What about Bob?

Lakeview -- Like clockwork, Bob Braidwood shuffles into the 24-hour Diner Grill on Irving Park Road around 7:15 a.m. and takes his usual spot at the counter -- right next to the door.

Four to five days a week for more than 35 years, Braidwood has been coming to the diner, built from two Evanston street cars and mostly unchanged since it opened in 1937.

By 7:30 a.m. most of the diner’s 13 stools are occupied. Braidwood, 84 years old, spins away from the counter with a big grin bubbling up under his scruffy white beard and reaches down to shake the hand of a young boy walking out the door with his father.

“Bye, bye buddy. How you doing?” he chuckles before sharing a few friendly words with the boy’s father.

“I’ve been coming here a long time,” Braidwood said. “Some of the people talk to me. Some, they don’t. A lot of them are dead now."

“I’ve made many friends here over the years."

One of them is Diner Grill patron Dan Vogt, age 48, who’s been frequenting the joint for about eight years and on this day is sitting two stools over from Braidwood.

“I’m the new guy,” Vogt said. ”Bob and I argue about baseball. We talk about a lot of things. You want to know what’s going on in the neighborhood; you sit down next to Bob.”

Braidwood wears either a Yankees or Cardinals cap when he comes into the diner. He stresses that he’s not a Cubs fan.

“They know I don’t like the Cubs and sometimes they give me a hard time about it,” Braidwood said.

The playful ribbing has gone so far that diner personnel “doctored” a portrait of Braidwood, painted by local artist Vince DePinto, to make it appear as if he is wearing a Cubs hat while sitting at the diner counter.

DePinto said he was inspired by the prospect of capturing Braidwood on canvas. “I live down the street from the grill and have known Bob over 10 years.” he said. “I just knew he would be an interesting study. Bob is a real character. He’s a genuine part of this neighborhood’s history.”

Whether the painting is available for public viewing depends on Braidwood’s mood that day. “We take it out once in a while and even hang it up, depending on how grumpy Bob gets,” said the diner’s grillman, Ricardo Hernandez.

Born in Chicago on Sept. 4, 1928, Braidwood has lived in different neighborhoods over the years, most not too far from the diner. Braidwood never married. When he was 45 years old, he moved back in with his mother around the corner on Hermitage Avenue and lived there until she passed away in 1989.

Braidwood now resides at a nearby senior center on Clark Street and takes the Irving Park bus to and from the diner. Always willing to help a friend out, he often picks up rolls of quarters on his way to the diner for their cash register or to bring back to other seniors at the center for use in vending machines and card games.

Braidwood said he was employed at the long-defunct Muntz TV Company on Belmont Avenue for about 20 years. “I worked on the line and did other odd jobs,” he said. He also worked as a volunteer in the 47th ward for over 15 years.

“I was a flunky, but I did all the work,” Braidwood said. “I went door to door to get people to vote. I put out voting machines on election days and got people their garbage cans. I would go around the alleys in the ward and check the garbage cans to make sure there wasn’t wood or heavy construction debris in them. If there was, I would call one of the guys on the truck. A lot of people lost their cans because of that.”

Gene Schulter, former Alderman of the 47th Ward, remembers Braidwood as being truly concerned about the neighborhood. “He always brought to my attention any issues residents were having with garbage pickup, street cleaning, problem buildings, broken street lights, to name a few,” he said. “Bob was a good volunteer that wanted to make a difference.”

Just before 8:00 a.m. Braidwood spins out of his stool and starts to make his way out the door.

When asked how long he thinks he'll keep coming to the Diner Grill, he shrugs. “Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’ll keep coming here for as long as I’m still alive,” Braidwood said. “The food’s alright. What else am I gonna do? I gotta eat.”

R.I.P. Bob