It is thanks to the Mid-Continent Supply Company of Fort Worth that we have the largest freestanding statue in the world, the “Golden Driller.” They first introduced the 76 foot giant at Tulsa’s annual International Petroleum Exposition in 1953. In 1959 he was temporarily displayed again for the show. But it wasn’t until 1966, after he was slightly remolded –he no longer looks like a giant academy award wearing a hard hat saying “how sweet it is,” that he was permanently posed in Tulsa at 21st Street and Pittsburg Avenue.

Over the years he has been ravaged by sleet and snow, battered by tornadoes, shot, graffittied and stabbed in the back by a bow and arrow. But thankfully he remains. He is indeed the symbol and the icon of the exposition, and not surprisingly, the most photographed man in Oklahoma.

Tulsa was known for its oil even before Oklahoma became a state. In 1905, drillers hit a gusher south of town and soon the city was flooded with prospectors and speculators trying to get rich quick. Many did. By the 1920’s Tulsa was promoted as the Oil Capitol of the World.

Cheers to Americana and The Golden Driller

This is not just any old Holiday Inn, this is the Mickey Mantle Holiday Inn. The baseball hero to millions was part owner. “See the Dugout and Mickey’s Trophies” is what it says on the marquee. The Dugout was the name of the cocktail lounge. Besides lending his name to the monumental motel sign, and receiving a share of the profits, Mantle also contributed to the business by coming up with the slogan for the fried chicken served there in the restaurant: “To get a better piece of chicken, you’d have to be a rooster.” Hard to believe but they actually used that slogan.

Besides Elvis, the Holiday Inn is the most famous name to ever come out of Memphis, Tennessee. The now world-wide chain began there in 1952. The movie, Holiday Inn, starring Bing Crosby inspired the name. It has a nice ring to it and sounds much better than Holiday Motel.

   GOD BLESS AMERICANA and the Holiday Inn!

I had lunch at Farmers Market today and oh, was it good! It’s never easy for me to decide what to have there but upon a trustworthy recommendation I tried Magee’s famous corned beef on rye for the first time. It was the best I’ve EVER had. Far thicker than average slices of succulent, salty pink meat between two pillows of rye bread. I dabbed each bite with delicious homemade horseradish and occasionally added a forkful of slaw to the mix. It was truly a taste treat sensation of the highest order.

This year Farmers Market celebrates its 70th year. According to the legend it started in 1934 when local farmers began gathering on the corner lot of the Gilmore Ranch at Third and Fairfax, to sell their fruits and vegetables. By the 1940s, next to Hollywood and Vine, it had become the most famous intersection in town. Farmers Market blossomed into a must see tourist attraction and “Hollywood’s” most charming watering hole and marketplace combo.

After all these years it is still home spun and family run. The fact that corporate America has barely crept in to this place is a miracle. For that matter, the fact that Farmers Market has survived in this town is even more of a miracle. Rumor does have it however that neighboring CBS Television City will not be there for too many more years.

Like Olvera Street, Farmers Market is one of the few places in Los Angeles where if you blur your eyes ever so slightly you can easily imagine that you have traveled back in time to the 40s 50s or 60s. It is one of the best places in Southern California to experience a time warp. At a glance it has barely changed in decades.

There is a very special and predictable natural high that I experience every time I go to Farmers Market. If by chance I happen to be passing by the butcher, baker, or candy maker while they’re creating product, I without fail, will stop to gawk. Quite often I find their ritual performances mesmerizing, sometimes even hypnotic. There are many other factors that trigger this euphoria but above all else I think it’s because I feel a sense of community there unlike anywhere else I go in Los Angeles.

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and FARMERS MARKETIANA

“Rice-a-Roni – The San Francisco Treat” – remember that perfect slogan/jingle?

The salty “sauté and simmer” side dish is the concoction of a local pasta maker. It first showed up on store shelves in 1958. Roni, of course, is short for macaroni. The Rice-a-Roni TV commercials first introduced me to the sights and sounds of the City by the Bay when I was just a wee tot.

