beings, and infamous for activities far less innocent than the benevolent image suggests.
So, let us hope that the beauty of the New York Café, the bohemian atmosphere that has always lingered within its walls, and, of course, the aroma of coffee, will soothe his temper and keep him in good spirits.
Deep water and urban legends
That said, let’s take a look around inside the Café.
Originally, at the very center of the space there was a billiard hall, and since this area lies at a lower level than the street and is reached by descending a staircase, it earned the nickname “Deep Water.”
And where the water runs deep… well, one might also expect to find some unusual fauna wandering about.
Another historic corner of the Café was the Ladies’ Room, furnished in Empire style and distinguished by its large mirrors.
One of the urban legends tied to the New York Café concerns the fresco above the entrance, which also depicts the Statue of Liberty in New York. According to the tale, the fresco was painted even before the statue itself existed. The identity of the artist remains unknown, but the story credits him with a remarkable gift of foresight.
Unfortunately, this is nothing more than an urban legend: the Statue of Liberty in New York was inaugurated in 1886, a full eight years before the New York Café in Budapest opened its doors.
But the fresco is not the only Statue of Liberty connected to the building. In fact, there is also an actual statue, placed on the façade facing the Körút, the city’s grand boulevard. This sculpture is the work of the same Károly Senyei who created the building’s mischievous little demons, as well as numerous other statues scattered throughout Budapest. Its name is the Genius of Liberty, a variation on the American statue.
It miraculously survived the fire that damaged the roof of the New York Palace in 1903, as well as the battles of 1956. Later, however, it was removed from the façade, until the restorations of the early 2000s, carried out after the Boscolo Group purchased the building to transform it into a luxurious hotel.
The boys from Pál Street and the New York Café
Another urban legend—though partially true—concerns the Café’s inauguration ceremony. The story goes that a group of young bohemian artists, among them Ferenc Molnár, author of the famous novel The Paul Street Boys, threw the keys of the establishment into the Danube to ensure that the New York Café would remain open forever.
The tale is likely true, with one small correction: the episode must have taken place in 1927, when the Café reopened after a period of renovation. In the actual year of its inauguration, the writer Ferenc Molnár was only sixteen years old and certainly not among the invited guests.
This superstitious “ritual of the keys” has even been repeated in modern times. In 2014, on the occasion of the Café’s 120th anniversary, the keys were once again tossed into the Danube—this time by the grandson of the celebrated novelist and playwright.
Welcome, penniless writers!
Today, the New York Café is a luxurious establishment, and since it proudly holds the title of the most beautiful café in the world, it is certainly not one of the cheapest places in town. We can safely say that its typical customer is hardly the struggling, up-and-coming writer.
But things were very different in the past. The Café has always been beautiful and sumptuous, yet for many decades it was mainly frequented by emerging writers and artists, most of them rather penniless.
Many of these young people would later become famous novelists, playwrights, journalists, editors, or painters, and even before achieving fame, they already represented a major intellectual attraction.
Starting especially from 1900, under the new management of the Harsányi brothers, the Café became a true literary hub. The legendary head waiter would provide young writers with the typical notepads known as dog tongues because of their elongated shape—still used in Hungarian editorial offices until the 1970s.
Alongside the coffee flowed rivers of ink, and in addition to napkins, there was blotting paper for fountain pens. The New York Café offered every kind of encyclopedia and all the newspapers of the time, including foreign ones, and its patrons read them all to form the most objective opinions possible about current events. And since one cannot live on literature alone, the young writers were also served the so-called “writers’ plate” free of charge—a sort of board with cold cuts, cheeses, and bread.
You might wonder why there was such generosity toward these young writers and artists. It wasn’t just a form of cultural foresight on the part of the owners—it was also a very specific, and astonishingly, profitable strategy.
To explain the mechanism, one only needs to quote an elderly maître from a Budapest Café. When asked why the owners tolerated—indeed, encouraged—the presence of these penniless, often noisy and unruly young people, he replied: “Look, these young people attract beautiful women, and wherever the beautiful women go, wealthy men follow.” The affluent men keep the Café running, which in turn allows it to be generous with the young artists.
