The Black Whale, an Oasis for Locals on City Island James Estrin/The New York Times Bill Kenny, the owner of the Black Whale restaurant, makes omelets and waffles as he serves brunch. CITY ISLAND is full of restaurants. But those restaurants are not full of City Islanders. The Black Whale, which has had two distinct lives - one in the 1960s and "70s, and one playing out right now - is a glorious exception. "It's like a home away from home," said Monica Glick, 50, an island resident seated inside with her brother, husband and daughter on a recent Sunday. She dropped in the day the restaurant reopened in 1998, and remembers other milestones, as well. "Our daughter, Hannah, learned to walk in here," added her husband, Elliott Glick, 62, who owns the nearby Starving Artist Cafe and Gallery. Unlike the noisy tourist traps that draw huge crowds to this tiny island in the Bronx every summer weekend, the Black Whale has no water view. But it does have a lot of history. According to local lore, passed down by an aging oysterman to the building's owner, Richie DePierro, it was erected on neighboring Hart Island in the 19th century as a women's house of detention. The builders who moved it to its current site set it down backward. So what should have been the front opens onto a garden where diners are shielded from the street noise of City Island Avenue. Inside, the décor is a quirky mix of whale themes, stained glass and works by local artists. And despite its name, this is not a seafood place. In fact, when Mr. DePierro, 75, opened it in 1961, it was an antique shop with a sideline in coffee. Then came dessert - followed by poetry readings, Harold Pinter plays and a Communist Party guest speaker. Such events filled the house even as they angered the conservative City Island community. "They didn't like the beatniks and the hippies," Mr. DePierro said. The police thought I was a drug dealer. By the 1980s, the Black Whale was no longer controversial. But Mr. DePierro was burned out. He closed the business, and in 1998, after 15 fallow years interspersed with aborted efforts to reopen, the Black Whale seemed a thing of the past. Enter Bill Kenny. "Two weeks before I was going to get married," Mr. Kenny, 44, recalled, "I found out the Black Whale was available." He was working in restaurants in Manhattan, but his first job as a teenager had been down the road at the Spouter's Inn. The Black Whale was so central to the community he remembered, he said, he knew he had to take the chance to reopen it, even though "it turned my life upside down." The new Black Whale benefited from name recognition, but suffered for it, too: Even as Mr. Kenny expanded his menu, people just ordered dessert. So Mr. Kenny created the Sunday brunch, now the restaurant's signature, which, he said, "got people to take the leap of faith." The menu changes regularly these days, but one staple is "the Starving Artist," an orecchiette pasta dish with white beans, tomatoes, spinach and mozzarella, named for Mr. Glick's gallery. "I saw all those ingredients in other dishes and asked Bill if he could make it," Mr. Glick said. "Then someone at the next table saw it and said, "I'll have that." And the next time I came in, there was the Starving Artist on the menu. Locals need no excuse to congregate in the garden during the warm months. In bleaker weather, Mr. Kenny ensures a quorum with weekly movie nights inside. The neighborly feel is heightened by black-and-white photographs of City Island past and present by the local artist Ron Terner, who turns 63 on Sunday, who owns the nearby Focal Point Gallery. Mr. Kenny refuses to take a commission from the sales. But Mr. Terner makes sure the Black Whale gets its due. "Whenever they sell a photo," he said, "I go in there and spend all the money on dinners."