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Once this restaurant's namesake, Vivian Courtney (click on her name to view a video tribute to her and photos of the inside of her restaurant), died in 2004 it was closed. The main building, which was as unique as the sign, was leveled (wished I'd taken a shot of it before it was bulldozed) but the place's unique sign remains to this day.
In fact, if you want the sign you can have it. John T. Roberts posted this @ Fort Worth Architecture, "If anyone is interested, the old neon Vivian Courtney's Restaurant sign is available to anyone who wishes to take it away. It is a two-sided exposed neon sign with the letter 'V' on top. It sits at the corner of Jacksboro Highway and Roberts Cut-Off Road @ 5915 Jacksboro Highway. I tried to find a home for it with two organizations but they did not have a place to put it. Now I'm offering it to anyone who thinks they can remove it and preserve it. The sign is about 28 feet tall and about 12 feet wide at the widest point."
Me and my friends ate their several times. It was a cool a place, with photos and posters from Old Hollywood --- we're talkin' John Wayne, Elvis Presley, Gone With The Wind, etc. --- hanging on the walls and in each booth there were equipped with miniture jukeboxes that really worked. You put in a quarter and got to choose three songs.
It had a buffet at lunch or you could order off the menu. The eats were simple good ol' white trash cuisine dishes.
A beautiful place that is now in the dustbin of history. Too bad. To me, the old stuff is, and still will be, the best stuff.
Yeah, as I get older I cherish the good ol' days more.
Yes, I'm sentimental but that comes with age and there's nothing wrong with getting older because you get smarter and realize that the modern stuff is just stuff that's not worth a damn (iPods & cell phones, for example) in my opinion.
My sister, seen here holding Hankette, told me she heard a strange crying sound while she was downstairs in her house when it was raining heavily in Fort Worth, Texas, one day. The sound, she said, was coming from my youngest nephew's bedroom on the second floor of their house. His bedroom windows were open and when they're opened they allow one to crawl onto the back roof. My sister said she went upstairs to investigate.
"I knew it was some kind of animal," she told me. She saw a clump of wet fur on the roof. "I thought it was a rat or maybe a squirrel."
Turns out it was an almost new born kitten.
"Maybe a bird or something got it from it's mother and dropped it there," she opined. "For such a tiny thing she sure was making a lot of noise."
I went over to her house and took pics of the little sweeit pie. I told her to call her Hankette, after Charles Bukowski, since she was found drenched, like a "wet rat in the rain", which paraphrases a line from the movie BARFLY, which Bukowski penned and Mickey Rourke starred in as Bukowski's alter ego, Henry Chinaski.
She couldn't keep Hankette since she already had two beagles and a husband allergic to cats and said she would give her to a rescue shelter or an interested party once she was big enough.
My sister was feeding Hankette with a special feeding bottle and formula for baby cats that she got at PetSmart. Despite my protests my sister said she didn't want to name it Hankette, preferring Yoda based on her little tiny droopy ears.
"I'm not gonna keep her so I don't want to name her anything."
See, if you name an animal you automatically become attached to it and that means it's yours.
Claps of applause go out to my sister for saving a life.
UPDATE: My sister found a couple who wanted a little kitten to spoil. They told her they would get another kitten so Hankette would have a half-brother or half-sister for companionship. "I wouldn't have given them Hankette if they had not made a positive impression on me."
While browsing the shelves at Forbidden Books in Dallas' Fair Park area way back in the late '90s I came across this original copy of the infamous Lee Harvey Oswald cover 'photo' on LIFE.
Since I'm a conspiracy theorist I believe this is the most famous Photoshop ever done (long before there was such a thing as Photoshop).
The shadows seemed mismatched for one thing. And the way he's leaning? Does that look natural to you? His head looks way too big for the body it was Photoshopped onto. And why would Oswald have this photo of him taken anyways, with the weapons he supposedly used? And who took it? Lots of questions with no answers.
Anyways, what's unique about this LIFE is that it's still got the original address sticker on it (click on the photo to get a better look at it). It's in perfect condition and is encased in a clear frame on my living room wall. I shot it throw the frame instead of taking it out since I'm lazy that way.
Oswald is buried at the Rose Hill Cemetary on Fort Worth's far east side and I have gone out there a couple of times trying to find his grave marker. No luck. Maybe one of these days I'll stumble upon it.
Here's a story about the owner of former Forbibben store:
www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/fea/home/stories/042...
