The Four Seasons Restaurant, modernist shrine of food and power, celebrated its 50th anniversary on Thursday night. It was cold for June, but fortunately the red carpet was made of always-in-season Astroturf. “The red carpet is green,” co-owner Julian Niccolini lamented. “Alex wanted it to be pink.” He was referring to co-owner Alex von Bidder, with whom he was holding court as the party began. “Look who is coming! Look who is coming!” Mr. Niccolini kept crowing.

The parade of notables included members of the power-lunch crowd as well as designers Erin Fetherston and Ralph Lauren. Model Jessica Hart—“Hart, H-A-R-T!” an assistant had to yell to photographers—set flashes on fire. She wore leather pants and shifted her weight constantly, throwing out knees and hips in lanky contrapposto as if freshly delighted by her surfeit of limb. Former Secretary of State Henry Kissinger, who arrived a few minutes later, was one of the very few who incited as much enthusiasm. The photographers did not, however, call him “sweetheart.”

Inside, behind the dining rooms’ famous metal curtains, a mixture of classic pop, big band and Motown was playing over the speakers. The restaurant held fast to its mid-century aesthetic, even where it could barely be seen—the bartenders poured Coke from small glass bottles.

Still, some things have changed. Overheard: “Every desperate banker is trying to write a book.”

Waiters roamed carrying sliders, sushi, spring rolls, oysters and tiny desserts.

The absence of seated dining was a source of concern to Candida Royalle. Ms. Royalle, a producer and director of female-friendly pornography, had gotten separated from the friend who brought her and was looking for someone—anyone—she knew.

Star Jones was perhaps the only woman who, on arrival, grabbed Mr. Niccolini more enthusiastically than the other way around. Perhaps she was feeling frisky thanks to the oysters, which she'd tried for the first time this evening.

“If you’re gonna do it,” she said, “you do it here.”

Author Salman Rushdie and his girlfriend, Pia Glenn, were not interested in talking to The Transom. “We’re sort of in party mode,” Ms. Glenn explained.

For Mr. Rushdie, this seemed to involve sitting quietly on a banquette at the back of the room. Author Jay McInerney, however, was at the center of activity. His favorite memory of the Four Seasons? “Watching a girl jump into the pool after taking her top off.” He paused. “It was a while ago,” he said, as the crowd sucked him back inexorably into the Pool Room. “It was good.”

Hotelier Jonathan Tisch and restaurateur Drew Nieporent also piled on, during a Friars Club-style roast of Mr. von Bidder and his charismatic partner, Julian Niccolini, in celebration of the renowned midtown power-lunching spot's 50th anniversary. It was a fitting tribute for a place where even the most high-profile patrons are served with a good ribbing from time to time.

"At the very least, these guys are extortionists," charged the gossip columnist Ms. Smith. "Have you ever examined your bill?"

Ms. Smith went so far as to suggest that the pair were somehow part of a post-World War II plot against America: "After World War II ended, those of us who weren't born yesterday thought all our problems with the Axis powers had ended. We thought we had the Italians and the Germans right where we wanted them. ... Their contemporary descendants have made a fabulous comeback here ... they are at the Four Seasons, where they pretend to be restaurateurs while plotting the downfall of our bank accounts!"

She added, "Alex will probably defend himself by saying he's Swiss, or something like that, and Julian will say he's from right at the top of Italy ... he's almost French!"

Most of the jokes centered on the restaurant's hefty menu prices—the domestic diva Ms. Stewart, for one, looked forward to the day when she would have to pay $85 for a baked potato—or, Mr. Niccolini's flirtatious modus operandi.

Bob Grimes, vice president of Citymeals on Wheels, the beneficiary of the evening's $300-per-person five-course dinner, asked Mr. Niccolini to promise to (a) stop hanging out with reputed sex addict David Duchovny, (b) stop calling his private parts "La Conquistador," and (c) remove the "oral exam" section of the female employment application.

Mr. Grimes also called on all the ladies in the room to prominently “return the keys to [Mr. Niccolini's] private apartment.” A lengthy line quickly formed to the podium. Prominent publicist Susan Magrino and even Mr. von Bidder's wife, Sandra von Bidder, joined in.

Italian chef Cesare Casella, nicknamed the "Swami of Salami," presented Mr. Niccolini with the gift of a four-foot-long sausage. Mr. Niccolini's wife, Lisa Niccolini, accepted it on his behalf, noting, "It's not as big as the original." Mr. Niccolini later used it to take a swing at Vanity Fair writer Frank DiGiacomo.

