Like live music, Tex-Mex, and all things weird, neon signs are an essential part of Austin’s identity. These illuminated pieces of urban folk art beckon the masses to dine, drink, dance, or even stay the night throughout the city’s main commercial arteries. Here, we delve into the backstories behind the signs that turn each evening into an electric exhibit.

All photography by Mary Schmidt.

Lucy’s Fried Chicken

A collaboration between chef-owner James Holmes, design firm Pentagram, and artist Evan Voyles, this sign was made in homage to Holmes’ grandmother, who taught him how to cook the titular dish at his fried chicken restaurants. “He said, ‘I want it to be this old-fashioned pin-up girl like they used to paint on the nose cones of the B-52 bombers,’” says Pentagram partner DJ Stout. “I said, ‘Isn’t that a little racy if you’re naming this place after your grandmother and daughter?’ He said, ‘You should have seen my grandmother—she was really something.’” Pentagram designed the lettering and drew the vintage woman, while Voyles had the idea that she should be kicking her leg out, using old-school animation to create the effect.

Austin Motel

Freud would’ve had plenty to say about the shape of this sign, which has stood erect since original owners Earnest Stewart and Jenny Eck Stewart built the motel in 1938. According to the front desk manager, Josh Justice, patrons and passersby regularly comment on its phallic appearance. “In the ’30s, with the boom of automobiles, the owners were looking for a creative—or, I guess in their case, a little audacious—attention-grabbing sign,” Justice says. “Despite its suggestive shape, I’ve been told that they intended for it to resemble a key.” Look closely, he says, and you’ll notice that the sign is held in place by a ship’s mast of unknown origin.

The County Line

Evan Voyles was working on the front porch of Hayward Neon on South Lamar in 1995 when County Line owner Ed Norton and restaurant interior designer Leslie Fossler stopped and took notice. Immediately hired to redesign their barbecue signage, Voyles collaborated with Norton and County Line graphic designer Chris Smith to create a concept reminiscent of a flashing ’50s-style sign. “Those animation routines—the pigs running, the flames dancing—were all based on what was then considered to be a five-second attention span for the average American driver,” he says. Thanks to cellphones, the sign maker estimates that the current attention span for drivers is now two seconds.

Shady Grove

When one of Chuy’s original founders, Mike Young, decided to open another restaurant concept called Shady Grove in 1992, he wanted the building and the sign outside to look as if they had been there forever. To give the new sign a rustic aesthetic, Ion Art co-owners Greg and Sharon Keshishian distressed it, painted fake rust on the surface, and added a wooden veneer made of planks from an old fence. Sharon handled most of the sign’s glassblowing and neon installation, while Greg spearheaded the fabrication. To create the lasso that spells out the word “Shady,” Greg says, “We wrapped electrical tape around the neon tubing to make it look like a rope.”

Paramount Theatre

Opened as the Majestic Theatre in 1915, this theater was renamed after Paramount Pictures bought it in 1930. In 1963, its neon blade was taken down, ostensibly for repairs, and never seen again. To commemorate its 100th anniversary in 2015, the theater added a new replicate blade that featured 1,397 LED lightbulbs, all screwed in by hand. “We had all of our employees arrive at 5 a.m. the day it was going to be attached, and everybody had a bulb to screw in,” says Austin Theatre Alliance CEO Jim Ritts. “The whole idea is one day they would be walking down Congress Avenue with their grandchild and go, ‘That’s my bulb.’”

Tesoros

Voyles’ first made-from-scratch outdoor project proved a near deadly trial-by-error undertaking in 1994. He cut and hammered sheet metal pieces painstakingly by hand—which he soon learned could have been done by machine—and nearly electrocuted himself in the rain. “I remember standing in wet cowboy boots, in a puddle, welding,” he says. “Welding is an electric process, and I would feel a current. I was shorting myself out.” Even more significant, the project led Voyles to meet his wife of 20-plus years, designer Gail Chovan, who once managed the store and often had to call him in to fix the sign. “We forged our relationship discussing my shortcomings, something we still do to this very day,” he says.

Stubb’s

“I knew [Stubb’s partner] Charles Attal because his father, Lucky Attal, was a much-revered antique dealer in Austin in the ’80s,” says Voyles, who was tasked with creating the Stubb’s sign when the famed music venue moved to Red River in 1996. Voyles filled in the holes on a repurposed vintage sign from San Antonio and designed the lettering to look timeless. “In those days, when they built the stage, it didn’t have that cover on it, so if you were onstage, you could see that sign,” he says. “Or, if you stood on the sidewalk, you could watch the stage with the sign right above it. It was a great photograph. If only we’d had Instagram back then!”

Matt’s El Rancho

The giant sign towering in front of Matt’s El Rancho is meant to reflect the larger-than-life personality of its original owner, Matt Martinez. Many of his favorite taglines, including “Best Mexican Food in the World” and “Always Good,” are also displayed in his honor. “The big neon sign was bright, eye-catching, and highly visible—this is what he liked about it,” says Matt’s daughter, Gloria Reyna, who co-owns the popular eatery with her sisters, Cathy Kreitz and Cecilia Muela, and sister-in-law, Estella Martinez. Opened in 1952, the restaurant moved to its South Lamar location in 1986, but the current sign is actually a duplicate of the original, which was destroyed in a wind storm in 1995.

Chuy’s

In 1995, Voyles was installing the sign for Uncommon Objects on South Congress Avenue when Chuy’s architect Robert Smith approached him about building one for his client’s Barton Springs Road location. That sent Voyles vintage hunting in West Texas, where he found a sign that had belonged to a motel in Anson, Texas. He kept the original shape of the sign intact, including Chuy’s now-signature curved arrow. Four years ago, a truck hit the sign, but with Voyles unavailable to do repairs, the restaurant was forced to hire an outside company to forge a replica. The good news for Voyles? “I now own the original!” he says.

Broken Spoke

Since 1964, there have been about four different signs in front of the Broken Spoke, estimates owner James White. His wife had the idea to make the sign neon in the early 1970s, and he agreed that it should be brightly illuminated to attract customers after dark. “It’s a honky-tonk. It’s always better when you get there at nighttime, because that’s when the honky-tonkin’ starts,” he says. In 2013, the sign had a rotting frame made of 2x4s that wasn’t up to code, so Ion Art gave it a refresh. “It was in such a state of disrepair that we talked [White] into allowing us to recreate it,” Greg Keshishian says. The Spoke’s original 1960s sign is now on display at Nashville’s Country Music Hall of Fame