by Paul R. Spitzzeri
As we conclude this post on the short, but eventful, history of the Imperial Café, which existed in downtown Los Angeles at the very end of the 19th and first decade of the 20th centuries, we return to what ended part three, the threat of the city’s Police Commission to revoke its liquor license loomed large over the establishment in late 1905, despite an earlier failed attempt.
The Los Angeles Record of 21 November under the heading of “‘Booze’ is Busy,” reported that Harry Milling told it that “he had received notice from the police commission to sell out before 1 December.” Moreover, he passed along that he’d heard that Frank Goings, a saloon owner who evidently had specially laid out areas in his place with direct connections to hotel rooms above, and an unnamed partner were planning to buy the Imperial and had an architect working on renovations, including a third entrance from Third Street.
Milling further stated his belief that the reason for the police commission order was that the brewers Maier & Zobelein, who long had a direct interest in the establishment, but sold it, were unhappy that their product was not being pushed as it wanted. He insisted “we are conducting this place on the square” and “we serve any kind of bottled beer our patrons ask for,” but
according to the terms of our contract we are only allowed to sell Maier & Zobelein draught beer. We bought out Zinkand, and we had to take his contract. But we don’t push Maier & Zobelein beer . . .
I was very surprised to receive this order from the police commission . . . Maier & Zobelein simply have a big pull with the police commission, and the police commission is their tool.
This was an about-face from the recent controversy as it was stated that the minority on the commission was said to be willing to allow Milling and Max Nickel to continue to run the Imperial, though they’d previously voted for the license revocation, while the majority, including Commissioner Lee Gates and Mayor Owen McAleer, who determined that the café and two others (the Bristol and Palace) threatened with losing their licenses, were not violating an ordinance banning the sale of alcoholic beverages to women, now were angling to shut the place down or force a sale.
The Record, observing that this turnaround was “proof that there is no desire to improve the morals of the city,” in the face of intense lobbying by teetotaling forces from the Methodist Church, Anti-Saloon League, women’s groups of various kinds of others, concluded its coverage by noting that “the politicians, not the reformers, are after the Imperial this time. It is Booze making the fight.”
Two days later, the paper commented on the fact that Commissioner Lee Gates, “looked upon by the saloon men’s political organization as their particular friend,” which apparently was known by all, had his sights set on a seat in Congress. It is also passed along the rumor that the, with regard to the “saloon interests” [capitals are original]:
ONE TRICK THEY PROPOSED TO TURN BEFORE GATES LEAVES THE BOARD IS TO REVOKE THE ANTI-MAIER & ZOBELEIN LICENSE OF THE IMPERIAL CAFE AND PUT IT INTO THE HANDS OF SOME MAN WHO WILL LOOK MORE PARTICULARLY TO THE SALE OF THE AMBER PRODUCT OF THE LOCAL BREWERY.
The 6 November issue of the Los Angeles Express, though, briefly recorded that Mayor McAleer and the commission “have come to an understanding by which the Imperial will be permitted to do business under its present management and without a change of location,” so it looked as if Milling and Nickel were in safe waters. Yet, those seas, calm for the moment, became turbulent very soon thereafter.
The Record of 30 January 1906 reported that the two proprietors were just a week away from having their license pulled “and in the meantime will make a desperate effort to sell out.” Nickel’s wife even appeared before the commission pleading that the revocation “would practically leave her husband and her family destitute” and this led the board to grant the additional week.
Not only that, but Los Angeles Police Chief Walter H. Auble (who, not long after his one-year term expired, was killed in a shootout while on duty) was instructed by the entity to “remove all boxes from the balcony” overlooking the concert hall in the Imperial, where it was alleged that immoral shenanigans were being carried on and that “if there was any resistance, the license would stand revoked.”
Moreover, Auble was required to hire two special officers, paid by Milling and Nickel, to keep watch during that week because “disorderly brawls which have occurred in the Imperial are given by the commission as the reason for revoking the license.” It also accused Milling of being the problem as “Nickel is a law-abiding citizen” and that “all the trouble at the cafe has occurred while Milling has been in charge.”
The Express of 6 February noted that the Imperial was sold to John Koster and J.J. Lonergan of the adjoining Del Monte Café, who reportedly paid just under $30,000 for the place. It was added that Milling was trying to get $20,000 more than that just a few months prior, but the revocation of the license due to the purported “unsavory reputation” of the establishment evidently led to the 40% drop in the asking price. Gates’s replacement, Dr. Ralph Hagan, voted for the change. Lonergan pledged obeisance to ordinances and added that the two places would operate independently, but share a kitchen “for the sake of economy.”
When Gates evinced an intention of becoming the Republican candidate for mayor in elections later in 1906 and was defeated in the primary by reformer Walter Lindley, leading him to run as an independent, the door was opened for Democrat Arthur C. Harper (City Treasurer William H. Workman, who was completing his third term, was a rare Democrat officeholder in city politics at the time) to secure victory. Harper, however, was forced to resign due to corruption—which ran rampant through much of the city’s political structure at the time.