And here's his online gallery (his store closed long ago after the Dallas cops harassed him one too many times about the crazy shit he sold there):
www.hotweird.com/forbidden/forbiddengallery.html
And for those wondering whether Oswald was the "Lone Gunman" or part of a government conspiracy that labeled him a patsy just watch this video and decide for yourself. JFK, like 9/11, was an inside job.
I was out at the Hardcore Texas ranch house in Aledo, Texas one summer afternoon visiting my buddies Hippy Steve and William Bryan Massey III, head of kitchen operations at Fred's Texas Cafe, and spotted this yellow jacket nest up in one corner of the back porch.
So I got good and close and pointed my Nikon D80 up at it and took some shots.
As I was shooting, the yellowjacket on top of the nest turned my way and hunched down and fiercely stared at me, ready to attack my intrusion. I just said, "Hold on, buddy, I'll be finished in a sec."
Can you see the progress of the baby yellowjackets in the cocoons? See the one cocoon with the black head all shiny and seemingly ready to take flight? If not, click on the photo to get a closer look.
Man, insects are cool.
These yellowjackets look fierce as all get out and they are. Click for more about the yellowjacket flying badasses.
Went over to Fred's Texas Cafe, for a Fred Burger w/cheese and drank down a 16 .oz "cold ass" schooner of Miller High Life.
Yummy.
Of course, took this shot of what I was about to consume beforehand.
Ate lunch at Montgomery Street Cafe, located at 2000 Montgomery Street on Fort Worth's near west side (a couple of blocks north of the Dairy Queen), with my sister and dad and they ordered dessert after eating. Both got a piece of chocolate cake.
Yummy. Delicious. Outstanding.
That's what they said not me because I forgot to ask for a bite because I was busy taking photos. Dang!
My brother-in-law owns this Zippo lighter. I don't know the story behind it --- he wasn't in 'Nam --- but I think the lighter tells the story all by itself, at least the attitude of the chopper pilot who owned it.
CU CHI
(Click on the photo to see it large.)
This is Fred Texas Cafe's neon sign. It's located above the bar and visible as soon as you enter the best burger/ice cold beer dive in the city of Fort Worth.
It's Fred Burger w/cheese was voted tops by readers of Cowtown's only independent weekly rag, the FW WEEKLY, in its 2007 Best Of Awards.
It's atmosphere is unique, as you go inside to find yourself walking back into a simpler time, an almost diner-like feel, with booths and stools at the bar.
The high class go there to feel like low class and the low class go there to feel right at home. The mixture of the customers can't be found anywhere else. The wait staff is always hustling and you can actually see the cooks fixing your food. It's an active place, people munching down on their juicy homecooked meals, people laughing, having a good time, drinking beer from huge schooners that are ice cold.
Just a fun place to be.
M.L. Leddy's is world famous for producing hand made high quality western wear, including boots, belts, buckles, saddles, chaps, etc. Basically, if you want to become a cowboy go to Leddy's and you can get yourself set up right.
While perusing through their store in Fort Worth's historic Stock Yards, I picked up a pair of ostrich skin boots and looked at the price tag: $2,075!
"Wooooo!" I thought. "Hot damn tamales!"
I put them suckers back down and real nicely too 'cause I didn't want to damage merchandise that cost that much.
They also had a pair of jeans on sale for 75% off and they still cost --- get ready for this --- $375!!
So what I did get, and it was free, by God, was this photograph of their bad ass boot-shaped neon sign.
I was enjoying a relaxing time at this one-of-a-kind bar, which has since moved due to Fort Worth's race to become Dallas West along the West 7th Street corridor, when I captured my buddy, William Bryan Massey III, head of kitchen operations at Fred's Texas Cafe, in this classic barfly repose.
It's a great tragedy that J&J's Hideaway will be lost at its current location. It will relocate to University Drive near where the Italian restaurant Sardine's is.
But J&J's Hideaway will never be the same as it was, tucked away under tall trees and a safe distance from the rustle and bustle of the near West Side.
It's classic '70s decor had me tell Bryan that "this is a bar straight out of that old '70s t.v. show THE ROCKFORD FILES."
He answered, "God damn, you're right."
TIME named this car one of the worst made automobiles of all time. The Edsel was named after Henry Ford's son.
As me and my friend, Motel Todd, drove up and down East Belknap looking for shit to take photos of I saw this Edsel sitting in a car lot that was packed full of old as dirt rust bucket American cars.
The lot belongs to Rucker Performance. Rucker Performance, as you'll see on their website, takes these forgotten cars and turns them into cool ass hot rods or sells them to interested parties.
They also design and build badass motorcycles.
As I drove up and down East Belknap one morning looking for cool photos with my buddy, Motel Todd, I stopped at Jack Starr Liquors in order to capture this georgeous neon sign.
It just don't get no better than this, pardner.
This IS art, period.
Hell, yeah.
Before there was a Hooters there was The Smoke Pit with it's bikini-topped waitresses taking your orders as you sitting there not being able to help but eye their lovely features --- bulging cleavage and tight behinds --- as you ask for a chopped bbq sandwich and an ice cold beer.
And because the bar-be-que was as good as the waitresses looked you fully enjoyed your meal at this famous Fort Worth landmark, which has been in the same location since 1953.
At lunch time you see so many pickups in the parking lot and along the streets around The Smoke Pit you'd think it was a car lot too.
Inside it's like being at home, everyone's friendly, everyone's talking. A long bar runs along the place's east side so you can come in and drink beer if that's all you intend on doing. This fantastic, beat up old joint is simply a great place to have some good redneck food and look at beautiful women work their butts off.
So, please, go to The Smoke Pit and pass on the blah, blah, blah mainstream corporate franchise nonsense known as Hooters.
(Please click on the photo so you can see all the writing on the front of the building.)
As a co-worker was taking me on a tour of the Greenwood area west of Weatherford, Texas, we passed the Greenwood Rural Volunteer Fire Department and just past it was this Smokey Bear sign. I asked her to pull over so I could take a photo of it.
When I was a kid in the '60s and early '70s the three networks back then, CBS, NBC and ABC, always had public service commercials that featured Smokey telling you how to prevent fires. But, nowadays, he's completely disappeared off the radar screen in Americans' consciousnesses.
In fact, when I was 7 or 8, I found a box of matches. So I snuck behind a Dumpster in the Section 8 apartments, the James Avenue Apartments off of Crowley Road but are now called something different, me and my sister and mom lived in at the time, and started firing up each match and watched it burn and smelled the smoke and then tossed them behind me into a tall field of grass during the middle of a Texas summer. Once I was done with the matches I went back to our apartment from which you could see the Dumpster and the field. Soon enough I heard sirens. LOTS OF SIRENS. I looked out the window, and to my shock, that field was ablaze, bright yellow flames flying high, and there were six or seven big fire trucks lined up, probably thinking the apartments were on fire and not just that field of grass. Fortunately, the firefighters, true heroes, put the fire out and no one was hurt and nothing was damaged.
I kept my mouth shut about it. Told no one I'd been behind there doing what I'd done. I kept that secret with me into my 30s. I think the first person I admitted it to was my first ex-wife and, later on, I told both my sister and mom and they were like, "Oh, wow, YOU did that!?!"
So, kids, take Smokey the Bear seriously when he says not to play with matches ("Smokey N' Da Boyz" animated music video). He ain't lying.
UPDATE: The co-worker informs me, "Remember that Smokey Bear that was outside of the volunteer fire department? Well, during the 2008 Christmas holidays someone first vandalized him and knocked him down and then someone stole him. There is a $1000 reward for information on the whereabouts/return of Smokey Bear."
To celebrate my youngest nephew's birthday me, my dad and step-mother took him to Massey's Restaurant for lunch. He had a chicken fried steak. The place has been in the same location, on 8th Avenue almost exactly between Berry and Rosedale Streets, since the '40s and it remains extremely popular with it's home cooked meals and delicious desserts. The fried catfish is excellent.
A few years ago the original owner was gonna close the place down due to his age but a couple of younger fellas talked him into leasing it to them and they contacted my dad to buy from and install new flooring. I know a lot of folks were very happy to see it re-open as the same place with the same good food. The different color of carpeting they paid no mind to.
This classic dive bar has been on Bluebonnet Circle in the Texas Christian University area of Fort Worth for almost forever. It's a beer joint straight out of Charles Bukowski's BARFLY movie.
Coincidentally enough, me and my dad, who had his own 2-man carpet installing business (think Sanford & Son) back in the mid-'80s, put in new carpeting there once because my dad was a friend of the owner of the place. In fact, we installed carpet at all of this guy's bars around town.
Let me tell you what, ladies and bastards, that was maybe the nastiest job we ever had and we had some doozies over the years, like the time we installed carpet in a living room in a house in the Como area and when we went to pull up the old shit there wasn't just one layer of carpeting on the floor there were three, one on top of the other.
By God, and I know this since I'd seen it myself, people are fucking crazy, man.
The bar itself @ the Oui Lounge was carpeted on the lower half down of the bar itself down to the floor. I had the job of pulling up said carpet. I soon enough found out that it was soaked, and I mean a gusher from Yellowstone Park soaked, with piss and beer and more piss and whiskey and scotch and more piss and gin and tequila and vodka and more piss. Meaning, the drunk ass loser motherfuckers who got inebriated way beyond any reason whatsoever sat there at bar and pissed their damn pants like they were imitating Niagara Falls, fer chrissakes.
And there I am pulling up all that human scumbag soaked carpet. Yes, I donned gloves. I ain't a genius but I ain't stupid either. Talk about some nasty ass shit. Human beings are decadent, ignorant, slow-witted and downright FUCKED UP if they can't make their way to the bathroom in that place to empty their bladders instead of sitting on a bar stool and peeing their britches like they were six-year-olds swimming in a YMCA pool.
Afterwards, once I had all the nasty shit ripped up and thrown into the Dumpster out back of the place, I also threw those gloves away too knowing they were permanently toxic and hazard to my health.
Fucking hell, man, and I'm not kidding you. Once I got home after that filthy job I had to take one of those nuclear reactor-like sponge bath disinfectant scrub down showers, motherfucker.
Like Bukowski wrote, "Humanity. You never had it from the beginning."
Located on Arlington's Division Street, a four lane thoroughfare through the middle of town, that is populated with pawn shops, seedy motels, suspect car lots, bail bondsmen businesses, car repair places, beer joints, dives and other shady flotsam and jetsam enterprises, is the Why Not? Club, which advertises in neon outside its front entrance "COLDEST DRINKS IN TOWN."
As I drove up and down Divison looking for photo ops, after taking a trip over to Arlington Camera, a place full of stuck up salespeople who cater to their favored clientel over unknown individuals truly interested in photography, a place with a snobby staff (why are these photo geeks such dicks and clueless as to what they're selling?) for a Nikon Day demo in order to check out the then new D700, which I eventually purchased off of eBay on Black Friday --- the day after Thanksgivings Day ---- in 2008, I spotted this classic beer joint, just a small, simple square red brick building in the shape of a shoe box, and stopped by to get a photograph, using my D80, of the bar's groovy as hell sign.
William Bryan Massey III, head cook at Fred's Texas Cafe and poet/writer who self-publishes his own hand-made books, is, according to the FW WEEKLY's food critic, Chow, Baby, the best hamburger cook in the country.
During her visit to check out WBM III's skill on the grill Bryan told me she looked like she enjoyed his white trash cookin'.
"She (the critic) wanted another one of my Fred Burgers for dessert," he said. "And she ate it at her table."
I snapped this photo while in a co-worker's car heading west on Interstate 30 near the Montgomery Street exit. Since the shot was kind of f-ed up because I shot it with a slow lens and from inside a car going 70 mph I used Capture NX and Nik Software's Color Efex Pro 3.0 Polariod Transfer filter to make it look like this instead.
Then when I hit the Internet Tubes to find out more about this SODYPOP billboard from Pepsi (I drink Coke) I found some truly upset Pepsi drinking mofos. Check out these links 'cause these blogger folks are pissed off:
Nikdaum.com
Suck At Life
Even The Paranoid Right Wingers See A Twisted Political Angle In It
And the Urban Dictionary says 'sody pop' is a "hick" phrase for soft drinks. I'm a hick and I've never used sody pop when referring to a soft drink. I always say Coke. As in, "What kind of Coke do you want?" Or, "What do you want to drink?" In Texas no one I know says soft drink or sody pop. It's Coke or Pepsi or Sprite or Iced Tea or whatever.
TEXAS TIRE CITY (pulled in here once to get a flat tire plugged. Great service despite the scumbag look)
SINGLETON'S BATTERIES (a dumpy place on Jacksboro Highway that gives off the aura of 'WTF?')
HENDERSON STREET BAZAAR (Fort Worth's best & most visited weekend flea market)
MICHAEL JORDAN MOTORS (obviously no relation to the NBA Hall Of Fame superstar)
FORT WORTH GOLD & SILVER EXCHANGE
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