Some institutions are less businesses than weather systems of a neighborhood, and Zabar's on the Upper West Side has been one for generations. When Stanley Zabar died at 94, just over a year after his eldest brother Saul, the city lost one of the last of the family who shaped that store and, through it, a whole way of living locally. His funeral at Riverside Memorial Chapel gathered about 250 people who had known him as a neighbor, employer, uncle, and friend, and it marked for many the close of an era. What remains is a question older than any single life: who will carry a place forward once
Stanley Zabar, the 'Mayor' of the Upper West Side, Is Remembered at a Funeral Shaped by Family and Neighborhood
Last year we were three. Then we were two. And now it's just me.
Mark
Why does a funeral for a grocer get this much attention?
Mimi
Because Stanley ran Zabar's for more than 70 years and barely left the neighborhood. About 250 people came, from relatives to rival shop owners.
Mark
Eli's line about three brothers becoming one seems to be the center of it.
Mimi
Yes. Saul died just over a year ago at 97, and Stanley at 94. Eli, 83, is the last.
Luke
Worth noting that's Eli's account of what Stanley said to him. It's moving, but it's his recollection.
Mark
What about the Saul story with Willie?
Mimi
It's funny, but it shows how Stanley saw his brother. Even in his 90s he worried about Saul's reaction.
Luke
Again, that's Willie telling it. We have no one else's version of that exchange.
Mark
And the mayor idea?
Mimi
His daughter Sandy said the family joked about it. He knew retailers and people on the street between 79th and 86th.
Luke
It's a family joke, not a title. What's still unknown is who leads Zabar's next. The reporting doesn't say.
Mark
So the ending is the kitchen-table lunch.
Mimi
Yes, a man surrounded by great food who walked home each day to eat at his own table.
The Pulse
- Stanley Zabar's death at 94, just over a year after Saul's, leaves the family's landmark store without its founding brothers.
- Eli Zabar's voice broke at the podium as he admitted that, after three brothers, he is now the last one standing.
- Mourners packed the chapel, from relatives and longtime employees to owners of other old neighborhood shops who knew him for decades.
- The family is turning toward the question of who will lead the store next and how its neighborhood ties will hold.
Some institutions are less businesses than weather systems of a neighborhood, and Zabar's on the Upper West Side has been one for generations. When Stanley Zabar died at 94, just over a year after his eldest brother Saul, the city lost one of the last of the family who shaped that store and, through it, a whole way of living locally. His funeral at Riverside Memorial Chapel gathered about 250 people who had known him as a neighbor, employer, uncle, and friend, and it marked for many the close of an era. What remains is a question older than any single life: who will carry a place forward once the people who made it feel like home are gone.
Eli Zabar stepped to the podium at Riverside Memorial Chapel in a white workman's button-down, a pen in his pocket, and told the room that his brother Stanley used to say three brothers together were stronger than any one of them. Last year there were three. Then there were two. Now, he said, it is just him. Stanley, who died this week at 94, had followed his eldest brother Saul by barely more than a year. The service felt like the close of an era for Zabar's.
Stanley lived his life within two blocks of the store for most of it. Around 250 people came to remember him: relatives, employees, and the owners of other long-running neighborhood businesses, all of them trading connections and stories before the service began. Rabbi Benjamin Spratt recalled Stanley in the front row at synagogue on the high holidays, wearing a blazer and an old, tattered Zabar's hat, which Stanley said was good advertising when the house was packed.
Family members painted a portrait of a man who handed out jobs the way others handed out affection. He sold coffee cake to his children, swept floors with his grandchildren, and let a great-grandchild work the pricing gun. He never let the grandchildren win at Ping-Pong, and when people asked him for money, he offered them work instead. His grandson Willie remembered a moment in 2022 when he left Saul off a panel about the store's history, and Stanley, then over 90, stormed into his office to insist it was unacceptable. Asked whether he feared Saul would fire him, Stanley joked that he was worried Saul would fire him.
Stanley never fully left the neighborhood he loved. His youngest daughter Sandy said the family teased that he was the mayor of the stretch between 79th and 86th Streets, greeting everyone he passed, from retailers to people in need. Eli, who opened the modern deli E.A.T. across Central Park, said Stanley understood his decision to break away and admired that he stayed close to the family. Each day at lunch, Stanley walked the few blocks home to eat at his kitchen table. With Eli now the last brother, the question is how the family will carry the store and its ties to the neighborhood forward.
