In the first year of the pandemic, I hauled my cookies a couple of times out to Montclair, California—about 45 miles east of where I live—to catch a movie at Mission Tiki Drive-In (which unfortunately closed in 2023).
That's how I first became interested in the Bowlium bowling alley—which was fortunately nearby but unfortunately closed for COVID-19.
*photo taken 2020
"The prominence of the building, which makes it clearly visible from the street on the parking lot's far side," writes Alan Hess in his book Googie Redux, "shows the importance of bowling alleys as community centers in the new suburban areas of the 1950s."
It was New Year's Day. I was hung over but I'd managed to go on an adventure with the guy I was dating at the time, the same guy who'd wimped out on our New Year's Eve plans the night before.
We were headed back to LA from Pomona, and he was driving.
"Can we please drive by Covina Bowl?" I asked.
"I don't want to go bowling..." he said, probably flatly, though I heard it as a whine.
"I just want to see it."
And so we drove up to the mid-century bowling palace and walked in the front door. My date was sighing.
I took a quick look around and said, "OK, I've seen it."
We turned around, walked away, and went back home.
I didn't know back then that Covina Bowl would close for good in 2017. And that I would never get more than a passing glance at it in all its glory, never get the chance to roll a ball down its lanes.
But life is full of strikes and gutters, ups and downs.
circa 2022
And fortunately, part of Covina Bowl still remains. And part of it will one day reopen to the public to enjoy once again.
[Update 9/8/25 11:18 AM PT—Rewrote this to reflect that Montrose Bowl hasn't been listed for sale in years and to add new photos of the restoration.]
In 2018, a real estate listing alarmed fans that Montrose Bowl would be sold and demolished for a new development.
At the time, its owners (from the same family since 1981) insisted that this tiny, eight-lane bowling alley in the Crescenta Valley was not for sale. But then it was sold to Tzvi Ratner-Stauber of Ratner Property during the pandemic.
circa 2018
The 1930s1940s-era lanes haven't been open to the general public for decades, save for birthday parties and occasional "open bowling" nights for the community. And that's still true—it's really just a "special event" venue, with a remarkably preserved exterior of glass brick and green tiles.
As of the end of January this year, the City of San Clemente has moved forward in nominating its North Beach as a nationally recognized historic district.
The to-be-designated North Beach Historic District would include, among others, the Ole Hanson Beach Club, the Casino San Clemente, and the old Miramar Theater.
While I've got plenty of more investigating to do on the other historic structures, I'll dive in a little more deeply on the historic theater that stands at the northern gateway of San Clemente—right on El Camino Real.
After being dormant for over 25 years—and an unsuccessful Kickstarter in 2011—the vacant Miramar Theater sold to Scottsdale, Arizona-based Fortuitous Partners and Store Capital Corporation for $7.9 million, supposedly so it could be redeveloped into a food hall. The new owners had done something similar at the Windmill Food Court in Carlsbad, North San Diego County.
It's likely a relief for all those involved, after Craig and his brother Barry Baptiste (of Mach-1 Autogroup) were squabbling—in and out of the courts—with Marc Spizzirri over ownership rights of the city's first movie theater, at least until 2018.
circa 1940
Having first opened its doors in 1938 as El Hidalgo Theater, then the Clemente Theater, the Miramar Theater was built in the Spanish Colonial Revival style (with a 44-foot tower), staying true to San Clemente founder Ole Hanson’s plans for the south Orange County city to become the "Spanish Village by the Sea."
That meant white stucco capped by red terracotta tile, ornamental balconies, rough-hewn timber beams with wrought-iron accents and arched openings, decorative wood corbels, and an entry portico. It all may seem old-fashioned now, but it was all the fashion at the time—as acclaimed theater architect Clifford A. Balch (El Rey Theatre, Fox Pomona, Golden Gate Theatre) surely knew.
The theater's original seating capacity was for 750 people; and the seats themselves allowed patrons the luxury of actually reclining in their seats. The theater also featured a modern HVAC system for heating and cooling.
Built in the same style (though less decorative), an adjacent bowling alley was added to the back of the theater in 1946.
Unfortunately, as multiplexes became more popular, Miramar Theater closed in the early 1960s, though it reopened in 1970.
The bowling center followed suit in 1971—but it never reopened, instead housing a variety of local businesses including El Toro Frame company, Dana Point Sail Makers, Big City Scuba, and even an Elk’s Lodge (until 1992).
The theater presented its first live performances in 1980—but over the course of the next several decades, it would change hands and open and close time and again.
In 2005, a fire damaged the lobby and restrooms—and the owners at the time, Susan and Terry Hirchag, were proposing to demolish the building and replace it with a mixed-use development.
San Clemente Historical Society vehemently opposed demolition of the theater, which was eventually added to the city’s Designated Historic Structures list.
Miramar Theater may never show movies or host live performances again. Reportedly its projection system needs a total update, and the sound system needs to be repairs to meet today's screening requirements (if not replaced altogether).
