SHELLY said:
There's an old saying, "If it ain't broke, don't fix it." In all my years on earth, and all the places I've traveled, I have yet to see a restaurant that has become an "icon" in its current building and location get "better" when it moves (locally) to new digs or tears down the old place to rebuild a "new and improved" place. When that happens it tears a hole in the universe and the place loses its spirit and allure. I'm not saying that it's not possible to seamlessly transition and remain the place everyone has come to know and love--but I've never experienced it happening in my lifetime.
I have some first-hand experience. My family had a luncheonette in a small town for about 40 years, 3 generations. Eventually, family members died, and other things happened, and the place was sold. It was indeed an icon in the neighborhood for the firefighters, police officers, truck drivers, local politicians, and others. We could have been broken hearted when the place was sold (and to some degree we were), and held on to the past. Instead, we chose to grieve for our losses, remember and treasure the memories, willingly watch the new business come in and change the place/name/new construction, and cheer for the success of the new business. Today, the business is more successful than when we had it, it is growing, and the food is more diverse and some is even better (gosh I hope I don't get struck by lightening for saying that). The new place is now the new "icon" for the newer generations (they've been there probably 15 years now) and some people don't remember that the old store was once there and are as loyal to the new store as others were to our luncheonette. We love going to eat there whenever we're in town and the new owners enjoy seeing us and getting our support. In fact, I usually meet my sister and friends I had in the first grade through high school when I'm there in part for the memories, in part to help the new business succeed (they've succeed quite fine without us at this point).
Having grown up in a small business/luncheonette family, I think sometimes people romanticize them. The customers enjoy how quaint they are, how good they feel when they are there, and they want the owners to keep the business going so they can enjoy the old-fashioned comfort and routine it brings. In the meantime, family members who own the business get up at 4:00 am to get the place ready for customers, go into work in all kinds of weather even when customers choose to stay home, worry about business trends and taxes (and safety -- small business owners also have to worry about being robbed in some towns), work late into the night, go to work even when they are sick, and look forward to the day they can retire from the business and maybe make some money selling the business so that the next generation can go on to do something else, etc. Some business owners choose to keep the businesses going, and others are quite pleased to let them go.
I say all these things as a realist, but also as a romantic. I also remember the lovely things that dreams are made of.

We lived upstairs from the "store" or "la botega" as we called it. When we were little girls, we'd put our pajamas on and go downstairs to the store to get ice cream sundays before bedtime in our pajamas and the customers thought we were just the cutest things they ever saw (or at least that's what we thought the customers thought!). I remember drinking the fountain "coke syrup" when we were sick. I remember eating day-old pastries grilled on the grill and slathered with butter. I remember boyfriends coming into the store to "meet the parents" (I can relate to the Robert DiNiro character in the "meet the parents" movies, though Robert DiNiro was whimpy compared to what my boyfriends had to go through). I remember my grandmother pretending she didn't understand English so she wouldn't have to deal with customers who behaved badly. I remember her cooking the day's sauce in the kitchen. I remember the aprons that my parents wore (and that we wore when we were waitresses) -- In fact, I still have several aprons that I saved before the new owners took over and a few of these aprons are now in SoWal. I remember decorating the windows with a manger and fake wrapped presents for Christmas (these windows are now boarded up because of the new construction but the memories are clear). I remember the juke box. So, if I wanted to be sad and hold onto the past I certainly could. But I much rather tell our kids the stories about the botega and how we grew up and be thankful that they can grow up the way they're growing up now (including having the beach place in SoWal so they can make their own memories). And I much rather the Buddhist philosophy of letting go of the past when necessary and enjoying what the future has to bring. That's the philosophy I want our children to have, too, or they won't enjoy life (or
SoWal) as much because it will undoubtedly change around them. I want them to see the beauty and romance in what is and what can be, not only what used to be.
Every small business has it's own story from the owners' point of view and that story may not match the perspective of the customers or bystanders. And for all my years on earth and all that I've travelled (including to the "old country" that has and continues to change for better and worse), that's my story and I'm sticking to it.
My apologies for being so wordy, I just finished my taxes and needed a creative outlet (the tax people will be happy to know that my taxes are not my "creative" outlet!).