The Original Tommy’s

You Can’t Go Home Again

The corner of Beverly and Rampart.  How the thought of that corner brings back fond remembrances of things past—cutting classes, partying till dawn, cruising Van Nuys Boulevard on a Wednesday night in my 1957 Chevrolet Bel Air convertible with a hot blonde cheerleader snuggled up close on the bench seat…… hold the line please, that was someone else’s adolescence.   In his juvenile years did your reviewer cut classes?  Did he party down all night?  Did he cruise the boulevard?   The correct answer is “E,” none of the above.  He was a member of the math club with the other nerds.  No math club nerd had ever been elected to any office in the history of Inglewood High School (yes, shockingly, IHS is your reviewer’s alma mater), so the members, foreshadowing the current ubiquitous “participation trophy,” decided that everyone would be elected to a post.  Due to my Lilliputian stature, I was elected “Top Half of the Blackboard Eraser” (Jon Pevsner, at 6’7”, was chosen Bottom Half of the Blackboard Eraser).   On a typical Saturday night, when the cool kids were cranking up Black Sabbath, smoking ten dollar Mexican weed and quoting “Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas,” I could be found alone at the Nuart Theater at a double feature of “Bringing Up Baby” and “It Happened One Night.”

Both cool kids and nerds alike ended their Saturday nights at the corner of Beverly and Rampart, the site of The Original Tommy’s, the most famous hamburger stand in La-la Land.  Tommy’s was founded in 1946 by Tommy Koulax, shown below in front of the original stand.

The tiny original stand expanded, then franchised throughout Southern California.  By the 1960s, Tommy’s was an L.A. landmark.  The name was changed from Tommy’s to The Original Tommy’s because it spawned numerous imitators such as Big Tomy’s, Tommie’s and Super Tommy’s.

To a callow pubescent, Tommy’s was the apex of the gourmet dining experience.   What would my impressions be now that I am a mature, or as my children would say, aging and over the hill, adult?   In order to answer that question (the type of philosophical question that has baffled great minds from Aristotle to Kant), I traveled to the far reaches of the San Fernando Valley to the Canoga Park branch of The Original Tommy’s.

As one can readily see, this location lacks some of the architectural urbanity and élan of the original.  The food at Tommy’s, however, is uniform throughout the chain so I anticipated the meal to be representative. 

I ordered the classic #1: double chili cheeseburger, fries and a drink.  Of course I added mustard and onions as one must leave Tommy’s with a case of dragon breath sufficient to stop a herd of charging wildebeest.  Note the Formica table and faux wood paneling similar to that used in interiors designed by Frank Lloyd Wright.

The burger was pedestrian at best and does not stand up to its competitors.  The meat lacked the quality of Fatburger and the price was not competitive with In-N-Out Burger.  To describe the chili as a gelatinous mass of “gunge,” as an English guest of mine once did, is a bit unfair but it lacks the texture and taste of the better chilis such as at Carney’s or Pink’s. 

Were the burger and fries serviceable?  Yes.  Were there enough calories in the meal to feed a Bangladeshi family of four for a week?  Yes.  But you can’t go home again.