This week I had the pleasure of visiting the city that brought the world Rice-a-Roni. Lucky for me, James, my tireless tour guide, knows the city well. He really had me huffin’ and puffin’ as we walked up and down those legendary hills.

I rubbed elbows with beatniks at the City Light Bookstore, ate “the best meatball sandwich in the world,” according to Julia Child, at Mario’s Bohemian Cigar Café in Little Italy, then dripped the most delicious chocolate ice cream I ever had on my new shirt at Ghirardelli Square.

In the 70s-sci-fi-vision-of-the-future lobby at the Hyatt I got vertigo riding the elevator. Then strolling through the bevy of upscale food boutiques at the newly restored Ferry Terminal Building 1 got queasy after sampling rare mushrooms and smelly cheeses. In Chinatown I stopped dead in my tracks to marvel at spectacular detail on the theme-appropriate 1920s street lamps.

Visiting the Palace of Fine Arts I learned that the spellbinding neo-classical dome and colonnade isn’t really the last remaining structure from 1915 Panama-Pacific Exposition, it’s a 1960’s replica. By the late 50’s the original was falling to pieces and had to be replaced. A quickie trip to the Cable Car Museum was even more educational. We saw the guts and powerhouse of the entire system which began in 1873 and is today the last of its kind on earth.

It then only seemed appropriate to do what Tony first sang about in 1954, when he left his heart in San Francisco – ride a cable car halfway to the stars.

Actually it delivered us far beyond the stars – it delivered us to the Tonga Room just in time for Happy hour. Tucked away deep inside the famous Fairmont Hotel, this high 60’s Polynesian dream-of-a-restaurant and bar is by far the cities kitschiest and most Disneyland-like tourist attraction. Complete with an often reoccurring lighting and thunder storm, it even rains over the pool which is left over from the days when the enormous room housed the grand hotel’s indoor plunge. After a couple Lime Daiquiris and a plate stacked high with sweet and sour ribs, egg rolls and won tons it was all I could to keep from letting out a primal scream of pure joy. I like Rice-a-Roni just fine. But to me The Tonga Room is the real San Francisco treat.

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and San Francisciana

Two weeks ago I received an email from my dear friend Ruth while on her way to Morro Bay asking for interesting stops along highway 101. I had only one response to that question: Madonna Inn!!! I suggested she’d enjoy a piece of their memorable sky-high shocking pink cake in the shocking pink dining room, study the architecture, get interior design tips, buy the Madonna Inn book, buy a new wardrobe in the boutique, shop for gifts in the gift shop, and dance a number or two. And of course say hello to Mr. and Mrs. Madonna, who often hold court from their “gold booth” in the coffee shop. Now, just two weeks later, we can do everything I suggested at the Madonna Inn except say hello to Mr. Madonna. He died last week at 85.

The Madonna Inn opened on Christmas Eve, 1958 with just twelve individually themed rooms. There are now 109. Madonna’s architectural style, a delicious high calorie combo platter where the flavors of California-arts-and-crafts, Old-World-fairytale and Victorian blend perfectly, reflects a clever almost cartoon-like sensibility while oozing with creativity and integrity.

There is no question in my mind that Alex Madonna was a creative genius. From his sky-high pink cakes to his famous men’s waterfall urinal to the one-of-a-kind themed guest rooms and suites, the Madonna Inn is to Central California what Disneyland is to Southern California. If there were a hotel in Fantasyland this would be it. In fact, outside of Disneyland the Madonna Inn has no stylistic rival. Alex Madonna and Walt Disney must be kindred spirits.

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and ALEX MADONNAIANA

On the oh-so-rare occasion I am lucky enough to run by chance across a slide of a fifties-era Polynesian Restaurant, my heart skips a beat and I shed a tear of genuine joy! So rest assured when this slide of The Islands came into focus through my lupe it was a happy day! It was then an extra happy occasion when I ran across an old phone book ad from the Islands Restaurant that provided the following info on the place.

