by Paul R. Spitzzeri
In the midst of the third great boom in greater Los Angeles history, following those of the late 1860s through mid 1870s and the Boom of the Eighties (which peaked during William H. Workman’s 1887-1888 term as the Angel City’s mayor), during the major growth spurt at the dawn of the 20th century, three restaurants were generally regarded as the most popular in town: Al Levy’s, the Bristol and the Imperial.
This post features, from the Homestead’s holdings, a musical program for the latter covering the week that included a special offering on 25 September 1902 of “Compositions by Home Talent” and we’ll look at some of the eatery’s early history, as well. The Imperial opened its doors as the 19th century was closing with the debut in early August 1899 at what had been the Anheuser Saloon at 243 S. Spring Street (next door was Christopher’s confectionery), on the west side of the street north of the recently completed Douglas Building, which still stands.
From at least 1891, there had been the St. Julian Saloon at that location and, when it went belly up, Thomas B. Clark, who long operated his trade in the Angel City and was the agent for the bank safe of which the doors and casing are in the La Casa Nueva basement, conducted the auction to sell the fixtures and furnishings. This was done again in January 1898 by Clark when the Anheuser closed, but this time it was in favor of the prominent brewing firm of Maier and Zobelein, who apparently leased the place to its proprietor.
Maier and Zobelein, in fact, secured the liquor license from the city’s Police Commission, which handled this important and controversial duty, for the Imperial, though it was operated by Rudolph J. Stahmann (you may have noticed the significant German connection by now!), who’d last been a caterer and cook for Angel City hotels. The Los Angeles Times of 4 August 1899 noted in its “City Briefs” column that,
The Imperial Cafe . . . which has been enlarged and renovated [that is, the space], will be opened to the public at 10 a.m. The best commercial [business] lunch will be served, and the best domestic and imported beer on draught. Everybody is invited to inspect and he [be] present at the grand opening Saturday night. Family entrance from Broadway.
It is notable that the “best domestic beer” was almost certainly limited to the Maier and Zobelein product, while the “family entrance” was distinct from the Spring Street one and was situated adjacent on the south to City Hall. The placing of a saloon and then café at that location was, without question, strategic!
The Los Angeles Record chimed in with its edition of the 7th informing readers, “the Imperial Cafe . . . is having its grand opening today” and adding that “the place is beautifully decorated with potted palms and flowers, and large throngs of people are partaking of the appetizing refreshments served by Host R.J. Stahmann.” An early advertisement in the paper a week later amplified the claim that the café offered “the finest commercial lunch in the city” and was a “first class family resort.”
By December, there was a change in title to “The Imperial Cafe and Oyster Parlors,” as well as another remodel, and a formal opening two days prior to Christmas, with Stahmann taking out an ad in the Los Angeles Express of the 22nd adding that “an Excellent Stringed Orchestra will render appropriate music throughout the evening.” The “gentlemen’s cafe entrance” remained on Spring, while the “parlor entrance” was on Broadway, maintaining the earlier distinction slightly differently defined.
An article in the same edition proclaimed
That Los Angeles is rapidly becoming a metropolis is evidenced by the many new enterprises being established here. As the population of a city grows so the demand for metropolitan advantages and pleasures increases. This demand must be satisfied and thus goes the march of progress.
The piece continued that “to meet the long felt need of a refined family cafe, restaurant and music hall,” the establishment “has been greatly enlarged and refitted” and it was averred that “the new Imperial promises to be one of the most popular” of its kind “on the coast.” Importantly and “following the example of the most celebrated cafes of the East, an excellent orchestra will discourse appropriate music every evening from 6 to 7 and from 8 to 12.” This included an “Imperial March” by Carl Martens, while other pieces performed were by Bach, Bizet, Suppé and several other prominent composers.
With regard to refinement, there were occasional legal issues, such as in February 1900 when police officers enforcing the city’s Sunday law, mandating the closing of certain businesses, like those selling alcoholic beverages, descended on the Palace Café, as well as the Imperial, reporting that “these saloons did not have screens about the bar” as ordinances mandated. The Times of the 28thh reported that “the proprietor of the Imperial Cafe alleged ignorance of the law, and said that he received no notice” about the screen, but promised to comply in future.
By spring 1900, advertisements promoted the Imperial for “delightful little lunches for after-theater parties” as well as a “grand concert every evening” comprising “the latest music.” A problem, however, soon emerged when a fire roared through the establishment leading to a closure of several months. The Record of 23 July reported that Maier and Zobelein tried to get a refund on its liquor license because of the long shuttering of the eatery, but this was denied by the Police Commission and City Council.
Members of the governing body of the city were skeptical that it took that long to effect repairs for what was stated by the Fire Department to involve a mere $200 in damages, while one councilmember stated that the place was kept locked up while the owners sought for a new operator, Stahmann having left, and added, “it was a business proposition to pay the $50 a month right along to keep the license alive.”
