“A guy goes out to eat in the evening after a long day in the office — he don’t want on his plate something that he has to look and think, ‘What the — is this?’ What he want is a steak. ‘This is a steak. I like steak….

Mmmmm, I’m happy.’” — From the movie Big Night, set in the 1950s. America has moved beyond the notion that a steak dinner is the only ultimate dining-out experience. But such Chicago steakhouses as Gene and Georgetti’s or New York’s Peter Luger’s remain as popular as ever. And all across the country, local retro steakhouses continue to thrive because their quality is exceptional and they have a local history and unique ambience that slick national-chain steakhouses just can’t match.

Springfield is lucky to have one of those classics — the Old Lux. Its formal name is The Old Luxemburg Inn, but I’ve never, ever, heard it referred to as anything other than “The Old Lux” — an indication of both the familiarity and the affection with which it’s regarded.

For most of the last century, an evening of fine dining could only be found on Springfield’s east side, excepting hotel dining rooms and private clubs. There were a number of restaurants downtown, but they were almost exclusively lunch spots. Even those that stayed open in the evening were geared to bar food or after-theater snacks, or were diners.

Folks who wanted tablecloths, candles and cocktails went east. Two Italian joints — Stevie’s Latin Village and Saputo’s (still in operation) — were closer to the city’s center than the Mill, the Lake Club and the Old Lux, but they all were indisputably eastside establishments. Only the Old Lux still exists in that neighborhood.

The Old Lux has had only three owners since its establishment in 1941, and for the last 17 of those years, it has been run by the same family, Dennis Sanderfield and Theresa Bennett, before, during and after they divorced. Recently, they sold the restaurant to their daughter Bridget Redman (and her husband, Chris), though Sanderfield remains involved.

Nostalgia is undeniably a big part of Old Lux’s appeal. “We have lots of regulars,” says Redman. “I just love listening to the regulars talking about their experiences here. Some come every week. That booth back there — that belongs to the Jones: they’re here every Friday night like clockwork. And that booth over there — that’s [retired] General Wayne and Sandy Temple’s special Friday booth. This is a place where so many people have come to celebrate special occasions — birthdays, anniversaries. Sometimes it’s a place where folks come to remember. Not infrequently, when a spouse has passed away, their partner keeps coming back — especially on their anniversary — because it’s a way to hang onto memories of dining here as a couple. Recently a table of customers asked if Redman would put up a friend’s photo while they ate. The Old Lux had been his favorite place; they’d come there to eat as a memorial to him. She was happy to comply. On my most recent visit, a man walked into the bar and said he’d just moved back home after living 30 years in Arizona. “Do you still have that prime rib special?” he asked. They do. The Old Lux is far from just a geriatric gathering place, though. On any given night, the restaurant’s crowd is composed not only of retirees, but also clientele that ranges from young couples with children, to politicians in business suits, folks in work shirts and ball caps, and everything and everyone in between. Nostalgia is all well and good, and