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John Margolies

Fellowship Title:

  • Revisiting Roadside and Main Street America

On The Americana Road Again

John Margolies
July 15, 2003

Fellowship Year

  • 2003

As a photographer and writer I have spent nearly 30 years crisscrossing the continental United States in search of unique and typical examples of roadside and Main Street architecture and design. In traveling over 100,000 miles in a long series of marathon automobile trips, I have taken some 100,000 photographs of about 15,000 older buildings, signs, storefronts, and other commercial and civic structures. My 2003 Alicia Patterson Foundation Fellowship is allowing me to hit the road again in a series of four research trips in several regions of the USA to revisit many places I have not seen for decades. My objectives in these journeys are threefold: to see how places have changed; to record what remains of this individualistic “mom-and-pop” tradition in American commerce and how places I have previously photographed have evolved; and to make a record of the new omnipresent business chains which have homogenized the environment of America. This first report shows some of what I found in my first trip through the Southwest in over 3000 miles in 17 days. The Lone Ranger rides again.

Food:

Highway Diner, Route 66, Winslow, AZ, ca. 1940s

©2003 John Margolies

Diners, usually shaped as railroad cars to spin off of the imagery and romance of eating in a dining car, were very seldom an actual transformed train. Instead, they were prefabricated structures, with most of the factories located in New Jersey and Massachusetts. The Highway Diner, a survivor along old Route 66, looks less like a railroad car than its east coast counterparts. It was produced by the Valentine Diner Company in Wichita, Kansas – the major supplier of diner restaurants in the west and the Midwest – and it has a charming streamlined Art Deco aura about it. The owners are proud of their well-maintained historic building, and they continue to dish out the same short-order diner fare that has been served there for over 50 years.
Jolly Cone Drive-In Sign, old Route 99, Bakersfield, CA, ca. 1950s

©2003 John Margolies

This very engaging sign along an old commercial strip on the south side of the old highway is a survivor of a lost era in sign design. The anthropomorphic transformation of an ice cream cone into a little neon-encrusted fellow is a beguiling example of the commercial folk art of its time, a time which has long since come and gone. It is redolent of times gone by as well because it denotes a "drive-in." The whole notion of eating in one’s car has been supplanted by the take-out windows in the large franchised food chains.
Sonic Drive-In, Central Ave., old Route 66, Albuquerque, NM, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

Sonic, the largest chain of drive-ins in America, opened its prototype restaurant in Shawnee, Oklahoma, in 1953. It has bucked the trend of most chains by offering the almost extinct experience of in-car service. The company describes it success as follows: "We did it by sticking to what made drive-ins so popular in the first place: made-to-order American classics, signature menu items, speedy service from friendly Carhops and heaping helpings of fun and personality." Sonic architecture used to be a rather plain expression of canopies protruding from a central building. But through a cleaver and engaging retro remodeling program utilizing neoned 1950s space-age columns and graphic art out front and handsome and colorful racing-stripes along the canopies, they have become a nostalgic reminder of the "good old days" right out of American Graffiti.
Wienerschnitzel, Las Cruces, NM, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

This very colorful franchised restaurant, specializing in serving up the all-American hot dog, makes up for its small size by the brilliance of its color scheme. Wienerschnitzel began as a hot dog stand in Wilmington, CA, in 1961, and it has become "the world’s largest hot dog chain" with over 300 locations in 10 states and in Guam. The business, formerly called der Wienerschnitzel, dispensed it dogs out of red-roofed A-frame buildings with a clumsy drive-through window puncturing the center of the building. But it has streamlined its name and many of its buildings to better compete with its larger and better-known fast food competition.

