When I got to the car, the good news was that there was no ticket; the bad news was that the car had been broken into, and there was glass all over the sidewalk. I said to myself, “To what length can I go to show them that I am on their side?” When I returned, they were angry that the car had been broken into. So I said, “I can’t change what happened, but I can change your outlook with a great meal—lunch is our treat today. I’ve already called the police precinct and they’re going to come here to do a report for you.” They will tell that story to everyone they know.

I feel I have to do a decent job of shining the flashlight ahead for people, so they can see where to go.

We also work within the community. We believe in the notion that a rising tide lifts all boats. At the end of the day, I like to be the tallest ship on the ocean. But the way to do that is to actually feed the tide, rather than pushing the other boats down. An example of that idea is my six-plus years as the chair of the Madison Square Park Conservancy. Madison Square Park is a 150-year-old park that fronts two of my restaurants. Is that restoration effort going to benefit my restaurant? Of course it is. It also benefits my competitors around the park. But I actually believe that the more restaurants there are, the better it is for us. Improving the park will benefit all of us by lifting businesses, residential values and property values. The park symbolizes wealth to me.

Around the Campfire
Besides learning values from my grandfather and parents while growing up in St. Louis, I also learned them in summer camp, where I spent five summers as a boy. It was a remarkably magical place in the northwest corner of Wisconsin that turned out a number of successful people, such as leveraged buyout king Henry Kravis and screenwriter William Goldman. One of the stanzas I learned there is:

There is a destiny that makes us brothers.
None goes his way alone.
That which we put into the lives of others,
Comes back into our own.

In other words, you have to get along with others.

We cooked there, too. At camp, I even tied for first place in an outdoor cooking competition at age 13. I made lemon chicken in a Dutch oven buried beneath hot coals. I also baked a cake in a reflecting oven opposite the fire. I love eating, and I love sharing pleasure with others, because food is one of our universal needs. In my restaurants, I try to attract chefs who cook for the pleasure it gives others. There are some great chefs who only cook for the pleasure of themselves. But there is a big difference between a chef who says, “Look what I cooked,” and one who says, “Look what I cooked for you.” The first time I barbecued hamburgers with my dad or made chocolate chip cookies, a large part of the joy was, “Look what I cooked for you.” That is the philosophy on which my restaurants stand—nourishment and nurture.

To emphasize this, we identify employees who already hold these values. If our way of doing business does not excite them, they would be wasting their time working for me. Much of the work we do in the community involves our staff, so we demand more than other restaurants. For example, a member of our team generated the idea of serving food weekly at the hospice at Beth Israel Hospital. Our philosophy focuses on caring about people—food is just the vehicle to do that—so we hire naturally empathetic people; they care about what is on your mind. My strategy is simple: how many wonderful employees can I assemble who want to work hard in a collaborative way with one another?

My motivators are excellence, consistency, hospitality and soul. It takes time to develop soul. I am not interested in cookie-cutter businesses, so I have not expanded quickly. A business is truly a dialog between those offering the business and those using it. Over time, this dialog entails feedback and listening. In the old days of business, the maxim was: “The customer is always right.” For example, soon after I opened my first restaurant, the Union Square Café, 19 years ago, I knew we needed comment cards. We needed to dig deeply and collect information that I could act on.

My grandfather gave me great advice when I opened the Union Square Café. He said, “You’ll get a lot of awful things said about you, and a lot of great things said about you. I wouldn’t heed any of them.” To this day, I do not set yearly goals; I would rather continue working on being an excellent father, partner and leader. I feel I have to do a decent job of shining the flashlight ahead for people, so they can see where to go. I have to do a good job of shining the flashlight on me, too, and making sure I embody those values. I want to be able to hold the employees’ hands all the time to make sure they know I am on their side.

We also go to any lengths for our customers. At Tabla, a couple walked in and one of them said, “I left my cell phone in a taxi, and I’m so upset.” Then halfway through the meal, the woman discovered she had left her purse in the same taxi. Their meal was going to be ruined. We said, “You don’t have to worry about the meal, it’s free.” Someone in our office called the number on the cell phone for half an hour; finally the taxi cab driver, who was in the Bronx, picked it up. We sent someone up to the Bronx, and when the couple were ready to leave, we presented the cell phone and the purse to them. Opportunities to offer hospitality get presented to us every single day.

Danny Meyer has launched five world-class restaurants and a jazz club in his nearly 20 years as a restaurateur. His first restaurant, the Union Square Café, was voted most popular in the New York 2004 Zagat Survey. His Gramercy Tavern, Eleven Madison Park and Tabla are among the top 20 favorites. Meyer is also a tireless leader in the fight against hunger, serving on the boards of Share Our Strength and City Harvest, and he is chair of the Madison Square Park Conservancy. He is currently working on a book, Rare and Well Done. An elfish, enthusiastic man, Meyer is an avid believer in going to any lengths to serve his many loyal customers.