Chow Time: MacAlpine's Soda Fountain

What do you call a happy picketer?  Is there a title for the exact opposite for protestor?  A contestor, maybe?  Whatever his job description, this guy refused to be ignored as he took the concept of a sandwich board to new heights.  It was a good thing that we were already on the side of this proud ensign bearer; in fact, the very first thing we did when we pulled into the city limits, was visit one of Phoenix's most-beloved watering holes (and the reason for his masterfully hand-painted sign), MacAlpine's Restaurant & Soda Fountain.

A tad premature (and immature), Mr. Tiny arrived before the neon "Open" sign was illuminated.  PHOTO OP!

Opened in 1929, MacAlpine's isn't just a static relic of its more-than-eighty-year history.  Instead of being a period-perfect museum, it is the genuine article - a living document of depressions, recessions, wars, and advancements of society and technology.  The restaurant is filled with memorabilia reflecting every one of the ten decades through which it has operated.  Heck, they even have a Facebook page! 

Pardon me, do you have Prince Albert in a can?*

It was still early in the day, but after having driven
for five hours, we were ready to get our grub on.

It being a soda fountain, we opted for counter service right where the mix magic happens. 

But the booth seating offered some pretty stiff competition.  Beautiful!!!

The mirrored bar back was the resting place for the myriad flavors of MacAlpine's
famous fountain specialties, not the least of which is the old-fashioned ice cream soda.

Not content with the extensive menu, Mary invented

 a new one - pistachio ice cream and rum-flavored soda.

She said that it was delicious...

The cheeseburger and homemade coleslaw.
The secret to MacAlpine's signature slaw is pineapple!

As seasoned road trippers and inveterate junk-food junkies, we can say that we have definitely enjoyed a tastier burger (it looked much better than it tasted).  However, we've never done so with such superior service in a facility that has been operating since the dawn of the Great Depression that also happens to be a VINTAGE STORE!!!

That's right, combining two of my most abiding passions, MacAlpine's is both a hash house and a rich repository of vintage clothing, accessories, housewares, and furniture.  A combination of road trip weariness and an overexcitement at the prospect of stuffing my face AND shopping for used goods all under the same roof left me too frazzled to take many pictures!

I wish I could've afforded to bring
this guy and his sister lamp home!

I am always swept away by the romance of vintage kitchen tools but can
never get past the idea that they're old and rusty and probably not
particularly sanitary...or maybe I'm just Howard Hughes-ing.

If you're ever in Phoenix, then hop in the old jalop' and head to the malted shop!  Make sure that you stop at MacAlpine's to get yourself a treat - of the frosty or fabric variety - or both!

"All the Cats Join In" - Benny Goodman

MacAlpine's Restaurant & Soda Fountain

2303 N 7th St

Phoenix, AZ

(602)262-5545

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

*Then you'd better let him out.  I couldn't let the joke go unfinished.  

Remember, we are dangerously close to 200 official followers.  When we reach that pinnacle of success, we will be hosting a major giveaway!  Spread the wacky tacky word, won't you please?  THANKS!!!

Magical Mystery Castle

"Stop."  "Beware of Dog."  "Danger, High Voltage."  There are many signs in our world that simply cannot, and should not, go unheeded.

"Mystery Castle."
This is definitely one of them.

And this one.

This one, not so much...
(Source)

There are physical signs that we see with our eyes and then there are signs of the more spiritual variety - signs that are less prohibitive and more a call to action.  What action would you take if you came down with tuberculosis?  Well, I guess the answer these days is relatively easy - seek prompt medical attention for an extensive course of antibiotics.  In the 1930's, the answer often involved a major change of scenery, especially for an arid, desert clime.  Diagnosed with TB in the early days of the Depression, Seattle-based Boyce Luther Gulley, saw a sign.  Leaving his wife and daughter behind in their secure, if all too humid, home town, Gulley set out for the breadth and breath offered by Phoenix, AZ.

