Chow Time: Bun 'N Burger

I have fallen off the "Healthy Eating" wagon so often that I've determined my best bet is simply to tether my cankle to the wagon and just get dragged behind, hoping for the best.  Predictably, the knot in the rope seemed to slip a little when I saw the neon wonder of a short-order cook proffering a hamburger in one hand and a piece of pie in the other.

Situated on a bustling corner of Alhambra's Main St, is an under-appreciated institution of Southern California's wartime gastronomy.  Looking from the outside like something straight out of a Hollywood movie's "Main St," Bun 'N Burger (est. 1941), is just shy of its 75th anniversary of serving America's greatest taste sensation, the burger ('n the bun too).

Bun 'N Burger - Alhambra, CA

The angled corner entry, the awnings, and that marvelous signage are all so wonderfully stereotypical of a burger joint of its vintage.  After countless disappointing, after-hours drives-by (why am I always in Alhambra after dark???), I was excited to finally get a chance to experience what lay beyond the locked doors of Bun 'N Burger.  

The obligatory red booths and counter stools are set solidly in place before formica tables and countertops.
I immediately fell head over heals for the gleaming, stainless-steel fixtures including that monstrous exhaust hood.
I would thrill to see the two-tone green color story of the exterior brought under foot in the form of linoleum tiles.

Quiet, quick, and courteous, the service at Bun 'N Burger is top notch.  I was so lost in snapping photos that the waitress finally had to snap me out of it just to take my order.  

Oh darn, I just missed menudo....

Convinced that I was making a healthy choice by ordering a grilled chicken sandwich with no cheese and no mayo (I might be the last person on Earth that foolishly does not consider bread the enemy), I realized that the waitress probably felt sorry for me and brought my sandwich with a side of guacamole (healthy fat and omega something something, right?) AND a side of fries.

Waffle-cut fries!!!
There would be no saving room for pie...

As well as "Professional Waffle-Cut Fry Connoisseur," one of my many dream jobs would be "Make-Under Artist."  As frequently and as fiercely as I tout the ideology, "Too much is never enough," I often think that what old-fashioned eateries could really tolerate is a heavy dose of good, old-fashioned decluttering - particularly where totally-unrelated miscellanea is concerned.  When will retro diners/coffee shops/et al. realize that were they all landmarks on old Route 66, the"Mother Road" would've been a highly-circuitous eight-million-miles long!

At some point in its history, Bun 'N Burger created an additional dining room by expanding into an adjoining space - as much to accommodate more guests as to accommodate the growing collection of reproduction Coca-Cola memorabilia, I'd wager.  Is it so wrong that I just want to see the streamlined bones of a streamline-era restaurant?  All Bun 'N Burger needs is a fair bit of curation by someone with a level head and a keen eye.  However, there are definitely a few select collectibles that I think should remain; I mean, who can resist a taxidermied swordfish?!!

And this loving tribute to the King...there's always
room in a wacky tacky environment for black velvet.

"Hot Dog" - Elvis Presley

What goes better together than hot dogs and hamburgers, I ask you?

Bun 'N Burger
1000 E Main St
Alhambra, CA
(626)281-6777


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Signs of the Times: Thunderbird Lodge

It feels slightly disingenuous to issue complaints about how unbearably unseasonably warm it has been this week.  After all, Southern California is often the object of ridicule for its pathetic lack of seasonal changes; we have summer...and two or three days scattered throughout the year that try desperately to disprove the jibes of our climate-challenged neighbors to the north and to the east.  At this point, I suppose that I should be used to the blistering sun and chapped lips but it comes as a surprise every year.  And all I know is that it is HOT!  We're talking 100+ degrees!  Early May should be the time for blossoming trees and twittering birds and cool spring breezes.  Instead we are treated to wildfires, roadkill, and drought.

I know I shouldn't be complaining, but try telling that to my crimson complexion and puddles of perspiration.  Afraid to even switch on a light for fear of the additional heat output of an incandescent bulb (I guess we really should have switched to those corkscrew compact fluorescents), we oft take to the only space we have that has been blessed with air conditioning - the wacky wagon!  Everyone knows that the best distraction from flop sweats is a good, old-fashioned wander.

Thunderbird Lodge - Riverside, CA

Okay, so the A/C in the wacky wagon has seen better days but the windows do go up and down; as long as there is air circulation and incredible signage, I am far less inclined to weather-related whining.  Oddly beckoned to even hotter climes, I was completely refreshed by the coolness of the brilliant-blue letter blocks and neon thunderbird of Riverside, CA's Thunderbird Lodge (est. 1960).  Preceding the ultra-hip Southwest aesthetic of the last few years by several decades, the Thunderbird proves that a classic look will never go out of style.

Conveniently located near Riverside's many tourist attractions, I am now seriously second guessing my decision not to book one of Thunderbird Lodge's reasonably-priced rooms, if only for the sweet, sweet air conditioning.  Plus, when was the last time I had a proper "Continental Breakfast?"

