It didn't take much for me to throw all my Saturday plans out the window last weekend—just the discovery that a mountain cabin built out of a Red Car trolley is for sale, and I could see it for myself during a two-hour open house.
Making up for lost time and missed opportunities, one adventure at a time.
Showing posts sorted by date for query formosa. Sort by relevance Show all posts
Showing posts sorted by date for query formosa. Sort by relevance Show all posts
March 23, 2025
Photo Essay: The Long Goodbye to Pacific Dining Car
I hadn't yet written about the 2020 closure of one of my favorite LA institutions, Pacific Dining Car, because I was in denial. I thought once the COVID-19 pandemic was over, really over, it might reopen.
September 10, 2023
Photo Essay: The Nirvana Apartments, A Vivid Hollywood Version of the 'East'
I can't tell you how many times I've passed by The Nirvana on Orange Drive in Hollywood, either on my way to the parking structure at Hollywood & Highland (now Ovation) or heading home from The Magic Castle.
But I never noticed its pagoda roofline—or any of the strange, eclectic decorative details that adorned the four-story, brick-clad apartment building.
December 28, 2020
Beyond Repair: The Inauspicious Fate of Good Luck Bar and Its Iconic Neon Sign
In May 2019, one of my favorite bars closed.
I rushed to the scene to check it out for myself—and lo and behold, the colored glass tubes had been smashed to bits.
The shattered fragments were all over the front entryway and in the sidewalk cracks on Hillhurst.
But there was no sign of the sign. And we all thought the story was over.
circa 2019 (Screenshot: @goodluckbarla on Instagram)
Technically, Good Luck Bar in the Los Feliz neighborhood of Los Angeles was evicted by a developer that had bought the building it resided in, with plans to build a new hotel.
When the development was approved by the Los Feliz Neighborhood Council in 2014, the Good Luck Bar was supposed to be a part of it.
Five years later, it was blindsided by a 30-day eviction notice—25 years into its run as a neighborhood nightlife staple.
But that wasn't where the story ended. And it wasn't the worst of it, either.
circa 2015
Those of us who loved Good Luck Bar had been relieved to hear that at least its iconic neon sign, with its distinctive Chinese-style lettering, would be preserved. Then the developer (Brad Conroy of Conroy Commercial Real Estate) declared that the neon wouldn't be turned over to anyone—because he was going to keep it for himself as a souvenir.
circa 2018
And so a preservation crisis got piled on top of another preservation crisis, with the Museum of Neon Art having already scrambled to raise funds for the sign's removal (which would require two cranes) and relocation.
circa 2019
And the story just kept getting worse—because just a couple of weeks after last call at the bar, thieves were seen climbing ladders and removing the sign, without a crane in sight. Anybody who knows anything about neon signs would know that it would be too heavy for such a hack removal job, and it would certainly come crashing down to its death.
circa 2019
circa 2019
circa 2019
circa 2019 (Screenshot: @goodluckbarla on Instagram)After what had already been an emotional rollercoaster ride, Good Luck Bar reported on social media that the sign had been dumped in the trash nearby—as reported by an anonymous tip to the Museum of Neon Art. We knew that the glass tubing had been obliterated, but the photo of its remains (appropriately wrapped in a body bag) made it seem as though the metal encasement would be salvageable.
circa 2020 (Screenshot: Facebook.com/musickev82)
Over two years have passed, with no announcements made to the contrary—by either the bar (which is now understandably dormant on social media) or the museum.
And then 6 weeks ago, reality came crashing down on me like a ton of bricks—with the news broken in a matter-of-fact comment on Facebook.
According to MONA's new Executive Director Corrie Siegal, the sign was "damaged beyond repair" when it was finally located.
I asked what happened to the carcass. She didn't reply.
In the end, I know it's just a sign from a defunct bar. Bars close; we move on. Good Luck Bar itself was a tribute to another closed bar—Chinatown's Yee Mee Loo, whose 50-year run ended in 1989.
Fortunately, the Formosa Cafe has preserved the old Yee Mee Loo bar and the infamous Yee Mee Loo "blue drink" (which Good Luck Bar also used to serve).
But the way this whole thing went down from the very beginning until the very end was just infinitely shitty.
I'm almost relieved it's finally over.
It is over, right?
Further Reading:
Related Posts:
August 07, 2020
All Aboard the Carney's Express Limited: Sunset Strip
I'll eat on any train at any time. In fact, I want to eat on ALL the trains. And fortunately, there are plenty of rail-themed dining establishments in Southern California, particularly in LA.
