I love birthday presents. I love Christmas presents. It is a fact that I love presents of all varieties, but usually I protest the opportunity to be a recipient because I was raised with the notion that a gracious decline (see "no gifts please") was good manners. No matter how much I protest, which I usually doth too much, there is no denying the joy of fiendishly tearing into the aluminum foil (What? Everyone doesn't ensconce gifts of the heart in food-grade wrapping?) to uncover something that is meant just for me; growing up in a family of five children, there were very few things that I could claim as mine alone. The only thing better than a birthday gift or Christmas gift, is that gift that comes totally unexpectedly at a time when a little pick me up is needed but no such expectation can be justified because the major gift-giving holidays have just very recently passed - the "just because" gift. When that rarest species of gifts just happens to be old-timey AND wacky tacky, then you know you have hit the "just because" jackpot!
Many people will say that they were "born in the wrong decade," but I am convinced that the same people would be reticent to abandon the luxuries and basic comforts provided by the modern world. I see it as an episode of The Twilight Zone - an unwitting protagonist wishes to go back in time but fails to read the fine print and promptly contracts polio and lives in an iron lung for the rest of his life. Despite the obvious pitfalls of time travel, I will admit that I too have been guilty of spending an inordinate amount of time planning the clever and productive use of a time machine should such a device ever become available. Few things make the desire to explore the flexibility of the space-time continuum more profound than a "just because" gift I recently received from my pals Jesse & Emily. Just four words....
Don't you want to live in a time when a South American songstress was popular enough with the whole family to warrant a coloring book? Even if you didn't want to live in 1942, wouldn't be a nice place to visit?
Carmen Miranda, having been featured previously on our blog, is a true icon of wacky tacky. Our credo of "More is more," is a natural extension of her outlandish hats, beautiful costumes, and mile-high platform shoes. Owning this nearly-untouched coloring book is a bit intimidating because the large pages are just begging to be colored (a favorite wacky tacky pastime) but the nagging feeling that it is somehow wrong to color a vintage coloring book can't be denied. What do you think?
There are a few colored pages but it is obvious that the artist, Mary Ann, applied a gentle and loving hand.
All I want is a trip to Copacabana Beach - circa 1939
It is amazing to me how with just a few simple lines, the spirit of Carmen is captured in the pages of this book.
Thrown in for good measure?
The details are all there, right down to
those famous platform shoes!
This generous gift is even more meaningful because Emily is a huge, classic movie buff; she has a beautiful blog called The Silver Screen Affair. For her to have a little piece of movie-related history in her hands and be magnanimous enough to give it to me was a truly kind gesture. The greatest part about a "just because" gift is the opportunity to pay it forward and make somebody else's day.
"I, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi, Yi Like You Very Much" - Carmen Miranda
Thanks Emily & Jesse!!! I, yi, yi, yi, yi, yi like you too!!!
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.
Usually, I am loathe to include anything too personal in this blog. I much prefer adhering to the cardinal commandment of wacky tacky - "Thou shalt not take thine own self too seriously." There is, however, no escaping the fact that I am currently laid up! Suffering from the symptoms of an indeterminate ailment, I should have had plenty of time to blog but my bleary-eyed, semi-conscious waking hours have been filled with prescriptions, appointments and streaming Netflix. As I lay in what will surely become my death bed, I feel fortunate to have both the strength to type and a small backlog of material about which I can post. The doctors say that over-dramatization is a probably the most prominent symptom of my illness - whatever that means.
This is the forest primeval! Walking through the front door of Clifton's Brookdale Cafeteria in downtown Los Angeles, one is immediately transported into a Depression-era dreamer's vision of the great outdoors. It might not be what Longfellow was scribbling about, but it is pretty great by wacky tacky standards!
Clifton's Brookdale
The history of Clifton's Brookdale Cafeteria goes back to 1935 and is best described by the Clifton's website:
"In 1935 Clifford Clinton purchased the lease of the former Boos Brothers Cafeteria and began to transform the dowdy interior into an imaginary wonderland rivaled only by his other cafeteria, the legendary Clifton's Pacific Seas.
As a youth, Clifford spent his summers in the Santa Cruz mountains among the coastal redwoods, not far from the famous Brookdale Lodge. This mountain feeling was the theme Clifford wanted for his new location. Working with rock sculptor Francois Scotti, Clifford created a 20 ft. waterfall cascading into a quiet stream that meanders through a dining room. Redwood trees were used to conceal steel columns and a renowned L.A. muralist, Elinar Petersen, created a life size forest on canvas covering one wall. A Little Chapel perched high amongst the crags fulfilled Clifford's desire to feed the soul as well as the body of depression weary Angelinos."
The Clinton family's recent sale of Clifton's had foodies, history nerds, downtown enthusiasts and regular customers alike a little more than worried about the fate of the grand institution. After a recent visit I found that in fact there is very little about which to worry.
In something as simple as the trays, the noticeable changes might even be seen as improvements.
It may seem like niggling, but the one devastating change is the new computerized registers. In days of yore the women at the check out knew every price and product by heart and rang each guest on vintage, push-button cash registers with lightning speed and the accuracy of Swiss watchmakers. The new system may benefit Clifton's bookkeeping but it sure slows down the line and takes away some of the fun!
Normally - and to everyone's great surprise - I am not a buffet/cafeteria type of guy. Call me self-conscious, but as one of larger proportion, I just don't feel quite comfortable shuffling along, testing the tensile strength of my heavy-laden tray. I like to sit down, order and have a genial person set my food before me. If there is one giant exception to this rule, it is Clifton's. Cafeteria food has a rather-dicey reputation and in most cases this reputation is justified; Clifton's notices range from sublime to mediocre to scathing. However, I must say that every time I have eaten there, I have found the food quite good and I left feeling fat and sassy. Although, it must be said, I came in feeling pretty fat and sassy.
It's not what it looks like...okay, it's exactly what it looks like!
Mmmmmm, Clifton's meatloaf is good!
Because Clifton's is the type of landmark with which people feel such a personal connection, theories and rumors about the "changes" abound - especially about the Clifton's third floor which until recently looked like a mix between Disneyland's Golden Horseshoe Saloon and a small-town museum. The most persistent of these rumors is that the third floor is being remade into a Polynesian paradise reminiscent of the long-since-closed Clifton's Pacific Seas Cafeteria. On our most recent visit, the third floor was still shrouded in both drop cloths and mystery.
Happily, the remainder of the cafeteria appears to have weathered the change in ownership unscathed.
The amazing, cow hide, hearthside chair still
beckons guest to take a load off and set for a spell.
Bears are still fishing
A postcard view of the chapel and the main dining room
(Source)
The Chapel is still chapel-ing
We should have taken video of the spiritual message delivered
at the push of a button inside the chapel but perhaps that is
just the incentive one needs to get to Clifton's Brookdale!
An additional dining nook still carries the theme
"By a waterfall, I'm calling you..."
The water is still falling.
The country cabin still welcomes visitors.
And taxidermy, always taxidermy!
Again we must bastardize paraphrase the great poet Longfellow:
"...List to a Tale of Love in (Brookdale), home of the happy."
As luck would have it, there is a fitting Disney cartoon for every occasion.
"Morris the Midget Moose" (1950)
Clifton's Brookdale Cafeteria
648 South Broadway
Los Angeles, CA
(213)627-1673
Hours of Operation:
Tuesday - Sunday: 6:30am - 10:00pm
(Please verify hours before making your way downtown and paying to park. Due to the renovation, the hours may vary.)
