Signs of the Times: Starlite Motel

When Mr. Tiny was young, I was quite the water baby.  Joyfully swimming at every opportunity, the deep end of any pool still seemed menacing and probably would have remained so if my mother hadn't believed in the full-immersion approach to shallow-end aversion therapy.  One sunny, summer day in my fourth year, my mom carried me down the street to our well-populated community pool and, filled with the strength that it would take to remove a wailing, flailing, crying child that is trying his darnedest to claw his way to the top of her head, she heaved me into the deep end and told me that I would have to swim to the edge.  Needless to to say, I did make it to the edge but I never swam again...  Okay, only the first part of the story is true; I actually continued to swim and became a contender in backstroke and freestyle - thanks, Mom.  Not only did I overcome my fear of water more than three-and-a-half feet deep, I also learned to love the diving opportunities that only the deep end could afford.  Who knew that the desert of Mesa, AZ would offer the most exciting diving I've ever seen?

Starlite Motel - Mesa, AZ

If there was a star attraction of our recent Arizona adventure, it would have to be the Starlite Motel.  We didn't even end up staying at this 1960 roadside landmark, but the wacky tacky impact of Starlite's beautiful sign was still paramount to us and the residents of Mesa.  The marquee, extending a welcome to visitors and the availability of a jacuzzi room, was pretty nice and definitely worthy of inclusion in our previous post about Main Street's amazing signs, but the sign for which the Starlite Motel is most praiseworthy is its famous diving girl.  

The diving girl is the story of a comeback kid; nearly obliterated by a powerful windstorm in 2010, the sign was blown down and left to the elements when the funds to restore her could not be raised.  The gods of wacky tacky were smiling on her when community leaders and Americana enthusiasts rallied to raise the $120,000 that was necessary for her rehabilitation.  This year, just a few short days before our visit, the reinforced sign's restoration (using the original plans) was complete and we were able to visit the surprisingly-fit, 53-year-old, 78-foot-tall diving phenomenon.

Awe struck by the majesty of it all.
Ostensibly, the sign was erected to advertise the motel's sparkling pool.
Ironically, the sign has been restored, but the pool is long gone.

As per usual, we found the sign in the glaring light of the noonday sun.  However beautiful she was, it was the least optimal hour to view the animated neon sign.  Although time was short and the Starlite's Mesa address was quite a distance from our hotel and any of our mandatory itinerary items, I vowed to return after dark to witness the diving lady in all of her neon glory.

Not just a dive, but a jackknife!

I have a strong bias towards animated neon; nevertheless, I give her a perfect 10!

It is a loosely-guarded secret that a dream of mine (one of many) is to own an historic motel and restore it with an awesome pool, a delicious coffee shop/diner, and a venue for hosting special events.  Having been bit by the same bug as Bing Crosby in Holiday Inn, it sounds like I would be treading in some pretty deep and treacherous water.  I guess I won't know until I dive in.  Speaking of diving, here is the Starlite Motel sign in action; I somehow managed to add sound effects and music to the video (far beyond my normal skill level) but, believe it or not, it wouldn't upload onto YouTube with them!  I guess once you're flagged, you're flogged!

Thus, in the beautiful hum and glow of neon, we end our Phoenix adventures; we always like to go out with a SPLASH!!!

Starlite Motel
2710 E Main St
Mesa, AZ
(480)964-2201


Cheers,

Mr. Tiny

p.s.  As a reminder, we are creeping up on 200 followers.  Lest you forget, we are marking the occasion with an unprecedented GIVEAWAY!!!  Please join in the fun!

Pulling Out All the Stops: Organ Stop Pizza

Giddiness is probably the least attractive posture a fully-grown man could take.  When faced with the world's-largest Wurlitzer theater organ, however, there really is no other posture to assume.  Southern California is a veritable hotbed of wacky tacky - thriving in spite of a culture of looking "cool" at all costs;  never having been cool, I am blissfully free of the burden of maintaing a "cool" reputation.  That, combined with the fact that we were in Arizona, left me free to be a giddy as a schoolgirl over the thundering sound of the world's largest Wurlitzer theater organ (insert world's largest organ joke).