One of my favorites is what I've nicknamed "The Hot Dog Train"—a.k.a. Carney's Restaurant, a family-owned business with actually two locations, both housed in vintage rolling stock.
In addition to the one located in Studio City on Ventura Boulevard (established 1981), there's my "local"—the original one that opened on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood in 1975. (A third location in Glendale is no more.)
Sometimes I can't believe something so whimsical and such a slice of Americana can still exist anywhere in LA—especially in an area that's been getting gobbled up by hotels and high-rise condo towers.
And part of me is convinced that a train that serves up hot dogs and hamburgers topped with chili couldn't possibly be around much longer.
Fortunately, the coronavirus pandemic has allowed food that's fast and casual to thrive in an era of social distancing.
And while you can still board the train to place your order and retrieve your food, now you just have to bring outside to eat.
The interior is worth a visit, if only for the historical photo display that tells the story of how the hot dog train got to the north side of Sunset Boulevard in the first place. I always liked to think that the tracks pre-dated the Strip—but it turns out that's not the case.
Originally built in 1926, the Union Pacific "Challenger" class passenger coach #535 that became Carney's was relocated overnight to the Sunset Strip from a private owner's property in the Mojave Desert.
Once it arrived to the lot, it took an hour—with three lanes closed to traffic—to get it exactly into place. . But even so, it was designed to be "portable" in case the Wolfe family ever lost their lease.
Fortunately, they haven't (yet), so you can still get the Carney's chili dog with mustard, onions, and tomatoes...
...or the chili cheeseburger with pickles and tomatoes and a side of "train wreck" fries, smothered and covered in cheese, grilled onions, and Thousand Island dressing.
Now, from the street it looks like Carney's West Hollywood location is just one train—but it's actually two. The kitchen car is a converted bar/lounge car, also from Union Pacific, that was fitted precisely over a basement area that had been excavated in advance.
During the day, the kitchen workers are slammed with delivery orders and walk-ups from local construction crews and looky-loo tourists. At night, the booze-soaked crowds gobble their chili and wash it down with bottles of beer before making it on foot to their next party stop.
As food critic extraordinaire Jonathan Gold wrote for LA Weekly, "After a few beers and a chili dog or two, the train can appear to be lurching down the track."
I'll take Carney's over Pink's any day.
And eating outside the train, right next to the tracks, is as much of a kick for railfans as grabbing a seat inside.
Either way, no boarding pass is required!
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Welcome Back, Formosa Cafe!
One of my favorites is what I've nicknamed "The Hot Dog Train"—a.k.a. Carney's Restaurant, a family-owned business with actually two locations, both housed in vintage rolling stock.
In addition to the one located in Studio City on Ventura Boulevard (established 1981), there's my "local"—the original one that opened on the Sunset Strip in West Hollywood in 1975. (A third location in Glendale is no more.)
Sometimes I can't believe something so whimsical and such a slice of Americana can still exist anywhere in LA—especially in an area that's been getting gobbled up by hotels and high-rise condo towers.
And part of me is convinced that a train that serves up hot dogs and hamburgers topped with chili couldn't possibly be around much longer.
Fortunately, the coronavirus pandemic has allowed food that's fast and casual to thrive in an era of social distancing.
And while you can still board the train to place your order and retrieve your food, now you just have to bring outside to eat.
The interior is worth a visit, if only for the historical photo display that tells the story of how the hot dog train got to the north side of Sunset Boulevard in the first place. I always liked to think that the tracks pre-dated the Strip—but it turns out that's not the case.
Originally built in 1926, the Union Pacific "Challenger" class passenger coach #535 that became Carney's was relocated overnight to the Sunset Strip from a private owner's property in the Mojave Desert.
Once it arrived to the lot, it took an hour—with three lanes closed to traffic—to get it exactly into place. . But even so, it was designed to be "portable" in case the Wolfe family ever lost their lease.
Fortunately, they haven't (yet), so you can still get the Carney's chili dog with mustard, onions, and tomatoes...
...or the chili cheeseburger with pickles and tomatoes and a side of "train wreck" fries, smothered and covered in cheese, grilled onions, and Thousand Island dressing.
Now, from the street it looks like Carney's West Hollywood location is just one train—but it's actually two. The kitchen car is a converted bar/lounge car, also from Union Pacific, that was fitted precisely over a basement area that had been excavated in advance.
During the day, the kitchen workers are slammed with delivery orders and walk-ups from local construction crews and looky-loo tourists. At night, the booze-soaked crowds gobble their chili and wash it down with bottles of beer before making it on foot to their next party stop.
