In 1886, Grover Cleveland was president, the Statue of Liberty was

unveiled and the first phonograph was patented. In downtown Washington,

men's gray business suits were selling for $6.50.

And the Reeves family grocery at 12th and F streets NW began an

experiment by setting up tables and serving coffee and ham sandwiches.

About two months from now, Reeves Restaurant, Washington's oldest,

will close, a casualty of downtown development. Its owners say it may

reopen in the office building that will replace it, but its 50 employees

and hundreds of loyal patrons are preparing themselves for a last

farewell.

In a city not known for its character-filled neighborhood bars or

colorful ethnic sections, many people think the passing of this bit of

old Washingtonia is a cause for mourning. It's the kind of place where a

longtime breakfast diner sits at the same table every day and doesn't

have to place an order to get what he wants.

"The customers are saying to us, 'I just can't believe you're

closing,' " said Mary Marshall, a Reeves waitress for 20 years whose

mother has worked there 46 years and whose grandmother worked there,

too.

"I'm very definitely upset by their closing," said Harriet

McWilliams, a Smithsonian Institution employee who has been ordering the

cream cheese and olive sandwiches there since her mother brought her as

a child. "It's going to be sad losing it."

"We're proud we've gotten the working-class people, the native

Washingtonians to come," said Hank Abraham, who owns the business with

his brother George.

The Abrahams come from the warm-hearted school of restauranting. They

spring from their booth near the entrance to greet a longtime patron by

name, with a caress to the forearm or shoulder blade, before leading the

customer to a favorite seat.

The closing of Reeves Restaurant & Bakery represents a change of life

for old F Street, once one of downtown's major retailing centers. But

the longtime merchants of that area of old downtown hit hard times,

especially after the 1968 riots. Now the neighborhood is undergoing a

remarkable rebound. Many of F Street's best-known retailers have been

driven out or sold out to developers, including the Esther Shops, Rich's

Shoes, Hahns Shoes and G.C. Murphy. Gleaming glass-sheathed office

buildings are replacing the old turn-of-the-century storefronts where

families window-shopped for generations.

Now Reeves, known as much for its baked goods -- such as its

world-famous strawberry pie -- as for its restaurant trade, sits

precariously next to a colossal construction pit that will yield an

office building next year.

The Reeves building and the adjoining parking lot will make way for

yet another office building, at 12th and F, on which construction has

not started. And the building's lower floors will house a Lord & Taylor

department store, if the D.C. government can entice that company here.

Oliver Carr Co. announced this week that it is joining Buvermo

Properties Inc., a group of Dutch investors, to develop the 12th and F

site. Business people say Carr's track record -- including development

of the Hecht's store nearby -- could be a boost in the long-shot

negotiations to lure the retailer.

With such big-bucks players involved, the Reeves story would seem to

be another big-business-drives-away-the-little-guy saga so common in

D.C. real estate. But that's not the whole story.

The fact is the Abraham brothers, who bought the business in 1965

from the Reeves family, will have options to reopen. They simply may not

want to.

Two years ago, they sold their 1209 F St. property -- including the

Reeves name and the upstairs bakery -- to Buvermo for $7 million.

Downtown developers, who want to avoid the sterility of office

complexes by reproducing Reeves' homey feel, have competed to draw the

Abrahams to a new site.

George Abraham said Buvermo has offered him financial incentives that

are "hard to turn down" to stay in the planned 12th and F complex.

Robert O. Carr, the Carr company's president, said Carr is "very

interested" in helping Reeves relocate downtown, but he thinks it would

be best for Reeves to relocate soon rather than waiting two or three

years for the planned 12th and F complex to open. George Abraham is

vague about his family's plans, except to say that reopening the

business is "a possibility."

Family friends said George, 62, an undercover narcotics agent busting

heroin dealers in Lebanon, Syria and Chicago in the 1950s before he went

into the restaurant business, would prefer to retire.

The brothers already know the difficulties of starting over from the

year they spent rebuilding the restaurant after a February 1984 fire.

The Abrahams are workaholics who rarely take vacations. George has

the coffee brewed when the waitresses arrive at 5:30 a.m. He said his

doctor has warned him he may not take easily to retirement.

George's daughter Sheryl, who manages the place, said Reeves may

reopen some day under new management.

But Jeffrey Axelrad, a longtime Reeves customer who is director of

the Justice Department's torts branch, is skeptical. "A Reeves owned by

other than the Abrahams wouldn't be the same," he said.

Reeves has been an intimate part of downtown's street life for as

long as anyone can remember.

Waitresses recall the FBI G-man whom J. Edgar Hoover sent over to

pick up his ham sandwiches. They remember Pat Nixon sitting at the

half-block-long wooden counter when husband Richard was vice president,

as did First Ladies Bess Truman and Lady Bird Johnson.

By the mid-1960s, the Reeves family was having trouble keeping the

place going. Most of its patrons were women, and the tea room menu was

mostly finger sandwiches and sweets.

When the Abrahams took over 23 years ago, they changed the tea room

atmosphere and brought in a new clientele, from construction workers to

FBI agents, by introducing heartier fare such as chili and spaghetti.

They opened up for breakfast. And it was inexpensive.

Along the way, the Abrahams kept the best of the old-time Reeves,

such as making chicken sandwiches with meat hand-picked from the bird,

not the gelatinous rolled variety. Of course, they kept the world-famous

strawberry pie. Old-timers tell the story of the G.I. from Vietnam who

had been told by a battlefield buddy about Reeves' desserts and who ate

two entire strawberry pies in one sitting.

But the most loyal customers say the real lure is the help.

Gertrude Sweeney, who started working there as a waitress in 1942 at

age 17, said she knows why the place appeals to people. "It feels like

home to them," she said.

1886: Reeves family opens establishment.

1965: Reeves family sells establishment to Abraham family.

1984: Major fire damages building.

1985: Restauraunt/bakery reopens.

1986: Abraham family sells establishment to Buvermo Properties.

Fall 1988: Target date for closing.