Several months ago, Tesla dealerships in several Western states were under attack from gunfire and arson in response to company owner Elon Musk’s role in reelecting President Donald Trump and then working on his behalf to dismantle a slew of federal government agencies. Now, in his own attempt to Make America Great Again, he’s opened the first retro-minded Tesla Diner in Hollywood, where the line is hours-long around the clock.
The world’s richest man first publicly floated this nostalgia play in a 2018 tweet — before his hard-right political turn, before his purchase of Twitter and before he decamped from his Los Angeles home base for Texas. This predated Hollywood liberals’ widespread rejection of him, often by either dumping their Teslas or else affixing bumper stickers to assure fellow motorists “I Bought This Before Elon Went Crazy.”
In this way the Tesla Diner is both a utopic throwback to L.A.’s midcentury car hops with their roller-skating waitresses (Mel’s, Tiny Naylor’s, Bob’s Big Boy) as well as a remembrance of the more recent past. A time in which Musk — who dated celebrities including Amber Heard and lived in Gene Wilder’s former Bel-Air home — was a local hero to early-adopter Tesla devotees like George Clooney and Leonardo DiCaprio, not just propelling the green agenda with his pioneering electric vehicle firm but reviving the region’s reputation as an aerospace leader with his SpaceX.
Ostensibly, the purpose of this prototype Tesla Diner along Santa Monica Blvd. just east of La Brea Ave., conceived at the aesthetic intersection of an Apple store and Disney’s Tomorrowland by the company’s automotive designer Franz von Holzhausen, is to be a hangout for drivers and their passengers while filling up at the Supercharger stations in the parking lot. But like a lot of retail in the Internet era, it’s really about what marketers refer to as experiential engagement. The burger and fries are MacGuffins, mere excuses for a spectacular brand activation.
Still, the burgers and fries were — in its chaotic opening days — better than should be expected of a corporate gimmick. This is likely because Musk and his team, who must have realized that running a successful high-traffic hospitality operation can be more difficult than even rocket science, had the good sense of hiring a capable local restaurateur in Bill Chait. His long resume includes Short Order, Nancy Silverton’s late and lamented Americana spot.
Tesla’s Optimus robot serving popcorn on the diner’s rooftop.
Gary Baum
Under Chait, the Tesla Diner is sourcing its ingredients from local farmers. The best-in-show tuna melt features wild-caught albacore between slices of grilled Tartine buttermilk bread and the Wagyu beef chili on the menu is a collaboration with RC Provisions, who also supply the lauded pastrami for Langer’s Delicatessen.
The restaurant’s choices, it should be noted, are heterodox. Paper straws and wood utensils come standard. Meanwhile, the fries employ RFK Jr.-approved tallow, and there’s notably no concessions to visitors who are gluten-free.
None of this matters to the demo of Musk cultists, wide-eyed tourists and all-purpose trend chasers who are game for waiting three hours in line. For them, their order means inclusion in a consumer variant on the Current Thing — inclusive of access to the diner’s rooftop, where Tesla’s Optimus humanoid robot can be found handing out popcorn to view American Graffiti, projected on a pair of drive-in big screens across the parking lot.
