1 Local Business & 6 Ounces

The South Side Soda Shop functions as a contact zone not in the sense that it attracts people who have the specific goal of mingling but rather because it provides a service, product, site , and ambiance that people appreciate and want to have access to. The South Side Soda Shop does not force customers at different tables to interact with each other, but if the patrons care to nose into the business (or leisure) of their neighbors, the only ones stopping them are themselves.
The main point of going to The South Side Soda Shop boils down to eating good food in an interesting place. The main point of running it is to ensure an income, and probably more specifically to ensure an income from a source that provides a fulfillment of purpose for the possession of a particular set of skills, skills that make a diner heaven for people who enjoy that sort of restaurant. I make this supposition as a result of seeing some display of pride in the unique characteristics of The South Side Soda Shop. This does not require that the diner be explicitly defined as a contact zone between people of various categories. The people who run The South Side Soda Shop are not professional event planners. They just allow people to meet up should they wish to do so, provided that the customers are actual customers, not loiterers. I did not see any parties during my visits, nor did I see any info posted about chartering the facility or having a party hosted there, so I assume celebrations are not an official service of The South Side Soda Shop. It's not exactly a loud nor even slightly crazy locale...I mean, shoot, their jukebox is eviscerated.  What the diner supplies is seating, sustenance, servers, and a seriously impressive old-fashioned atmosphere. That's about all. To be able to do its job , the business entity comprises itself of individuals who fulfill the roles required to ensure the whole operation has no holes in it. The diner has waitresses, cooks, and a woman who seems to be occupied with being the hostess, receptionist, and the cashier all in one. The employees seem to be mostly white and female, although most (if not all) of the cooks are male, one of whom is also black. I suspect there is more of traditional cultural expectations dictating the gender division into female waitresses and male cooks, and that the white saturation is due to more of a "Things White People Like" sort of phenomenon rather than any inherent racism. Part of the evidence is that, well, a racist employer wouldn't be likely to tolerate even one member of a despised group within his/her establishment. Secondly, the customer base is primarily White, and none of the items on the diner's menu are of the type typically labeled "ethnic." So it seems to me that The South Side Soda Shop is simply a highly specific "genre" of restaurant, and just as an entire genre of books can be shunned by people who grew up with a different genre. On the set of The South Side Soda Shop, burgers and hoagies are the stars, especially those with the Philadelphian flair of the diner's owner. However, in the world of burgers, The South Side Soda Shop does not have competitive costs nor rival swiftness to some of the greasier joints in the area. This is not to say that the prices are unreasonable nor that the service is sluggish. The South Side Soda Shop just doesn't specialize in franchised fast food. Quick and cheap is to be found at the "local" McDonald's. But suppose that someone wants to at either a place with a true local vibe or a place with food that makes them feel like they're eating in a particular city. This hypothetical person need not be torn apart by indecision, because The South Side Soda Shop fulfills both of these wishes. This diner will appeal to appeal to a crowd that wants to feel like they're eating in a wholesome home-like setting, and the diner will also appeal to a crowd that is driven by a desire for mild amounts of adventure, a crowd comprised of the kind of people that get a kick out of being permitted to intrude into the inner sanctum of somewhere that has a history or perspective separate from their own...that's my guess, at least. I didn't go around asking people while they're eating. That would be breaking a boundary I could clearly see around each table within the first ten minutes of being in the restaurant. The elderly people there did not come to party or debate or any of that, and neither did the middle-aged couples that brought their young children. And neither did any of the few people who did not belong to the two previously mentioned demographics. In fact, people flocked to the privacy of booth tables, and if unfortunate enough to be the overflow forced to the open area tables, they kept to themselves as much as possible. I had better success making eye-contact with the backs of their chairs than with the people themselves. There was a counter with high stools within chatting proximity to the cooks, such as would be expected in most American diners, which nobody ever seated themselves at. But the environment was not hostile nor antisocial, just private. The invisible walls around each occupied table were typically respected by all the customers, with only one or two "violations" that I saw, and even those instances were fairly quick, and I never saw anyone dare to seat themselves at someone's table without an invitation. However, I did notice people watching other people. Observing other customers without engaging them seemed to be a general part of appreciating the environment of The South Side Soda Shop. This struck me as the way people make contact with creatures in an aquarium: Safely from the other side of sturdy glass, with only the staff being qualified to handle actual interactions.
It's a nice place, y'all should go there if you're its sort of crowd. Or even if you're not. Everyone would probably be pleased to see you either way.