On the post just below this one there is a link to an image of a postcard showing the sign of the San Gorgonio Inn in its prime. While I was perusing through the other postcards I saw one that was oddly familiar and I quickly figured out why.
My Grandfather, my Mom's Dad, used to take my Mom and I to all of these old places for lunch, many of which had lost their luster. To give a brief summary of the man he was once a millionaire oil and cattle man that gambled away all his money and long after this and some failed business attempts he would go business to business selling photos of Babe Ruth and Lou Gehrig (his father was friend's with them, these were candid pictures of the legends on my Great Grandfather's ranch in Sioux City, Iowa). My mother and I would have to drive him, after he no longer had a car, so he could continue selling these photos. He would always take us to old coffee shops in fairly squalid areas (He once took us to Brookshire's, and old coffee shop that is now closed and operating as a Mexican restaurant located east of The Phoenix Art Museum, when we groaned he said, "This is the best food in town, at night it's filled with nothing but hookers and pimps, but during the day it's the best place to get a bite to eat in town.") and every once in awhile great old standards like The Stockyards (strike that he took me to the barbershop there once, which i remember having Playboy's in the waiting area). Now in retrospect a lot of these places were neglected Mid-Centuries that if i were to see a photograph of them in their prime, I would probably fawn over today.
Once I saw this photo I was reminded of a journey we made all the way to Sun City to what I think was the King's Inn. A place which, supposedly, had the best chicken and dumplings in town (yeah?). The place, which looked like a Medieval Dungeon, was very quiet when we entered, almost seemed to be closed. We were brought to our table by a very morose hostess who was also our waitress. Throughout the duration of our meal, the staff began going behind curtains and emerging with tears in the eyes. We were the only ones in the restaurant which heightened our awareness to this as well as the uncomfortability (sic?). It wasn't long before we learned that the owner had died that day and in the middle of our meal our waitress left and went home.
This moment of my life was echoed in Luis Bunuel's Oscar winning The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie, in which a group of people attempting to dine in a restaurant only to have the staff crying and constantly going behind curtains. In Bunuel's film the diners themselves look behind the curtain only to see an open casket funeral procession in progress.
I cannot kind any information on the King's Inn itself.
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