The first known tourist, Juan De Anza, beat the crowds when he camped nearby in 1776, or back when California had plenty of free parking. In the 1920s, the Sagebrush's parking lot held a group of small stores built by Lester Agoure. It was also the site of the local jail; the hanging tree still stands, albeit dead. Now this area is called Old Town Calabasas, even though it's just another one of those ubiquitous upscale developments.
The Sagebrush appeared on the landscape 25 years ago and is as popular as ever. The only time there's a cover is--get this--on Sunday afternoon. No day of rest there.
There's more roaring at the Sagebrush on Sundays than at a football game. Here, though, it comes from a zillion motorcycles. These are not a bunch of yuppie-scaring, tattooed bikers, but rather well-behaved riders--doctors and lawyers, maybe--who can actually afford to have their Harleys repaired when Harleys do what Harleys tend to do, break down.
Jim Ray has heard the Harleys roar countless times. He has been affiliated with the place since 1982 and books the bands. "I think the Sagebrush is an end-of-the-ride destination, and also a reason to ride," he says.
It is not uncommon to wait for an hour or more to get inside on a Sunday afternoon, and five bucks is not an unreasonable toll to be fashionably late. The doorman--the guy with the fistful of fivers--has heard every excuse in the book, so save it; just be patient or get there before 2 p.m. when the cover charge kicks in.
Just inside the door lies Party Central, a huge tarp-covered patio with tables of varying sizes. What initially appears to be birds at the height of bad manners instead turns out to be an intricate overhead misting system--a lifesaver on a hot Valley day.
The Sagebrush has live music four nights a week. Classic rock bands play Friday and Saturday nights and two bands play Sunday until 10 p.m.
"We don't have punk rock at the Sagebrush, but mostly classic rock bands," Ray says. "The head-bangers would probably think this place sucks, but they'd probably be at a Slayer show, anyway. We've found that people want to hear something familiar. We've tried reggae and blues over the years, but it just didn't work. We've had some great reggae bands, but reggae only works for about 45 minutes, then people get tired of it."
Dress is casual--shorts, shades, T-shirts and Harley tank tops for the guys, and likewise or sun dresses for the ladies. Several patrons hit the road to Margaritaville, a house specialty, most people chat it up, others struggle vainly with cell phones, and everybody stares. Sitting near the door can be like judging a beauty contest as numerous women orbit the aisles with predictable frequency.
But there's much more to the Sagebrush than just the meat market on the party patio. On a separate patio nearest the street, it's mostly families chowing down, shaded by umbrellas emblazoned with logos for beer. This is, after all, a Mexican restaurant--a huge one that seats 500. Inside is a full bar with sawdust on the floor and a bunch of TVs, where a hardy few watch soccer.
"I think we've found the secret formula," says manager Charlie Halstead. "We've been here for 25 years and everyone knows where we are. The best thing about the place is the people atmosphere. It's not stuffy, but very laid-back. All the good-looking women come here and the guys come to look at them. And that's how it gets started."
— Bill Locey