Mr. von Bidder's near invisibility next to his showy partner was another recurring joke. "Where's Andrew?" pondered Ms. Stewart. "Oh, it's Alex." She added, "This is what happens when you are the lesser of two evils."

Ms. Stewart also took aim at the famous eatery's decor: "The walls say Phillip Johnson," she said, "but the trees say Howard Johnson."

Blackstone Group co-founder Mr. Peterson presented a video in tribute to "the greatest restaurateur in New York." An image of Le Cirque owner Sirio Maccioni soon appeared on four giant flat-screens lining the pool room, drawing lots of laughs. Mr. Peterson then launched into another video, mockingly exposing the secrets of the restaurant's kitchen, where empty wine bottles with fancy labels are refilled with cheap boxed wine and steaks are served after time on the floor.

Perhaps the biggest laughs came during rival restaurateur Mr. Nieporent's profanity-laced spiel at the podium, during which the Nobu owner even took aim at other roasters.

"Sirio, I love you," Mr. Nieporent said to Mr. Maccioni, "but someone should have told you this is a roast, not a fucking wake! You would've been funnier reading from the fucking menu!"

And to Michael Mondavi, Mr. Nieporent advised, "stick to the wine business!"

He also took aim at fellow restaurateur Danny Meyer, who was not present. "Danny Meyer was supposed to be here, but the Zagats called," Mr. Nieporent said, referring to the couple behind the popular restaurant-rating guidebooks, "and he's walking their fucking dog!"

Mr. Nieporent complimented the Four Seasons owners—whom he called "the Siegfried & Roy of the restaurant business" and "the most unlikely pair since Rocco DiSpirito and Cloris Leachman showed up on Dancing With the Fucking Stars"—for their Robin Hood–like approach to fine dining. "Rob from the rich and give to the poor," he said. "Rob from Pete Peterson and give to [Four Seasons partner] Edgar Bronfman!"

The occassion was Mr. Niccolini's birthday—his 21st, if you believe the winking invite.

"Fifty-six, actually," noted the irreverent impresario, dressed dapperly as ever in a pinstriped suit and red tie.

So that's, what, 21 shots plus 35 shots?

"Absolutely, I think we should do that!" the good-humored Mr. Niccolini told the Daily Transom before turning to greet other guests.

WCBS-2 news anchor Maurice DuBois chatted with ladies by the bar, while Fashion Week organizer Fern Mallis snapped photos of the stylish crowd and gabbed about her new Bravo reality TV series, Fashion Show, hosted by Isaac Mizrahi.

The evening was more or less a prelude to the far bigger bash on Tuesday, May 5, when the illustrious restaurant itself turns 50. For real.

London's Financial Times recently attributed its longevity to "consistency, charisma and the peculiar nature of power and celebrity."

A full roster of prominent New Yorkers, including Blackstone Group's Pete Peterson, hotelier Jonathan Tisch, and domestic diva Martha Stewart, are lined up for a "classic comedy roast" of the owners, Mr. Niccolini and partner Alex von Bidder.

Yes, it's payback time for Mr. Niccolini, who seems to thrive on giving his power-broker guests a good ribbing from time to time.

"If you haven't been insulted by Julian, you are a nobody," as one financier by the unfortunate name of John Holmes recently told New York magazine.

“It could be bad," Mr. Niccolini predicted of the roast, in an interview with The Observer's Eight-Day Week. "It’s very easy to dig up dirt on people these days. You just Google people's names and there you have it. Thank God I've only been married once."

"Quiet" is a relative term at the Four Seasons. For more than 40 years, the restaurant-which opened in the Seagram Building in 1959-has defied the realities of New York's restaurant business. Its gently undulating chain curtains have stood like a force field against trendiness, casualness and the other corrosive forces of the city.

Within that spare, calming setting runs an institution built on three pillars: service, food and power-the meritocratic kind that crystallized the mid-20th century and still has some play left in it. The Four Seasons has a few flashy characters (like Condé Nast's Steve Florio) who carry themselves like Diamond Jim, but most of its regulars, like the Grill Room's French walnut walls, exude a patina of reserved elegance.

And those regulars come to be cosseted in this well-stocked, well-staffed Mies van der Rohe cocoon, which is orchestrated by the reserved, Zurich-born Mr. von Bidder and his gregarious Tuscan partner, Julian Niccolini, who work the restaurant with the wordless clairvoyance of a long-married couple.

