A Hard Rock history lesson

TONY DODERO

The news this week that the Hard Rock Cafe had closed its doors sent

me down memory lane and, even better, prompted me to take a trip to

Fashion Island on Thursday looking for a little piece of history and

proof.

I got more than I bargained for.

Upon arrival, I saw the infamous faux electric guitar (I’ll

explain it’s infamy in a moment), being torn down and loaded up on a

big flat tractor-trailer rig.

According to the workers there strapping it down on the truck, the

blue Fender Stratocaster is 6,500 pounds and 40 feet long.

But what I was looking for was much smaller.

Since its arrival, the guitar sat on a rock fountain. And there on

the edge of the fountain was the object of my scavenger hunt -- a

plaque that reads:

“Our wish is to preserve Newport Beach’s open space, your wish

will help, all coins will be donated to the Newport Conservancy.”

As I looked inside the fountain, I could see the bottom peppered

with sparkling coins, mostly pennies, and I wondered, just how much

of that loose change paid for open space.

To understand the meaning of the plaque, you have to go back to

1992.

At that time, the Castaways development had not happened yet and a

fledgling environmentalist group known as the Newport Conservancy,

led by then-Councilwoman Jean Watt, was on a quest to save the

historic property and other Back Bay parcels in perpetuity.

To do so, the voters in town would need to agree to assess

themselves $120 a year on their property taxes for the next 30 years.

The Hard Rock Cafe was just promising to do its share. I called

Watt this week to find out if it ever did and wasn’t successful

reaching her.

But why, you may ask, did the Hard Rock Cafe make that promise

anyway? Was the Hard Rock Cafe run by a bunch of environmental

do-gooders?

No, the reason Hard Rock officials made the gesture was simple.

They knew they were not wanted around these parts, making its

closure today somewhat prophetic.

Back in 1992, I was the reporter on the Newport City Hall beat.

And the word around City Hall was the Hard Rock Cafe needed to tone

down its tremolo.

“We don’t need that violin around here,” thundered the late

Councilman Phil Sansone in his trademark gravel voice, as he told me

he didn’t want the restaurant’s trademark guitar bringing down the

neighborhood.

Sansone was so steadfast in his opposition to the aforementioned

guitar that on the night the council approved the restaurant, he read

a letter from a Newport Center law firm detailing the lawyers’ frets

about the Hard Rock decor.

Another council member confided in me: “Is that really the kind of

place we want in Newport Beach?”

As I said, though, it was approved, but only after Hard Rock

officials agreed to tilt the guitar at an angle -- rather than stand

it straight up, 50-feet high -- and turn off the flashing lights that

are famous at other Hard Rock Cafes.

So why did the Hard Rock in Newport Beach shut down?

No one is really talking about it -- not the restaurant owners,

not the Fashion Island landlords, not the Irvine Co. A

und as for that Newport Conservancy plan to save Castaways, well

let’s just say they needed a lot more Hard Rock Cafe fountain change

to pull that off.

But I have my own theory of why the restaurant is closing its

doors. It just wasn’t a spectacular place for food, and it probably

would be better suited to exist in a tourist destination like say,

Downtown Disney.

After all, it works just fine in places like Hollywood, and Las

Vegas.

I remember going there right after it opened and ordering a

hamburger. Aside from the rock star memorabilia, I’d rate it pretty

low on the must-go-back-to list. In fact, I never did. The fare was

about the same as Coco’s, just with a flashier atmosphere.

That’s no knock on Coco’s and that’s certainly not to say Fashion

Island isn’t a great restaurant destination spot. Roy’s, right next

door, is proof of that, and just check out the Daily Grill at

lunchtime.

In fact, a Dodero family favorite outing is to go to California

Pizza Kitchen for dinner.

It’s always crowded, and when we get there, I’m just happy that my

kids are still young and don’t want to eat at P.F. Chang’s because

our wait would be even longer. P.F. Chang’s is crawling with diners

every time we go.

So if it’s not the location, there are only a few other answers as

to what caused that big guitar to get “packed in a case.”

Maybe, though, we need to revisit that question posed by my

council member friend 13 years ago: “Is that really the kind of place

we want in Newport Beach?”

As I watched that guitar drive off down the road on the back of a

truck, I’m guessing we know that answer now.

* TONY DODERO is the editor. He may be reached at (714) 966-4608

or by e-mail at tony.dodero@ latimes.com.