Everybody Comes to Rick's

In 1938, a playwright and high school teacher named Murray Burnett was visiting a quaint little café in the south of France and was mesmerized by the eclectic mix of expatriates, Nazis, Frenchmen and artsy types who regularly congregated every night to hear the musical styling of an African American piano player. Thinking that this setting was ripe fodder for a theatrical production, Burnett proceeded to write a play called “Everybody Comes to Rick’s”.

Movie trivia buffs, of course, will recognize that the backdrop of Rick's Café Américain would more popularly come to be known as “Casablanca”, a swank Moroccan oasis in which men and women from all walks of life were united by a common objective to obtain coveted letters of transit.

What, you may ask, does this have to do with a popular Pasadena eatery that will soon be forced to join the ranks of vanishing Southern California icons?

Quite a lot, actually.

On any given day at the corner of Walnut and El Molino, patrons of every sort are lined up 3-6 deep at the windows of a modest establishment that has been a Pasadena landmark since 1964. Some wear tailored suits. Some wear baggy shorts and baseball caps worn backwards. Some wear the cotton pastels that identify them as dental hygienists and hospital orderlies. There are also quite a few sporting the signature checked pants and white smocks of the California School of Culinary Arts.

For a fragile moment - as the rest of the world speeds by - there is an unspoken communion among us, a camaraderie that is not defined by race, sex, age or political persuasion. Unlike the exotic, fictional version of a North African sanctuary that promised exit visas to the very lucky, the management of this “Rick’s” promises the consistency of fresh, inexpensive and tasty food and a staff that views proprietors Ralph and Mary Lou Fonzo as the closest association they have to the concept of family. “We don’t care if our customers are behind the wheels of shopping carts or limousines,” Fonzo declares. “We’re happy to see them all.”

He begins the story by relating that his ex-wife’s brother-in-law was a good friend of Neil T. Baker who owned about 35 taco places. “I mentioned I was interested in getting into a new business and Baker told me that if I could find a location, he’d put a building on it for me. Every night I’d go driving after work looking for just the right spot.”

Back in the early 60’s, he explains, there wasn’t very much on the Walnut/El Molino corridor.

Further, there were only about 3 or 4 places across the street from Pasadena City College, an In ‘n’ Out Burger on Foothill and a Winchell’s Doughnuts on Lake. “Once the building went up, we opened on January 1, 1964. Rick’s,” he says, “is my ex-wife’s maiden name – Ricky. We thought it sounded Spanish like ‘Ricardo’ and would go well with the Mexican food we wanted to serve.”

It took no time at all for word about the new eatery to spread. “It was my husband’s recipes,” Mary Lou says with pride, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “Every single thing there is made fresh. You can order items in any combination you like. Ralph perfected his own original sauces and they’re made right on the premises. The beans aren’t canned, either – he does it from scratch.” She remarks that it’s unusual in a fast-food establishment to get that kind of quality.

The customer loyalty, they both add, is tremendous as a visit to their website guestbook will attest. “There’s a radio personality named Steve Dahl who moved to Chicago,” Mary Lou continues, “but he’s such a fan of our food he always has his father pick up orders and mail them to him. He tells people in Chicago that if they’re ever in Pasadena, they have to go to Rick’s…and they actually do!”

Even romance has blossomed on this unassuming little corner. “We were shorthanded one week back in ‘74,” Fonzo reminisces, “and I saw two girls walking down the street. I asked Bruce, one of my employees, to go out and ask if they’d like a job. The one who accepted – Laura- subsequently became Bruce’s bride six months later.”

Mary Lou explains that many of their early employees went on to assume prestigious jobs but never forgot it was Ralph who first hired them and instilled in them a lasting sense of business ethics.

It was, therefore, a bombshell to both of them when they learned that, in the game of real estate politics, not everyone plays by the rules of fairness or integrity.

Baker, the pair reveal, had always told them he had no interest in ever selling the land on which Rick’s sits. “We asked him for a lease 15 or 20 years ago,” Fonzo says, “but it was all written in his favor and we didn’t take it. About 5 years ago, we resubmitted our offer to lease it for 10 years and he never took us up on it.” Mary Lou interjects that Baker had told them never to worry and that, even if something were to happen to him, there were provisions which would allow them to continue to operate their business.

We told him many times we’d like to buy the property and that we were concerned about the fate of our employees,” she says. “They have families with small children and they rely on the income they receive from us. Rick’s also represents our own retirement.” Though she smiles when she says it, the start of a tear comes to her eyes. “I think Ralph and I always believed Rick’s would outlast us.”