The five smart navy blue booths that line the wall of the Grill Room closest to Lexington Avenue are long-standing symbols of status at lunch time, and on that quiet Monday afternoon they were all occupied.

Developer Jack Rudin, who eats at the restaurant several times a week, could be found at his usual booth, table 37. He dined with John Sexton, the dean of New York University's Law School. "He's an old friend of mine," Mr. Rudin said. "We talked about everything from religion to sex to real estate." Mr. Rudin said that he probably had the Nantucket Bay scallops and shrimp cocktail, but he wasn't certain.

Dining to Mr. Rudin's left, at table 36, was David Rockefeller. Less than 24 hours later, according to his spokesman, Fraser Seitel, the 86-year-old Mr. Rockefeller would watch from the window of his 56th-floor Rockefeller Center office as the Twin Towers that he pushed the city, the state and the Port Authority to build disappeared in a cloud of ash and smoke. On Sept. 10, though, Mr. Rockefeller would enjoy a quiet business lunch with an associate, financial adviser Richard Salomon, a principal of Mecox Ventures.

The doyenne of the Four Seasons on that afternoon, however, was the 99-year-old socialite and philanthropist Brooke Astor, who was escorted to table 35 by Mr. von Bidder, where she dined with her friend Dorothy Cullman. Estée Lauder cosmetics company chairman Leonard Lauder has also been known to frequent table 35, but on Sept. 10 he dined at the adjacent booth, table 33, with a guest.

Table 32, the booth closest to the windows that look out on East 52nd Street, is known as Philip Johnson's booth. Mr. Johnson earned his booth when he and interior decorator William Pahlmann designed the interior of the restaurant. In the early years of the Four Seasons, when the adjoining Pool Room was the place to be for lunch, Mr. Johnson was one of the Grill Room's few loyal inhabitants. Designer George Lois once recalled that, at lunch, he would often wave at Mr. Johnson across the empty space.

On Sept. 10, Mr. Johnson was not present at the Four Seasons, but he was represented by one of his alma maters, the Hackley School, an independent school located in Tarrytown, N.Y.

Hackley's headmaster, Walter Johnson, was having lunch with two of the school's trustees, whom he declined to name. (Mr. Johnson said that one of the trustees hosted the lunch.) He was also getting the royal treatment from Mr. Niccolini, whose daughter, Marusca, attends Hackley.

"We were talking about the future of the school and our plans for that future. It was very celebratory." Given Hackley's connections to the restaurant, Mr. Johnson said the Four Seasons "seemed an particularly appropriate place to be thinking about the future, and maybe that's ironic in the context of events."

Mr. Johnson said he's "too much of an academic to be aware of the glitterati of New York," and so was unaware that he was surrounded by the boldface names that pepper New York's social columns. But others there took comfort in the power quotient.

"I remember when I saw David Rockefeller, Brooke Astor and Leonard Lauder, I was just in awe of the power of the place," said restaurateur Drew Nieporent, who, as the owner of Nobu, Montrachet and Tribeca Grill, knows something about the subject. Ensconced at table 5-the first banquette to the right as you enter the Grill Room-Mr. Nieporent remembered, "The world felt pretty safe." He had shed more than 100 pounds since the spring and was feeling pretty good about the accomplishment. "I didn't have a worry in the world," he said. "And that night I was going to see Roger Clemens win his 20th game." (The game was eventually called on account of rain.)

Mr. Nieporent had come to the Four Seasons with his friend and mentor, George Lang, the dapper 77-year-old owner of Café des Artistes. It had been Mr. Lang who had gotten Mr. Nieporent to go for the fateful physical at the Mayo Clinic that had prompted him to lose all that weight and stick to ceviche for lunch on Sept. 10.

For Mr. Lang, the lunch at the Four Seasons was a homecoming of sorts. In 1967, Restaurant Associates, which had opened the Four Seasons, tapped him to run the restaurant, which he did for about three years before leaving to form his own consulting firm.

Mr. Lang-who's currently a partner with Ronald Lauder in Gundel, a restaurant in his hometown of Budapest-said he hadn't been to the restaurant in years. But, he added, his return was "a wonderful homecoming.

"Going back to a place which either you've taken part in its creation, or worked there, is a very difficult thing for me, because many times I go back and I feel like a father must feel who hasn't seen his daughter for X years, and when [they] finally meet he finds that she became a prostitute," Mr. Lang said. "But thank God the Four Seasons has remained a very virtuous lady."

