Kirby’s idea was simple: patrons were to drive up in their automobiles and make their food requests from behind the wheel. A young lad would take the customers’ orders directly through the window of the car and then deliver the food and beverages right back out to the curb. The novelty of this new format was that hurried diners could consume their meals while still sitting in the front seat.

Of course, the Roaring Twenties were ripe for such a brazen idea. Adventurous folk perched atop flagpoles, danced the Charleston at around the clock dance marathons, and consumed bathtub gin at speakeasies. During Prohibition, freedom of travel emerged as the new thrill, fueled by automobile ownership that soared from six million to twenty-seven million motorcars by decade’s end.

When Kirby and Jackson’s Texas “Pig Stand opened along the busy Dallas-Fort Worth Highway (West Davis Street) in the Fall of 1921, hoards of Texas motorists tipped their ten-gallon hats to “America’s Motor Lunch. Here was the ultimate dine-in-your-car convenience—starring Kirby and Jackson’s newest hand-held creation, the “Pig Sandwich. Prepared with tender slices of roast pork loin, pickle relish, and barbecue sauce, it quickly gained a loyal following among harried commuters and carefree joy riders. A frosty bottle of Dr Pepper (another Texas favorite, invented at a soda fountain in Waco) accompanied the motoring meal.

But the tasty curbside cuisine wasn’t the only attraction at America’s first drive-in restaurant. The flamboyant car servers who worked the curb—or “carhops as someone coined the phrase—were truly a sight to behold. “All the car hops were young men, probably 12 to 15 years old, recalls Richard Hailey, successor to the Pig Stand throne and acting president of Pig Stands, Inc. “The carhops were very competitive. As soon as they saw a Model T start to slow down and turn tires towards the curb, they’d race out to see who could jump up on the running board first while the car was still moving.

With its good food and derring-do curb service, the legend of the carhop grew as the reputation of the Pig Stands and its signature barbecue sandwich spread. Propelled beyond the borders of Texas by one of the first franchising arrangements in the industry, the number of restaurants multiplied quickly. Between 1921 and 1934, more than 100 Pig Stands were serving up “A Good Meal At Any Time in Texas, California, Louisiana, Mississippi, New York, Florida, Oklahoma, Arkansas, and Alabama.

As the demands of the American automobile owner changed, fast food innovation shaped the Pig Stand legacy. According to Hailey, “It was California Pig Stand No. 21 that pioneered drive through car service in 1931. Unheard of at the time, customers drove right up to the building to make their order, while the cook served the meals to occupants waiting in their car. Fast forward seventy years: Today, virtually every American fast-food chain restaurant relies on the “drive-thru window format to service busy commuters arriving in their motor vehicles.

Royce Hailey, patriarch of the Pig Stands clan and father to Richard, was one of the pioneers. Inspired by the same spirit of pluck and entrepreneurship that made the Pig Stands an American success story, he started his career as a Dallas carhop at age thirteen. In 1930, he leaped up onto his first automobile running board and never looked back. When he hopped off twenty-five years later, he found himself president of the company. By the dawn of the 1960s, he led the company to sell off all of the out-of-state stands and concentrate solely on the Texas locations. In 1975, he became sole owner of the company.

But a knack for business and people skills was only part of his legend. As popular restaurant history tells the tale, the visionary Hailey “invented” the chicken-fried steak sandwich during the 1930s. Not satisfied with one culinary creation to his credit, he also helped to create the super-sized slice of grilled bread most natives of the Alamo city know and love as “Texas Toast” (according to many food historians, the Pig Stands are also credited with creating fried onion rings during the heyday of the 1920s).

Son Richard purchased all interest to the Pig Stands company in 1983 and forged ahead with the tradition of serving American comfort food to a public still in love with their automobile and the freedom it affords. “Today, diners can still get an over sized piece of Texas Toast, giant onion rings, a milkshake, and a tasty Pig Sandwich, he says. “The best part is that we still sell the same Pig Sandwich made the same way that is was made so many years ago.

Along the great American roadsides, it seems that the more things change … the more they stay the same. For fans of the “World’s First Drive-in Restaurant, there’s still nothing that compares with dining on a tasty Pig Sandwich and a bottle of Dr Pepper while seated comfortably in America’s favorite dining room: the front seat of a car.

When two elderly ladies considered selling out their ten-stool lunch counter on Colorado Boulevard, Wian saw his opportunity. Still, he had to make a painful decision: sell his prized 1933 De Soto roadster to get the bulk of the $350 asking price or pass over the deal.  It was a clear choice.  The car found a new owner and Wian got the money he needed.  The eatery was his!  He renamed it Bob’s Pantry and began to work the counter alone.

Members of Chuck Foster’s Orchestra adopted the Pantry as a late-night hangout and stopped in frequently after gigs.  High-school pals of Wian’s felt comfortable there, filling up with numerous hamburgers, gallons of Hires root beer, and packets of cigarettes.  One frosty night in February of 1937, bass musician Stewie Strange became bored with the usual midnight snack and uttered the historic question, now ensconced in legend: “How about something different for a change, Bob?”

In a teasing mood, Wian was quick to accommodate.  He proceeded to cut a sesame seed bun into three slices and flipped two burgers onto the griddle. While the meat sizzled, the band watched in fascination as leaves of lettuce and slices of cheese were readied on the sideboard.  Finally, the cooked patties were lifted from the hot plate.  Wian plopped on some relish, and began stacking up a ridiculous caricature of the hamburger—a double-decked delight pushing burger creativity to the outer limits. The band loved it!