Capital G-i-double d-y!

The only place to get this excited over the world's largest Wurlitzer theater organ is at its home, Organ Stop Pizza in Mesa, AZ.  Organ Stop Pizza began its life in Phoenix in 1972.  The brainchild of  William P. Brown, who was intent on combining his love of pizza with his love of theater organ, Organ Stop Pizza quickly outgrew its first two locations.  Proving that wacky tacky can be found in any era, OSP broke ground and opened the doors to its current location in 1995.  The facade of its permanent residence is nothing to write home about.  In fact, it is decidedly un-wacky tacky, but once inside the Mesa eatery/organ spectacular, the building itself is reduced to inconsequential background noise.

This is it!  The glowing void in the middle of the picture is the place where the organ console and organist are hydraulically lifted from the ground to perform everything from cinematic masterpieces to polkas to national anthems.  I had to pause a moment when I recognized one of the tunes as "Oh, Canada," the Canadian national
anthem.  I quickly remembered that much of Arizona's seasonal populace is made up of Canadian "snowbirds."

The afternoon's feature organist
OSP has multiple organists on a rotating schedule;
I kind of wanted to stay and hear them all.

I tried to upload my videos so I could share them with you, but apparently, YouTube has incredibly sensitive filters and muted all of my videos, citing copyright infringement.  Really?!?!?!  How does everyone else on YouTube upload EVERY SINGLE SONG in the entire world with no problem?  I am really bad at computers, so after a few tries, I gave up in frustration.  Let me tell you, the descent from overwhelming giddiness to bitter frustration is not nearly as long a fall as one might imagine.  Nevertheless, there exist some videos of the OSP organ in action (although how they managed to get by the YouTube censor bureau, I will never know).

"Chattanooga Choo Choo"

Maybe "Chattanooga Choo Choo" is in the public domain???

The sound quality isn't spectacular but you can definitely

 get a sense of the organ's instrumental capabilities.

Petty, internet-related frustrations aside, I can't quite fully explain the level of elation one is capable of achieving when two of the world's most perfect offerings come together - organ music and pizza (plus a fully-loaded salad bar)!  It is wacky tacky nirvana.  Much credit is due the sensational musicians that lend their talents to the Organ Stop Pizza.  But how can we overlook the real star of the show here - the organ!

Look at that beautiful console!
Designed and built in the 1920's for the world-famous
Grauman's Chinese Theater in Hollywood, OSP's organ
is a total show-stopper before the first stop is even pulled out! 

Compartments loaded with thousands of pipes and clear,
 hinged dampers are controlled entirely by the organist.

Castanets, horns, tambourine, and the wacky tackiest of all instruments - the accordion!

A player piano, bongos, a conga drum, and just about
everything else for which one could wish.

A fanfare is imminent when a fan of horns is always poised at the ready.

"Stars and Stripes Forever"

Take that "Oh, Canada"....only joking, Canadians...

Oh yeah, did I mention that the organ console rotates

during the performance - IT ROTATES!!!

As is evidenced by the above video, dramatic points or particularly-
patriotic moments in a song change the room from relative darkness
 to a glittering spectacle of electric light.
Could an organ concert get any more incredible?  Well, maybe it can...

Once every set, the organist played a rousing, little ditty entitled "The Alleycat."

"The Alleycat" - Bent Fabric

Imagine this being played by the world's largest Wurlitzer theater organ.

Then imagine the thrill of the curtain rising to
reveal a chorus line of feline marionettes!!!

Organ Stop Pizza is more than theater in its most rarefied form; it is an interactive experience.  At the base of the organ platform, there are cards on which the audience members can fill in requests for tunes and notate special occasions that they are celebrating at the restaurant.  While the organist did not play our request (how awesome would it have been to hear The Munsters theme song played on the world's largest Wurlitzer organ), he did honor Mary's request to wish me a happy birthday.

