By Teresa Rochester

Nov. 5 -- When Michael Valenzuela happened to walk past Teasers on the Third Street Promenade Friday night the restaurant's patio was dark and empty, except for three firefighters collecting donations to help their brothers in New York.

Undeterred by the papered-over windows, Valenzuela walked into the once jumping 6,000-square-foot eatery and bar to find some of the restaurant's 70 employees hanging out and snapping pictures. He instinctively moved toward the end of the 72-foot-long oak bar in search of a small brass plaque installed by owners Tony Palermo and Dan Ringwood in memory of his father, Florenzo, who came in every day for years.

"This is incredible," said Valenzuela, pulling from his jacket pocket the scratched and tarnished plaque Palermo had given him. "I'm watching this going, 'Where's Teasers? Oh my God my dad's plaque is on the bar.' I always come in and touch the plaque. It's like his spirit."

As luck would have it, Valenzuela happened into the restaurant on its last night. Originally scheduled to close on Nov. 18 because of skyrocketing rents, Palermo and Ringwood decided to pull the plug early. The restaurant, they said, was losing $5,000 every weekend day it stayed open; the current rent was $18,000 a month.

"We were losing money. It was no use," said Palermo. "We were losing the rent every week."

Teasers employees, some of whom have worked there since the restaurant opened 16 years ago, drank beer, ate Buffalo Wings from nearby Hooters and reminisced with their final paychecks tucked into pockets and purses, as Palermo and Ringwood worked the beer taps at the impromptu party.

One employee, Koby Walton, who served everything from potato skins to pasta for 15 years, believed she would be an old woman by the time she left the restaurant.

"I feel very sad," said Walton. "Danny and Tony are the best people to work for in the world.... I thought I'd be wearing orthopedic shoes."

Palermo dragged out Walton's original uniform -- a white tuxedo top and denim skirt, which was framed years ago. Palermo proudly points out that Walton worked her first shift the day of his first date with his wife Lauren.

Employees weren't the only ones commemorated inside the confines of the old brick building. Regulars, like Valenzuela's dad, who was known as "Frencho," had their special place in Teaser's history.

A father of eight and member of a family that has lived in Santa Monica for five generations, "Frencho" endeared himself to Teasers staff by asking everyday what kind of salad dressings were served.

"Frencho," his plaque reads, "the dressings are blue cheese, ranch, Thousand Island, creamy Italian and lemon basil. Here are a couple extra crackers."

Andy Baker, was another regular who earned a plaque when he died. A former hobo who rode the rails, Baker's drink of choice was a Miller High Life with two olives, which he dubbed "a poor man's martini."

Then there was Tony Buttson, who once owned Jolly Jacks on Lincoln Boulevard.

"Andy was the best. He would bowl you over," said Palermo. "Tony Buttson spent oodles of money and asked, 'Why can't I have a plaque?'"

The restaurant's employee of the year award was named in honor of the three men.

"We were just a neighborhood kind of restaurant," said Palermo standing before a row of blank big screen televisions behind the bar that once aired basketball, football, baseball and soccer matches. "Everything's changed."

"I'm so glad I got this thing," said Valenzuela of the plaque as he headed toward the door.

Chance not only delivered Valenzuela to Teasers' Friday but also Mayor Michael Feinstein, who wandered in to find his colleague, Councilman Herb Katz, sitting at the bar.

"Tonight was a very painful night because we had to say goodbye to somebody that was with us in the community when times were hard," said Feinstein. "Now that there's a lot of action on the Promenade, we want people who paid their dues to be a part of that success not suffer because of it... This is so sad."

A couple of reporters also showed up for happy hour and were handed plastic cups filled with their favorite beer.

"Working in a bar that works is like living in a small town," bartender Billy Brown told one reporter as he sat next to the restaurant's door. "It's like going to grandma's house, like being safe....What is America except a bar filled with love and life."