As food critic extraordinaire Jonathan Gold wrote for LA Weekly, "After a few beers and a chili dog or two, the train can appear to be lurching down the track."
I'll take Carney's over Pink's any day.
And eating outside the train, right next to the tracks, is as much of a kick for railfans as grabbing a seat inside.
Either way, no boarding pass is required!
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Welcome Back, Formosa Cafe!
August 03, 2020
Meet Me at The Formosa (Upstairs On the Patio, For Now)
I'm trying to radically accept the inevitability that some places will never reopen from the "temporary" pandemic closures.
But using the power of my own wallet, I've been fighting hard to keep The Formosa Cafe up and running—ordering more delivery from there than any other single establishment since mid-March.
After all, it spent so many years closed—competing for grant money to fund its restoration—finally reopening just over a year ago to much fanfare.
Fortunately, that renovation preserved a rooftop patio space—one I'd actually never visited under the "old guard" of the Formosa's operations, but I'd been aware of because of the crowd noise coming down from it on certain nights.
Since the only dine-in experience that's allowing right now while dining out is outdoor dining, it was time for me to support this historic institution by finally climbing up those stairs.
With a patio plan already in place, the Formosa had a leg up on other restaurants that have scrambled to expand into their parking lots and sidewalks, some laying down Astroturf and setting up ad hoc tents and other pop-up shelters in a relatively unglamorous fashion.
But at the Formosa, the Mai Tai's taste just as refreshing up there, under amber-glowing lanterns and surrounded by the cafe's custom chinoiserie wallpaper.
The sun dips tipsy into the west and flecks our faces, all aglow in intangible gold. Beneath that, we are rouged in rum.
The breeze up there, it feels like it could sweep almost all our cares away.
The food nourishes and satisfies, even as we put on our masks after finishing one dish and waiting for another to arrive.
We keep everyone at a double-arm's length—everyone, that is, except each other, and except our server.
We've decided it's a risk we're willing to take. But it's about as much risk as we're willing to take—two hours maybe on one night in what seems like forever.
We might not do it again for another four months, or longer.
Or maybe now that we remember the Mai Tais taste better at the Formosa than they do at home—despite being the same Mai Tais—we'll find our way back more quickly the next time around.
Oh, to be able to say, "Meet me at The Formosa," to anyone, anytime.
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Welcome Back, Formosa Cafe!
But using the power of my own wallet, I've been fighting hard to keep The Formosa Cafe up and running—ordering more delivery from there than any other single establishment since mid-March.
After all, it spent so many years closed—competing for grant money to fund its restoration—finally reopening just over a year ago to much fanfare.
Fortunately, that renovation preserved a rooftop patio space—one I'd actually never visited under the "old guard" of the Formosa's operations, but I'd been aware of because of the crowd noise coming down from it on certain nights.
Since the only dine-in experience that's allowing right now while dining out is outdoor dining, it was time for me to support this historic institution by finally climbing up those stairs.
With a patio plan already in place, the Formosa had a leg up on other restaurants that have scrambled to expand into their parking lots and sidewalks, some laying down Astroturf and setting up ad hoc tents and other pop-up shelters in a relatively unglamorous fashion.
But at the Formosa, the Mai Tai's taste just as refreshing up there, under amber-glowing lanterns and surrounded by the cafe's custom chinoiserie wallpaper.
The sun dips tipsy into the west and flecks our faces, all aglow in intangible gold. Beneath that, we are rouged in rum.
The breeze up there, it feels like it could sweep almost all our cares away.
The food nourishes and satisfies, even as we put on our masks after finishing one dish and waiting for another to arrive.
We keep everyone at a double-arm's length—everyone, that is, except each other, and except our server.
We've decided it's a risk we're willing to take. But it's about as much risk as we're willing to take—two hours maybe on one night in what seems like forever.
We might not do it again for another four months, or longer.
Or maybe now that we remember the Mai Tais taste better at the Formosa than they do at home—despite being the same Mai Tais—we'll find our way back more quickly the next time around.
Oh, to be able to say, "Meet me at The Formosa," to anyone, anytime.
Related Posts:
Photo Essay: Welcome Back, Formosa Cafe!
June 28, 2019
Photo Essay: Welcome Back, Formosa Cafe!
Until 2017, one of the most stalwart mainstays of Hollywood nightlife was the Formosa Cafe, located along Route 66...
...across the street from the movie lot that was, at one time or another, Pickford-Fairbanks Studios, United Artists Studio, or Samuel Goldwyn Studio.