"Happy Birthday Mr. Tiny"

Can you see how crestfallen he is when he realizes 

he's wishing the fat guy in the front row a happy birthday? 

Well, the joke's on you OSP, it wasn't really my birthday!!!

Citing the "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all" rule, I can't say anything about Organ Stop Pizza's pizza.  Well, I guess I could...but I won't.  It really wouldn't matter what they served there - Organ Stop Hot Dogs, Organ Stop Sushi, Organ Stop Hamster - a rose by any other name would certainly sound as sweet.  We've been to the Spreckel's Organ in San Diego, CA.  We've heard the Avalon Theater's beautiful Page Organ accompany some of the finest films of the silent era.  Now we've been to Organ Stop pizza's mighty Wurlitzer.  The hunt is on for the world's best organs...just don't be surprised if you wake up tomorrow in a bathtub full of ice!

We loved it so much that we couldn't leave without a souvenir.
Organ Stop Pizza rigorously maintains the organ and often
 has to swap out spent pipes; we got a "D."

I truly can't recommend a visit to Organ Stop Pizza enough.  If you have even an ounce of wacky tacky spirit in the recesses of your doubtful mind and cold, cold heart, you will definitely get a thrill out of the mighty Wurlitzer and those crazy, dancing cats!

Organ Stop Pizza

1149 E Southern Ave

Mesa, AZ

(480)813-5700

www.organstoppizza.com

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Signs of the Times: Main Street, Mesa, AZ

We can't escape them; signs are everywhere.  If you think Boyce Luther Gulley saw a sign when he was inspired to build his Mystery Castle, then get a load of the way some people took the idea of a "desert sign" quite literally.  All along Main Street in Mesa, AZ, we were treated to bevy of beautiful neon markers for motels, hotels, and businesses of all kinds.  Here are some of the best signs that we saw.

Sunland Motel
This one reminds me of the original Del Taco logo (it might be a regional thing).
It's a shame that too few motels offer the practicality of the kitchenette.

Kiva Lodge Motel
I want this sign in the worst way.  How awesome would my western room
be with a giant Chief's head illuminated by neon?  Really awesome.

It's all about the details.
The vacancy sign masquerading as Native American pottery

Deserama Mobile Ranch
The name is pure poetry; someone needs to write a book called
 "Deserama" based on the desert's never ending awesomeness!
By the way, don't you already get the feeling that some lonely Deserama
resident really does have 55+ pets in her mobile home?

Trava-Leers Motel
This is one of my favorites because it evokes the nostalgia of 50's Disneyland.

El Capitan Lodge Motel
They've got vacancy and TV; what more could you ask for?

The Plainsman Motel

Highway Host Motel
The signs all have such a feeling of optimism and hope.
Or maybe I read too much into a white starburst...

Dairy Queen
This might not be that exciting to you, but in our neck of the woods, the
oldest Dairy Queen is in a tan, stucco building circa 1989, neon not included.

The Hambone Sports Bar & Grill
Save for the fact that I DO wear glasses and I DON'T drink beer, it looks like they knew I was coming.

El Rancho Motel
From what direction would one be approaching the old El Rancho?
Based on the arrow they were projecting a Jetsonian future where we would come in on hover cars.
How much do we love the "MOTEL" font?  But we still can't figure out what they mean by "Itscat."

Frontier Motel
Remember, at one time Phoenix was the wild frontier of America...but not for very long.
Look at the vacancy sign; with the push of a single button, a little flap goes up and visitors are UNwelcome. 

We drove up and down Main Street, Mesa at least three times trying to make sure that we didn't miss any of that amazing signage (we probably did).  The residents of Mesa sure are lucky to have such a concentration of neat signs to color the skyline of their hometown.  Do you have any amazing neon signs in your town that deserve more appreciation?

