An American Classic

AN AMERICAN CLASSIC

By Nick Gerlich Photographs by Eric Axene

The first half of the 20th Century was one of great architectural experimentation. Numerous styles found their place along American streets, from garish brutalism to sleek Art Deco and Streamline Moderne, from mid-century modern to Googie. But the one that often stands out the most is novelty architecture, sometimes also called mimetic or programmatic.

One of the more memorable examples of this building style was a small chain of motels interestingly known as wigwam villages, each with a small number of detached conical structures that contained all of the basic amenities of a motel room: a bed and a bathroom. It was spartan and spare, but it got the job done, primarily because travelers were more enthused with the sheer novelty of the proposition. It was a chance to experience a night in a concrete wigwam. How classic America is that!

One of the three surviving properties from this chain is frequently the first or last place that Route 66 travelers stay on their journey, curbside on the Mother Road in Rialto,

California. Its popularity has been reinforced in large part because of the Cars movie, in which the “Cozy Cones” served as cinematic interpretation of the wigwam chain.

Perhaps the most interesting part of this village’s story, though, is that the property was restored and preserved by

Indian immigrants who had never experienced any of this history in the first place, and for whom the American thirst for nostalgia was truly a foreign concept.

To a Point

It all started in 1935 when Frank Redford realized that the rapidly growing number of cars in the U.S., which had taken to the highways in spite of the Great Depression, meant that there was business opportunity. Travelers always need gas, food, and lodging, and he aimed to address the latter.

But Redford also had a personal interest in indigenous culture and was an avid collector of artifacts. To house his growing collection, Redford had built a conical structure along U.S. Highway 31E in 1933 in Horse Cave, Kentucky. He added six smaller cones two years later to serve as tourist cabins. “He collected Native American artifacts which he displayed in his own museum. It was this collection that inspired Redford to build the first Wigwam Village around his museum,” said Richard Ratay, author of Don’t Make Me Pull Over! An Informal History Of The Family Road Trip.

This came at a time when the “motel” was still a fairly recent contrivance, having originated in 1925 in San Luis Obispo. Redford preferred the word “wigwam” instead of “teepee” (or “tipi”) and was unconcerned with the fact that Native Americans in only a portion of the country actually ever lived in such accommodations.

Ratay contends that Redford likely was not all that worried about a perfect rendition. “While Redford collected authentic Native American artifacts, I doubt he was interested in creating an authentic Native American experience for guests at his motels. He wanted to offer everyday Americans the popularized experience they already knew from seeing depictions of Native Americans in Hollywood movies and in books and comics.”

That first wigwam complex in Kentucky was located along a strand of what was originally the Dixie Highway, a ribbon of road envisioned and championed by Carl Fisher of automotive fame. It was an ideal location to snare motorists en route to and from the Deep South, because that portion of the old highway had travelers from Chicago, Detroit, and Cincinnati all funneling together from different northern legs of the Dixie.

The chain grew slowly once Redford received a patent for his design, with each wigwam specified at 14 feet in diameter and 32 feet in height. Redford abruptly shuttered Village #1 in 1937, though, because he felt like his home state of Kentucky was more likely to favor maintaining and promoting U.S. Highway 31W rather than its easterly option. He quickly built Village #2 in nearby Cave City and followed it with complexes in New Orleans (Village #3) and Bessemer, Alabama, (Village #5, oddly out of sequence) in 1940. All that differed between the locations was the number of units.

These were followed by Orlando, Florida, (Village #4) in 1948, and finally Rialto, California, (Village #7, once more out of sequence) in 1949 and Holbrook, Arizona, (Village #6) in 1950. These two were the last entrants in the chain, and along with the location back in Cave City are the only three to have survived developers and their wrecking balls.

“Wigwam Village #7 was built in Rialto (San Bernardino County) because that’s where Redford wanted it,” said Ratay. “Unlike other Wigwam Villages [#3 – #6], which were built for franchisees, Redford built Village #7 for himself.” It has 19 units, plus the conical office building.

Redford saw it as his retirement home, but despite his good intentions, poor health interrupted his plan, and he died in 1958. “He likely built it there because that’s where he wanted to live. Given that #7 is the only Village with two rows of wigwams instead of just one, it seems Redford also believed he could attract quite a few guests to stay there,” Ratay continued.

By the 1960s, though, tourist fascination with the wigwams had waned. Their tastes in lodging started gravitating heavily toward homogenized corporate chains that offered predictability as a selling proposition. As for roadside attractions, travelers demanded much more elaborate facilities that easily outshone the tiny wigwams.

The three survivors steadily slipped into various stages of disrepair and even disrepute, but over time, modernday tourists slowly started slaking their thirst for nostalgia

Samir, Jagdish, and Ramila Patel at their Wigwam Village in Rialto, California.

by patronizing them in growing numbers. The Cave City wigwams are currently undergoing renovation, but it is Village #7 in California, renovated early in this century, that has consistently put sleeping in a teepee on par with any major chain.

And Then a Turning Point

Jagdish and Ramila Patel (now 58 and 64, respectively) had immigrated from India to the U.S. in 1979, settling in San Bernardino. Jagdish quickly went to work in the dry-cleaning business, but by the 1990s, he, like many immigrants from India before him, had found himself with other family members in the lodging business. The Foothill Motel, located along Route 66 a short distance west of San Bernardino, became the couple’s entree into an entirely different line of work.