At the Café, just like at home
The cafés of Budapest, including the New York Café, thus became the heart of social life—they were crossroads of information, opinions, and events. One might even say they were like live, in-person social networks.
The bourgeoisie also loved frequenting them for practical reasons. At the time, homes were often uncomfortable, cramped, and cold, sometimes even infested with insects as unwelcome as they were persistent. It’s no coincidence that in Pest there’s a saying, still jokingly cited today: “You don’t tell me, I’m from Pest, that bedbugs bite?”—meaning, “You’re certainly not surprising me with such a truism.”
In the cafés, on the other hand, life was good—and in excellent company, too. Moreover, a café could serve as a place of care not only for the mind. Some doctors even set up actual clinics in certain Budapest cafés, and lawyers practiced their profession in designated rooms within these establishments.
Major newspapers, artists, and important editorial offices at the New York Café
The New York Café thus became not only a meeting place for writers and artists, but also the headquarters of major newspaper and magazine editorial offices, as well as cultural and artistic societies that would leave a lasting mark.
For example, there was the table of the most important political daily of the time, Pesti Napló, a title that could be translated as Diary of Pest. This newspaper, published between 1850 and 1939, played a significant role in the political events that followed the Revolution of 1848.
On the balconies, meanwhile, gathered the journalists and writers of Hungary’s most important literary magazine of the early 20th century, Nyugat—meaning West. This biweekly publication aimed to raise contemporary Hungarian literature to the level of Western European standards, and counted among its contributors many of the most significant figures of the nation’s cultural life, including Endre Ady, Dezső Kosztolányi, Gyula Krúdy, and Zsigmond Móricz. For a time, its editorial office was even based at the New York Café.
From 1907 onwards, the Circle of Hungarian Impressionists and Naturalists, led by the celebrated painter Pál Szinyei-Merse, also held its meetings here, and exhibitions were occasionally organized within the Café. Among the members of the circle were many of the era’s most prominent artists, who were also well known in Paris and Italy, such as József Rippl-Rónai, János Vaszary, István Csók, and many others.
A creative genius at the New York Café
In the aftermath of World War I, following several changes in management, the presence of writers and journalists became less and less constant, while painters remained attached to the Café for a longer time.
From 1920, under the management of Vilmos Tarján, the billiard hall in the so-called “Deep Water” was transformed into an elegant restaurant, ushering in a new golden age marked by lavish events, spectacular variety shows, popular jazz concerts, and some rather unusual advertising stunts.
This is a true story—not an urban legend. When the owner heard that a traveling seal trainer’s show had arrived in Budapest, he invited him to the New York Café. He asked him to have breakfast at a table in full view, right by the window facing the street—not alone, but in the company of one of his seals. We don’t know what was actually served for the poor animal’s breakfast, but the episode is still remembered today as one of the most memorable moments in the history of the New York Café.
In search of the splendor of yesteryear
After 1936, the Café went through a long and troubled period, with frequent changes in management and an increasingly questionable clientele. All of this, combined with the war, led to the Café’s closure in 1944. During World War II, the premises of the New York Café were ransacked, and its elegant furnishings destroyed. For a time during the war, potatoes were even sold inside its walls.
In 1945, the famous Café reopened, briefly regaining some of its former glory, only to be transformed, starting in 1947, into a sort of restaurant mixed with a bar and beer hall, furnished in a very spartan style. This phase did not last long, as in 1949 the New York Café was nationalized. Its premises were converted into a sporting goods store and a travel agency.
Despite the darkest years of the communist era, in 1954 the Café reopened once more under state management. After an inaugural pastry exhibition, it continued its activity under the name Café Hungária.
During the 1956 Revolution, however, it was once again severely damaged.
Between 1975 and 1978, it underwent another restoration and was brought back to its original condition, albeit with some compromises in design—particularly regarding the choice of materials.
Until the fall of the Berlin Wall, Café Hungária was both a “tourist trap” and, at least in part, a meeting place for figures from the country’s cultural life. Writers and journalists continued to frequent it, also because almost all of the era’s newspapers, along with the major publishing houses, were based on the upper floors of the New York Palace.
The New York Café regained its original name in 1990, and today it stands as one of the most popular tourist attractions in the heart of Budapest.
