It had been here for 32 years, between 15th and 16th Streets, a block meant for an old-school oyster house: When those windows were folded open, you could see the mounds of chipped ice, the platters of shucked oysters, the mugs of beer, and the regulars, including, on occasion, Mayor Nutter.

It was a determinedly Philadelphian fixture, a rotating menu of daily fish soups (attracting a rotating cast of local businessmen), broiled bluefish, stewed tomatoes, and corn-flour-fried oysters with chicken salad, a combo dating to the 19th century.

It also had a notable pedigree: It was founded in 1976 by David Mink, whose father, Sam, had opened the family's first oyster house, Kelly's on Mole Street, back in 1947, the year that David was born.

David was a senior at Cornell University when his father died in 1969, and he balked at taking over the business. It wouldn't be until seven years later, coincidentally the year his own son, Sam, was born, that Mink opened the place of his own - this time on Sansom Street.

To know a little of that history is to understand just how deeply the oyster house - or oyster houses - have been a part of the Mink family saga.

So it was somewhat startling seven years ago that David Mink, at age 53, announced he was stepping away, semi-retiring to spend time with his wife, Judi, and to hike the Appalachian Trail. He'd ski, he said, spend a few weeks in Paris. Head up to Westfield, Vt., where he helped with the goats at Lazy Lady Farm, whose cheeses he'd carried at the restaurant.

His own son, Sam, was teaching in San Francisco and - like his father initially before him - wasn't itching to get in the oyster business.

So David sold Sansom Street (while still owning the building and the note) to Cary Neff, who had run a cafe nearby and cooked at the oyster house for a couple of years.

Mink mentored him, almost as a son. Still, he said, "you have to make it your own."

It was part business advice, part paternal blessing.

But for whatever reason, the Sansom Street Oyster House never seemed to quite fit Cary Neff. Regulars were irked that he didn't remember their names. He went through several chefs. Even the snapper soup - so reliable for so long - seemed to have off days.

Neff introduced new varieties of oysters - the lush Cape May Salts, for one. And the fish soup menu still had its solid, lunchtime following.

But the old-school place seemed to stiffen and chafe; the ghost of David Mink had never seemed to really retire.

So a year ago, Neff made a bold, if risky, move: If he couldn't make Sansom Street his own, he'd open a brand-new place, all Neff, top to bottom.

It's called Coquette Bistro and Raw Bar, a French-style cafe at Fifth and Bainbridge, the ice piled high, platters of oysters competing with plates of sauteed skate, and roasted chicken with ratatouille.

It has not had smooth sailing. It has been through a few chefs, also, and Neff says he's working "24/7" to keep it shucking along. He concedes, too, that it was a strain, juggling both Sansom Street and his new baby, Coquette: "I was pulled in two directions."

So were his financial resources. And now his Sansom Street landlord, David Mink, was not willing to be as lenient as in the past: His son, Sam, had finally decided to return from the West Coast, learn the restaurant business (he took a front-of-the-house job at Amada, the Old City tapas house), and prepare for the restoration (perhaps before the end of the year) of the Mink family tradition.

There would be a final testing - Neff missed payment deadlines to Mink, court writs were entered, he filed for defensive bankruptcy. But an inevitability seemed to be playing out: Against the prodigal son's return, the surrogate's fitful efforts were providing little bulwark.

Neff knew his case was doomed. He brought the keys to the restaurant with him to the final court hearing.

He wouldn't be pulled in two directions much longer.