Mystery Castle - Phoenix, AZ

Left with just his thoughts, a dearth of materials, and the inspiration of the mystical western winds, Gulley decided that his call to the desert was the opportunity to fulfill a promise he made to his daughter; he would build her a castle.  Gulley's castle, is essentially the sister castle to California's Nitt Witt Ridge.  Built of found objects, recycled materials, and a weird cement slurry that included a heaping helping of goat's milk, Gulley's dream castle took many years to build and ended up with eighteen rooms and thirteen fireplaces (a particular point of pride for the tour guides).  Upon its completion, and the owner's death, Gulley's wife and daughter were notified that the home was finally ready for them.

The Mystery Castle gained national fame when it was featured
on The January 26, 1948 cover of Life Magazine.  The article,
entitled "Life Visits a Mystery Castle" actually gave Boyce's
dream manse a name that stuck.  The young woman pictured,
is Mary Lou, the daughter for which Gulley built the home.

Shortly after the Life article's publication, the Mystery Castle was open for daily tours given by Mary Lou who continued the practice until her death in 2010.  The castle continues to operate tours as an official "Phoenix Point of Pride" under the auspices of a trust/non-profit that maintains the facility.

Many of the windows, transoms, and sidelights were
made of glass, refrigerator-storage dishes that Mr.
Gulley was able to buy by the truckload for pennies
 on the dollar.

The kitchen

Operating without modern utilities until the 70's, 80's, and 90's (they were added over time), living in the Mystery Castle required a distinct level of dedication and a strength of character uncommon among most people faced with soaring temperatures and terminal illness.

Filled with artifacts, the Mystery Castle is part tourist attraction, part museum.
Included in the collection is this original suffragette china.  According to our
 tour guide, this service belonged to the wife of Arizona's first governor; she made
 good on her threat to serve every meal on these dishes until women got the vote.

The Gulley's home and its contents are the very spirit of wacky tacky.  As I mentioned, it was the home of a single, "art" loving, desert dweller.  Subsequently no efforts to change, move, or restore have been made, leaving the home exactly the way it looked at the time of her death.  There is almost too much wacky tacky that it distracts from the original structure.

An abundance of life-size dolls inhabit
the rooms of the Mystery Castle.
How does one even accomplish something like this?
Wouldn't you be afraid that at some point it would come to life
 and switch places with you, making you the life-size doll?

A not-so-subtle nod to the provenance of some the castle's
more broken-in furnishings, the House of Joy brothel.

An installation by Mary Lou Gulley.
It is amazing the accomplishments than can be made with a soft-bodied
ballerina doll, a shaky hand, and a permanent marker.

The best times of the tour were those when we caught a glimpse of Boyce Luther Gulley's original concept.  Seeing past the four-foot, chocolate bunny statues and the cat decoupages to the stone mosaics, the Mexican tile, the skylights, the repurposed train tracks, the dumb waiter, the cantilevered, spiral staircase, was the chance to see through Gulley's visionary eyes.  All of these "trash castles" have to built by someone who is equal parts genius and madman; it is that delicate balance that fosters the perfect environment for the finest in wacky tacky. 

It really is a southwest castle!

Amazing tile

At the time of construction, this lookout point on the second floor's patio, was said
 to frame the entirety of the Phoenix skyline.  Today, it captures but a small portion.

A wonderful, wire-wheel window.
Gulley drove his Stutz Bearcat all the way from Seattle to Phoenix and
 used many of the deconstructed vehicle's parts in the castle's construction.

Taking a page from the world-famous Winchester Mystery House,
the Mystery Castle is a mini-labyrinth of staircases, archways,
meandering pathways, and columns.

The chapel contains a Victorian-era organ that is said to
have once belonged to Phoenix's black widow (known
for marrying miners, poisoning them, and then keeping their
fortunes).  The legend surrounding the organ was too much
 for Mary Lou Gulley to resist.  

This was my favorite room.  Traditional, Native American rugs,
primitive stained glass, stone/adobe walls, beamed ceilings,
antique chandelier, and the skeleton of a saguaro cactus (around
which the room was built).

A beautiful round window surrounded by native
stone - another use of the refrigerator dishes.

Mary in "purgatory," the area of the house between the chapel and the cantina.

The coolest part of the tour was the trap door - guarded by a menacing, metal alligator.
Following his instructions, Gulley's wife and daughter waited until exactly two years
 after his 1945 death to brave the alligator.  Upon opening the door, they found two $500
 bills, the deed to the property, gold, and a Valentine's Day card that Mary Lou
 had given to her father when she was a child.

