Then and now: the Chicken Pie Shop

(Sweet bird of youth! Roving correspondent/photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits the scenes of our past glories. Today, the Chicken Pie Shop still serves the salt of the earth.)

Detail: Chicken Pie Shop clock, October 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)The Chicken Pie Shop, known for its geriatric-variety comfort food, large portions and low prices. I recall scraping the bottom of my handbag for a couple of bucks in change and receiving an all-inclusive, starch-based feast: a chicken pie smothered in gravy; whipped potatoes; a “vegetable”; a roll with butter; and then, if you really felt like stuffing yourself, dessert (which was some kind of pie).

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Then and now: Off the Record

(Roving correspondent/photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits the scenes of our youth. Today, Off the Record’s original location is roadkill.)

Detail: Former Off the Record site, September 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)It takes my breath away that the candy store of my youth has been diminished to something as unsavory as a used-tire store. Off the Record has had a history, migrating from its origin on 6130 El Cajon Blvd. to the heart of the Hillcrest shopping district, where a much larger store thrived in the ’90s and early 21st century with San Diego’s indie rock scene and the DJ phemenon. The in-store concerts were memorable and yielded huge turnouts for bands such as The Misfits, Husker Du, Mudhoney and Nirvana. (Check out Nirvana at OTR in October 1991.)

After the original owner Phil Galloway sold the store, it downsized its stock considerably and in 2005 moved to a small storefront on University Avenue in North Park. The end of an era: Music stores can’t compete nowadays with the instant accessibility of MP3s and shareware. Record stores are reserved for the discriminating vinyl collectors who will never sell out completely to technology, no matter how clever those gizmos are!

Records will always be cooler.

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Then and now: Rock Palace

(Roving correspondent/photographer Kristen Tobiason surveys the remains of Rock Palace, which enjoyed a brief mid-’80s run of all-ages fun. “The stretch of El Cajon Boulevard sandwiched between I-805 and the I-15 is a desert of boarded-up, abandoned buildings dotted with a few small neighborhood repair shops or used-car lots. The Rock Palace structure has been dead since the ’80s, when completion of I-15 isolated the neighborhood.” Wallflowers frontman Dave Rinck recalls its heyday.)

Detail: Rock Palace, September 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Someone, somehow, sometime about 1984 or 1985 discovered what must have been an old ballroom above some dingy retail shops on El Cajon Boulevard. [Editor’s note: Contemporary flyers tell us the address was 3465 El Cajon Blvd.] In its day, it must have been a grand olde place, for it had a really high ceiling; wonderful wooden floors; and this really huge, creaky old stage at one end.

Detail: Rock Palace exterior, early ’80s (collection Jeff Benet)And what? Yes, we also noticed that a couple of guys were starting to promote rock-‘n’-roll concerts there in that grand old ballroom. Dubious? Yes, it reeked of money laundering. Manuel Noriega, the Cali Cartel, some Burmese generals, and the Taliban were probably running the place jointly. Of course before you could say “Lose sleep, baby, and stay away from bed,” these dudes had demo tapes of various Che Underground bands in their hot little hands, and the era of the Rock Palace was on!!!

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Then and now: The Ken Cinema

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, the Ken Cinema keeps it real!)

Detail: Ken Cinema marquee, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)The Ken is the last of its kind. Most neighborhood theaters couldn’t cut the mustard as costs to run a neighborhood movie house skyrocketed in the early ’90s with the encroachment of digital projection and a hostile takeover by corporate multiplex theaters.

“The Ken opened in 1912,” the Cinema Treasures Web site tells us. “The theater was remodeled in 1947 by S. Charles Lee in Art Moderne style, and was restored in 1975 after being taken over by the Landmark chain as a showcase for foreign features.”

Detail: Ken Cinema ticket booth, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)The first time I saw a film at the Ken (4061 Adams Ave.) was in 1981. In those years, the format was free-form and eclectic, serving foreign-language enthusiasts and cult-film buffs alike. The feature changed frequently, every day or so, from “8 1/2” to “Monty Python and the Holy Grail” to “Rear Window.” The Ken gave me my cinematic education and formed my tastes and preferences in film. Often it was like a big party, rowdy and interactive — I remember the row of scooters parked out front for “Quadrophenia.”

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Then and now: Adams Avenue Theater

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, the Adams Avenue Theater meets “Project Runway”!)

Detail: Discount Fabrics marquee, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)No one could have imagined that this hallmark of our glory days, the Adams Avenue Theater (3325 Adams Ave.), would metamorphose into something so random as Discount Fabrics. I don’t think it’s as humiliating as it is simply bizarre.

The humiliation occurred in the late ’80s, during the venue’s brief reincarnation as the Purple Rain Club. The transforming of a theater into a fabric store has a thread of irony that keeps San Diego “weird.” Frankly, I prefer it to the gentrification that has sucked the charm out of other neighborhoods.

