Al is feeling a little under the weather. He will complete Part 2 of his Walt Disney story as soon as possible, but in the meantime, we’ve pulled this column from December 2011.
All along the Historic National Road on Indianapolis’ eastside, theaters, restaurants, motels, car lots, and store signs abound to remind us of what life was like in the middle of the 20th century. Many of these mid-century roadside attractions have become eligible as designated historic sites and the public is beginning to recognize the significance and beauty of these forgotten beacons. Sadly, they are fast becoming the victims of demolition and redevelopment. By increasing public appreciation of these often-overlooked resources, we may prevent future loss and incompatible changes.
These landmark legacy signs are an integral, yet unappreciated part of the Irvington and Indianapolis landscape. While the exact number of these signs located along the road on Indy’s eastside is undetermined, what cannot be doubted is the fact that many are disappearing on a day-to-day basis. When eastsiders hear the names Al Green’s, Laughner’s, Burger Chef, or Roselyn Bakery they invariably think of the signs. True, we remember the hamburgers, the shakes, the cookies, the cakes, but what immediately comes to mind is the friendly welcome sign. Okay, I’m not a poet but few things fuel my poetic urges the way nostalgic signs do.
Luckily, there are several Internet groups dedicated to preserving these distinctive 20th century iconic signs with names like “Roadside Wonders Driving Tour” and “Roadside America” if only in the form of photographs. The signs I speak of take their inspiration less from professional architects and slick graphic designers as they do from individual business owners who recognized the value of quickly catching the attention of someone driving past their roadside business in a moving car. Invariably, these structures combine whimsy, practicality, and visual appeal that best showcases the product for sale with instant recognition. In decades past, the size and eye appeal of a sign was directly tied to a roadside business’ success or failure.
Sadly, signs today are frequently considered nothing more than visual clutter, if not an outright distraction governed by strictly enforced codes and ordinances that inhibit the freedom of expression of days gone by. Compared to many of today’s signs, landmark legacy signs might be considered works of art, albeit pop art, but art just the same. These signs first surfaced around World War II, replacing what had been hand-painted wooden signs or exaggerated product representations in place of slicker painted/enameled metal with neon or incandescent light bulbs framing the message. These signs exploded in popularity during the Baby Boomer era, often incorporating cute cartoon mascots or product representations in place of lengthy text. In fact, their popularity is commensurate with the increased use of the automobile and widening construction of the American highway system.
In their day, these signs were cutting-edge advertising for generations whose favorite social-networking activities revolved around them both physically and directionally. It’s incalculable to estimate the amount of times that Johnson Avenue in Irvington was given as “turn at the Irving sign” or “When you see the Irving sign, you‘re getting close.” It would be hard to calculate how many children in this country learned, at least in part, how to read by looking at these cherished signs.
Today many communities are recognizing the importance of these landmark legacy signs and have begun the necessary steps to have the most culturally significant of these signs protected with “local landmark status.” Most notably, Charlotte, North Carolina and the state of Texas are leading the nationwide preservation effort. Las Vegas has just come to the realization of the importance of their signs as landmarks, perhaps too late, as many of the most identifiable casino signs were lost when the buildings were torn down. Fortunately, many of the iconic neon signs most associated with Sin City can still be found in Downtown Las Vegas including the “Welcome to Las Vegas” sign and “Howdy, Pardner” cowboy sign with it’s lighted moving arm.
In Irvington, the most recognizable of these landmark legacy signs is the familiar neon marquee sign that juts out over the National Road above the Irving Theatre. Dale Harkins, the owner of the Irving says, “Most people think the sign is a lot older than it really is. I hate to break their hearts but the sign is less than 30 years old.” Regardless, the sign continues a tradition of landmark signs if only for its appearance. The Irving Theatre sign is consistent with the era considered as it’s heyday, the 1940-50s.
Perhaps the best known iconic sign in the country is the Hollywood sign high up in the Santa Monica mountains of Los Angeles, California. The sign spells out the name of the area in 45-foot-tall and 350-foot-long white letters. The sign was first erected in 1923 and originally read “HOLLYWOODLAND” and was studded with some 4,000 light bulbs. The sign was officially dedicated on July 13, 1923 and was never intended to be permanent. It was created as an advertisement in 1923 for a housing development, but became an unintentional Hollywood icon and internationally recognized symbol in the proceeding decades after the sign was left up.