Thunderbird Lodge
2711 University Ave
Riverside, CA
(951)683-2070

thunderbirdlodge.com


Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Signs of the Times: Kingman Club

Kingman Club- Kingman, AZ

Giving new meaning to "Dirty Martini," the sign for the shuttered Kingman Club (in Kingman, AZ of all places), had us once again sauntering down imaginary lane.  In its earliest days, did the club serve as an exclusive hot spot - "Where Kingman's elite meet?"  The glowing martini glasses and the neon script with its curlicued "b" had us believing that the club's origins were quite glamorous.  On the other hand, the flickering bulbs and addendum offering such plebeian pastimes as shuffleboard and darts had us rethinking our position.  Instead of Gimlets and Brandy Alexanders, "$1 Well Drinks" were the order of the day (and the morning, the afternoon, and the night for that matter).  With just a moment longer to reflect on the history of the sign, we were left with the feeling that the more-recent patrons of the Kingman Club (decidedly rougher than our romantic visions of Cary Grant and Constance Bennett as George and Marion Kerby) probably gave the stink-eye AND the middle finger to anyone uttering the words "Shaken, not stirred."  

Speaking of middle fingers...
The "Kingman Salute" is a reminder to all who
leave town that Kingman is number one!
(Finger Rock is between Kingman and Bullhead City on I-68)

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

Signs of the Times: Losing My West Virginity

Confronting one's own prejudices is an odd task.  Realizing that the time was drawing near for me to board a plane to West Virginia (well two planes actually because there are no direct flights from California to West Virginia) to visit my sister's family, I wondered if I was ready for the seed spitting contests, the backwoods fashions, the roadkill cuisine, the hollers, the homemade haircuts, the inbreeding, the all-banjo orchestras, the bare feet, the fascinating (mis)use of the English language in that distinctly-Appalachian accent, the jugs of white lightning, the baby bottles filled with Mountain Dew, the fine layer of coal dust on every surface, the dental disasters, the necks of red, the readiness of firearms, the family feuds, and prejudice itself.  It seemed more than slightly hypocritical to be so terribly concerned with others' prejudices when I clearly had a laundry list of my very own.  I spent much of the flight considering what I had gotten myself into by going to West Virginia and wondering if the stereotypes would be justified.  Our pal, Deke, had done nothing to dispel my preconceived, if totally predicated on Hollywood depictions and cartoons, notions about West Virginia with his musical contribution to The Wild and Wonderful Whites of West Virginia, which I watched as mandatory viewing in my Daniel Day Lewis-esque preparation for the role of "Visitor" to their fair state.

Although they'd only been there two months, my sister rolled
up with freshly-minted, West Virginia license plates on her car.
"Wild & Wonderful?"  We'll see about that.
(Source)

Upon leaving the tiny airport in West Virginia's capitol city, I looked around and found immediate beauty; the verdure of the rolling hills was absolutely breathtaking.  Charmed by the southern homes (unlike anything in Southern California's architectural vernacular), with their deep porches, scalloped awnings, and shade trees, I was being taken in by a place that was in the country of my birth but felt so very foreign.  We drove over and back the broad rivers on bridges built by the WPA into landscapes I had never seen before.  We saw names of streets and buildings and towns that were unpronounceable to a tongue raised on secondary Spanish rather than Native American.  We saw so many wonderful signs - neon, engraved, hand-painted, light box, corrugated - that I was reminded of my own credo, "wacky tacky is where you find it."  Almost at once I thought to myself, "I kind of like it here" and in that instant (it doesn't take long), I knew I had lost my West Virginity!

To think that Mt. Hope could have existed with only a handful of partial department
 stores before Aide's "Complete Dept. Store" came along is truly beyond belief.
 Sadly, I think Mt. Hope is once again back in the dark days; Aide's is long gone.

It must be said that I can't stand the flavor of Coke (or any cola for that matter),
but there is something so delicious, refreshing, and fatigue relieving about
advertisements painted on the sides of buildings!

We met a nice husband and wife who remembered this
 building when it was first painted; henceforth, we referred
 to them only as "The OTT Couple."

I am fascinated by secret societies but even more
fascinated by old neon signs.  Add another entry
 into my "Neon by Day" file... 

There is something special about this not-so-special sign.
It has weathered many years on Mt. Hope's main drag and its
steadfastness has been rewarded; no one has ever thought to
 relieve it of duty...a good sign is a good sign.  

It seems like our world refuses to think
 in these shapes and colors anymore.

"Soggy Bottom," that is all.

I live in an area prone to wildfires but I can't

remember the last time I saw Smokey the Bear.

Again with the secret fraternal orders.
There aren't many qualifications one must have to become a Knight of Pythias,
 so it just tickles me that membership is basically guaranteed as long as one
 is not a drug-dealing, professional-gambling Communist.

I can appreciate his ambition, his sacrifice, and his desire to rise
 above a truly unfair lot in life...also his name is "Dick Pointer."