"Signs" - Five Man Electrical Band

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Hi-Jolly Gift Shop

There is no other way to say this - I am utterly disappointed in myself.  No matter how hard I try, I am constantly perpetuating stereotypes.  In most cases it is unfair to make a sweeping generalization about a particular segment of society; it seems even more unfair to realize that the same sweeping generalization is entirely true about oneself.  The time has come for me to admit something.  My name is Mr. Tiny.  I am fat and I am jolly.  It's not just my predilection for green vegetables (you know, like the Jolly Green Giant).  It's not just that my belly shakes when I laugh like a bowl full of jelly (Jolly Old Saint Nicholas).  It's that the age-old perception of the cheerfully chunky rings true...at least in my case.  I have plenty of moody moments but, all things considered, I have a disposition that is generally jolly - especially when I am exploring someplace as interesting as Hi-Jolly Gift Shop on a jolly holiday in Arizona.

See what I mean?
Jumping for Jolly.

Opened sometime in the 1940's (according to the perhaps less-than-jolly shopkeeper), Hi-Jolly was a place that forced us into a situation of some pretty reckless driving as we followed the siren song of souvenirs.  Based solely on the exterior, Hi-Jolly is one of those shops that makes you cross your fingers and hope that somehow traversing the threshold will transport you back to the glory days of the American Southwest - dreaming that all of the souvenirs would be just as they were on a warm April day in 1941.  That theory and the hand-painted signs made a lot of claims that we were anxious to put to the test.

"Souvenirs, Copper, Windbells, Indian Jewelry, Sand Paintings, Moccasins, Western Belts,
 Cactus Plants, Mexican Pottery, T-Shirts, Steer Horns, and Figurines" - I'll take plenty of each!

The weathered, aqua posts supporting the
covered porch are studded in old bottle caps.  

They had me at matching belt & bola tie!

The signs were enough to get me to consider taking up permanent residence, and I hadn't even opened the door yet.  It was time to bite the proverbial bullet and enter.

I want everything to look like this.  Everything.

At first glance, Hi-Jolly is just as disappointing as every other tourist-trap gift shop.  Rife with tschotskes specific to nowhere, dream catchers made in Sri Lanka, neo-Southwest decorations, and Red Hat Society paraphernalia (is that still a thing?), it would've been easy to turn on our heels and beat a hasty retreat to the rental car.  Myopic would we be if we failed to take a few moments to focus our eyes and discover the best parts of Hi-Jolly.

A bounty of Native American chalkware busts.
I wanted all of them; unable to decide on a single
 one, I foolishly decided on none.

Cactus Candy
How great are those graphics and the jolly green saguaro?

I couldn't find the Arizona corollary for kissing Dutch figures,
 but I was sure I'd be able to find a place for them in the yard.

Curiouser and curiouser.
Dead stock 60's dolls are relegated to a cardboard box.
We also found vintage velvet paintings leaning against a
back wall; upon closer inspection, they were dirty and torn.

A rack full of risque, novelty greeting cards from the 70's.

I wanted to spend more time in Hi-Jolly searching for the other old-timey odds and ends that were hiding between racks of Arizona state magnets and cow patties encased in resin, but we were keeping a very tight schedule and needed to get back on track.  Although, I did have time to pick up one souvenir.

A tooled-leather wallet to replace the one I have that is actually
bursting at the seams.  This one has insets of cowhide...sorry PETA.

Is the service amazing?  No.  Is the shop air-conditioned?  No.  Is the spirit of Hi-Jolly's opening day still present in the narrow aisles packed with Native American "art" and Southwest souvenirs over seven decades later?  Yes.  If you find yourself in Mesa, AZ (which you undoubtedly will after you see some of the neato things that we have yet to share with you), be sure and stop by Hi-Jolly Gift Shop.  You'll be jolly glad that you did.

Still intent on dispelling the stereotype, I struck the

most un-jolly pose I could muster.  Nope...still jolly.

Hi-Jolly Gift Shop

4500 E Main St #2

Mesa, AZ

(480)832-5076

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny