Chop Suey Joint : Far East Cafe Plays a Gritty Bit Role in Little Tokyo Historical Drama

The meeting was in Little Tokyo, at a Chinese joint called the Far East Cafe. Philip Marlowe was having lunch when, he would recall, “a dark shadow fell over my chop suey.”

“You found my Velma yet?” Moose Malloy asked.

Robert Mitchum, the critics said, made for a classic, world-weary Marlowe in the 1975 film version of Raymond Chandler’s “Farewell, My Lovely.” And hulking Jack O’Halloran was a fine Moose. But as good as they were, only the Far East Cafe brought absolute authenticity to its role. In an age of haute Asian cuisine, the Far East is what it is--a Depression-era chop suey joint, and not the least embarrassed.

It can be found on the north side of 1st Street between San Pedro Street and Central Avenue, in an area that officialdom has baptized the Little Tokyo Historic District. Out front is a two-story vertical neon sign blaring, of course, CHOP SUEY, complete with an arrow pointing to the door. Inside is a shifty-eyed sense of low-rent intrigue.

Chest-high wooden partitions, heavy with varnish, provide a semblance of privacy for every table. From the high ceiling hangs a squadron of naked fluorescent tubes. An ancient electric fan, jury-rigged atop the partitions, provides the only air-conditioning, while blowing back the smell of the kitchen. If the guy at the next booth has a .38 on his hip, it’s probably because Parker Center is two blocks west.

The menu offers “Family Dinner No. 1”--with four patrons you get egg flower soup, chop suey, chow mein, fried shrimp, fried rice, almond pork, egg foo yong. “We will not be responsible for the loss of any article,” the menu warns. And, “We reserve the right to refuse service to anyone.” And, “Prices are subject to change without notice.”

You enter at your own risk.

“Yeah, I found her,” Marlowe told Moose.

“Where is she?”

“Moose, I’m sorry, I really am, but. . . .”

“She’s dead?”

“She might as well be. She’s in Camarillo and she ain’t comin’ out.”

The scene is fleeting, inconclusive--Marlowe, it turns out, found the wrong dame--and the Far East was barely noticeable. But then, among Los Angeles’ old-time eateries, the Far East was never a big star like Musso and Frank’s, not even a familiar character actor like Canters or the Pantry. It has always been a gritty little bit player.

“Japanese people like Chinese food,” the man behind the cash register says. That is why, Look Mar explains, the Far East is in Little Tokyo, not Chinatown.

Mar, a native of Canton, was 22 when he, a brother and two cousins opened their restaurant in 1935. The place used to be a hardware store. Mar is 75 now, and although a stroke hobbled him about 20 years ago, he is at the counter almost every day, a genial host of few words.

He remembers those Depression years.

“It was a bad time,” he said, shaking his head.

Then came World War II, and the internment of the Japanese who had given the Far East so much business.

“It was a bad time,” he says.

Good times came after the war. Japanese families returned, often renting the restaurant’s mezzanine for wedding receptions and wakes. Then the Civic Center expanded, creating more business. And now Little Tokyo is booming.

The world changed, Los Angeles changed, but the Far East was set in its ways.

Look Mar’s son, Do, who runs the restaurant now, says their cuisine has undergone no significant changes in 50 years. One of the waiters has worked there 40 years. And never have the owners considered dropping the term “chop suey,” an Americanization that many Chinese regard with contempt.

Once upon a time, the varnished partitions were commonplace in Chinese restaurants. Other places took them down to allow for more seating. At the Far East, inertia was the rule.

“Why change something if it’s going OK?” Do Mar reasons. “Probably 95%--no, 98%--of our business is repeat business,” he says.

Los Angeles Police Detective Tom Lange has been going there for almost 20 years for won ton and atmosphere. “It has all the ambiance,” he says, “of a Marine Corps mess hall.”

Toni Amper, a City Hall secretary, likes the fast service as much as the food: “You can do it on a 45-minute lunch hour.”

Sometimes, small changes were forced upon the Far East. Decades ago, the Far East’s booths were outfitted with curtains--you can still see the rod settings--but the fire marshal ordered them taken down.

The Mar family, however, have always thought of themselves as purveyors of chop suey, not caretakers of history. But in the 1970s, Hollywood and history buffs discovered the Far East--the whole block, for that matter.

“Farewell, My Lovely” was the Far East’s first cinematic role. Since then it has been used for location shots in other movies, a 7-Up commercial and the Lionel Ritchie video “Running Through the Night.” Its most recent role came last year, in an episode of the television drama “A Year in the Life.” Look Mar was used in two productions, but both times ended up on the cutting room floor. “That’s OK,” his son says. “They paid him.”

Meanwhile, the Los Angeles Conservancy launched a campaign to assure that the turn-of-the-century block will not be bulldozed. As history goes, it is an eclectic stretch: Along with the Far East, there are some Japanese eateries, several retailers, an old Buddhist temple (soon to house the Japanese-American National Museum) and a saloon named Koma.

The Mars and three relatives who share ownership of the Far East were not part of the preservation effort, but it has had a big effect on their business. In the early 1960s, the extended Mar family, after decades of renting, bought the 1909 four-story building that houses their restaurant. The two upper floors, badly water damaged, had decayed into a tomb for pigeons. Once, the rooms had housed Japanese immigrants who worked in a bustling furniture industry. Later, it served as the Queen Hotel, but had been abandoned years before.

Two years ago, the Mars sought demolition permits because the building did not meet fire and earthquake codes. But city officials urged the family to try another course--a Community Redevelopment Agency program designed to preserve property and provide low-cost housing. After rounds of negotiations, the restaurant owners got about the sweetest CRA deal in town--a $365,000, 20-year loan at 2% interest. The money would allow the building to be brought up to code and revive the deposed Queen as a 24-room residential hotel with shared bath facilities. Reserved for persons of modest means, the rooms would rent at $250 per month tops.

Work is nearly complete on the Queen, with the first tenants expected in a few weeks. Like the restaurant beneath it, the hotel is humble but has a certain period grace and a maze of rooms instead of the maze of booths. The hallmark features are a grand staircase with Victorian gingerbread banisters, sculpted wooden door frames, wainscoting and a gabled skylight. Ron Reed, historic consultant for the project, sees subtle Japanese influences amid the Victoriana.

Look and Do Mar say that restoration of the Queen is about the most interesting thing that has ever happened at the Far East. For all that atmosphere, there are no stories to tell, the elder Mar suggests. For all those .38s, there never has been a shoot-out at the Far East. Not even a good brawl.

“Nothing exciting ever happens here,” he said.

Not in 53 years?

“Nothing,” he said.