It was there that he learned the skills needed for owning and operating hospitality establishments. He was one among many Indian Americans who had come to the U.S. in search of economic opportunity, much like European immigrants had many decades prior.

In the process of commuting to and from his job in dry cleaning, and then with their Foothill Motel, Jagdish had driven past Wigwam Village #7 every day. He saw how it continued to decline, that its clientele were far from noteworthy, and that it had become one among many seedy properties lining that section of the Mother Road.

So, he bought it.

“I first discovered the Wigwam Motel when I moved to America in 1979. My wife and I lived down the street at our small motel and I would pass by the hotel every day when I went to work in Fontana. The unique structure of the motel fascinated me as I’d never seen anything like it. The motel eventually came up for sale as the previous owner was not present and the property was run off of a lessee. I had always told myself, if the opportunity came up to buy the property, I would not miss it.

I knew the significance of the motel after living in the area for 20 years and gradually learning about Route 66 and what the motel was originally built for. We had a hotel business in the [previous] years and saw the potential with a lot of tourists coming into a place like this. We saw a lot of opportunity to grow upon it for my family and my kids,” said Jagdish.

But Jagdish not only saw financial security — he also recognized the value of preserving unique properties like the Wigwam in California. He saw firsthand what nostalgiabased tourism was all about, a concept completely alien in his native culture. And his fascination with antiques and other

artifacts that he saw in his new homeland made it easier for him to recognize that Wigwam Village #7 was not just an investment property, but also a commitment to preserving 20th Century American history.

All in the Family

Throughout the 19 years that the Patels have owned Wigwam Village #7, they have primarily relegated management to their sons, starting first with eldest child Manny, followed by Kumar, and more recently Samir. Jagdish and Ramila are abiding by their own cultural practices not only in terms of a shared governance, but also generational training.

Samir was originally a pre-med student at the University of California, San Diego, where he completed his undergraduate degree in Human Biology in 2011 but wound up leaving his studies in order to run a couple of different properties. With a new focus, he spent seven years building his understanding of the hospitality industry. And when his older brother Kumar moved on in late 2017, he felt the need to continue in the family tradition. Although a daughter is also in the mix, she has had little to do with the Wigwams, but is instead involved with other family properties. The sons, though, have had direct hands-on experience and are trained to continue in their parents’ footsteps.

“The place was rundown when my dad bought it. I thought, ‘What are you doing, Dad?’ The place had a bad reputation,” said Samir. But Samir appreciated his dad’s vision. “The Americana aspect, the kitschiness, that fascinated him more than anything. He thought if he bought it and repaired it, he could bring it back to life. My father has dedicated 20 years and many more ahead of his life to restoring and preserving this property. There were many of us in the family questioning my father’s choice of buying the property at first because it was in such a horrible state, but he had vision and saw through all the disrepair to the beauty of the Wigwam Motel. As a young kid growing up, I saw firsthand how it difficult it was at first for my parents to restore and operate the property.”

It took a lot of work, perhaps more than they expected, to which the family spent 2003 through 2005 to complete. “It had the whole reputation of being a place where you rented rooms by the hour. So, when we bought it, the goal was to remodel and change the whole face of it,” Samir continued. “It was everything from A to Z. Underground wiring, updating the rooms, putting new drywall in, new TVs, new bathroom fixtures, new AC. We did the stucco on the outside and the pool.” But soon the motel was ready to regain its place as a key destination on Route 66.

Nostalgic Yearnings

Wigwam Village #7 is the recipient of a rising tide of nostalgia among American travelers, as well as international travelers wishing to have an American experience. While many Route 66 travelers gravitate toward standard midcentury motels as the primary conduit for such connections, the Wigwam Motel in California offers a glimpse into a very different aspect of historic roadside architecture and lodging. They represent a quickly vanishing side of vintage roadside hospitality.

“I think interest in the remaining Wigwams is really due to nostalgia. They’re icons of the Golden Age of Family Road Trips,” Ratay intoned. “They remind people of a time when you just loaded up the kids in the station wagon and hit the open road, bound for adventure. You never knew what awaited you around the next bend. For many people, a Wigwam Village was one of those fun and exciting discoveries.”

And so, travelers continue to find their way to Wigwam Village #7, whether they be Route 66 sojourners or even LA locals seeking a brief respite. They see the wigwams as emblematic of a period far different from today, one in which entrepreneurs like Redford invested what they had in hopes of meeting the needs of people on the road.

Similarly, modern-day investors like Jagdish Patel have embraced the same proposition. It’s safe to say that the dream Redford had more than 70 years ago will live on for generations to come in the Patel family. “I don’t want to sell it. I will be retired soon. [But] I want to keep it in the family somehow.”

“I’m pretty young still,” noted Samir. “My parents picked it up when they were in their 40s. I spend most of my time here, but as my parents did by investing in other hotels, I plan to do the same. I plan on managing and preserving it.”

All the more reassuring that future Route 66 travelers will be able to experience the same thing that Redford, and later, Jagdish, envisioned. You can call it novelty architecture, cultural appropriation, or just plain American kitschiness, but it’s all part of the purely American travel tradition.