Dear Mr. (Ms., Mrs.?) Alice: Okay smartypants. I’ve got one you'll never figure out. There is a champagne glass in downtown San Diego that is as tall as a building, but it’s not as visible as it used to be. Where is it, exactly? — Patrick Lockwood, San Diego
Ready for this? The big “Matt for a Day” thing we’ve been mumbling about? Question number one revealed your true colors; it seemed to require real knowledge or actual research. Much less popular than question two except with the usual crowd of brownnosers and teacher’s pets. And imagine the fistfights on the judges’ panel when it turns out that there could actually be two acceptable answers. Next week we’ll deal with question number two, the responses to which confirmed that any crackpot can have access to paper, pencil, envelope, and a stamp.
Robert E. Cain, San Diego: So, Pat — the doc told you to limit yourself to one glass of bubbly a day, and you want to use the biggest glass in town? Well, you’ll have to go to the old El Cortez Hotel (not the El Cortez Center, since Morris Cerullo’s aborted takeover). The El Cortez towered over downtown unchallenged for almost 40 years, from its opening in 1927 until the first modern steel-and-glass high-rise was built at Seventh and Broadway in 1963.
But the El Cortez Hotel’s international claim to fame was the installation, in 1956, of the world’s first outside hydraulic glass elevator, built to serve the incongruously curve-roofed Sky Room restaurant and nightclub. Designed by architect Charles Paderewski and constructed by the San Diego Glass Elevator Company, it carried 16 passengers on a spectacular ride up the side of the old hotel. Its opening on May 10,1956, was heralded in Time, Life, and Business Week, and around the world.
But the twin tracks the elevator rode on up the building were unsightly until some wit had the idea of making the tracks the stem of a 15-story-tall champagne glass with the bowl outlined in neon at the top of the hotel. Star-shaped “bubbles” were painted on the building, up the “stem,” and more star bubbles made out of neon flowed out of the bowl. At night the giant glass of bubbly could be seen from as far away as the tip of Point Loma. Now you have to climb to Seventh and Ash and look closely to see the remnants of one of San Diego’s former claims to fame.
Debbie Eaton, downtown: The “champagne glass” to which you refer appears on the facade of the old El Cortez Hotel, along the path of its quaint glass elevator. Neon star-shaped “bubbles” along the tracks lead to the cup, now barely visible behind the faded red sign proclaiming “El Cortez Center.” The neon champagne glass sparkled until the late 1960s, early 1970s, when development moved the city’s heart farther west. In its heyday, the El Cortez was the tallest building in downtown, drawing many VIPs, conventioneers, and tourists for a ride up for an eagle’s-eye view of our city. (I can recall several such trips in my youth; the first jolt from the elevator always gave my stomach a whirl that failed to subside until my feet again touched terra firma. Now, that feeling only returns on amusement park rides such as Freefall.) Interest in preserving its historic value and restoring its locale as a hub of activity has peaked at various times recently, especially since the Symphony Towers were built, but to no avail. Another source of its invisibility is the plethora of skyscrapers built since then, which have commandeered our downtown skyline.
Swim2PRK, the Net: You wish there was a champagne glass that was as tall as a building, Patrick. What you’re referring to is the First National Bank building at 401 West A Street, near where the Star of India is berthed on the bay. The champagne glass effect (lots of golden bubbles) to which you refer is nothing more than the setting sun sparkling against the hundreds of reflective squares that panel the outside of this mirrored edifice. The FNB building is also known for its distinctive appearance. It looks like it’s had a triangular bite taken out of the top corner. Best viewed from a passing boat on the bay near sunset, the champagne glass effect has of late been somewhat blocked by newer buildings on the waterfront. This is beginning to force the old retired salts who deliver monologues on those touristy “bay tours” to change their shtick slightly. One of their new favorites: comparing the Great American obelisk (towering above the old Santa Fe depot) and the new Hyatt hotel (next to the convention center) to Phillips and flathead screwdrivers, respectively. Which isn’t as cool as “a champagne glass that’s as tall as a building.”
“Forsythe Allison,” the Net: Just about everybody in San Diego knows about your silly champagne glass, which, by the way, is either a martini glass with a long stem or a sherry glass with a short bowl. It’s on what used to be the First National Bank building, looking at the building from the bay....
Forsythe goes on — something about Patrick’s “addled little pea brain,” which also captures something of the Matthew Alice spirit, but we’ll leave that alone for the moment. No insulting fellow Alicelanders. That’s a perk I reserve for myself.
