A Tall Chicken Tale : 7-Foot-High Landmarks Will Roost Again in Carlsbad

Somewhere in the hearts, memories and probably stomachs of many Carlsbad natives is a warm spot for the 7-foot-high chickens that used to live downtown.

The four papier-mache and fiberglass critters served as a landmark, standing proudly on a pedestal outside a local restaurant, their chests thrust forward and wings slightly flexed, their beaks frozen open in eternal cackling. Ever since the Twin Inns Restaurant opened on Old Highway 101 in 1919, various chicken arrangements have adorned the building’s outside, beckoning passing travelers to come inside for all-you-can-eat chicken.

“In the ‘50s Carlsbad was just a spot on the road and people used to ask ‘where do you live?’ and you’d say, Carlsbad, where the chickens are,” said Carlsbad resident Jerry Rambotis, 58.

“Everyone driving in from L.A. used to stop and take their pictures next to the chickens. They are items of folklore; all sorts of stories are told about the chickens,” Rambotis said. “I’ve even seen one of our prominent citizens who had a few too many cocktails sitting on top of one at 2 a.m.”

Two years ago, as Carlsbad was busy modernizing and the 100-year-old Twin Inns was being renovated, the big chickens were unceremoniously dethroned and shoved into the restaurant’s basement, where their green eyes rarely see the sunshine.

Complete Renovation

“We did a complete renovation of the restaurant and changed the flavor of the restaurant to a more contemporary one,” said developer Steve Densham, owner of the upscale Nieman’s Restaurant at Elm Street and Carlsbad Boulevard, which replaced the Twin Inns.

“The chickens didn’t fit with the motif of the new restaurant and we decided it was time to put them into retirement,” Densham said.

In the last two years, Densham has had scores of inquiries about what happened to the chickens.

Recently, three of the huge critters were volunteered to guard the Jimmy Durante entrance of the Del Mar Fair. The other chicken was placed on display at the historic McGee House in downtown Carlsbad. But now three of the chickens are back in the basement--waiting. Everyone on the outside is waiting too.

“People that see me on the street or come into the restaurant ask for the chickens,” Densham said. “It’s all good-natured ribbing. The chickens are an ongoing source of humor. The community has a lot of fun with the chickens.”

“I’d like to see them have a nest,” said Rambotis, a member of the design review board who has worked on development projects with Densham. “I keep nagging Steve about giving them a place. The chickens are a rare and endangered species.”

Densham said the chickens themselves are now undergoing a renovation and soon will be donated to the City of Carlsbad, which in turn will place them in a local park.

Time Takes Its Toll

After some 30 years of being petted, photographed, vandalized and sat on, time, people and weather have taken their toll on the chickens. Their white coats are chipped and cracked. Dirt has crept into the folds of their glossy flesh. As part of their make over, one of the chickens is coated with green paint, a primer to be followed by more lifelike colors. Another, suffering from a broken beak, is having orthodontic work done.

Kay Christiansen, a member of the Carlsbad Historical Society, said the chickens are much revered in the city’s history.

A restaurateur named Eddie Kentner originally placed a bigger-than-life-size rooster on top of the Twin Inns around 1920. When customers opened the door, the mechanical rooster would automatically release a cock-a-doodle-doo, Christiansen said.

In later years, Kentner displayed near the front door a large mother hen followed by a row of three baby chicks. The current chicken generation was placed at the restaurant in the 1950s. Billboards lined the Old Highway 101 for miles, announcing to motorists that they were approaching the Twin Inns. “Just like the old Burma Shave signs,” said Carlsbad historian Marjorie Howard-Jones.

Chained to Chicken

Attached to the chickens are many folk tales, according to Rombotis. One states that a soon-to-be-wed groom was chained by his buddies to the chickens with a petition in hand. The groom could not be released until he obtained enough signatures from passers-by, vouching that he would not “chicken out” on his wife-to-be.

Densham said the disappearance of the chickens was a mystery to most Carlsbad residents, but he hopes it will be solved with their reappearance, for which no date has yet been set.

“It was time for them to take a vacation . . . but they’ll come back to a place of honor.”