The Cantonese-themed bar and restaurant, known for its appearance in the Lana Turner scene in L.A. Confidential, has been closed for two and a half years.
But the closure was only temporary, as the 1933 Group—also known for its restorations of Highland Park Bowl and the barrel-shaped Idle Hour—took over ownership of it.
The nightlife group completely restored the the old Pacific Electric Red Car trolley-turned-dining room...
...and made it actually look like a train again.
Of course, lot of work was done on stuff you can't see, too.
The Formosa Cafe was preserved as a historic landmark in the early 1990s, when its lease expired and it was threatened with demolition as plans to expand The Lot attempted to encroach on the restaurant's footprint. In 2004, the developer of the "Gateway" shopping mall next door agreed to build around it after being wooed by its charms.
It's satisfying to see it survive another preservation threat—and keep the floor safe belonging to Bugsy Siegel intact.
First opened in 1925, Formosa Cafe was more or less family-run from 1945 to 2014.
But the oldest section of the restaurant the train car—PE #913, in service from 1902 to 1906.
And it's key to preserving the history of the Formosa.
In fact, when it first opened, the Formosa—then known as The Red Post Cafe—was just that old red streetcar!
Fortunately, much of the original decor and memorabilia—including all those photos of all those celebrities who've passed through the doors of the Formosa—was saved from the last (historically inappropriate) renovation.
1933 Group managed to get them back from the last owner.
If there's anything new that's been added, it's hard to tell. The restoration is that seamless.
In fact, the entire back bar area was added on, enclosing an outdoor portion of the restaurant's former iteration.
The pagoda looks as though it could've been there for ages.
And based on the renovations to both the structure and the menu, it looks like the Formosa is ready to have a new heyday.
There's still a lot of life left in this former Hollywood starlet.
And Hollywood sure does love a comeback story.
...and officially reopens tonight, June 28, 2019.
Welcome back to West Hollywood!
Related Posts:
The Formosa Cafe Gets Ready To Step Back Into the Spotlight
Photo Essay: The Warehouse Restaurant, A Marina Eatery for 50 Years and Counting
Photo Essay: California's Last Location of Don the Beachcomber, On Perhaps Its Last Day (Updated)
...across the street from the movie lot that was, at one time or another, Pickford-Fairbanks Studios, United Artists Studio, or Samuel Goldwyn Studio.
The Cantonese-themed bar and restaurant, known for its appearance in the Lana Turner scene in L.A. Confidential, has been closed for two and a half years.
But the closure was only temporary, as the 1933 Group—also known for its restorations of Highland Park Bowl and the barrel-shaped Idle Hour—took over ownership of it.
The nightlife group completely restored the the old Pacific Electric Red Car trolley-turned-dining room...
...and made it actually look like a train again.
Of course, lot of work was done on stuff you can't see, too.
The Formosa Cafe was preserved as a historic landmark in the early 1990s, when its lease expired and it was threatened with demolition as plans to expand The Lot attempted to encroach on the restaurant's footprint. In 2004, the developer of the "Gateway" shopping mall next door agreed to build around it after being wooed by its charms.
It's satisfying to see it survive another preservation threat—and keep the floor safe belonging to Bugsy Siegel intact.
First opened in 1925, Formosa Cafe was more or less family-run from 1945 to 2014.
But the oldest section of the restaurant the train car—PE #913, in service from 1902 to 1906.
And it's key to preserving the history of the Formosa.
In fact, when it first opened, the Formosa—then known as The Red Post Cafe—was just that old red streetcar!
Fortunately, much of the original decor and memorabilia—including all those photos of all those celebrities who've passed through the doors of the Formosa—was saved from the last (historically inappropriate) renovation.
1933 Group managed to get them back from the last owner.
If there's anything new that's been added, it's hard to tell. The restoration is that seamless.
In fact, the entire back bar area was added on, enclosing an outdoor portion of the restaurant's former iteration.
The pagoda looks as though it could've been there for ages.
And based on the renovations to both the structure and the menu, it looks like the Formosa is ready to have a new heyday.
There's still a lot of life left in this former Hollywood starlet.
And Hollywood sure does love a comeback story.
The Formosa Cafe has been in "soft open" for a week...
Flyer: Formosa Cafe Facebook
Welcome back to West Hollywood!
Related Posts:
The Formosa Cafe Gets Ready To Step Back Into the Spotlight
Photo Essay: The Warehouse Restaurant, A Marina Eatery for 50 Years and Counting
Photo Essay: California's Last Location of Don the Beachcomber, On Perhaps Its Last Day (Updated)
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