The Republican-aligned Los Angeles Times of 28 November editorialized that Gates’ “fatal habit of veering with the wind” was exemplified in his flip-flopping with Imperial license matter as, for “good people who like to see Los Angeles a clean town” were less than pleased with the former commissioner’s track record with the café. The paper continued,
The Imperial Café was a most infamous resort at the time. Young girls were lured there and tempted to drink, thus making their downfall easy. The entire decent portion of the community cried out against its continuance, and it was generally conceded that the severe arraignment of Mr. Gates [for his voting change of heart] by the Express was to a certain extent warranted.
Under the ownership of Koster and Lonergan, the situation at the Imperial seemed to have been “square” as the latter vowed that it would be. The 17 March 1907 edition of the Los Angeles Herald ran a feature that remarked that “tourists from all quarters of the earth” patronized the establishment, adding that the Imperial “long since became one of the fixed institutions of pleasure” and it was compared to famous places in Boston, Chicago, New York City and St. Louis and was such that it was considered,
a resort day and evening for authors, artists, musicians, actors and professional men, politicians, bankers, business men and toilers in all the walks of life, the frequenters of the place being attracted by the bright lights, the murmur of foreign voices, the lively and languorous music of the high class orchestra, the novelty and melody of the electric silver chimes that serve as accompaniment for special selections of the musicians, good fellowship and jollity being a special feature of the gatherings that are essentially bohemian and thoroughly democratic in spirit and purpose.
More of the same tenor and tone were offered and the paper went on to assert that “the Imperial is recognized as one of the chief show places in the Angel City in the line of entertainment.” Recent improvements, to the tune of some $6,000, were made to the side facing Broadway and it looked as if the investment paid off in terms of a regular stream of customers “and while the orchestra is playing classical or popular selections, patrons while away the fleeting hours most agreeably amid the pleasantest surroundings.”
Beyond this, the Herald reported that “many questions of state and local importance” were hashed out at the tables of the eatery as “politicians and financiers of powerful influence frequently assemble to enjoy the feasts prepared by one of the most expert chefs in America,” whose name, however, went unmentioned. Koster and Lonergan were praised because “their genial personality, together with the popularity of the Imperial, win the admiration and patronage of the public.”
The 22 December issue of the paper more briefly revisited the general approach of the early piece, as it commented that tourists and locals alike “flock to the cafe at the noon hour and come in groups in the evening to enjoy the hospitality of the proprietors while they listen to the delightful music of the classy orchestra, accompanied by the justly celebrated electric silver chimes.” Because the clientele was from all walks of life the Imperial provided some of “the good things of life and social advantages on strictly democratic lines,” though it was accounted as the “headquarters for men of affairs in the business, mining and political world.”
By fall 1908, however, the Express spotlighted the Imperial in a nefarious way, under the heading of “Is Vice Protected In Los Angeles?” Photos showed the entrances from the Broadway and Spring Street sides and a drawing of a “typical scene” showed degraded men and women with the captions of “One Too Many,” “An Easy Victim,” “A Working Girl” and “A Graduate.”
Hammering home its point, the paper provided an excerpt from a state law forbidding the keeping of “any disorderly house” that disturbed the peace and offended the decency of the neighborhood including “for the purpose of assignation or prostitution” with any proven allegations of such activity meaning that the proprietors were guilty of a misdemeanor.
The article opened with,
In the very shadow of the city hall, with its entrance to the next south of the municipal legislative building, is the Broadway entrance of the Imperial cafe—a resort whose varied history has contributed many a chapter to the history of the gay side of Los Angeles after the lamps are lighted.
The lace curtained plate glass windows conceal sights and shut out sounds that might or might not, as the case may be, astonish one passing up Broadway and glancing casually at the cafe entrance.
A woman sporting “a hard, professional smile” was cited as telling her date “call me whatever you like—that is if you have the money” and this was considered a usual occurrence, as, apparently, was one represented by a quote from another female patron who said “we are supposed to remain at our table, and take chances of some one to join us.
This was said to be part and parcel of a normal Saturday night in which “the demi-monde and the gay girl of the underworld comes forth in the glare of the electric light in search of week-end ‘business.'” While some guests were eating, it was declared that most “were drinking their liquor without even a suspicion of a saving sandwich,” it being against city ordinances to order alcohol without food at restaurants. It was added, though, that “the Imperial is conducted with a greater semblance of orderliness” than other cafes in town.
This included the Eureka on Main Street where “vice is dangled boisterously and garishly before the patrons,” while at the Imperial immorality “wears a thin veneer of pseudo-refinement” and there was a beguiling glamor to attract those partaking in the “amusements” within, including the orchestral music.
Another case study cited by the Express was “Maud,” a native of England and stage actor, as well as mother of a child of five years of age, who “decided to follow the path that those tread who play at dice with the devil.” The woman noted that there’d been a change in access to the balcony tables and then to rooms in the hotel above the café because “the ‘long hairs’ have been stirring up a big rumpus around here.”
Maud continued that “our system formerly was to go out through this door, get out onto the veranda and then climb into the rooms through the windows.” This was likely the same hostelry as that occupied by composer and bandleader, Carl Martens, who was mentioned in the first post as dying in his room from the effects of alcoholism.
A server noted that a padlock prevented that access, but the unnamed woman quoted above at her table simply observed that all that was to be done was to exit at Spring and go up an adjoining stair to the rooms at the Hotel Glen. A woman was met there who was “cordiality personified” and who stated, “No, we do not keep any girls here, but whenever you want one just go down in the Imperial and slip the waiter a piece of money, and he will fix you out with one.”
The piece then concluded,
Down below the scene had changed but little. The glasses still were clinking; the orchestra was playing a piece that should have been a requiem; one seemed to see the winding sheet [burial shroud] of souls in place of the gay trappings of the women and their escorts of an hour.
Elsewhere, the question of the role of law enforcement in protecting vice was raised, including the presence of uniformed officers apparently working for the café proprietors, which was against regulations, as was simply being in an establishment so attired unless in the performance of duty.
Specific officers were named as violators and “a well-known citizen” was quoted as stating that it may not be “materially wrong” for officers to serve as bouncers and watchmen “but it looks bad.” This individual did not know of any specific wrongdoing and counseled that the practice should be stopped because “it doesn’t do the name of Los Angeles any good” for it to be known that an off-duty officer “goes on watch in a haunt of vice to protect the law breakers.” It should be added, though, that complaints of Angel City police officers being employed by business owners dated back decades and the low pay was likely one major factor in such employment.
The 25 November edition of the Herald reported that Deputy Sheriff Claude Matthewson was nabbed by a special officer for disturbing the peace at the Imperial. It was alleged that, while he was with a party of “supervisors from Sacramento” and women friends, one of the latter asked for more alcohol and was refused with the server asking her to keep her voice down. When Matthewson confronted the waiter, the special officer serving as watchman came over and arrested the deputy.
There may well have been many more reported instances of problems of various kinds at the Imperial during these years, but, in the face of continued reform efforts dealing with alcohol and prostitution, the Herald of 22 February 1910 reported that Koster was called to appear before the Police Commission “and show cause why his liquor permits should not be revoked.” Two officers sent to investigate the situation at the establishment “reported that the Imperial cafe was a resort for women of disreputable character” and Koster and Lonergan were well aware of this claim.
The Times of 1 March covered that hearing and noted that the owners sought more time to delay the revocation of the permits, while it was added that one of the commissioners actually got a little too lubricated at the Imperial before a recent meeting “and made a spectacle of himself.” The next day’s Herald recorded that the permits were revoked as several witnesses testified that “the place was a resort for fallen women who openly plied their calling . . . and that the place had a bad reputation . . . all over Southern California.”
The paper added that Koster had a previous revocation of a liquor permit while operating the aforementioned Del Monte Tavern, just around the corner on Third, between Spring and Broadway, as a young intoxicated woman was dancing on a table in a private room on the second floor and fell, dying from her injuries. It was also noted that Lonergan left the Imperial in 1909 so the revocation solely applied to Koster.
A late March auction of the furniture, furnishings, alcohol inventory, linoleum, partitions, “the finest set of chimes in the city,” a Chickering piano, safes, cash registers, kitchen equipment and utensils, steam heaters, a “soap-making plant,” “cold storage plants,” and much else was held by the preeminent auctioneer in the city, Thomas B. Clark. Shortly afterward, Eilers Music House, took over the café space to sell the liquidated inventory of the Angelus Music Company, a striking change of tune for the location where so much music accompanied so much “gaiety” of many forms in the colorful history of the Imperial Café.
Notably, a few months later and after an investigation of Frank Goings (that’s an interesting surname for a reputed unsavory café man) and his establishment at Central Avenue and 7th Street, Police Commissioner Charles Wellborn was reported to have discovered a peep hole in the ceiling of his law office, purportedly created by a spy looking to observe activities that would discredit Wellborn (another surname of note!). It was mentioned that before Wellborn’s appointment to the commission, “the notorious Imperial cafe . . . ran wide open,” so it was speculated that those engaged in vice concocted the scheme to spy on him.
The musical program featured here projected class and culture, but the Imperial Café was certainly an establishment with more to it than advertised, including that description of a “thin veneer of pseudo-refinement” cited above.
As detailed in this post, the eventful history and notorious tales of the Imperial Café epitomized power struggles, rampant corruption, and unchecked sensuality, all concealed beneath a veneer of orchestral music, fine dining, and polished attire. Though often labeled as social vices, I personally think they just reflect the true human nature that have persisted for centuries and will remain with us indefinitely. These phenomena may rise and fall over time, but I believe they are inescapable and ineradicable.