LA’s Tommy’s Turns 60, Still Serving Up Chili Cheeseburgers
It’s the most exalted shack in Los Angeles, crowned with kitschy neon and crowded with the huddled masses waiting for the next sloppy, glorious burger drowned in its trademark chili to be plopped into a cardboard tray and consumed in the egalitarian Tommy’s way: standing shoulder to shoulder with your fellow Angeleno. At any hour of the day, you can venture down to Beverly and Rampart – make a “Tommy’s Run” in the parlance of its regulars – and visit the restaurant that’s proud of its unpretentiousness and old-fashioned appeal. This is the Original Tommy’s after all, where “combo” numbers and french fries – introduced in the 1980’s – are the newest innovations on the menu board. Only here can you pull your soda out of one of the “honor system” coolers and watch the racks of buns being pushed across the parking lot. Sure, there are other burger joints that are less messy and more convenient. There are even other Tommy’s around the Southland but they have relented to the modern conventions of soda fountains and seats. No, for the true chiliburger experience, you must first bow under the picture of the founder, Tommy Koulax, and order at the burger shrine he built for $900 in 1946.
The son of Greek immigrants, Tommy Koulax moved with his family to California from Oklahoma City right before the Depression hit. He worked as a shipyard welder during World War II. Then, he tried opening a small hot dog stand in South Los Angeles. The business failed. But he found another stand for sale in a newspaper ad, added hamburgers to the menu, and Tommy’s Hamburgers and Hot Dogs was born. It took a while but word spread about Tommy’s burgers. They were pretty basic – buns, meat, chili, cheese, tomatoes, chopped onions, pickles and mustard – but Tommy decided that instead of penny-pinching on his burger patties, he’d give his customers quality and big portions and make his profit by selling a lot of burgers. As Tommy said, “Volume always takes care of profit.” Tommy’s beef patties aren’t weighed before they’re cooked, the toppings are never shorted, and customers order and are served extremely fast – in about 15 seconds at peak time. He wanted people to eat for cheap. Even when the Olympics came to Los Angeles in 1984 and other restaurateurs were gouging visitors, Tommy said, “I’m out to feed the people and get a good name and if I feed them right during the Olympics, they are going to come back.”
As word of the amazing Tommy’s burger spread and the downtown location became popular, Tommy opened other locations throughout Southern California to keep up with demand. He refused, though, to franchise his name. All Original Tommy’s locations were, and still are, family-owned. “All of his children worked in the business. Now the grandkids are currently involved with the company,” says Brent Maire, president of Original Tommy’s. “It was always Tommy’s intention to keep it a family business.” Sustaining tradition is paramount for Tommy’s. Sure, they could install soda fountains at the downtown Tommy’s and not lose 300 to 400 cans a week from unscrupulous patrons. They could also charge sales tax instead of rounding off all the prices. They could even skimp on the 1/4 inch thick tomato slices or not use an American cheese blend that has a higher enzyme count for a sharper taste. But as Maire says, “We maintain those traditions because Tommy maintained those traditions.” After all, “You don’t find too many places that started in 1946 that are still operating, let alone in the same building!”
Over the years, a slew of competitors piggy-backed on Tommy’s fame by opening their own “Tommy’s,” or variation thereof, and serving impostor chiliburgers. In the late 1970’s, Tommy fought two of these interloping businesses that were owned by former Tommy’s employees. Tommy wryly wondered why Konstantinos Kanarkis and Antonio Guijarra decided to name their burger joints, “Tammy’s” and Tommies,” respectively. The signs for these restaurants even used similar wording and script as the Tommy’s logo. Tommy eventually settled with the competitors and they agreed to either alter their signs or change their names. He never asked for restitution; he only wanted to protect his name, which he did unwaveringly until his death in 1992. To this day, there are still such establishments as “Tom’s Burgers,” “Greek Tommy’s Burger,” and even “I Love Tommy’s Chili Burger” that try to confuse the hungry consumer. Not all these impostors can be litigated against – as long as they don’t use the trademark red Tommy’s script or the shack logo – but the Tommy’s corporation isn’t worried. As they are proud of saying, “Many imitate but none can compare.”
In actuality, the original downtown Tommy’s is really just four parts parking lot and one part hut in a non-descript area of the Westlake District. Customers eat at standup counters, not chairs or tables, the bathrooms walls are often covered in graffiti, and don’t try looking for napkins: snatch a coarse towel from one of the ubiquitous dispensers. Pigeons often outnumber patrons and they fight over discarded fries. Competing with the enjoyment of your burger are fumes from the cars parked nearby, which is where some people commit one of the two cardinal Tommy’s sins by eating in their car. The menu at Tommy’s does have variety, however: You can choose which bag of chips to have with your hamburger, hot dog, or tamale. All items are proudly piled with chili unless you commit the other cardinal sin of Tommy’s and ask for your item plain. If you’re really hungry, you can even ask for extra chili, tomato, pickle or onion, free of charge. This is Tommy’s milieu, which rather than repel customers, adds to its legend. Tommy’s is urban and raw, light on the pleasantries, and lacking the polished veneer of cookie-cutter, institutionalized fast food chains. For the suburban folk who venture into the big city, Tommy’s is the answer to the lulling sameness of strip mall culture.
Of course, what truly sets Tommy’s apart from the fast food rabble, as all Tommy’s purists know, is the chili. It’s incredibly thick, impervious to gravity, and possesses a strange, orange color. According to the Tommy’s website, the recipe is “an all beef chili con carne base, water, flour and a ‘secret’ blend of spices.” Jose Castanon, the manager at the Original Tommy’s for 27 years, admits he knows the blend but won’t divulge the secret. He’ll only say that it’s the one item that makes the burger truly special. Castanon is one of the few trusted employees that knows the secret blend of spices. In fact, although the chili is made fresh at each restaurant, the spices are only produced in the backrooms of two locations: the original stand and the North Hills restaurant. The special mix is then shipped to the other 26 Tommy’s.
The power of the chili is such that demand forces Tommy’s to offer its chili in gallon size – for only $19.00 – and, for Southern California expatriates, they’ll even ship it to you. That’s right, because of the continuous calls from out-of-staters, the corporate office will freeze some chili, pack it in dry ice and overnight it to your home. Brent Maire himself will even tell you how to use local produce and meat to prepare an approximate Tommy burger. But if you’re a local, you can just celebrate Tommy’s 60th birthday by driving down to Beverly and Rampart, ordering a burger at the shack, and eating it standing up. You’ll be full and maybe a little queasy from the chili but doubtlessly you’ll soon return. Tommy’s portly face smiles widely on the shack’s rafters. He’s got you hooked for the next sixty years.