Don’t you just love that grass shack roof and those tapa cloth walls? It was promoted as a “Polynesian Paradise in the Heart of Phoenix” and served “Charcoal Broiled Steaks, Seafood from Everywhere in the World and magnificent Polynesian Foods.” It was on Seventh Street just South of Camelback Road. It opened about 1957; I don’t know when it closed -70s? There was The Tapa Bar, The Tiki Room, where there was “Dancing nightly to the delightful music of Don Olds in the beautiful Waterfall Room.” Imagine a room with a waterfall – sounds pretty good tome. And if that’s just not wild enough for you there was also the Cannibal Room – doesn’t that just make you want to order a puu-puu platter!

Like the Islands, most fifties-era Polynesian and Tiki themed restaurants didn’t have long lives. However if you wish to have a far off exotic dining and dancing experience à la the South Pacific, don’t despair! Two of the all-time greatest Polynesian themed restaurants are still in the gracious land off the living. When on the East coast I suggest you enjoy at the amazing

For more tiki-licious places to discover you’ll have to read TIKI ROAD TRIP: A GUIDE TO TIKI CULTURE IN NORTH AMERICA by James Teitelbaum. And of course your tiki-lovin’ life will not be complete until you pass out over THE BOOK OF TIKI by Sven A. Kirsten

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and POLYNESIANA

Welcome to all the new Slide of the Week members that I met last weekend at the VIVA LAS VEGAS ROCKABILLY WEEKEND. I had a BLAST!!! For those of you who weren’t there you may well want to join the fun next year

Rockabilly music fans from all over the world gather annually on Easter Weekend at the Gold Coast Casino in Las Vegas. They totally deck themselves out in vintage 50s clothes, take over the parking lot with their vintage 50s cars and strut their stuff while gambling, drinking, smoking and have the best time listening to all kinds of rockabilly bands. A vintage marketplace offers something for everyone including me! I found a dashing 50s butterscotch colored summer suit that belonged to a Texas oil millionaire. I did a Retro Las Vegas Slide Show which included this week’s incredible slide, one of my all time favorite finds – the Stardust just after it opened in 1958.

Gambling was legalized in Las Vegas (Spanish for: the meadows) in 1931. Over the next ten years Fremont Street, the heart of town, became a two block long Mecca of Wild West themed gambling saloons like the Horseshoe, Lucky Strike, Pioneer Club and Golden Nugget. With a staggering abundance of cheap electricity from Boulder Dam, a trend soon began to glorify the clubs with intoxicating electrified facades signs – each one built to out-do the last. Upstairs, above the Horseshoe Club the Hotel Apache was the nicest place to stay in town until 1941, when El Rancho Vegas became the first casino resort on what was to become “the strip.” The next year The Last Frontier opened on the strip. Like the El Rancho it was designed to transport guests back to the days at the Wild West – think Knott’s Berry Farm and Frontierland. The Flamingo, built in 1946, was the first place in town to be decorated with Mid-century modern furnishings and appointments. The Thunderbird, 1948, had a local Native American theme and in the early 50s the Middle East provided the inspiration and motifery for the Sahara, Algiers, Sands and Dunes.

But it wasn’t until 1958 that Las Vegas went high Sci-Fi. The Stardust offered the universe in Land of the Giants scale. Futuristic space age signage never got any better than this. It’s the greatest, grandest, brightest and most out-of-this world sign ever!

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and STARDUSTIANA

This is a proper portrait of a very lovely young suburban Miss. She has a buoyant bubble hair-do, smart sailor dress and sensible ‘61 Mercury Comet, all perfectly posed in front of a classic Southern California ranch-style tract home. The Comet, one of the first American compact cars, is most noteworthy for its spellbinding cat-eye taillights. This particular car, finished most handsomely in black with a red interior, is sporty and formal at the same time.

I grew up with the cars of the 50s and 60s. They made a really big impression as a never ending parade of them filled my dad’s used car lots when I was a kid. From what must’ve been just beyond my toddler-hood until I was eight or nine, I spent many a Saturday at the car lots going from car to car getting in every one pretending to drive it. I entertained myself that way for hours on end. Their space age cartoon style lines and shapes, endless palette of kooky colors and merchandisable model names inspire my imagination to this day.