Discount Fabrics never remodeled. Outside of the merchandise, everything looks the same as it did. A quarter-century later, there is still a reflection of the building’s punk-rock roots. Shadows still linger, and I can imagine an entryway streaked with the scuff of Doc Martens and cigarette butts; blood, sweat and spit in the hall; the pit, a cluster of motion, like hornets, swinging fists and bodies, a stage bomb, a swan dive from the balcony …

Detail: Discount Fabrics balcony, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Discount Fabrics entry, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Discount Fabrics stairway, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Discount Fabrics facade, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Discount Fabrics stage area, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)

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Then and now: Topsy’s

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, Topsy’s becomes a bear sanctuary! Photos by Kristen Tobiason; text by Kristen Tobiason and Matthew Rothenberg.)

Detail: Brian’s American Eatery sign, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)In the pantheon of 24-hour, Formica-countered restaurants of early-’80s San Diego, Topsy’s was the Rolling Stones to El Cajon Blvd. Denny’s’ Beatles: less-polished and slightly tougher than its competitor to the east.

Detail: Topsy’s sign, September 1999But like “Gay Denny’s,” Topsy’s’ after-clubbing hours and proximity to San Diego’s Hillcrest neighborhood also put a queer spin on the mix of patrons.

Reborn as Brian’s American Eatery, the restaurant at 1451 Washington Ave. expands on Topsy’s’ tradition of diner fare and a mix of gay and straight clientele, with special affinities for the “bear” subculture of the former.

Detail: Brian’s American Eatery bear ball, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Brian’s American Eatery bear candy dish, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Brian’s American Eatery breakfast bar, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Brian’s American Eatery exterior, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Brian’s American Eatery interior, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: Brian’s American Eatery staff, August 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)

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Then and now: Greenwich Village West

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, Greenwich Village West learns Tagalog.)

Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (outside), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Time has reduced my memory of the Greenwich Village basement to a hot cement pit: the flickering yellow light and a stairwell descending to a gully that had possibly the worst acoustics I’ve ever experienced!

I remember Morlocks guitarist Ted Friedman’s reverb hitting the wall — flat and nowhere to go, just like the smoke from our cigarettes. But we all had a good time. … Everybody who was anybody was there, right? (Maybe I’m harboring band-girlfriend resentment from schlepping equipment up and down those stairs.)

Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (sign), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (entry), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (band entrance), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (basement), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Detail: 536 Fifth Ave., San Diego (Filipino museum), July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)

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Then and now: Funland

(Roving correspondent/photographer Kristen Tobiason finds that Funland — downtown arcade that inspired a Wallflowers song of the same name — has been plowed under: “This swarthy beast consumed the whole lower Broadway strip. Another boring-ass hotel. I miss Funland and all its classic wooden pinball machines.” Wallflowers singer Dave Rinck offers a requiem.)

Detail: Westin San Diego, July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)This is not universally recognized, but the decline of arcade games reflects the soul-sucking changes that have taken place in modern life. Back in the day, arcade games had real physical moving parts, like pinball machines and Skee-ball. Then they invented computer games, and people started going to arcades to stare at computer screens.

Nowadays, kids play home video games on their TV sets, and I believe there aren’t really arcades anymore. This happened simultaneously with the computerization of the movie and music industries. Someday kids won’t even know what an arcade or a cinema even is — and as to music, well, we all know how that’s going. …

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Then and now: Studio 517

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, Studio 517 sheds its leathers for pinstripes.)

Detail: 517 Fourth Ave., July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Studio 517 was in full swing during the summers of 1982-’83. Managed by Steve Epeneter — a tall, idiosyncratic fellow nicknamed “Lurch” — its concrete walls housed outstanding performances by the Gravedigger V, The Tell-Tale Hearts, The Wallflowers, Personal Conflict, The Front and many others.

Detail: 517 Fourth Ave., 1983 (photo by Harold Gee)Sean McDaniels (inveterate troll of San Diego hangouts) recalls, “It was only open in the summer, and it was hot. We hung out on the sidewalk out front or in the park more than we did inside where the bands were playing. I remember there was a Chinese lady who used to yell at us from across the street.”

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Then and now: La Posta

(Roving correspondent/ photographer Kristen Tobiason revisits and documents the scenes of our youth. Today, rolling with the tacos at La Posta, 2008!)

Detail: La Posta de Acapulco, July 2008 (photo by Kristen Tobiason)Ah! La Posta. Our signature Southern California cuisine. …. Craving carne asada at 3am? No problem. The mighty little taco shop, La Posta, on 3rd and Washington, is still going strong just as it was 25 years ago. (Twenty-five years?! Jeebus!)

Back in the day it was all the nutrition we needed. Next to McDonald’s five-hamburgers-for-$1 deal, (the Morlocks were huge fans of Mickey D’s), it was a cheap feast. Who would have thunk that today we would be eating sushi?

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The Che Underground