What do you get when you cross a Swiss Chalet with the Arabian Nights? An automatic tax shelter for all of that precious, precious gold? No, you get The Magic Lamp Inn in Rancho Cucamonga, CA.
Open Sesame.
The Magic Lamp started its life as Lucy & John's Cafe in the 1940's along famed Route 66. In 1955, the restaurant changed hands and after a drawing was held among employees to determine a new name, it became the "Magic Lamp Inn." Apparently, the exotic new name did not dictate a drastic change to a heavily, lamb-based menu. The Magic Lamp is a steak house. It is the kind of steak house that peaked in the 1960's and, thankfully, has never felt the need to update its appearance, menu or presentation. There is no "plating" here. There are no micro-greens. There is only an ironic fanciness - like money clips and floor-length fur coats. One of my least-favorite words in the world is "classy" but one is hard pressed to find a more fitting description for this wacky tacky eatery. If Helen Roper finally broke Stanley down and got him to take her somewhere nice for their anniversary, odds are it would have been the Magic Lamp Inn.
The stained glass, gold-embossed menu covers, and printed china all speak to the romantic and mystical aspects of granted wishes and arid, desert nights. How then, do you explain this???
The interior of the restaurant is clad in wood paneling, shingles, and gabled rooflines.
Maybe this is what Aladdin wished for with one of his wishes - an alpine retreat.
We don't ask questions and we don't need answers.
We simply bask in the strangeness of it all.
My photography "skills" are woefully lacking and make it nearly impossible to present appetizing views of the food but it was actually pretty tasty. I'm not sure if the waiter noticed, but I made every person at our table phrase their order beginning with the words, "I wish to have the..."
It was Erika's birthday, so she got her favorite,
Mid-East delicacy - cheesecake!
One of the signature desserts is the Chocolate Tulip Cake,
a chocolate tulip filled with chocolate mousse and garnished
with whipped cream and berries. Desserts are not included
in Mr. Tiny's current diet but the gang seemed to enjoy it.
It too had that 60's/70's "class" factor.
The circular cocktail lounge surrounds an oversized fire pit. Classy.
The booths are upholstered in brass button-tufted, oxblood leather. Classy.
These kooks in the parking lot. Not classy.
If you ever find yourself driving down Route 66 in Rancho Cucamonga, be proactive; make your own wish come true and visit the Magic Lamp Inn - magic carpet not required.
Because we went for lunch, we missed the most exciting
part of the whole restaurant - the flaming magic lamp.
You know how some places, no matter how public they are, seem so special that you get the feeling they belong just to you? Places that despite teeming crowds seemed like the best kind of secret? As a 7-year-old walking around Disneyland, I remember thinking that everything in the park was constructed for my amusement alone. For that brief day, everything Walt Disney dreamt was made a reality for my personal enjoyment. It occurred to me that the thousands of other people in the park were strategically placed just to add color, character, and ambient noise to my visit. In fact, I felt very benevolent allowing them to share in my experience - as long as they didn't cut the line.
For as "perfect" as Disneyland was, as a child, it didn't take as much from other places to make me experience the same feeling of ownership. There was a house, extremely simple by Disney standards - comparable only as a humble apple to Disney's dazzling orange - that for every year of my existence came into a life of its own at the holidays. I can remember our family trips driving through several different neighborhoods exploring the displays of fervently-glowing Christmas lights. My dad would slowly make his way up hill and over dale searching for the best houses as our breath steamed up the windows of our mini van. I don't know exactly how old I was when I first caught a glimpse of the "Snoopy House." I do remember, however, that to date, it was one of the best days of my life.
Driving by the Snoopy House on any day outside of the holiday season, one would be hard pressed to find something even slightly-remarkable about the facade. As a teenager, I would try and track down the house in the Fall just so I could tell friends about the magic that was right around the corner. (Remember, I have already mentioned that I am a huge square). A more clever person would have memorized the address or at very least the cross streets but I never thought that far ahead. As a matter of fact, I quite enjoyed the thrill of the hunt. I should mention, just so you are aware that I am not a total goon, that the rather-nondescript house resided on a very long stretch of road surrounded by many charming but equally-nondescript dwellings. Only after Thanksgiving did the little house transform into something miraculous; from that time through the beginning of the following year the house was unmistakable and unmistakably my Christmas spot.
I remember pulling up to the house for the first time. I can still feel the thrill and frustration of my maneuvering through the crowd. I could catch little glimpses over the heads of smaller kids and through the legs of adults as I pushed my way to the front. It was an eternity waiting for other families to disperse so I could take in the full spectacle. The entire yard (a large, corner lot with an L-shaped yard) was filled with a moving, interactive diorama of The Peanuts Gang at Christmas time. A children's choir sang, a rock band played, Lucy was ice skating, Snoopy was dancing, and the Christmas story was being told inside a barn that changed scenes when the barn doors opened and closed. In short, it was magic. The characters, including Peppermint Patty, Pig-Pen, Marcie, Linus, Charlie Brown, Woodstock, and Sally, placed on tracks among lovingly hand-painted sets were more than two-dimensional, plywood silhouettes, they were actors performing their Christmas spectacular! Santa's house was also a fixture and the week leading up to Christmas, Santa himself was there as chief naughty-and-nice checker and wish-list confidant. The tableau varied slightly from year to year as the homeowner introduced new sets, additional characters, and bigger ideas, but the feeling of joy was as consistent as the yearly extravaganza.