Dear Mr. (Ms., Mrs.?) Alice: Okay smartypants. I’ve got one you'll never figure out. There is a champagne glass in downtown San Diego that is as tall as a building, but it’s not as visible as it used to be. Where is it, exactly? — Patrick Lockwood, San Diego
Ready for this? The big “Matt for a Day” thing we’ve been mumbling about? Question number one revealed your true colors; it seemed to require real knowledge or actual research. Much less popular than question two except with the usual crowd of brownnosers and teacher’s pets. And imagine the fistfights on the judges’ panel when it turns out that there could actually be two acceptable answers. Next week we’ll deal with question number two, the responses to which confirmed that any crackpot can have access to paper, pencil, envelope, and a stamp.
Robert E. Cain, San Diego: So, Pat — the doc told you to limit yourself to one glass of bubbly a day, and you want to use the biggest glass in town? Well, you’ll have to go to the old El Cortez Hotel (not the El Cortez Center, since Morris Cerullo’s aborted takeover). The El Cortez towered over downtown unchallenged for almost 40 years, from its opening in 1927 until the first modern steel-and-glass high-rise was built at Seventh and Broadway in 1963.
But the El Cortez Hotel’s international claim to fame was the installation, in 1956, of the world’s first outside hydraulic glass elevator, built to serve the incongruously curve-roofed Sky Room restaurant and nightclub. Designed by architect Charles Paderewski and constructed by the San Diego Glass Elevator Company, it carried 16 passengers on a spectacular ride up the side of the old hotel. Its opening on May 10,1956, was heralded in Time, Life, and Business Week, and around the world.
But the twin tracks the elevator rode on up the building were unsightly until some wit had the idea of making the tracks the stem of a 15-story-tall champagne glass with the bowl outlined in neon at the top of the hotel. Star-shaped “bubbles” were painted on the building, up the “stem,” and more star bubbles made out of neon flowed out of the bowl. At night the giant glass of bubbly could be seen from as far away as the tip of Point Loma. Now you have to climb to Seventh and Ash and look closely to see the remnants of one of San Diego’s former claims to fame.
Debbie Eaton, downtown: The “champagne glass” to which you refer appears on the facade of the old El Cortez Hotel, along the path of its quaint glass elevator. Neon star-shaped “bubbles” along the tracks lead to the cup, now barely visible behind the faded red sign proclaiming “El Cortez Center.” The neon champagne glass sparkled until the late 1960s, early 1970s, when development moved the city’s heart farther west. In its heyday, the El Cortez was the tallest building in downtown, drawing many VIPs, conventioneers, and tourists for a ride up for an eagle’s-eye view of our city. (I can recall several such trips in my youth; the first jolt from the elevator always gave my stomach a whirl that failed to subside until my feet again touched terra firma. Now, that feeling only returns on amusement park rides such as Freefall.) Interest in preserving its historic value and restoring its locale as a hub of activity has peaked at various times recently, especially since the Symphony Towers were built, but to no avail. Another source of its invisibility is the plethora of skyscrapers built since then, which have commandeered our downtown skyline.
Swim2PRK, the Net: You wish there was a champagne glass that was as tall as a building, Patrick. What you’re referring to is the First National Bank building at 401 West A Street, near where the Star of India is berthed on the bay. The champagne glass effect (lots of golden bubbles) to which you refer is nothing more than the setting sun sparkling against the hundreds of reflective squares that panel the outside of this mirrored edifice. The FNB building is also known for its distinctive appearance. It looks like it’s had a triangular bite taken out of the top corner. Best viewed from a passing boat on the bay near sunset, the champagne glass effect has of late been somewhat blocked by newer buildings on the waterfront. This is beginning to force the old retired salts who deliver monologues on those touristy “bay tours” to change their shtick slightly. One of their new favorites: comparing the Great American obelisk (towering above the old Santa Fe depot) and the new Hyatt hotel (next to the convention center) to Phillips and flathead screwdrivers, respectively. Which isn’t as cool as “a champagne glass that’s as tall as a building.”
“Forsythe Allison,” the Net: Just about everybody in San Diego knows about your silly champagne glass, which, by the way, is either a martini glass with a long stem or a sherry glass with a short bowl. It’s on what used to be the First National Bank building, looking at the building from the bay....
Forsythe goes on — something about Patrick’s “addled little pea brain,” which also captures something of the Matthew Alice spirit, but we’ll leave that alone for the moment. No insulting fellow Alicelanders. That’s a perk I reserve for myself.
Comments