Earlier this month, I visited Carl’s Jr., probably for the last time.
They had a 2-fer special: Buy one Famous Star hamburger, get a 2nd for $1.
I bit hard. And, waiting for my order, drifted back in time….
Back to my first Carl’s burger, consumed sometime during my preteen years at their Anaheim coffee shop. No Carl’s Jr. back then, or at least I hadn’t discovered one. Not by that name. What I do remember was the burger itself. Wrapped in such a way that you can start eating while its drippings fall past the bottom half into the waxed paper beneath. But eventually you have to deal with the delightful, sloppy, juicy mess that remains. It’s the best part! Especially if you eat fast enough to get to it while still hot.
Through the decades to follow, the Famous Star remained the same. Recalled my first sighting of a Carl’s Jr and wondering: “Hey, I hope that’s the same, full-sized burger and not downsized like a Valiant is a downsized Plymouth!” I was not disappointed. Same Famous Star. Same name, same size, same burger. Only two variations: with cheese, or without.
Later, in high school, I got an after-school job at KFC (so yes, I worked for a Celebrity Chef, “you see?”). And there was a Carl’s Jr right next door. My Dream Girl worked there, too! The setup was too good to last, but a few summers later, I was at one of those block-long carwashes, manning the car waxing and detailing bay. Literally my own franchise.
And come lunchtime, right across the 4-lane boulevard, there was Carl’s Jr! I could take on Famous Stars two at a time back then and not gain a pound if I’d hustled two or three wax jobs that day.
Then off to college in Oregon, and I was saddened that Carl’s Jr. wasn’t there and didn’t follow me. I missed my Famous Stars. Made a point to visit Carl’s Jr. during Christmas and spring breaks, and when I returned home to Southern California in the summer. My best friend mocked me, “Let me show you a REAL hamburger!” And he introduced me to “Nick’s Bucket,” adjacent to the campus at Occidental College. A fine burger. Gargantuan! Legendary! (And it’s a good bet that future President Barack Obama also ate there at some point). But, alas, twas not a Famous Star.
Graduated, got a job, moved to Tahoe, got married, had kids….and now I’m a grandpa (GrandBob!). And the Famous Star was always somewhere within reach, but never close enough to become an obsession. There’s never been a Carl’s Jr in South Lake Tahoe or Stateline. They say there’s one in Truckee — I don’t recall seeing it. So, I had to chase after my Famous Stars. Usually, while travelling. Bishop, Adelanto, Fullerton. And Costa Mesa with my brother. He understood. Every now and then, I’d go for a Western Bacon BarBQue or some other newfangled culinary distraction, but there was never a point to it. No Memories. No Magic. When I’m at Carl’s Jr, it’s Famous Stars. If it’s 2-fer-1, I’m in, I’ll take one home. No fries, thanks. No drink. Just water and the Famous Star. I used to have ’em without cheese, but you have to ask for it without nowadays, so ok, cheese is fine.
Then came the news. Carl’s Jr. is filing for bankruptcy.
I didn’t cry, but it’s a sad story. Like the passing of an old friend after a life well-lived. One franchisee blamed Governor Newsom and the $20 minimum wage. My first thought: “Sonny, I’ve been downin’ Famous Stars since before Newsom was BORN!” (I looked it up, and yep. October 10, 1967) Of course, I was makin’ $1.35/hr at KFC that year…And I ordered those last(?) Famous Stars at the Carson City, NEVADA, store. So maybe he has a point. But it’s not THE point.
While still waiting for my order, I struck up a conversation with an old biker. Full leathers, gray hair, and beard. And old. Like me. He reminisced about fights he’d survived and how he’s still able to ride and plans to keep riding until the end. Looked out the window, and his Harley was a beastly black beauty. A powerful piece of kinetic art! Parked in the handicapped spot. Meanwhile, our orders were out of order and taking longer than usual. Didn’t mind at all. The septuagenarian biker got his takeout order before mine, and we shook hands. I wished him safe travels.
He roared off down the highway. It all seemed to fit. A multi-layered metaphor.
Then my turn. Asked Vincenzo at the counter about the bankruptcy and if they’d be closing soon. He said (paraphrasing) “I make $15/hr, and we aren’t going anywhere!” Defiant. Like his name, with its “Vincentius” Latin root. So, we’ll see. I’ll be back in a couple of weeks, and I hope he’s right. Then I’ll have another chance to say goodbye. But how long before you run out of wrappers? And takeout bags? And NAPKINS, OMG! And whatever makes the Famous Star so famously slippery? Sad passing, old friend.
-Bob Poet