Another asserted that Maier and Zobelein strategized as speculation because of the value of the license, while yet another pronounced, “we should not be hoodwinked” and queried, “who here now can say that there was a fire in that saloon March 4, 1899 [1900] and that five months’ time was necessary to set the place right?”
August also brought the reassignment of the Imperial liquor license from Stahmann, who decamped for Seattle, to Maier and Zobelein and, when the establishment reopened, it took on a new name, that of the “Imperial Cafe and Concert Hall” (which inspired a rival to denote itself as “The Palace Cafe and Conservatory of Music”), putting a greater prominence on its musical offerings to its clientele. The new managers of the establishment were Teddy Putzman and Otto Halmer, though the former died at Santa Monica after less than year from complications due to heart and lung diseases.
The orchestra’s leader was Peter J. Frank (1846-1924), a native of Germany and son of a professional musician. Frank was a violinist with several ensembles before forming his own orchestra and then spent several years in Grand Rapids, Michigan, performing and teaching his specialty as well as the cornet before plying his trade in Chicago. After some years in Los Angeles, beginning in the late Nineties, Frank went to San Diego, where he died after continuing his vocation.
Carl Martens, mentioned above with his march written for the eatery, suffered from a common affliction among musicians who achieved no small success in a highly competitive profession but then fell into addiction, as the Express of 3 November 1900 reported that “the man who a few years ago was one of the best known orchestra leaders, and whose name was on every tongue from the Atlantic to the Pacific,” was found dead in his boarding house room above the Imperial from “quick consumption, aggravated by dissipation.”
The 45-year old German native, who studied at famous conservatories at Leipzig and Brussels before migrating to America, was a cellist and pianist but “his specialty was orchestra leader.” While he achieved notable success in New York City, leading an orchestra for prominent operatic soprano Emma Abbott along with his own ensemble, Martens “of late years, became addicted to drink” and only recently resettled in Los Angeles and led to Imperial Orchestra before losing the position because of his drinking, with Frank taking over.
Several days before his death, Martens reappeared in the Angel City as “a complete physical wreck, broken down and penniless.” Seeking help at the Imperial, his former associates could see that “it was plain that he was not long for this world,” and a room was made available upstairs for him. After suffering from intense cramps for a couple of hours, Martens went silent and his body was found the next morning—the musician and conductor was buried at Evergreen Cemetery in Boyle Heights with fellow musicians covering the cost.
As the year 1900 and the 19th century came to a close, there was an interesting characterization by the Times of 3 December about what it called “The Whisky Ticket” for the upcoming city elections, at which William H. Workman won the first of three successive campaigns (one of the few Democrats to win in a Republican-dominated city) as treasurer. The paper observed that a “circular was quietly passed around by the waiters at the Imperial Café, and presumably at other beer saloons and drinking resorts.”
The teetotaling Times, which lobbied heavily with its powerful platform against the public serving and consumption of alcohol, copied the handout “word for batim” and commented that “it shows what candidates” for mayor and the city council “are the choice of the whisky men, plainly enough, with names for the latter promoted for seven of the nine city wards, and that of Meredith P. Snyder, who was chief executive from 1896 to 1898 and was returned to office in the ensuing election and served until 1904—after 15 more years he was elected to another two-year term, doing so when Workman’s son, Boyle, was president of the council.
There had long been a tradition in Los Angeles policing of appointing special officers, paid and unpaid, and the Record of the 18th noted that the Police Commission appointed four men, all without compensation and all tied to public places. One was to “prevent annoyance by small boys” at a mission, another was the operator of a merry-go-round, while a third was assigned for the new baseball stadium at what was stated to be Washington Gardens, but which was actually the new Chutes Park, discussed in a post here just two days ago. Lastly, there was Imperial’s head waiter Charles Hildebrand who received his commission “to preserve order at that place.”
There must’ve obviously been a fair amount of dust-ups in the place even as it continued to advertise its refined offerings. The 20 December issue of the Express ran an ad and promoted the “ladies’ and gentlemen’s restaurant and oyster parlors” with their “beautifully lighted and thoroughly ventilated hall” along with concerts at three distinct periods (Noon to 1:30, 6 to 7 p.m. and 8 p.m. to Midnight). Notably, Maier and Zobelein’s Pilsener was noted to be on draught.
A novelty was mentioned in a holiday program ad in the Record on Christmas Eve, as “The King of the Tuba,” Herman Eulenberg, who played what was billed as “the largest contra C tuba in the world” at not too far short of six feet in height, a forty-inch diameter on the bowl and weighing 50 pounds. The paper’s edition of the 21st added that the monster instrument, custom made for Eulenberg, was both “soft and sweet as a pipe organ” and able to “drown the sound of the rest of the orchestra” with its owner taking it to play with military bands and on the Orpheum theater circuit. Meanwhile, he was slated to play solo for two weeks at the Imperial.
With that, we’ll halt here and return with a part two, so be sure to check back in for that.