Pizza Hut, Cerrillos Road, Santa Fe, NM, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

This gigantic purveyor of pizza pies has established its identity along the highway strips of the late 20th and early 21st century by it bright and omnipresent red roof that makes the buildings very hard to miss. But Pizza Huts were certainly not the first establishments to proclaim themselves by the color of their lids. Howard Johnson understood early on the principles of sophisticated roadside design, and he was an innovator in using brightly colored roofs to scream for attention amid the chaos of commercial highway strips. The HoJo orange roof has been an unmistakable symbol for his restaurants (and later his motels) since the 1930s. Pizza Huts’ oddly configured and dazzling red roofs make them every bit as obvious and identifiable to passing motorists.

Lodging

San Carlos Hotel, 1st and Main, Yuma, AZ., 1930

©2003 John Margolies

When the Art Deco San Carlos Hotel opened in Yuma, with its rooftop pinnacles reaching to the sky, it was the showplace of the city. The five-story hotel, the first air-conditioned building in this desert hot spot, had 80 rooms with ten-foot ceilings. Other facilities included a snazzy, wood-paneled lobby still intact, a coffee shop, dining room and a piano bar said to be a favorite hangout of John Wayne and Alan Ladd when they made movies in Yuma in the 1930s and 40s. But this "old fashioned" hostelry closed in the early 1960s and then stood vacant until the 1980s when its 80 rooms were transformed into 59 apartments now used as low income housing. Sic transit gloria mundi. The elegant building is now listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Cortez Motel Sign, Alameda Ave., El Paso, TX, ca. 1940s

©2003 John Margolies

This motel sign, with its representational imagery and neon, was intended to attract tourists along old Highway 90, affectionately called The Old Spanish Trail. Signs of this type were once commonplace along the old commercial strips on the outskirts of towns. Now that modern highways have bypassed the old roads, these types of sirens are a fast vanishing species. Entrepreneurs would utilize any type of symbol to capture the imagination of passersby in order to get them to get them to stop and stay. But this was usually as far as the theme would go — the rooms out back were about the same as any other motel along the strip.

Wigwam Village # 7, Foothill Blvd. (Route 66), Rialto, CA, 1953

©2003 John Margolies

Frank Redford "invented" the teepee motel after he was inspired by a drive-in restaurant he saw during a trip to Long Beach, CA, in the early 1930s. He returned to his home in Horse Cave, KY, and built a "wigwam" gas station-restaurant, with flanking teepee restrooms for "squaws" and "braves." Mr. Redford later added teepee-lodging units he called "sleeping rooms." Wigwam Village #2 opened in nearby Cave City in the middle 1930s, and then five more across the country. Although these motels are politically incorrect by today’s standards, they are a nearly perfect example of the idiosyncratic architecture that grew up beside the road to tempt passersby. By now only three from this chain survive, including the last one built by Mr. Redford just as Route 66 was being bypassed by the interstate. It has recently been restored with its tent flaps painted in various pastel shades.

Aztec Motel, Central Ave., Albuquerque, NM, ca. 1950s

©2003 John Margolies

Folk artist owners went berserk in this survivor along old Route 66 on the east side of Albuquerque. It is encrusted with voluminous amounts of ornamentation reflective of Mexican American tradition prevalent in the Southwest, and it proves definitively that too much is never enough. Now long since bypassed, it remains as an outstanding example of the individualistic and inventive tradition of American roadside architecture.

Super 8 Motel Sign, I-8 Business Route, Gila Bend, AZ, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

The heroic couplet pronounced proudly on its sign is the corporate slogan, and it trumpets the new tradition of standardization in American roadside lodging. And while the experience of staying at a Super 8 might not always be "great," there’s a great deal to be said in its favor. The Super 8 chain, founded in 1972, has over 2000 motels in North America, boasting that it became the largest budget lodging business in North America (surpassing Days Inn). The new motel chains promise and deliver a good, clean predictable experience. In the old days, a tourist in a strange place was on his own trying to find a decent and clean place to stay. Too may places would turn out to be nightmares, hellholes, no-tels, or worse. As an old Holiday Inn advertising slogan once proclaimed, "the best surprise is no surprise."

