Neon & Nails
Two neon signs still glow from 1966—bolted to wood framing, powered by circuits older than most modern amplifiers.
You won’t find them on tourist maps, but two signs still flicker with original neon tubes and copper wiring—each glass bent by hand, bent again, and sealed shut with lead solder. One is above a doorway that’s been replaced twice but never moved—its bracket still anchored to the original oak stud. The other hangs crooked by design; its original hanger cracked during a 1982 earthquake and they never recalibrated it.
The electrician who restored the wiring in 2002 kept the original fuse box intact. He wired the new lighting behind it, leaving the old fuses visible for tourists who squint enough to read the manufacturer stamp: Chicago, 1964. Some nights, the bulbs buzz in the same frequency as the old record players did—locals say it sounds like a chorus warm-up.
If you see a neon sign with a hairline crack in the glass, that’s likely from a stray guitar pick or a falling stool. The venue that owns both signs has no digital archive—only a yellowed receipt from General Electric, taped inside the basement closet. You’ll spot the same light fixture pattern in a few back-bar photos from 1967, but only these two kept theirs running.
