I absolutely love the noir era of early 1900’s Los Angeles: A metropolis still in its youth, but ever expanding, caked with a thick layer of smog choking the budding skyscrapers and newly minted freeways; early twentieth century nightclubs, with their own smoggy atmosphere of cigars and cigarettes, and the sounds of trumpets and saxophones of live jazz bands blaring out to its audience sucking down Old Fashioneds served in short sweating glasses; speakeasies tucked behind faux closet doors, or down in dark basements; burlesque girls grinding for weapon strapped gangsters and high profile local politicians sitting within feet of each other; shady two-faced cops that protect the criminals for laundered cash passed “under the table” .
It’s an era that has come and gone. Things are much shinier now, having been buffed, polished, refurbished and updated into more legitimate establishments. Most of whom do their business above board and by the book.
However, a few places are still a glimpse into the rear view mirror of noir-past, and quite fascinating to patronize for a cocktail, and a storied description of their long, century old history.
Ciro’s of Hollywood comes to mind immediately. A former nightclub famous for hosting the Hollywood elite who cross-socialized with mobsters in tailored suits. It is now The Comedy Store (rumored to be haunted).
Then, there is the King Eddy Saloon, “Where nobody gives a shit about your name”, on the ground floor of the King Edward Hotel just north of Skid Row. In its early days, it posed as a piano store, with a speakeasy at the bottom of a short flight of stairs.
My favorite beacon of the “LA noir era” is Cole’s French Dip in downtown Los Angeles, though. The restaurant has been in the same location since 1908, and is known as the “Inventors of the French Dip”. However, there is some controversy about this claim to fame with a competing sandwich restaurant a couple of miles away. Phillipe The Original also claims to be home to the french dip. Who knows, really? I’ll tell ya though, Cole’s has the most interesting history to me.
In its earliest days, the bar/restaurant hybrid would host working Angelenos coming to and from work on the Red Car railway system. Then when prohibition shuttered the nations bars and drinking wells, Cole’s owners created a speakeasy in order to stay in business.
By the 1950’s, it had become a regular hangout for LA gangsters. The most famous of them, Mickey Cohen.
Mickey came from New York, by way of Chicago, and was assigned to work with the infamous Bugsy Siegel. Together, they helped build the Flamingo hotel in Las Vegas with the financial assistance of some (clears throat) “investors”.
When things were taking a little too long, using a little too much money (rumors are Bugsy was skimming cash off the top), a hit was put out on Bugsy. He was shot dead in the living room of his mistress’s Beverly Hills mansion with a barrage of bullets. This murder is still unsolved to this day. (I’m not going to post it here, but you can google the crime scene. It is brutal!)
The death of Siegel made way for Mickey Cohen to become LA’s top (and most famous) gangster. He has been investigated by the LAPD, FBI, and the U.S. Senate, all while running businesses like a floral shop, men’s haberdashery, gas stations, and paint stores. Mickey even ran an ice cream truck that would cruise the streets of the upscale Brentwood neighborhood on the Westside of Los Angeles. It is more than suspected all of these places were fronts for money laundering, and other crimes. That sounds pretty damn “gangster” to me!
Cohen loved to eat and drink at Cole’s, as well as conduct his personal business there. The restaurant has even preserved his favorite booth. You can sit there upon request. I have many times with friends, or alone writing.
There is even an engraved brass sign above one of the urinals in the men’s room commemorating that once upon a time, “Mickey Cohen Pissed Here”. At the next urinal over, there is a sign above it reading “Charles Bukowski Pissed Here”, another famous regular at Cole’s. A strange claim to fame, but it is a claim to be had I guess?
At the back of the restaurant, there is a wood door that nearly blends in with the wall. It’s a speakeasy called “Varnish” that is only open from 7pm to 1:30am nightly. It has a very film noir feel to it with dim lighting and dark walls. One can easily imagine that fedoras and flapper dresses would fit in perfectly within its atmosphere.
Cole’s also has a long Hollywood history. It has been featured in several movies and television shows, including the X-Files, Mad Men, and NYPD Blue.
The exterior was prominently featured in 1986’s Jumpin’ Jack Flash starring Whoopi Goldberg. The film is set in NYC, but LA stands in and they used Cole’s as a front for arguably the most famous (and hilarious) scene of the film.
Goldberg is using a payphone just outside the restaurant, and a tow truck backs up to the booth she is in, hooks up to it, and drags Whoopi and the entire phone booth through the city streets of LA, uhhh, I mean New York. LOL
Though, the most famous film the bar appears in is Forrest Gump (1994) for the New Years Eve scene with Forrest and Lieutenant Dan.
Having spent most of my years in Los Angeles working production, there have been short bouts of unemployment between gigs. It’s a normal situation and rare that anyone rolls from one production straight into another without a week or two off.
I liked to utilize that time to work on my own projects, or explore this historic, legendary city that I live in. After making my calls, sending out business emails, etc in the early mornings, I’d swing by famous filming locations, or go to a museum or two in my spare time. Of course, a day of exploring would make me hungry.
Unfortunately, the daily hours have since been drastically cut to evenings after 5pm only. Pre-Covid, on Tuesdays, Cole’s used to have “all day happy hour” from 11am to closing time. So, the Tuesday afternoons I was off, I’d take my notebook and pen, sit at the counter, order up a french dip with a side of beer, and write. Every now and then, if the bartenders got a break, they’d speak about the illustrious, but sordid history of this restaurant.
It was always fascinating to listen the 100+ year lore, passed down from decade to decade, generation to generation, bartender to bartender. Hearing historic stories from across the bartop about one of my favorite hang-outs, in one of my favorite cities, is captivating. I’d sit quietly, drink my beer while soaking up all the history, stories, and the personalities that delivered them, much like the meat filled french roll I was holding in my hand soaked up the rich beef au jus sauce.