I wonder, is it a sacrilege to wax nostalgic about Disneyland and The Peanuts Gang in the same post? I don't know but the reason I discuss the Snoopy House is because this wacky tacky institution and lifelong part of my Christmas tradition, sadly, is no longer. Today, there was an article in our local paper detailing the foreclosure of the little house; it briefly outlined the financial details but the real focus was on the demise of a local holiday tradition. The owner was most upset by his inability to maintain his yearly commitment to the neighborhood. The victim of a tanking economy and unscrupulous lenders, it appears that there is to be no "It's a Wonderful Life" moment for the (former?) owner. You'd think that such a neighborhood hero would automatically get a pass from the title holder but I guess they don't take into account sentiment. Corny as it seems, if smiles were money the house could be bought and sold one thousand times over.
Why do things seem so vivid and magical to a kid? Why is a kid able and willing to see past the paint and plywood? I think that is a cornerstone of wacky tacky for me, trying to recapture the wonder and easy-going nature of a child. It would be very easy to peg me as a victim of arrested development. On the contrary, I have little desire to be a kid again but I certainly wouldn't mind trading some of my sarcasm, pettiness, and judgment for the enthusiasm, the unbridled joy, and the simple faith of a child.
I had every intention of featuring the Snoopy House as a blog post this season, but as with most things my timing is far from perfect. I will admit, I am pretty bummed that after 44 years of holiday magic, the Snoopy House is now fated to become just another nondescript house residing on a very long stretch of road surrounded by many charming but equally-nondescript dwellings. However, I am grateful for the chance to have known the Snoopy House and to have experienced this seasonal installation of contemporary folk art.
This is the only photo I could find of us visiting the Snoopy House!
While I never knew the man who owned the Snoopy House, I am thankful to him for his generosity of spirit and the time and energy he exerted every year to make my Christmas better and brighter. It is funny how something as simple as one man's Christmas decorations can shape the imagination of multiple generations and broaden their understanding of community, of beauty, and of Christmas.
When I was young I wanted to be rich and famous. Rich because, well, who doesn't want a few extra scheckels to rub together? Famous because I wanted my portrait done by Al Hirschfeld. I really thought, and continue to think, that being immortalized by "The Line King" is the height of celebrity. With a few deft strokes of his pen or brush, Hirschfeld was able to fully capture not only the stars' looks, but their personalities, their mannerisms, their foibles, and their charms.
Marilyn Monroe
Groucho Marx
Lucille Ball & Robert Preston from Mame
Bing Crosby
Betty Hutton
Carol Channing
Diane Keaton & Woody Allen from Annie Hall
Lena Horne
Bob Hope
"Apollo Chorine"
Rex Harrison & Julie Andrews from My Fair Lady
Audrey Hepburn as Holly Golightly
Sammy Davis, Jr.
Yul Brynner as the King of Siam
The Beatles
Born in St. Louis, Hirschfeld did all of the things that a budding artist in the 1920's should do including the obligatory stint in Paris. Back in the U.S., he found work as a cartoonist for The New York Times and quickly made a name for himself as America's premier caricaturist. Because his career spanned eight decades and included political figures, society luminaries, and stars of music, stage, and screen, his work came to define the medium in the 20th Century. His style was so unique and spare that a Hirschfeld caricature is identifiable at first sight. The quality and impact of his artistry are astounding; with a minimum of line and shape he created master works. His influence was so profound that many modern cartoonists, illustrators, caricaturists, and animators cite his work as inspiration for their own work. In fact, the "Rhapsody in Blue" animated sequence from Walt Disney's Fantasia 2000 is an homage to the genius of Al Hirschfeld.
"Rhapsody in Blue"
Fantasia 2000
As the great Line King has moved on to his great reward, it seems highly improbable that I will have my portrait made any time soon. In his absence I do feel a modicum of relief, only because if the day had ever come when the master caricaturist and illustrator did find me a worthy subject, the internal conflict would be huge; with the thrill of achievement would come the overwhelming, petrifying terror. On which of my many "flaws" would Hirschfeld choose to focus - exaggerate even - to create my caricature? Would it be my big ears? My crooked teeth? My chubby cheeks? My funny nose? My oversized form? All of the above? Even still, I would risk it. In reviewing his work, I can't imagine that any of the stars could feel anything but flattered.
The Line King , himself
At this point in my life, I am satisfied being neither rich nor famous. In fact, I'm quite content with my magic combination of poverty and anonymity, but what I wouldn't give to have Al Hirschfeld draw my picture.