As big as the complex is—over 7300 square feet of the existing theater and 5200 square feet of the bowling alley—developers would be looking to fill more of the nearly 27,000-square-foot parcel by expanding both historic structures.
There are tax credits in the deal for the developer, and the development is eligible for Mills Act incentives, too.
Hopefully, the historic district designation will help.
In the meantime, the structure is languishing—some people deeming it an eyesore. But it immediately caught my attention as a beautiful ruin.
The site is now pretty protected against trespassers (after too much vandalism had already occurred), so I didn't get inside. But Ffor relatively recent photos of the interior, click here.
In fact, many of the games I play - that I love playing - I play badly. Pinball included. Bowling included (despite having two bowling trophies). Many video games included. Chess and checkers not included, I'm really good at those.
But what does it mean to be good at a game? During some games, it means merely beating your opponent. But what about pinball - especially the early days of pinball, before multi-player was even possible? Pinball began in the 1930s as a single player, solo game, during which a marble (not even a ball) was launched from a galley and bounced around some pins (hence pinball) until it landed in some kind of hole, which had been designated a points value, which then translated into some kind of cash prize, or maybe a free drink or a snack from the bar.
But with the crackdown on gambling, pinball makers had to get crafty in their player rewards, to keep the players playing, placing their nickels (and eventually quarters) into the coin slots.
They added bumpers with a voltage just strong enough to keep the ball (now, a ball) bouncing around the playing field. They gave free bonus balls after certain points thresholds had been reached (ushering in the add-a-ball era).
And then, they created game play that required certain non-point goals to be reached, actions that must be completed, making the points not matter so much anymore.
At Pinball Forever in Santa Ana, a few, limited, lucky VIP players can enter a time capsule of pinball machines dating back to the beginning of time (well, pinball time: the 1930s) and witness - even play - the evolution of pinball from pins and holes to bumpers and flippers and depressions that eject and return the ball back into play.
In the 1950s room, I was launching and flipping and bouncing and leaning and trying not to tilt (no tilting!) when one of the owners approached me and asked, "OK, so do you know how to play this?"
"I was just trying to keep the ball in play..." I confessed, with the sinking feeling I should be doing something more.
"Oh, that's how I started playing too," she said. "That's how we all start. But let me explain this one..."
And it turns out, as pinball machines became more sophisticated, with lit-up back graphics and wood rails, they required you to accomplish certain feats - to strategize where the ball goes - and not just keep it out of the gutter.
You have to hit certain letters in a row.
You have to hit certain numbers in a row.
You have to knock certain cards down, in a row.
All the while, you have to keep the ball moving, always moving, scoring points...
...flipping flippers...
...bumping balls.
If you play these pinball machines correctly, it's exhausting.
While I was at Pinball Forever, I didn't try to master any one pinball game.
I was more interested in the novelty of each new game, with each new theme...
...though I found the strategy was often the same, though the graphics of the game might change, with new lights, new colors, and new sounds.
Is it ever enough just to keep the ball in play? I mean, you can't keep the ball in play forever - you've all these other balls (as many as nine more!) waiting to be launched. If you just stay on the first ball, you'll never finish.
And you've got to finish in order to move onto the next pinball machine.
I don't want to play the same pinball machine all night, the same game forever.
Going to Floatfest after the Rose Parade is a totally different experience than watching the Rose Parade live—but even so, sometimes I only do one or the other.
This year, I did both—mostly because I left the Rose Parade a little early and missed a couple of floats (and was feeling so ill during the parade I was sure I'd missed out on a lot of details).
One of my favorite buildings in LA is the four-story Max Factor Building in Hollywood, built in 1914 and purchased by the cosmetics king in 1928. It was then known as the Hollywood Fire & Safe Building.
But by the time Max Factor had his grand opening in 1935, architect S. Charles Lee had turned the cosmetics company headquarters into the "Jewel Box of the Cosmetic World"—with curved windows, ornamental lamps, bas-reliefs, imported marble, and more ornamentation in the Hollywood Regency style.
[Last updated 1/9/20 9:29 PM PT—Updated status on Corky's, which has closed.]
When I think about some of my favorite buildings in the LA area—particularly favorite places to eat—it should come as no surprise that many of them have something in common.
They were designed by the same architecture firm.
One of the most prominent practitioners of "Coffee Shop Modern" architecture was Armet and Davis—a firm that continues to design new restaurants out of its Santa Monica office, though now they're more of the "fast casual" and "quick service" variety like Wendy's and Burger King.
Last year, I had the opportunity to visit the firm's headquarters as part of a Googie-themed bus tour of the LA area hosted by Chris Nichols...
...and that's when it all started coming together for me.
Through their concept sketches and watercolors, the past and the present converged...
...both the places I'll never get to see because they were demolished before my time (like John Lautner's Sunset Strip eatery "Googie's," from which the style draws its name) and the places I may live to mourn.
