Rolling Farewell for Roadhouse Owner
A procession of more than two dozen Harleys led the way Thursday in a motorized memorial for Donald L. Himes, longtime owner of Brea’s landmark La Vida Restaurant, who died Sunday.
Motorcycle police cleared traffic as about 30 leather-clad bikers led a caravan of pickup trucks, SUVs, four-door sedans and sports cars from the Carbon Canyon Road cafe between the twisting canyon walls to the Pierce Brothers Griffith Mortuary in Chino. There, more than 150 people paid their respects to Himes’ family and honored the man who kept their hangout alive despite years of economic struggle.
La Vida, Spanish for “the life,” was also nicknamed the “Canyon Cheers,” a second home where you could always find someone you knew. Most said they didn’t know where they’d go now that the business is closed. There’s no other place like it, they said.
“It was the last bastion of civility and tranquillity in Southern California,” said Brent Friar Sr., a former aerospace executive known as “Senior” to La Vida patrons. “It’s just a little paradise in the middle of insanity.”
Himes, 62, was a clean-cut family man whose true interests lay in scuba diving and sailing. He bought the business in 1984 and put his heart and soul into the place. His acceptance of others, no matter what they looked like, eventually drew customers from throughout Southern California--bikers with such club names as the Loners, Hessians and Mongols. It was Friar who sold him his first Harley--an FLH 1990 “bagger,” metallic red with custom saddlebags. Friar made Himes prove he could ride it before allowing him to drive off with it.
Himes rarely lost his temper, but when he did his anger showed only in the remark, “Great Mother of Pearl”--a family saying that drew laughter amid tears when blurted by a guest at the memorial service.
“He always had a heart of gold,” said La Vida employee Jeanette Dettorre, describing how his strict management style was often overshadowed by his caring for others. “He would 86 somebody, and they’d come puppy-dog-eyeing it to the door and he’d say, ‘All right’ and take ‘em back in.”
“Don was very special, and very special to me,” said Mark “Gypsy” Cohen, choking back tears from behind his graying, bib-length beard.
Thursday was the last day of business for the cafe, originally a stagecoach stop built in the 1880s. Bootleggers ran a speak-easy there during Prohibition. By the 1930s, La Vida was such a phenomenon that its water was flavored and bottled into a popular soda called Lime N’Lemon at a plant on the property. The mineral-rich hot springs drew crowds into the early 1960s, where people luxuriated in the baths and spent weekends in an adjacent hotel, which burned in 1988 after falling into disrepair.
Bartender Karen Conn said she didn’t expect the restaurant to open again. While Himes owned the business, the land belongs to Tokyo businessman Tadayao Hata, who said last summer that he plans to spend millions of dollars cleaning up the 36-acre site and building a new hotel, new baths and pedestrian bridges crossing Brea Creek to where the 110-degree hot springs are.
Himes was born in Indianapolis and lived in Chino Hills for 14 years. He is survived by his wife, Patricia; a daughter; three sons; his father; two brothers; five sisters and six grandchildren. Family members requested that donations be made to the American Diabetes Assn., and all sales of beer on La Vida’s last day of business were donated to the charity.