She reiterated her concerns in a letter to Baker last May, prompted by the toll of anxiety everything was taking on her husband’s health. The letter went ignored. In October, she penned a second letter and sent it to Baker along with a copy of her previous correspondence. To add insult to injury, their landlord not only ignored the second letter but they learned in January he had sold the property for $1.4 million to Nevis Homes. “After 42 years as responsible tenants,” she said to Baker’s manager, “couldn’t he at least have called us? This whole thing has been a tremendous shock to us.”

We won’t even be able to collect unemployment,” Fonzo adds.

The parallels to another long-standing Pasadena business – Rose Tree Cottage – are startlingly similar. Both the Fonzos and Rose Tree’s proprietors, Edmund and Mary Fry, are senior citizens. Three out of four of them are cancer survivors. The Frys’ landlord engaged in the same scenario of offering assurances of a long-term relationship, then selling the property to Heritage Housing Partners, a development corporation in which Pasadena Mayor Bill Bogaard’s wife has more than a casual interest. Though Bogaard has made obligatory overtures of concern to both couples about their respective plights, no assurances have been put in writing nor will the city or developers help foot the bill to re-establish either venue in an appropriate and comparable setting.

If we can’t find a place to relocate,” Mary Lou relates, “we’ll have to sell our home. We’ll have to move to a less expensive area or even another state to live because all we have is our savings and Social Security.” Although the Fonzos were referred by Bogaard to the city planning department, the choices offered were high-rent storefronts with no parking for customers. An appeal to Nevis Homes was met with equal frustration. “We met with their rep for 5-10 minutes in their lobby,” says Mary Lou, “and it’s clear that the dollar signs in their eyes are keeping them from seeing the damage they’re doing to the uniqueness and character of this beautiful city.”

Sadly, Pasadena is not the only U.S. address that is caving to the lure of more condos and chain retail. Mary Lou shares that her daughter, Judy Thornton, is a community planning consultant in New Jersey and recently returned from a national conference in which the trend to systematically eliminate small businesses seems to be an unstoppable force. Such “progress”, however, is being made with the blessing of city officials.

Says Thornton, “The very sad side of many of the big redevelopment projects that I see is the loss of the indigenous, one-of-a-kind business entities that lend to the character, uniqueness, and the sense of place of a neighborhood, town, or city.

The small business entrepreneurs, the unique specialty shops and markets, get pushed out in favor of a handful of big retailers whose stores, lay-outs, and operations are identical from store to store and from place to place. Regardless of local climate, geography, culture, or history, everything begins to look the same. The situation is not unlike the changes we see in agri-business in the U.S. Small farmers providing a plethora of interesting native plants, herbs, vegetables and spices, are being shut down by giant firms that concentrate on a few basic food crops guaranteed to bring in big profits. End of the day, we all lose out.”

In the face of failure by grassroots efforts to put a halt to these practices, the only alternative is for voters to express dissatisfaction at the ballot box as well as bring these wrongs to the attention of elected officials at the state and county level.

I’m not blaming the developer,” Mary Lou says, “because developers have the right to find good property to build things on. On the other hand, we’re losing a tremendously good business and will now have nothing to show for our lives. For our former landlord, money is his god and the 42 years we paid rent to him don’t mean anything.” In a rare moment of laughter, she says that some of their customers have offered to chain themselves to the building when it’s slated for demolition. Several others are interested in making a documentary. The reaction of everyone else is anger and bewilderment that a place where they’ve long brought their children - and now grandchildren – will be leveled to make way for high-ticket condos.

The Fonzos’ advice to budding entrepreneurs is simple. “If you can afford it,” says Mary Lou, “buy the property. If you have a lease, you’re always at someone else’s mercy. I’d never dissuade someone from wanting to run their own business. You work long, hard hours but it’s about the pride of knowing you’re doing something right, doing it your own way and making many people happy.” In addition to loyal customers, Rick’s can also boast of loyal personnel, some of whom have worked there over 15 years. “That’s a rarity in the fast food business,” they point out.

As our conversation winds to a close, the reference to “Casablanca” resurfaces, prompting Fonzo to demonstrate with “As Time Goes By” that he has a pleasant singing voice. He turns to his wife. “We’ll always have Paris,” he says.

I’d rather always have Rick’s,” she murmurs in reply.

To which I add in paraphrase a bittersweet observation for the powers that be: If Rick’s leaves Pasadena, you’ll regret it. Maybe not today. Maybe not tomorrow, but soon and for the rest of your life.

Postscript: In November 2006, Rick's will fall victim to the wrecking ball to make way for a new Pasadena condo development.