Every door at the Mystery Castle is like the famed trap door; there is a surprise and a treasure behind each one.  If you're ever in Phoenix, be sure to follow the sign and pay your respects to this living example of folk/outsider art, vernacular architecture, and human ingenuity.  What began as one man's sickbed promise tuned into a wacky tacky wonder for all to enjoy.

Mystery Castle

800 E Mystery Castle

Phoenix, AZ

(602)268-1581

*Tours are offered Thursday through Sunday at a cost of $10 per person.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Chow Time: Bill Johnson's Big Apple

The longhorn steer, the saturated primary colors, the bent arrow, the promise of fully-functional neon - the Bill Johnson's Big Apple sign is everything that a roadside restaurant marker should be.  Like a wacky tacky homing beacon, it called out to us; so grateful were we that we stopped to take pictures of this masterpiece of vintage roadside, and then vowed to return after dark for a glimpse of the illuminated sign (and a bite to eat).

"Let's Eat"
You don't have to tell this duo twice!

Well, in another entry into "Places that are better seen than tasted," we bring you the good and the bad of the Bill Johnson's Big Apple experience.  A Phoenix establishment since 1957, the Big Apple has multiple locations throughout Phoenix and the surrounding environs.  We, of course, chose Bill Johnson's original location.

Before diners even enter the premises, they are treated to a Western fantasy -
 cacti, hitching posts, life-size livestock, and that crazy diorama!!!

"The Lost Dutchman" spit-roasts a pig under the starry desert sky.
The Lost Dutchman is an Arizona legend about a mysterious desert
mine that is home to the mother lode but alas, it's a mine from which
no one returns.

Bill Johnson was not just a restaurateur, he was an entrepreneur and showman.  He was probably more well known for his eponymous radio program, broadcast from inside the restaurant, than he was for the BBQ beans and hamburgers that he shamelessly advertised between spinning records (listen here).

But after a long day of driving, sightseeing, and movie premieres, we were more interested in the promise of BBQ than music.  In the 50's, the Big Apple was open until two o'clock in the morning providing late-night sustenance of the edible and musical varieties.  We screeched into the parking lot at ten o'clock, fully prepared to be turned away - the Big Apple's 21st-Century hours end at 10:30.   Fortunately, the staff was very kind and the service superior; we were welcomed with open arms and even complimented on our weird get-ups!

Tired and hungry always seem to
go hand in hand on a road trip.

Mary nuzzles Bill Johnson

Do you ever get swept away by the brilliant, mouth-watering description
 in a menu only to realize when the food arrives that all you've ordered
 is just a pretty mediocre piece of  chicken on a dry bun?  Me too.

Even had the vittles been entirely inedible, there was so much about BJ's Big Apple to love that we were able to look past the pedestrian fare and give the place our wacky tacky seal of approval.

Circle the wagons!
Prairie schooner lights filled the dining room.

A cigar store Indian

Bobbing for the Big Apple?
Come to think of it, aside from this, there was
nary an apple (big or otherwise) to be seen.

When we first pulled into town, we met a charming, lifelong resident of Phoenix (except when for two years she lived in our hometown, what are the odds?).  We explained to her the types of places that we like to visit and asked her if she had any recommendations.  She recommended the Capitol Building and the local museum.  Truly loving legitimate history but hoping to direct her thinking more towards the wacky tacky end of town, we mentioned Bill Johnson's.  "Oh, the Big Apple....is that place still there?" came her reply.  Well, for a more ringing endorsement we couldn't ask.  If even just for a view of that beautiful sign, it is worth wending one's way down Van Buren Street to Bill Johnson's; it is so exciting, it may just have you doing The Big Apple!

"The Big Apple"

The Bill Johnson's Big Apple sign in all of it's glory!
Maybe next time we'll take advantage of the "All you can eat fish fry."
It's always a good idea to eat fish in the middle of the desert, right?

Bill Johnson's Big Apple the Original
3757 E Van Buren St.
Phoenix, AZ
(602)275-2107

www.billjohnsons.com


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny