Dear journal,
It was a squat little building off Route 66, the kind that would be easy to overlook if not for the towering sign that once proclaimed, with defiant simplicity, “Red’s Giant Hamburg.” No “er.” Just Hamburg. As if Red himself didn’t have time for the rest of the word. He had burgers to make, orders to take, and knives to drum on countertops.
I found myself there again today—not the original, of course, which was razed in ’97—but the loving reincarnation resurrected on Sunshine Street. Neon nostalgia lives on, even if the bones are new. What draws me isn’t just the menu (though I won’t deny the root beer still slaps). It’s the history. This was the first drive-through restaurant in the world. Long before golden arches or paper crowns, there was Sheldon “Red” Chaney and his wife Julia, serving burgers through a window in a converted Sinclair gas station. That was 1947. By ’48, he’d rigged up a speaker system and invited folks to stay in their cars. America hadn’t even invented the teenager yet.
There’s something deeply American about the whole thing. Route 66 humming with possibility. A guy with red hair and a vision. Burgers and root beer and the freedom to eat in your Chevy. Red didn’t just serve food—he performed. Stories say he’d leap the counter to deliver an order, or play percussion with kitchen knives when things slowed down. The place wasn’t just a restaurant; it was a roadside theatre.
It closed in 1984. Red died not long after. But the memory lingered, like grease in the air of a beloved old diner. Then, in 2019, two local men brought it back. Rebuilt it with care. Honored the legacy. I’m grateful for that.
And now, just six years later, it’s up for auction again. Financial strain, the weight of a pandemic, the slow fade of small dreams. The current owners are letting it go on May 15. Maybe someone will save it. Maybe not.
I stood out front today under that faithful sign. Watched cars roll through. Thought about Red, and how strange it is that something as simple as a hamburger window could change the way a nation eats. Maybe even how it lives.
We build shrines to speed and convenience now. Everything is instant. Everything is franchised. But Red? He was just trying to make a living—and maybe make people smile along the way.
I bought a root beer and sat in my car. Didn’t scroll. Just listened to the fizz and thought about how often the world turns on the smallest of hinges. A window. A speaker. A hamburger with no “er.”
Maybe that’s all any of us need to leave a mark. Just one good idea—and the guts to leap the counter.
Always,
Dave