Movie Theaters:

Fox Theater Forecourt, 20th and C Streets, Bakersfield, CA, ca. 1920s
Most movie theaters were razed after their heyday had come and gone. But fortunately not so for the grand old Fox Theater in downtown Bakersfield. The 1500-seat Spanish Colonial Theater designed by S. Charles Lee opened on Christmas Day, 1930 and ended its run in 1977. It stood dark, except for a brief period in the 1980s, before funds were raised and restoration began in 1994. Now it stands as a glittering example of its past glory. It is now the pride of the old downtown and it is used as a performing arts center. The forecourt, with its snazzy box office and polished terrazzo floor, is but a street side view of the coming attractions within.

©2003 John Margolies

Most movie theaters were razed after their heyday had come and gone. But fortunately not so for the grand old Fox Theater in downtown Bakersfield. The 1500-seat Spanish Colonial Theater designed by S. Charles Lee opened on Christmas Day, 1930 and ended its run in 1977. It stood dark, except for a brief period in the 1980s, before funds were raised and restoration began in 1994. Now it stands as a glittering example of its past glory. It is now the pride of the old downtown and it is used as a performing arts center. The forecourt, with its snazzy box office and polished terrazzo floor, is but a street side view of the coming attractions within.

Balboa Theater, 4th and E Streets, San Diego, CA, ca. 1920s

©2003 John Margolies

The Balboa, a splendid Spanish Colonial style movie theater in downtown San Diego, designed by architect William Wheeler, opened in 1924. It has about 1400 seats, 904 on the main level and almost 500 in the balcony. Although it was remodeled in 1964 at a cost of $125,000, it is badly in need of further restoration. The theater went dark in 1985 when the city condemned it and took it over. It now stands empty, but at least it is still there.

Dream Catcher, Route 285, Española, NM, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

What was once a glorious tradition of architecturally ornate structures along the main streets of Americas has been transformed into sparse and ascetic multiplex buildings on the outskirts of towns. The Dream Catcher, with its freestanding decorative tower beside it, is more attractive than most multiplex theaters. Most new multi-screen venues are little more than cinderblock enclosures in a parking lot with a stripped down marquee sign at roadside. The theater building type no longer needs to advertise itself by exotic decoration on its façade because the movies themselves are loudly proclaimed by television commercials and in other non-physical promotions.

Pacific Gaslamp All Stadium 15 Theater,
5th Avenue and G. Street, San Diego, CA, ca. 1990s

©2003 John Margolies

A notable exception to the dreary formula of most contemporary multiplexes is this tour de force in the turn-of-the-century district of downtown San Diego. It respects and celebrates its neighborhood instead of violating it. The four-story 15-screen theater touts itself by stating: "Its art deco Puttin’ on the Ritz exterior is spectacular. In the lobby, the same kind of top-hatted poshness is achieved via lavishly patterned, thick carpets, Gone With the Wind staircases (inside it’s a two-story affair), and concession people dressed just like genuine riverboat gamblers whose fortunes have taken a bizarre turn." It is just this kind of pizzazz that is sorely lacking in so many of the contemporary buildings of today.

Barber and Beauty Shops:

Shear Indulgence Beauty Salon, Winslow, AZ, ca. 1930s

©2003 John Margolies

Old commercial buildings lead a hermit crab existence. This interconnected addition to an old gas station has now become a place of beauty along the Route 66 Main Street of Winslow, Arizona. What the shop lacks in architectural exuberance is more than compensated for by the clever word play of its name.

Look Sharp Barber Shop Sign, Yuma, AZ, ca. 1990s.

©2003 John Margolies

The ancient and revered barber pole symbol has been given a contemporary spin in this 1969 Volkswagen gone berserk. The barbershop itself in buried off of the main drag in a strip mall. But the red, white and blue VW helps to offset the disadvantage of its hidden location.

©2003 John Margolies

John Margolies, a freelance photographer and writer, is photographing and researching America’s main streets and roadsides.

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John Margolies

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  • Revisiting Roadside and Main Street America

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