In the realm of space age model names, Comet wasn’t the only one. There was the Mercury Meteor, Ford Galaxie, Hudson Jet, Dodge Dart and Plymouth Satellite. Fancy fish inspired a few. There was the Rambler Marlin, Plymouth Barracuda and Corvette Stingray. The Plymouth Roadrunner, Ford Falcon and Studebaker Lark were named for the birds. The wildlife continued with the Chevrolet Impala, Mercury Cougar and Buick Wildcat. Ford really got into the horse kick with the Mustang, Pinto, and Maverick. Weather conditions inspired a few. Remember the Plymouth Duster, Mercury Cyclone and Rambler Typhoon? For those racy types there were the Rambler Rebel and Dodge Dart Swinger. From the world of fantasy there was the AMC Gremlin and Kaiser Dragon. And yes, there was even a Dodge Phoenix.

GOD BLESS AMERICANA AND AMERICAN AUTOMOBILIANA

Some say as American as apple pie. I say As AmeriCANA as Apple Pie. Apple Pie is one of the few edible icons of Americana. It’s really at the top of the list right alongside hot dogs, hamburgers, Jell-o, and let’s not forget ambrosia! I love apple pie – always have – always will. Not the frozen type however. I’m not talkin’ assembly line made pies here and canned apple filling. No, I’m talkin’ homemade! Yes, homemade apple pie just like my grandmas made. Like all our grandmas made. Mmm-mmm, wish I had a piece right now. Flaky golden brown buttery crust filled with perfect bites of fresh cut Granny Smith apples, sweetened and cooked piping hot to perfection.

Here in Southern California there are really VERY few places that still serve homemade (made on the premises) apple pie. Du-Par’s at Farmers Market serves up a pretty good slice, and has been doin’ so since 1938. And, by the way, if you have a hankerin’ for a savory pie every now and then they also offer up a very rare-to-find steak and kidney pie too. If your timing is just right you can watch the pie makers actually making the pies through the big giant bakery picture window at Farmers Market. And while you’re at Du-Par’s make sure to check out their 50s vintage silk screened pie posters (along with a few repros) on the dining room walls.

And let’s not forget the Southern California’s last surviving House of Pies at Franklin and Vermont in Los Feliz. I remember when I was a kid the first time ever I went to a House of Pies. It was 1969 and the coffee shop chain had just opened a store near where I lived in Ontario. I don’t remember the pie as much as I recall the SHOCKING ultra-mod 60s Pepto-Bismol pink and orange interior color scheme. Every time we went there I was completely inspired, spellbound and mesmerized. Between the interior and the pie I got a very sugar-coated high. Everyone loves the apple pie at the Apple Pan in West LA. They’ve been serving since 1947. But by far the very best homemade apple pie is at Pie ‘n Burger at Lake and California in Pasadena. There since 1963, this cozy, time-warpy neighborhood diner not only serves up the best pies in town (just hearing the selection will send your taste buds into a salivating frenzy), but the best burger in town too.

GOD BLESS AMERICANA and APPLE PIEIANA

I have a special affection for the fabled city of Compton. Long before it became famous as a hot bed of hip-hop culture my mother grew up there in the 40s and 50s when it was just a typical working class suburban city. My grandmother was a housewife and my grandfather worked at the nearby shipyards. I remember going there as a toddler before they joined the so-called “white-flight” and moved to Ontario, CA in 1968. I doubt my grandparents ever drank sake but these people did. There’s a pack of cigarettes on the table too. My grandpa smoked. I propose a toast to tiki partiers –they’re drinkin’ sake in Compton – that is SO exotic -and in air conditioned comfort no less. These people really know how to have a good time.

How long has it been since you’ve proposed a toast with sake? For that matter, how long has it been since you threw a tiki party? Well… spring is here and summer is just around the corner. That means it’s time to get out those ‘ol grass skirts, stock up on plenty of tiki torches and some sake and get that party goin’! Let this slide be an inspiration. Look how much fun they’re havin’!!!

God bless Americana and Tikiana