Lewisburg is a little "bougie," but it is
 also historic and quaint...and timely.

Double exposure?
Coca-Cola/Coca-Cola and Gray & Gray Druggists at the True Reformer Building

More Masonic neon

High-class, hillbilly jewelry.

Like the Hatfields & McCoys, this battle rages on.

Dogwood blossoms are always a welcome sight.

Signs that have seen better days are always a plus in my book.

Thanks again, Smokey!

My sis wondered how I even saw a sign painted on this building.
I knew it at once because on the very rare occasion that I drink a
soda pop I prefer it to be Nehi Peach.  We had one local retailer,
Galco's, who stocked it until California's rigid and over-zealous
restrictions against lead contamination banned the importation
of Nehi's glass bottles.  Aargh!!!

Wait a minute? Where are we?

Okay, so I won't be awarding this one a "World's Greatest Sign" mug at the
awards ceremony, but for a state synonymous with the hillbilly lifestyle,
this is one of the very few markers acknowledging West Virginian identity.

Small town theaters are great.
Small town theaters that are still operational are even better!

"Defunct dairy bar," three of the saddest
words in the English language.

I don't even know what The Snake Pit is/was but I was glad to have managed to snap the
 picture before they released the hounds; no sooner had I closed the car door than a couple
 of angry dogs came out to greet me.

A new sign paying homage to the old gets high marks in
our book for keeping with a time-honored tradition.

Familiar face, strange name...It took me a moment to remember that east
 of the old Mississippi, Carls' Jr. is "Hardee's."  Hardee har har!!!

While not technically a sign, I couldn't help but get a kick out of
 a graffito's washable work on the back of a panel truck - crude but fair.

10 WEST VIRGINIA REALITIES (from my perspective):

1. West Virginia has some wonderful signs - rusty, rustic, and sometimes rude, but wonderful.

2. There are more naturally red-headed people there than I have ever seen in all the years of my life combined.

3. Many people speak with an accent but the depth varies.  That said, the stronger the accent the more I love (and try to impersonate) it.

4. West Virginians like their food sweet (even the savory food is incredibly sweet).  It's like many years ago some jokester made his way to every restaurant and filled each salt shaker with sugar; the restaurants, getting no complaints, maintained the shenanigans and the world's oldest practical joke thrives as a culinary tradition.  I would almost believe that except that the sodium level in all the food is enough to bring on instant heart failure as well.

5.  West Virginia is THE smoking section!!!  I thought the "e-cig" was an uber-annoying trend but I'm almost ready to cheer the presence of nicotine-laden water vapor rather than traditional tobacco smoke. (note: I have plenty of friends who smoke but in over-regulated California the number of areas to do so has dwindled to the point where I am almost always treated to simply good, clean smog everywhere I go). 

6. In hillbilly territory, Wal-Mart is NOT the best place for viewing said specimens in their natural habitat. Super Wal-Mart is the go to spot for everyone in town so there is plenty of diversity (read: normal people).

7. Coal mining is still a common career path for West Virginians and coal trains are often seen chugging through the landscape.  If I had to choose, I think I'd prefer to work in a drift mine over a slope or shaft mine any day (yeah, I totally know the difference between mine styles).

8. Mountain Dew is a popular beverage.

As if we needed added incentive...

9. For every hillbilly stereotype that is proven true by a member of West Virginia society (let's be honest, it seems like the White's kin extend far beyond Boone County), there is an equal number of educated, hard-working, thoughtful people who are determined to make a difference in their community (I'm crossing my fingers that this doesn't sound too condescending).
10. The Whites scare me to death...and that's probably the way they like it.

Wild AND wonderful after all.

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

p.s. We have so much more coming from our wacky tacky West Virginia adventures; be sure and stay tuned for all of the fun.

Signs of the Times: Cozy Corner Drive-In

It wasn't until we were asked by our pal Charles for a guided tour of our hometown that I truly appreciated our sleepy little hamlet.  Forced to look at everything with fresh eyes and a renewed interest, I came to realize that every town has treasures of which it should be proud (and preserve).

Locked in my own routine, I drove by wacky tacky-worthy landmarks everyday without so much as a second glance.  While Cozy Corner Drive-In isn't in my city, it is a sign that I drive by frequently.  Each time I pass, I make a promise to myself that one day I will stop for a photograph; it is a promise I have been making for years.  Well, tonight I finally made good on my oath.

Cozy Corner Drive-In, Santa Ana, CA

The surrounding neighborhood might leave a little to be desired but the twinkling lights, glowing neon that flashes on and off, the starburst and giant bent arrow, and the promise of tacos, burritos, AND hamburgers makes our mouths water - literally and figuratively.  Plus it's all in the name, "Cozy Corner;" something so simple yet so charming makes me wish that I had thought of it first.

Cozy Corner Drive-In

426 N Harbor Blvd

Santa Ana, CA

Cheers!

Mr. Tiny

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!