Eli Zabar came to the podium at Riverside Memorial Chapel in green pants, Crocs and a white workman's button-down, a pen in the breast pocket as if he were about to mark the price of a half-pound of lox. He was there to bury his brother. "Stanley always told me, 'Eli, three brothers together is stronger than any one of us,'" he said, his voice cracking. "Last year we were three. Then we were two. And now it's just me."
Eli, 83, is the youngest of the brothers behind the famous Upper West Side specialty food store. The funeral on Wednesday was for Stanley, who died earlier this week at 94, just over a year after Saul, the eldest, died at 97. The service marked the end of an era for Zabar's, an institution that shaped food culture first on the Upper West Side and then well beyond it.
It was also a portrait of New York as a collection of close-knit local communities. Stanley's life was hyperlocal: for most of it, he never lived more than two blocks from the store. About 250 people came, among them relatives, Zabar's employees and the owners of other long-lived neighborhood establishments such as Town Shop, known for bras, and Barney Greengrass, known for sturgeon. Before the service they mingled and worked out connections, who had gone to school with whose cousin, and who, as a 20-something looking for work, had been hired by Stanley to cut salmon behind the counter at West 80th Street and Broadway. Not everyone knew everyone, but everyone knew someone who knew someone who knew everyone.
Rabbi Benjamin Spratt, speaking for Congregation Rodeph Sholom, welcomed the mourners and said he was there on behalf of many on the Upper West Side, in New York City and around the world whose lives Stanley touched through family love and good food. On Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur, he said, Stanley sat in the synagogue's front row, wearing a blazer, never a suit, and his old tattered Zabar's hat. As Stanley had explained it, the hat was perfect advertising when the house was packed.
Stanley ran Zabar's for more than 70 years, alongside Saul and, until 1994, a partner named Murray Klein. A lawyer by training, he handled the market's finances and an associated Upper West Side real estate portfolio. He had been in decline in recent months, but was at the store, as the family calls it, just two weeks ago, where employees greeted him joyfully, his son David said in an interview.
Family members shared stories. There was the boy who counted pennies from the cash register at his father's market, and the father who always said "I love you" and handed out jobs: selling coffee cake to his children, sweeping floors to his grandchildren, and working the pricing gun to a great-grandchild. There was the husband of more than 70 years, the grandfather who doted on his grandchildren but never let them win at Ping-Pong, and the businessman who, when people asked him for money, offered them a job.
Grandson Willie Zabar, now 33, recalled that in 2022 he was organizing a panel on Zabar's history and left out Saul, then about 94, because the last time he had put him on a panel, Saul accused a business associate of being in the Mafia. Stanley, over 90 himself, burst into Willie's office and said that excluding Saul was unacceptable and could lead to termination of employment. When Willie asked if he was worried Saul would fire him, Stanley answered: "No, I'm worried Saul is going to fire me."
Stanley was proud of Eli for striking out on his own, however complicated that was. Eli said Stanley understood why he broke away and admired that he stayed emotionally connected to the family. Eli opened E.A.T., a modern take on the deli, across Central Park. Stanley himself held to the Upper West Side. David said his father was always proud that Zabar's anchored the neighborhood he called home. His youngest daughter, Sandy, said the family joked that he was the mayor of New York between 79th and 86th Streets. She remembered walking Broadway with him, her brother and her sister Lori, who died in 2022, as he greeted every person, every retailer and every homeless person lingering there. He cared, she said, about everyone's well-being.
He spent his days among some of the city's best food, and coleslaw from Zabar's was his favorite. Yet each day at lunchtime he left the store and walked a few blocks to his apartment, where he sat at the kitchen table for a homemade lunch. With all three brothers gone except Eli, attention turns to how the family carries the store and its neighborhood ties forward.
Notable Quotes
We used to joke that he was the mayor of New York between 79th and 86th Streets.— Sandy Zabar, Stanley's youngest daughter
Stanley always told me, 'Eli, three brothers together is stronger than any one of us.'— Eli Zabar
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