I’ve always been a night owl and find peace in small hours when milk men and vampires stir. The Saugus Café was sanctuary, back when it was famous for being open 24 hours. Long after bars closed and before annoying morning people stumbled from bed, I’d slip in to write, nibble French fries and sip hot tea.
One uncommon hour, I sat by myself. I couldn’t help but notice a young, stunningly beautiful mother, alone, with her child. Odd time for a new baby to be goo-gooing in a sanctuary tailor-made for outlaw motorcycle gangs. Soon, from the men’s room, the father joined them. Tall, I’m guessing he was 6-foot-8, closer to 7 feet because he was wearing white, platform patent leather shoes. He was stuffed into an outlandishly tight, white outfit, dotted with sequins and fake jewels, a matching belt that was championship-wrestler wide, giant high collar, werewolfian sideburns, towering rockabilly black hair and a slightly affected hunka-hunka sneer. He was the largest Elvis impersonator I had ever seen. I’m wearing a cowboy hat. We nodded at one another. That was the last eye contact we made.
I remember thinking: I love this place.
I’ve always loved the Saugus Café. I can’t recall anything approaching a good meal there. Passable? Filling? Yes. But nothing where you pat your tummy afterward and coo, “Wow! Was THAT delicious!”
And yet, in a world of sameness, of chain restaurants passing as dystopian Disneyland eating troughs, my eclectic soul was safe there. It’s the oldest restaurant in Los Angeles County. Well. Was. After 140 years (minus a couple) it closed last Sunday.
Few know this, but this wasn’t the first time the colorful greasy spoon locked its doors. It’s been boarded up a few times over the decades. Due to World War II rationing, smack dab in the middle of cattle, hog and farm country, we couldn’t get enough food to stay open and closed for a year-plus. Since 1900, the diner had been open 24 hours a day. When owner Laura Wood shut the place down at 10 p.m., June 30, 1943, she made a curious discovery. They had never locked the place in nearly a half-century. When it moved across the street from the train station to its new brick edifice in 1916, they didn’t have a padlock or a place to hang one. Ms. Wood had to buy locks and hire a handyman to install them.
In the 1950s it shuttered for remodeling. Technically, it moved a few feet and was given a new street address. About 40 years ago, a bureaucrat from Caltrans called me and asked if there’d be any community repercussions if the state bulldozed the place to widen Railroad Avenue.
I asked the gentleman if he was familiar with the word, “jihad” and would Caltrans be interested in being on the receiving end of one?
Owing about $100,000 to creditors, the Saugus Café closed again in 1983. A former owner, Fred Kane, was interested in reacquiring it, but, didn’t want to monkey with all the liens and paperwork. So? Fred sidestepped the red tape and opened a new restaurant instead. He called it, “The FAMOUS Saugus Cafe and Lounge.”
Or, the Saugus Cafe for short.
Back to the 1950s, C.M. McDougal owned a few eateries, including the Saugus Café. He was our local justice of the peace, despite the small technicality that Mac didn’t have a law degree. In fact, the Ichabod Crane-ish jurist took the bar exam eight times, flunking it the first seven attempts before passing — WHILE he was the sitting judge.
Another funny story? Around the same time, when I was little, we had an eatery a couple miles down the road in Newhall called The Bamboo Café. Identical twins, both of whom had been Navy cooks in World War II, were head chefs at both the Bamboo and Saugus cafes. Just two main coffee shops in town?
Every? Darn? Day?
The lunch and dinner specials were — Exactly. The. Same.
I remember a story, can’t recall the exact date — I think it was from the 1930s. There had been a horrific kidnapping and murder of a small child in Los Angeles. A suspect fitting the description was seen climbing aboard the train in San Fernando and headed north toward the Saugus Train Station, which was then across the street from the Saugus Café. A posse of 50-plus heavily armed men filled with a terrible resolve was quickly formed. The perp climbed off the train, saw the mob and, under a hail of bullets, fled screaming across the street to the Saugus Café. Ordnance ka-powed through walls and windows, into the coffee shop. They considered lynching the fellow, but didn’t. (Then and now — no trees.) As they dragged him back to a prowl car, he commented, “This sure is one law-and-order town to earn such a greeting!”
Turns out it was mistaken identity. He wasn’t the murderer, just a guy who stole a car in Bakersfield — a year earlier.
Our valley is rapidly losing its identity, becoming indistinguishable from the same, smotheringly mediocre, Stepford Soccer Moms/Look-Alike Yuppie Concentration Camps that make up California. The Saugus Café is a huge part of not just our identity, but our soul.
Safe bet? New management will soon take over. While the service has always been stellar, I do beg any new owners to consider a fresh, new concept — good food. This blandness was what helped keep customers away in the first place. Splurge. Invest in better ingredients. Aim higher than just surviving a meal. Make the menu unforgettable. Word will get out.
This is invisible, hard to see.
But Santa Clarita cannot be Santa Clarita without the Saugus Café. Without it, unknowingly, we shall suffer to live out our lives in a shell of a crowded ghost town.
“Naked Came the Novelist,” John Boston’s long-awaited sequel to “Naked Came the Sasquatch,” is on sale at JohnBoston-Books.com. So are other fine books, including his two-part “SCV Monsters” series. A lifelong SCV resident with 119 major writing awards, Boston is Earth history’s most prolific humorist and satirist.