Over the course of more than three-quarters of a century, the sign, designed to stand only 18 months, sustained a wide array of vandalism damage and natural deterioration. In 1978, in large part because of a public campaign to restore the landmark by rocker Alice Cooper, the city decided to replace the intensely deteriorated sign with a permanent structure complete with a security system to deter vandalism. The funds were gathered through public donations. Today, the sign is protected and promoted by the Hollywood Sign Trust, a nonprofit organization. In a sign of the times, in 2005, the original 1923 sign was sold on eBay for $450,400.
In another strange twist, in 2008 a group of Chicago investors — which owns 138 acres behind, and to the left, of the sign, at what is called Cahuenga Peak — put the parcel of land up for sale for $22 million. The land was originally bought in 1940 by eccentric billionaire Howard Hughes, who intended to build a home for his girlfriend Ginger Rogers on the site. But the relationship fizzled and after Hughes died, his estate sold the property in 2002 to the Chicago investors for nearly $1.7 million. The sale would threaten the Hollywood icon with the spectre of homes being built close to the foot of the nine most famous letters in the world. The property was zoned to build luxury homes. Luckily, a last minute donation of $900,000 from Playboy founder Hugh Hefner saved the landmark.
According to the Save Hollywoodland Web site, fund-raising efforts included residents holding bake sales, garage sales, rallies, and fund-raising concerts to raise the monies needed to protect the land. Hollywood leaders donated $3.2 million, including major donations from The Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences, CBS Corp., Lucasfilms, NBC Universal, Sony Pictures Entertainment, Steven Spielberg, 20 Century Fox, Warner Bros., Time Warner and The Walt Disney Company Foundation. Other Hollywood contributors included Creative Artists Agency, Tiffany Corp., Tom Hanks and Rita Wilson, Norman Lear, and numerous Internet and mobile phone donations.
Did you know that Indiana has its own version of an iconic sign to rival the “Hollywood” sign half a continent away? It’s a half-mile long sign in northern Indiana acknowledged as the largest living sign in America. The landmark sign, literally, is located in New Carlisle, 15 miles west of South Bend. It was created for the Studebaker Corporation, an iconic Indiana automaker that ceased operations in 1967.
The Studebaker sign was made by planting 8,259 six-inch red and white pine seedlings in 1938 as a salute to the growing aviation industry. The trees grew to an enormous size and at 1/2 mile long, it is only visible from an airplane. The unique arboreal configuration was planted on the automaker’s proving grounds next to the test track. It now forms part of the Bendix Woods park, controlled by the local parks and recreation department.
Nearly half a century after the final “Studie” rolled off the assembly line, the trees’ message can still be seen from space. (And you thought it was ONLY the Great Wall of China that held that honor.) In December of 2004, the ‘STUDEBAKER’ tree sign was recognized as one of the world’s largest living advertisements and placed on the National Register of Historic Places. Since then it has been severely damaged by an ice storm, several of the trees have died out and many other trees have begun to invade the formation. In November 2011 a generous grant was awarded to the St. Joseph County Parks Foundation for its long-term management and preservation by Indiana Landmarks, assuring that the Studebaker sign will be preserved for future generations.
The fact is, signs of all shapes, sizes and designs are in constant danger of loss, damage or destruction. Still others have been forever altered, callously sold for scrap or worse, removed completely. Although often taken for granted, these signs are a part of our history and certainly ingrained in our cultural memory. As an antiques dealer, I am well aware that many of these signs make their way overseas to collectors and investors and will never return home to our shores. I’m told recently of a Holiday Inn sign from Indianapolis that was sold to a company in Japan for over $28,000 (plus shipping).
In Irvington, we’ve lost the Al Green’s sign forever and are in danger of losing the old “Torch” restaurant sign as well. Every time I drive by that distinctly familiar sign (now home to the La Hacienda Mexican Restaurant at 6429 E. Washington Street – Editor’s note: The restaurant is now Los Cuates and the sign is gone). I worry that it is going to collapse like a giant hatchet atop some unsuspecting car. Don’t get me wrong, I love the food there, but the loss of the sign is just a matter of time. My father, who has long ago passed, met my step-mother at the old Torch. I suspect that my story is just one of many and hope that some of you out there feel equally concerned about these landmark legacy signs and will lament their possible loss as much as I do.
Al Hunter is the author of the “Haunted Indianapolis” and co-author of the “Haunted Irvington” and “Indiana National Road” book series. His newest books are “Bumps in the Night. Stories from the Weekly View,” “Irvington Haunts. The Tour Guide,” and “The Mystery of the H.H. Holmes Collection.” Contact Al directly at Huntvault@aol.com or become a friend on Facebook.
