It’s Their Party : And They’ll Cruise if They Want to--to Frisco’s Car Hop Drive-In
Beckoning from another time, a neon sign glowed pink and blue, identifying Frisco’s Car Hop Drive-In. The traffic, trying to horn in on the nostalgia, was fierce on the industrial stretch of Woodruff Avenue in Downey.
Music was in the air: “Runaway” by Del Shannon.
It was not yet 6 p.m., but because this Wednesday was Cruising Night, the parking lot was already full of classic automobiles.
A ’56 Chevy sat next to a ’57 Chevy. They competed for attention with a ’67 Cobra, a ’60 Lincoln, a ’56 T-Bird, a ’54 Mercury, a ’61 MG, a ’30 Model A Ford (what was that doing there?) and many freshly waxed others with gaudy hood ornaments, elaborate grilles and prominent tail fins.
Colors were shocking shades rarely seen on modern cars--orange, pink, aquamarine and, on a shiny 1948 Ford with little oval windows, a magenta that matched the lipstick of Joanne Frisco Stathoulis.
“It’s not crazy yet,” said Stathoulis, 32, who, with her husband, Takis Stathoulis, owns the drive-in. “Wait till about 8:30. There will be 500 cars going up and down the street.”
The restaurant has been holding its Cruising Night for about five years, drawing increasing crowds as its reputation grows.
Most of the car owners, though, did not eat in them. They roamed around and talked with friends they’ve made through this ritual. It is held on Wednesdays to break up the week. Thus, the carhops, who were on roller-skates, stayed inside the restaurant--an attraction in itself--and served a seated crowd composed largely of families.
It was probably just as well. One carhop recalled spilling a tray on a cherished hot-rod. “Two chili cheeseburger specials,” said Deanna McCullah, 21, a Cerritos College student who winced at the memory.
“Accidents are rare,” Stathoulis said, “but I’m surprised we haven’t had more accidents. Believe me, it’s not easy when grease or Coke gets in the wheels of their skates.”
The carhops--blond, fresh-faced and carrying trays heaped with hamburgers, onion rings, french fries and shakes--wheeled through a crowded aisle. Most wore pink satin skirts over petticoats. Some wore shorts with “Look . . . but don’t touch!” written on the back.
“Sometimes the guys try to get a little fresh,” Stathoulis said.
Takis Stathoulis, 33, a native of Greece who lives in Whittier, bought the drive-in six years ago when it was a run-down hamburger stand.
“I wanted something different,” he said. “I said, ‘Oh, man, I’m going to bring the ‘50s back.’ This street was dead then.”
His wife provided the decor-black-and-white checkered floor, an old jukebox on which someone had just punched “Put Your Head on My Shoulder,” a gas pump from 1957 and turquoise cushioned booths, each with speakers from a drive-in movie.
The back end of a ’57 Chevy had been made into a couch. But a video game, which had been installed to keep youngsters busy while their parents eat, seemed glaringly out of place.
The walls held covers from car magazines that had been shot at the drive-in, plus photos of such performers as Wolfman Jack, Chubby Checker, Gary (U.S.) Bonds, Frankie Avalon and Jan and Dean. Dick Clark, who once did a TV show from Frisco’s, was up there too.
And a mural depicted cars, carhops, burgers and leather-jacketed men with long sideburns.
“I love ‘Happy Days,’ ” said Joanne Stathoulis, referring to the TV show that featured the Fonz, a character who looks like the men in the mural.
Frisco’s parking lot is too small, so cars spilled over into the large lot of a factory next door, where the scene resembled a tailgate party at a football game.
“These cars bring back memories,” said Don Perry, 43, a bearded, longhaired Bellflower resident. He and his wife had come in a blue 1966 GTO. Large dice hung from its rear-view mirror.
“I was in ‘Nam from ’66 to ‘68,” Perry said over the racket of an old pink Corvette that had just arrived. “But I did a lot of cruisin’ before that. I had a ’65 Malibu. We’d go out to Susana Road in Dominguez Hills, mark off a quarter-mile and drag-race.
“Hell, there might be 150 cars on a Friday or Saturday night. We’d have spotters at each end looking for cops. The minute we saw the lights flash, we’d split.”
Perry pointed a tattooed arm at the GTO and said, “This is a muscle car, that’s why I like it. Kids nowadays go out and pick up a Nissan or a Toyota, and it’s all fiberglass, rubber and sheet metal. They drive a little four-cylinder around, paint it, put wheels on it and they think they’ve got something. This has 360 horsepower.”
He took a Pall Mall from the pack in his jeans pocket and savored what he saw around him.
“My girls watch ‘Happy Days’ and ‘American Graffiti’ and wish they lived in that period,” he said.
The speakers atop the drive-in’s roof blared “It’s My Party,” followed by “Venus.”
“I like the music,” said Orv Elgie, 53, whose ’49 Mercury was parked in the lot. Elgie of Norwalk wore a T-shirt imprinted with James Dean’s face.
“Rebel Without a Cause,” he said without hesitation, when asked which of Dean’s movies was his favorite.
Night had fallen. The old cars kept arriving. Finding no parking spots, they kept cruising around the restaurant. A few of the carhops took a break and practiced dancing on the driveway. Joanne Stathoulis has taught them the bunny hop, stroll, hand jive and limbo, all of which were in vogue many years before any of the girls were born.
They too seemed to long for the past. “It was a lot better then than nowadays,” said Marcy Greger, 16. “Now there’s nothing fun to do.”
Her Downey High classmate, Jennifer Standley, agreed: “At hamburger stands then, people would get up and dance. And there were more boy-and-girl dances. Now, everybody goes solo.”
Woodruff Avenue, as Stathoulis had promised, had become a sea of headlights as cars pulled out and others pulled in. She was glad that the place is not on a main street.
Wedged among some of the classic cars was a California Highway Patrol cruiser, manned by Dave Boyland, 32, of the Santa Fe Springs station. He seemed to enjoy the cruising as much as anyone.
“We’ve never had any problems at all, it’s innocent fun,” he said as the carhops’ pink satin skirts whirled, parents strolled with their children, and Skip and Flip, above the revving of engines, sang “Cherry Pie.”