A few days later, chunky Richard Woodruff wandered in through the front door.  He lived down the street and often came in to sweep the floor and perform other busy work for Wian.  Only six years old, he was already exhibiting a “Wimpy sized appetite for hamburgs [sic]—with a stomach to match.” HE figured out his own way to get ‘em and charmed both the lunch time customers and Wian with his plump physique and droopy overalls.  It came as no surprise to the regulars why Bob Wian christened his unique sandwich the “Big Boy!

After a local cartoonist sketched a rendition of the urchin on a napkin, the tousled hair and chubby cheeks became a trademark adorning the front facade.  News of the great-tasting “double-deck” cheeseburger spread and within three years, Wian opened a second eatery in Los Angeles.  By 1949, he was franchising his sandwich (and its youthful mascot) to operators in a half-dozen states.  Meanwhile, a trio of his own Big Boy dinettes prospered. Featuring “snappy service drive-in lanes and inside seating,” their transitional design bridged the carhop era with the coming age of coffee-shops.  In 1964, Wian’s built his last open-air unit.

Bob's Double-Deck Big Boy Cheeseburger

A few years later, McDonald’s franchisee Jim Delligatti wanted to bring out a “new idea for a sandwich” when he remembered Wian’s tasty double.  During the fifties, he managed a West Coast drive-in and was impressed by the numerous imitators of the twin burger.  But whether whether or not he was influenced by nostalgia or his own imagination remains unclear … what’s certain is that he developed a close copy of the bi-level Big Boy.  Later, he admitted that the conception of this burger clone “wasn’t like discovering the light bulb—the bulb was already there … all I did was screw it in the socket.” Of course, no credit was given to Wian for his original creation.

Delligatti’s Big “Mac” was introduced nationwide at McDonald’s outlets in 1968.  The stacked sandwich was an immediate hit, soon accounting for nineteen percent of sales! But, that was no surprise for Robert C. Wian, Jr.  His double-decked sandwich—created at the spur of the moment to satisfy the desire for something different—had already built a food empire.  Another variation on the theme couldn’t hurt. He—and everyone else acquainted with hamburger history … would always know the Big Boy was Bob’s. ]]> http://michaelwitzel.com/wordpress/bobs-big-boy-burger/feed/ 0 http://michaelwitzel.com/wordpress/fable-of-the-golden-arches/ http://michaelwitzel.com/wordpress/fable-of-the-golden-arches/#comments Mon, 01 Sep 2008 07:52:49 +0000 Michael Witzel http://michaelwitzel.com/wordpress/?p=267 Richard and Maurice McDonald were planning to franchise their successful burger system in 1952. To stand above the visual noise created by miles of drive-ins, motels, car washes, bowling alleys, service stations, and coffee-shops—they decided a new structural style was needed. Without a unique design, nationwide recognition for their walk-up stand was an impossibility.

McDonalds Golden Arches (circa 1950s)

With this simple aim in the forefront, professional architects in Southern California were approached. A few interesting concepts were drafted for the brothers’ review—but unfortunately … met with immediate rejection. Later described by Richard McDonald as “squatty looking boxes,” they exhibited a blatant lack of memorable charm or character.

Undaunted, the drawings were taken home for further contemplation. Then, while Richard McDonald pored over the plans in his office one rainy night—the arrow of inspiration found its mark. He had an idea! With limited talents as an artist and unbounded intuition about what a roadside stand should look like, he began to sketch some tentative plans.

First, the height of the building had to be lifted. Tapping into personal preferences, Richard penciled in a slanted roof—sloping gradually from the front to rear. Influenced by Colonial columns dominating his twenty-five room house, he included a few variations. Though imposing, they weren’t the elusive element he desired in a fast-food restaurant.

Next, he oriented a large semi-circle parallel to the front of the square building. It looked a little funny, so he discarded the idea and proceeded to draw two arches—positioning one of them at each side of the structure. This time, he arranged them perpendicular to where the road might be. As soon as he lifted his writing instrument from the paper at the bottom of the second arch, McDonald realized he had found the answer.

Swelled with the post-invention confidence typical of any vanguard, he presented Fontana architect Stanley Meston with the idea. Unprepared for the abstract incarnation of Coffee-shop Modern, Stan posed his question: “Dick, did you have a bad dream last night?” The garish arches assaulted his design sensibilities! He wanted no part of them—detailing their obvious impracticality to the brothers (amazingly, he would lay claim to the arch idea—decades later).

Unfazed by the response, McDonald stuck to his vision. He wanted those arches and would have them! If Meston wouldn’t work with the idea, then they would get someone else. Predictably, he eventually caught the vision and cooperated with sign maker George Dexter to amplify the golden wings with neon.

After further refinements were made, an eye-grabbing rendering was drawn up. Now, curved circles became taught parabolas—flaring gradually at their base. The upper portions of the dual yellow bands—along with the edges of the flying wedge roof, were rimmed with tubes of neon. Walls, striped with dramatic red and white tiles, jazzed the exterior.

Businessman Neil Fox and associates took the hook and became the first McDonald’s franchisee in America to construct the arched design. In May of 1953, the illuminated arches born on a scrap of paper finally came to life in Phoenix, Arizona. As they brightened the opening night with their futuristic energy, lines of customers were dazzled by the sight. To many, it was obvious that the age of drive-ins and carhop service … was over. The amazing success story of Richard McDonald’s golden arches was just beginning.