Dr. Patrick’s Postcard Roadside

“Motel Postcard Pool Pose” in Wildwood, New Jersey

The free motel postcard was once a vacation standard. Proprietors expected guests would send a pile of postcards to their friends and family telling them what a wonderful vacation they were having and the motel would reap the free advertising.

Wildwood motel postcards made in the 1960s and 1970s were nearly always pool-centered, showing that latest must-have amenity that allowed a motel to compete for summer tourists. The motel pool was depicted as a hive of activity showing the fun you too would have if you stayed at this motel. The photos are invariably staged by a photographer directing a cast of motel family, friends and guests to act fun, look at the camera or the faux action and freeze for the shot. Viewing old motel postcards from this perspective makes them way more interesting, sometimes hilarious, than the mundane freebie they were intended to be.

The Beach Ball Toss; a favorite Postcard Pool Pose. Nothing says, “we’re having fun at the motel pool” like the Beach Ball Toss. On this day, a two-girl toss captured the attention of just about everyone including the entire crew in the back, not one of which was distracted from seeing how this riveting action would play out. I’m sure the photo was reshot many times to get the mid-air ball just right so that it was not blocking anyone’s face. You can still recreate this Suit Case Motel scene at New Jersey & 15th avenues in North Wildwood where only the paint trim has changed from salmon to blue.

Back in the 1970s, Wildwood Crest’s Carousel Motel at Ocean & Lavender avenues was opulent and only a block from the beach. The eight-member Patrick family rolling into Wildwood like the Joads could only dream of staying in such a place. We peered at the grand Crest motels from the un-air conditioned way-back of our Pontiac Tempest wagon and watched it disappear as we drove much farther back from the beach. It had all the 1960s design standards; a massive breeze-block façade, sundeck, Mondrian bedspreads, and of course, a gi-normus, built-in swimming pool with plenty of festively colored lounges. Beautiful people (in that 1970s way) posed on the sundeck clearly depicting how close the motel was to the ocean. At the pool, three sets of two-people poses statically engage each other, even on the diving board where such a bathing cap tango would never take place. No roughhousing. The party ended in 2004 when the Carousel Motel was demolished for condominiums.

A bucket truck had to be brought in to get this high-angle shot of Wildwood Crest’s Biscayne Motel so it’s pretty clear what’s causing most of the patrons to simultaneously cast a glance towards the same point above the intersection of Atlantic & Louisville avenues; sundeck people, family group, railing watchers, barbeque couple, even the guy about to make a shot on the classically-70s, outdoor pool table looks up at the camera. The Biscayne Motel fairly drips the Miami-for-the-masses vibe Wildwood motels projected at the time; in its name, its ultra-Modern glass visual front, and of course the plastic palm trees perfectly suited to New Jersey’s climate. The Biscayne still thrives at the same location looking not much different than this.

Double Beach Ball Toss at Wildwood Crest’s Rambler Motel…sorta; the front toss looks more like a sibling scramble for the only ball. The back toss has undoubtedly been interrupted by a camera call-out. Some have camera focus and others have beach ball focus, like the girl freezing her progress on the slide, and chick hogging the diving board. Wave at the grand kids, grandma. Although Wildwood suffered the loss of many Doo Wop motels during the condo-craze of the early New Millennium, the motels that survived are typically pristine, like the Rambler at Pacific Avenue and Rambler Road.

Another Double Beach Ball Toss; this one at the Blue Diamond -now the Bird of Paradise- on the corner of Ocean & 26th avenues. Both these high-angle shots required a bucket truck ensuring that the guests were willing participants in the pose, like the kids who decided to have a Beach Ball Toss in the parking lot! Everyone who has ever been to Wildwood in the summer knows that the pavement if one degree hotter would be molten. And dude behind the Ford Country Squire? Put your hands down, you’re not even in the game.

Eddie Bohn’s Pig ’n’ Whistle

“Pig and Whistle” is an old English phrase that meant to fall upon hard times or ruin.

It’s a phrase that seemed to lend itself to be used as a pub name, especially when a “pig” was an earthen vessel that could contain liquor, and a “peg” was a unit of volume to measure liquor, and a piggin was a mug for liquor, possibly waissel, a yuletide drink that might make you whistle. But none of that was the inspiration for Eddie Bohn’s Denver motel-restaurant. He lifted the name from the California roadside restaurant chain he knew from his Jack Dempsey sparring days.

Back in Denver, Eddie Bohn became a Colorado State Senator and ran the Pig‘n Whistle until his death in 1990. By then, West Colfax Avenue, like all the old motel strips in the age of the Interstates, had fallen on its own hard times. The entire motel complex was leveled in 1991 except for the neon sign which still stands on the corner of Colfax & Wolff next to a marijuana dispensary.

The first roadside one-stop on Denver, Colorado’s West Colfax Avenue motel strip was Eddie Bohn’s Pig‘n Whistle Village opened at Wolff Street in 1924. Young Eddie was a successful local boxer who went to California to become Jack Dempsey’s sparring partner, returning to operate, promote and expand the Pig‘n Whistle as a sports celebrity motel mecca. Colfax Avenue was the way through Denver for two transcontinental highways, U.S. 40 and U.S. 6, in the age before the Interstates, and West Colfax came to have the greatest concentration of motel choices.

The first Pig‘n Whistles opened in San Francisco and Los Angeles in 1908, but the most famous Pig‘n Whistle was the one that opened next to Grauman’s Egyptian Theater on Hollywood Boulevard in 1927. That’s the one the movie stars went to in the 1940s. Pig’n Whistle had 20 restaurants on the West Coast by 1929, but the chain contracted after World War II to only five in Southern California by 1952 and then three when it was sold off in 1968.

Lemon Grove’s Giant Lemon

In the roadside world of Big Food, California has giant citrus lying around all over the place including Lemon Grove’s Giant Lemon.

Once surrounded by lemon groves, this San Diego suburb first rolled out its giant lemon for a 4th of July parade in 1928. It was weather-proofed and set up at the intersection of Broadway & Main depicted on this 1950s postcard where it still sits today emblazoned with the town’s slogan, “Best Climate on Earth.”