Mr. Lang said that he "intensely" dislikes table-hopping when he's a guest at a restaurant, but he did say hello to Mrs. Astor ("I admire her, and you don't have a long enough space in your article to enumerate all the reasons," he said), and embraced his good friend Mr. Rudin, whom he called "the first citizen" of the Four Seasons.

Mr. Nieporent and Mr. Lang had come to the Four Seasons on a mission. After their lunch, while Mr. Niccolini covered the Grill Room, Mr. von Bidder sat with the two men and discussed putting together a benefit dinner to start a scholarship fund in honor of former Four Seasons co-owner Paul Kovi, who died in 1998.

Sitting in the Four Seasons on Sept. 10, though, Mr. Lang said he felt grateful to "live in the center of the world, which is the United States, the heart of that center, which is New York City," and then to be at "the Four Seasons, which is, in more than one way, an essence that my late, very dear colleague and friend Joseph Baum created.

"That was his dream," Mr. Lang said. "To have something that is-without using red color, exclamation points, spotlights or loudspeakers-without any question, the center of the world. And I was lucky to be there."

At the center of the Grill Room, Earth Times president and editor in chief Pranay Gupte dined at the large, circular table 25 with his wife, Jayanti Lal; Professor Klaus Schwab, founder and president of the World Economic Forum, and his wife, Hilde; and Theodore W. Kheel, the labor lawyer, and his wife, Ann.

Mr. Kheel is also the publisher and a founder of Earth Times , and Mr. Gupte wrote in an e-mail that "the occasion was to honor Mr. and Mrs. Kheel for their continuing generosity to our newspaper. Professor and Mrs. Schwab were in town from their home base in Geneva, Switzerland, to accept the annual Candlelight Award" that was to be presented that evening by United Nations Secretary-General Kofi Annan.

"Our lunch was quite lively," Mr. Gupte wrote. "The Schwabs were recognized by several diners in the Grill Room, including David Rockefeller," and also Mr. Gupte's old boss, former New York Times executive editor Abe Rosenthal, with whom he'd worked for some 15 years.

Mr. Rosenthal was dining at table 25 with three acquaintances from China. He declined to identify his tablemates, however, because he has often been critical of China in his Times columns. "If you're Chinese and they [the government] find out you're going out with the likes of Abe Rosenthal, who is not known for his enthusiasm for the Chinese government-I just don't want to take the risk," Mr. Rosenthal said. His voice took on a combative edge, the way it must have sounded when he was running the newsroom and someone called on deadline with a dumb question. He sounded even more annoyed when asked to recall what he had eaten that day, but he said that it was probably crab cakes or sole.

At the other tables were mostly men, guys who were once in a hurry to conquer the world in their thin-lapeled two-button suits and skinny ties, but now were ambassadors and board-member trustees and could afford to tarry over a long, expensive lunch in the lush quiet of the Grill Room. Banker Lionel Pincus sat at table 13; former Ambassador to Slovakia Carl Spielvogel at table 26; attorney Joel Ehrenkranz, president of the trustees of the Whitney Museum of American Art, at table 11; attorney Charles Mandelstam at table 4; Donald Gilbert, managing partner of the advertising consulting firm Gilbert Taney Farlie Inc. at table 12.

Mr. Gilbert was dining with an old friend and client, Steve Harty, the co-founder and former president of the agency Merkley Newman Harty & Partners, who had just left the firm. Mr. Gilbert had bison; Mr. Harty had the halibut. "It was just two old war-horses," Mr. Gilbert said. "We spent much of the lunch talking about the state of the advertising industry, which has a lot of problems right now."

Mr. Gilbert also remembered that the balcony at the Four Seasons was empty-a subtle reminder, in this culinary citadel of power, that the city was not in a robust state.

"The numbers up to that point weren't stellar; certainly not as good as the year before," Mr. von Bidder said. "But there was a feeling of expectation-an expectation that everything would be fine in the fourth quarter."

On that crystal-clear Sept. 10, the last day of the old age, it was still possible to think in those terms. The Four Seasons had been born in the age of modernism, created as a sleek, disengaged reaction to the suffocating red-velvet restaurants that dominated the 40's and 50's. The men and women who loyally decorated its tables had grayed and slowed, but here at the center of the world, in this ageless, unsentimental room where every step of the ballet imparts a sense of well-being, it was still possible to have another glass of Pinot Noir and believe that life as we knew it could go on forever.

"It was a beautiful day. It was warm and people were having a good time, and we were looking forward to having a busy fall," Mr. Niccolini remembered. "The rest is history."