Atmosphere Please, and Make It a Double

A pilgrimage, Webster’s will tell you, is a journey “to a shrine or a holy place.” Or it’s “any long journey, as to a place of historical interest.”

It was with this spirit that I searched for Cinnabar, a restaurant and bar in Glendale, excited by the promise of something more. It wasn’t Cinnabar, per se, that interested me, but it was there, rumor had it, that one could find a beloved relic of L.A.’s past--the transplanted innards of Yee Mee Loo, the Chinatown dive that provided succor to Angelenos from 1939 until 1990. Whether you called it by its proper name or by the possessive Yee Mee Loo’s, devotees will testify that it was a truly great bar, probably the best in Los Angeles.

The rumors, I’m happy to report, are true. Here, indeed, is the grand, ornate back bar, displaying the carved figurines representing the eight immortals of Chinese lore. From the ceiling hangs the scrolled silk lanterns in all their tattered glory. Against the back wall is the old Rock-ola jukebox loaded with scratchy 45s--Billie Holliday, Hoagy Carmichael, Duke Ellington. . . .

I had to test the bartender.

“Know how to make a Tidy Bowl?”

This was a Yee Mee Loo original, a mysterious concoction that got its distinctive hue from blue curacao. Jason the bartender knew what I was talking about, but seemed unsure of the recipe--whether it requires rum or vodka or either or both. There are, Jason suggested, a couple of recipes.

“Richard was here the other night,” Jason said. “He brought some incense. We’re still trying to get the right formula from him.”

Richard would be Richard Mah, Yee Mee Loo’s last bartender, who now practices his art at Chinatown’s Grand Star. Alvin Simon, Cinnabar’s owner and host, was so assiduous in his quest to re-create Yee Mee Loo that he tried to hire Richard, he says, but Richard is apparently content in Chinatown.

Simon knows very well that an institution as storied as Yee Mee Loo cannot be replicated by salvaging some artifacts. The mystique of Yee Mee Loo was created by a richer alchemy--a blend that included the seedy neighborhood and a clientele that at any time might include postal workers, prosecutors and loft-dwelling poets drinking Tidy Bowls and $1.25 Budweisers side by side. “The beauty of Yee Mee Loo,” Simon said, “is that you’d get the guys from the vice squad and the guys they were after.”

Simon said. Sounds like a game. There was something about Alvin Simon that seemed familiar; it’s possible that we had chatted at Yee Mee Loo long ago. He shrugged and smiled. “Well, I’m two of three chipmunks,” said Alvin Simon. “The only one that’s missing is Theodore.”

We talked a bit about great bars, and the dearth thereof. Yee Mee Loo, it seems, fell victim to the greed of a landlord who (a) envisioned a new shopping center on the block and (b) didn’t want to pay for seismic safety improvements in the meantime. What seemed like a good idea in the money-grubbing ‘80s, however, now looks like a bad idea. The building that housed Yee Mee Loo sits shamefully empty.

Then there was the Firefly in Hollywood, a place on Vine I’d visited only twice. It featured identical twin bartenders who for a modest consideration would squirt a line of lighter fluid along the runner and set a match to it. The flame would race from one end of the bar to the other. For some reason, the authorities shut that place down.

How many great bars are left? Simon suggested the bar at Musso & Frank; I countered with the Formosa, also in Hollywood. Tiki Ti and Kelbo’s, we agreed, are wonderful in their own ways. Thinking of good bars was easy. Great bars were something else. Then I posed a tougher question: What about the Valley? Are there any great bars in the greater San Fernando Valley? Are there any good bars?

Before embarking on my pilgrimage, I e-mailed this question to my colleagues and received numerous responses. Predictable ones included Sagebrush Cantina in Calabasas and Residuals in Studio City. An editorial writer recommended the sake at Genmai in Sherman Oaks and an assignment editor credits the American Culinary Institute restaurant at the Los Angeles Equestrian Center for having “the best selection of champagne by the glass.” A veteran reporter confessed that he and his wife “are regulars at (don’t laugh) the bar at Marie Callender’s. . . . “

Sake ? Champagne? Marie Callender’s???

Fortunately, some reporters understood. The Red Chariot, the Lamplighter, Weber’s Place, the Barrel, Pineapple Hill, the Dugout and Rocky’s were among the recommended “dives.” The colleague who seemed to be our best authority went on to define Le Cafe in Sherman Oaks and Tribeca in Encino as “cool watering holes” and recommended Prezzo’s in Sherman Oaks in the “meat market” category.

Obviously, there is much research to be done.

Cinnabar was a good start. Here on the ground floor of the old Bekins warehouse on Brand, the remnants of a truly great bar had transported me. Alvin Simon says he tried to buy other Yee Mee Loo artifacts, like the autographed photo of Babe Ruth and the clock that moved counterclockwise. But the family wouldn’t sell those.

I checked the jukebox, remembering a romantic night and a slow dance with a sweetheart in that dark, crowded room. It was, if memory serves, our third date. A guy at the bar looked at us and practically shouted: “Kiss her! Take her home!”

That was another thing about Yee Mee Loo--there was no shortage of good advice.

Scott Harris’ column appears Tuesday s , Thursday s and Sunday s . Readers may write to Harris at the Times Valley Edition, 20000 Prairie St., Chatsworth, Calif. 91311.

“The beauty of Yee Mee Loo,” Alvin Simon said, “is that you’d get the guys from the vice squad and the guys they were after.”