Earlier this year we made our way up to The Paley Center for Media in Beverly Hills for the auction preview of Debbie Reynolds' vast collection of Hollywood costumes and memorabilia. The costumes were amazing and Debbie Reynolds' foresight in collecting and preserving these pieces of Hollywood history was truly profound. Fortunately, we made it (see blog post) - but just barely - on closing day. When we heard that there would be a second exhibit of even more costumes, we committed to going but being the world-class procrastinators that we are, we again put it off until nearly the eleventh hour (the exhibit ends this week with the auction on Saturday, December 3). Luckily, I was able to meet up with some friends, including fellow-bloggers Beth from V is for Vintage and Lauren from Wearing History.
The costumes that were on display this time were a little less spectacular than the previous exhibit - Marilyn Monroe's dress from The Seven Year Itch, Maria's dress from The Sound of Music, Dorothy's ruby slippers. Also, it appears that a little less time was taken in the curation; not every piece in the auction was on display and not every piece was described in detail as was the case in the former exhibit.
This dress, for example, was described as "MGM dress worn by Joan Crawford."
It's funny sometimes how fine a line is drawn between stunning,
1940's glamour gown and crazy "Golden Girls" nightmare.
Having aired my grievances, it must be said that the entire preview catalog is available online and in spite of my minor gripes, the exhibit was still pretty spectacular. If Reynolds' collection consisted only of the pieces we saw this time, I would still consider her a wise and wealthy woman. I didn't get pictures of every item, so perhaps the best way to present these photos is by the stars who wore them, starting with Reynolds herself.
DEBBIE REYNOLDS
It Started with a Kiss (1959)
worn by Debbie Reynolds
What's the Matter with Helen? (1971)
worn by Debbie Reynolds
What's the Matter with Helen?
This is too "goody, goody" to miss.
SONJA HENIE
Show costume
worn by Sonja Henie
Show Parasol costume/prop
worn by Sonja Henie
Show costume
worn by Sonja Henie
Show costume
worn by Sonja Henie
BETTY GRABLE
My Blue Heaven (1950)
worn by Betty Grable The Girl Next Door (1953)
worn by June Haver
Both films co-starred Dan Dailey!
Sweet Rosie O'Grady (1943)
worn by Betty Grable
Springtime in the Rockies (1942)
worn by Betty Grable
JULIE ANDREWS
Star! (1968)
worn by Julie Andrews
Star! (1968)
worn by Julie Andrews
Details of the beautiful beading
"The Physician"
Star! (1968)
MARILYN MONROE
Niagara (1953)
worn by Marilyn Monroe
Gentlemen Prefer Blondes (1953)
worn by Marilyn Monroe
Bus Stop (1956)
worn by Marilyn Monroe
Let's Make Love (1960)
worn by Marilyn Monroe
CLAUDETTE COLBERT
Remember the Day (1941)
worn by Claudette Colbert
Without Reservations (1946)
worn by Claudette Colbert
This one is going to get the
Mr. Tiny treatment.
DORIS DAY
Billy Rose's Jumbo (1962)
worn by Doris Day
Billy Rose's Jumbo (1962)
worn by Doris Day
Billy Rose's Jumbo (1962)
worn by Doris Day
The Glass-Bottom Boat (1966)
worn by Doris Day
I was pretty excited to see the Doris Day costumes.
She is one of my favorite stars and I have always
thought the mermaid costume was awesome!
The Glass-Bottom Boat (1966)
This movie is about as corny and awesome as it can get -
Paul Lynde as an undercover, transvestite, NASA security guard.
A FEW STANDOUTS FROM THE COLLECTION
Will Success Spoil Rock Hunter? (1957)
Jayne Mansfield
With a Song in My Heart (1952)
worn by Susan Hayward
The Opposite Sex (1956)
worn by June Allyson
Ziegfeld Girl (1941)
worn by Eve Arden
Detail of the illusion bodice with 3-D, wired stars.
The Unfinished Dance (1947)
worn by Cyd Charisse
Seven Brides for Seven Brothers (1954)
worn by Jane Powell
The Great American Broadcast (1941)
worn by Alice Faye
The Greatest Show on Earth (1952)
worn by Dorothy Lamour
Loving the modesty pearls...
Hello Frisco, Hello (1943)
worn by Lynn Bari
Hello Frisco, Hello (1943)
worn by June Havoc
Showboat (1951)
worn by Marge Champion
Kiss Me Kate (1953)
worn by Ann Miller
Jitterbugs (1943)
worn by Stan Laurel
Up in Central Park (1948)
worn by Deanna Durbin
Deanna is another one of my absolute favorites!
The Thin Man Goes Home (1945)
worn by Myrna Loy
Awesome!!!
20th Century Fox dress
worn by Carmen Miranda
Yep, CARMEN MIRANDA!!!
This hat had the reverent duty of resting atop
Maureen O'Hara's most beautiful head!!!
Overall, it was another great showing of Hollywood history - Irene, Adrian, Helen Rose, Edith Head, Jean Louis, Walter Plunkett, and more. A serious "thank you" is owed to Debbie Reynolds for being clever enough to save all these things from the ravages of time and studio dumpsters!
I guess if I could have stolen anything from the
exhibit, it would have been this piece.
Doris Day's boobies were here!
