Not much remains of the former Tastee Inn & Out on North 48th Street: A closed sign in the window, tables and chairs in the dining room and the towering neon-and-steel sign planted out front. But a few months after the 65-year-old drive-in closed, the sign might soon disappear, too.
The very last customers to squeeze inside Tastee Inn & Out were ordering more than onion chips.
They were stripping the restaurant of its souvenirs.
The Lincoln landmark鈥檚 announcement it was closing late last year triggered a run on its loose meat Tastee sandwiches. In its final few days, the 65-year-old drive-in was doubling its batches but still selling out in just a few hours.
But the end of its era also stirred pangs of nostalgia, and the same long lines that emptied the kitchen also picked the dining room clean.
People are also reading…
鈥淚t was all sold while we were still open,鈥 said owner Steve Murphy. 鈥淓verybody was grabbing signs and menus, everything that had Tastee Inn on it.鈥
Everything but the sign outside.
The sign that has so many light bulbs, nearly 400, and so much neon it has its own electrical meter. The sign that is so big and bold it likely wouldn鈥檛 be allowed under today鈥檚 zoning laws. The sign that now has potential buyers in three states.
He鈥檚 fielded interest from a collector in Atlanta, a restaurateur in New Mexico and 鈥淪peedy鈥 Bill Smith of Lincoln鈥檚 Speedway Motors, Murphy said.
鈥淚 didn鈥檛 know a sign would generate so much popularity.鈥
Not just any sign would. This isn鈥檛 the plastic they pulled from the downtown Applebee鈥檚. This is a spindly legged, towering slab of steel 鈥 blue, red and yellow 鈥 with a giant sandwich in the middle and an arrow pointing toward the restaurant鈥檚 wrong-way drive-through, which stretched drivers across the seat to give their money and get their grease.
But that arrow also pointed back, to the dawn of the car culture and the decades after that.
鈥淚t鈥檚 a good example of the roadside architecture and art that followed World War II,鈥 said Ed Zimmer, the city鈥檚 historic preservation planner.
It jumped out. It was supposed to. Roadside signs served a different purpose than pedestrian signs downtown or in the Haymarket. And in Lincoln, no sign did its job better than Tastee鈥檚.
鈥淚t carries its message. It鈥檚 bold and fun. I think those are all things it was meant to be,鈥 Zimmer said. 鈥淚 think I鈥檇 be hard-pressed to say there鈥檚 a superior example of those roadside signs in Lincoln.鈥
But it needs work. Most of its bulbs are burned, broken or missing. The paint is cracked and faded and a few welds have failed; in a stiff wind, the sign bucks and groans. The motor that cycled the lights died, but Murphy had paid $300 for a new one before he decided to close the restaurant. He鈥檒l throw it in with the sign.
He鈥檚 also trying to sell the building, though he wouldn鈥檛 say how much he wants. By comparison, the former gas station next door is listed with the same commercial property firm for nearly $500,000.
But Murphy has no idea what kind of price to put on the sign. Or what it would take to uproot it.
鈥淚 don鈥檛 know what it鈥檚 worth,鈥 he said. 鈥淲hatever the market will bear.鈥
None of its suitors mentioned a price.
The Atlanta man has a connection to Lincoln, so that makes sense to Murphy. The New Mexican, not as much.
鈥淗ow people in New Mexico would know about it, I don鈥檛 know.鈥
Mike Tavlin, chief financial officer for Speedway, said his company has expressed an interest in attempting to acquire the sign.
Murphy hopes it does, so the longtime sign can stay home.
鈥淚t belongs to Lincoln, I think.鈥