The Lost Wigwam Weekend

"On our way from Apple Valley trip - 1951"

It was 1985 and I was a student at Cal Poly Pomona out where LA County meets San Bernardino County. An actor was President of the country, a 10 MG hard drive in your personal computer was a status symbol, Long Island Ice Teas were lethal, and Tears For Fears ruled the airwaves. Far away from Hollywood, Edendale and The Sunset Junction, I would on occasion explore the nightlife out in San Bernardino, Redlands and Riverside in those days looking for a little diversion from calculus and chemistry classes. One such place was a dance club called Harry C’s in Redlands where one Saturday evening I met up with a rowdy group University of Redlands students who were having an “after hours” party at the Wigwam Motel in San Bernardino off of Historic Route 66. I got directions and arrived at the Wigwam around midnight as “Everybody Wants to Rule the World” was blasting from my car’s stereo. I located teepee # 3 and entered a small motel room loaded with students, tequila shots, Wayfarer sunglasses, KROQ music and mild but innocent decadence if such a thing exists. The only thing I can remember from that evening was that the world’s biggest K-Mart discount store was located down the street and we went there at 6am looking to buy beer. I don’t think K-Mart ever sold beer, but luckily it was closed at that hour and we were diverted to another location. If K-Mart did sell beer back then, somehow I think that would have been rock bottom for me. When I left the Wigwam at 3pm the next day, I fired up my Honda Hatchback and “Everybody Wants To Rule the World” was again playing on the local FM station. I headed West towards the blazing sun, leaving the sights, sounds and the memories of my Lost Wigwam Weekend in the rear view mirror. The next day I took a calculus exam while visions of the big "K" from the colossal K-Mart sign continually interrupted me while I tried to solve complex derivative formulas, but I successfully overcame the diversion. I never saw that group of students again, but I am sure today they are all well respected professionals ruling the worlds of their chosen fields. In the end, we all want to rule the world but sometimes you have to take baby steps to get there, one derivative, one integral and one wigwam at a time.

The Wigwam Motel was established in 1937 with locations all over the Southwest United States. Today, only three locations remain including the San Bernardino location which was built in 1949 off of Route 66. Treat your sweetheart to a romantic weekend of Americana at the Wigwam Motel. Located off the 10 freeway about one hour from Los Angeles. If you book teepee #3 and happen to find my Swatch wrist watch that I misplaced at the Wigwam that Spring weekend 25 years ago, then I have a reward for you.

Description of my lost Swatch: cheap black plastic watch with an even cheaper matching black rubber protector. Last seen on the stoop of the Wigwam.

Here is the link to the Wigwam Motel: http://www.wigwammotel.com/

May the force be with you when driving to a show in Los Angeles.

Fear - The Record 1982

Derf Scratch, founding bass player for the early 1980’s punk band, Fear passed away last month at the age of 58. Derf, which is Fred spelled backwards, was originally from New Jersey but grew up in Temple City in the heart of the San Gabriel Valley and passed away in Camarillo. Known for their intense lyrics, loyal following and led by their intimidating front man Lee Ving, Fear played mostly the California circuit but once ventured to the East Coast for their now famous appearance on Saturday Night Live on Halloween Eve 1982. Invited as a guest of John Belushi, Fear came on stage as many of the hardcore fans immediately started stage diving without the band missing much of a step. Fear’s first album, “The Record” is a time capsule of what was going on in the Hollywood punk scene back then.

In July of 2004, I had tickets to see Fear play at the Key Club on the “fabulous Sunset Strip” as John Doe of X would say. Although Derf was not a member of Fear by this time, I eagerly anticipated seeing the band live as I had not even thought about Fear since that Halloween eve so many years ago. The show was on Saturday July 3rd, 2004 and I hideously underestimated the Hollywood traffic on that steamy Fourth of July weekend. I thought it would be nice to drive down Sunset Blvd on the way to the Key Club so we left Eagle Rock one hour before the show via the 134 freeway. We quickly made it to Sunset and Vermont and then instantly hit a tsunami of gridlock, chunky style. By show time we were barely at Sunset and Wilcox as we crawled down Sunset Blvd, passed Hollywood High School and the Guitar Center, entering the West Hollywood border where driving became more like swimming in peanut butter. The sweat and the anguish poured down my face as I continually chose to stick to my guns, marching down Sunset Blvd inch by inch like slow motion army ants in route to a discarded popsicle stick. By Sunset and Crescent Heights we were over two hours late for the show but I was determined to get to my destination that night. I could see the club and its neon sign off in the distance as my passenger cheered me on much like one does to a depleted marathoner as they approach the final stage of the 26 mile journey. Despite being almost three hours late for the show, I accomplished my goal of getting to the Key Club that night. When I drove by the front door, I sighed in relief but without even lighting up a victory cigar or resting my achy body we turned around and headed home, never entering the club that night and never seeing Fear hit the stage. I wisely chose to take Beverly Blvd back to the North Los Angeles where I arrived void of the energy and enthusiasm which I had left with earlier that evening. Saturday July 3rd, 2004 was the first time I realized what a powerful force that Los Angeles traffic can be. May the force be with you when driving to a show in Los Angeles.

Rest in Peace Derf.

The # 6 Bánh Xèo Chay - Vegetarian

The # 6 Bánh Xèo Chay - Vegetarian: Vietnamese crepe with tofu, mushrooms, bean sprouts, mung beans, served with fresh herbs and rice paper wraps.

When we arrived at 8:50pm on Saturday evening at the Pho Café on West Sunset Blvd, we were but two of four people in the well lighted and stylish Vietnamese eatery that looked like it was art directed out of a classic Stanley Kubrick film. Within ten minutes from our arrival and without really even noticing, the eatery became packed with hungry urban dwellers seated in the brightly colored post modern chairs under the atomic lighting which complimented every table. I don’t know if it was the lighting fixtures that I was obsessed with or the natural high of the delicious mung beans I was enjoying, but every patron looked eerily the same; 24 - 35 years of age, very urban and digital, beautifully liberal and downtown fashionable, the males wearing short sleeve shirts with flap front pockets while their female counterparts showcased some eclectic bohemian eyewear. Overhearing their conversations, everyone seemed to be on the cusp of artistic greatness and freedom which made me immediately second guess the major I chose in college 25 years ago. Maybe not obviously so, but I was the odd older duck in the eatery with my grayish hair, wearing a wristwatch and the hidden prescription orthodics in my shoes while a Johnny Cash CD in the first position of my car’s archaic CD changer awaited my company for the drive home.

After paying the bill of 17 dollars and change for a fantastic and unique meal for two served up by a friendly staff, we exited the eatery and entered the parking lot which by now was bulging with a selection of Toyota Prius’ and 1990s Volvos. I pulled out of the parking lot as the harmonies of Johnny Cash’s “When it’s springtime in Alaska, its 40 below” hit the speakers in my car. I suddenly recalled the V8 Chevy Camaro that I drove in my youth while growing up close to this same neighborhood, and pealed out of the parking lot to the best of the ability of my present day 4 cylinder import. I hit the accelerator down Sunset Blvd and headed east towards a full moon, as Johnny was joined by his wife June Carter Cash singing the verse, “…we did the Eskimo hop all around the Saloon“. I quickly glanced into the rear view mirror to see the street lights of Los Angles 90026 blur into one as an image from the film, The Stepford Wives ironically came into focus.

The Pho Café in Silverlake serves up the best Vietnamese cuisine in the city. With a pleasant and knowledgeable staff to help guide you through a wide variety of choices from a very economic friendly menu. Translation: great food, good staff, affordable prices....go there.