Armet and Davis created Johnie's Coffee Shop—known as Romeo's Times Square for just a year or so before flipping become Ram's Coffee Shop.
One of the few remaining mid-century "coffee shops" of LA, Johnie's (or so it's been known since 1966) was designated a Historic-Cultural Monument in 2013.
That landmark designation, of course, won't necessarily save Johnie's from demolition. And it very recently has been threatened by the construction of the Metro Purple Line along Wilshire Boulevard.
For the moment, it's still defaced with campaign propaganda in support of 2016 presidential candidate Bernie Sanders. I'd love to see it reopen one day.
Norm's on La Cienega has experienced its fair share of threats to its preservation, though it appears to be safe for now. And it's always packed.
Motorists are still drawn to the 1957 Googie design by Armet and Davis. Its pennant-style neon sign is a quintessential beacon in the neighborhood—and under its geometric roofline huge window walls allow drivers to peek inside as much as the diners can watch the cars go by.
Many of the interior details are still intact, including flagstone-accented walls and mosaic tile with the initial “n” for Norm’s. Founder Norm Roybark, a used car salesman, dictated that this and several others of his restaurants be built to resemble automobile showrooms.
One of my stalwart breakfast and lunch places while I'm in the Valley is Corky's in Sherman Oaks. [Update: Corky's closed in December 2019 and efforts are underway to landmark the building.]
With an upward-sweeping roof designed by Armet and Davis in 1958, it originally opened as Stanley Burke's Coffee Shop (or, just simply "Stan's"—an outpost of a chain primarily based in Northern California)...
...became Corky's in the 1960s...
...and then the Lamplighter Family Restaurant until being rechristened Corky's in 2011.
Hinting at the hotspot's history of 24-hour nightlife along the Van Nuys Boulevard strip, the interior is darker than most coffee shops (with colorful screens added in a 1980s renovation)...
...but long-gone are the likes of Billy Joel, who worked there as a "piano man" for a few weeks.
Also in 1958, Armet and Davis created another coffee shop called Pann's, this one with a tilted instead of convex roof. But the primary architect behind this Googie masterpiece wasn't Louis Armet or Eldon Davis—but the Chinese-American designer they employed, Helen Fong.
Renowned for her futuristic designs, Fong was one of the first women to join the AIA. She worked with Armet and Davis until the late 1970s, when she retired.
Her name has largely disappeared from the credits of these Googie landmarks—which, in addition to Pann's, also included Norm's, Johnie's (as above), and the former Holiday Bowl in the Crenshaw District.
Now partially preserved as a Starbucks, the Googie-style coffee shop of the bowling alley has traded its orange and white facade for the green and white of corporate coffeemaking.
The bowling alley itself closed in the year 2000 and was demolished in 2003.
It evokes the Space Age circa 1957...
...its zig-zagged roof pointing straight at the cosmos out there.
Inside, under that jagged ceiling, multi-culti dishes spanning several ethnic groups are no longer being served, now replaced by Ventis and whipped topping.
Holiday Bowl had been opened by a group of Japanese-American entrepreneurs and later owned by Chinese and Koreans—and the food selections offered once reflected that diversity. Fong's Japanese folk woodwork is no more, but the "saucer"- and "bubble"-style lamps remain.
Nearby is the former Wich Stand coffee shop that opened in 1957, closed in 1988, and was rebranded as the Simply Wholesome health food store and restaurant in 1995. It's the only one of two Wich Stands that remain, this one better known as the one "on the hill."
Even without the old sign, this Eldon Davis-designed coffee shop is instantly recognizable by its 35-foot-tall spire. But it's no longer a drive-in, nor does it serve any cocktails—much less in what was once known as the "Broom Room."
Of course one of the most exciting preservation victories as of late is a rescued Armet and Davis-designed coffee shop from 1959. The original business there, the Penguin Coffee Shop, closed its doors in 1991; the most recent business was a dentistry and orthodontics practice.
Restored and reopened to the public are the classic pitched roof, once-drywalled flagstone, and picture windows—all thanks to the Mel's Drive-In chain (which also operates out of an Armet and Davis classic from 1953, the former Kerry's Coffee Shop, in Sherman Oaks).
The latest Googie fabulousness to have new life breathed into it is the former Crown Chili Burger (which it was for at least 10 years)...
...which closed earlier this year and reopened as Ruby's Shake Shop—a burger stand version of the retro diner chain that first started in Newport Beach.
The accordioned roofline sports a fresh coat of paint, and this neglected Armet and Davis design from 1965 is finally getting some attention.
The tiny commercial structure is only 380 square feet, but it sure stands out on the corner of Lankershim and Otsego in North Hollywood—even amidst all the new construction popping up across the intersection.
And the new "Shake Shop" is a nice revival of the stand's former life as an ice cream parlor—at least, as it appeared in a 1975 episode of The Rockford Files.
*photo taken 2020
