Charles Manson ate here (and I did too)

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Charles Manson ate here (and I did too)

If you ask my wife, there are three — and only three — noteworthy things about Chatsworth: The fact that this section of the San Fernando Valley was once home to LA’s porn industry; Spahn Movie Ranch, where the Manson family lived, idled, and plotted murders they hoped would spark a race war; and us. But Christina is wrong. Chatsworth has another noteworthy thing — a burger joint with historic landmark status called The Munch Box.

We bought a house in Chatsworth in 2018. The first time I went to the post office, I passed The Munch Box. Did I giggle when I saw the name? Yes. Do I still giggle whenever I pass The Munch Box? Yes. It’s a hilarious name, especially if you have a juvenile sense of humor and enjoy a double entendre that most likely wasn’t intentional. But despite the free giggles, I’d never eaten at The Munch Box until this week.

The thing that brought me to The Munch Box was a post on the San Fernando Valley subreddit. Usually, I lurk in that subreddit because it’s the best place to catch up on local shenanigans, find cool stuff in my area, and lately, keep tabs on the federal troops occupying my hometown. But this post was different. It claimed that The Munch Box, a place I’d been giggling about for years, was Charles Manson’s favorite hangout. Naturally, I needed to know more. And I was hungry. So I asked the situation normie community to chip in a few bucks to cover “expenses” for my latest Act of Absurdist Journalism.

When the going gets weird, the weird turn semi-pro

Everyone knows that a source called Deep Throat helped Bob Woodward and Carl Bernstein break the Watergate story by telling them to “follow the money.” What most people don’t know, however, is that Woodward told Bernstein to “Google it” when he asked for Deep Throat’s real name. That comment puzzled Bernstein for decades, because this was the early 1970s and Google didn’t exist. But in 2005, Vanity Fair identified Deep Throat as former Deputy Director of the FBI Mark Felt. This was news to everyone, especially Bernstein, who promptly “Googled it,” only to find that pornographers have better search engine optimization than legacy media outlets like Vanity Fair.

Which brings me to modern journalism, the hardest Googling profession out there. As an award-winning twenty-first century journalist, I was born to Google it. But when I Googled “The Munch Box,” I found a shit-ton of porn, just like Bernstein did.

I also found plenty of Munch Box content that had nothing to do with porn. One piece of content was an old episode of Visiting with Huell Howser. If you’re not familiar with Huell, he was a public television legend who had a passion for exploring the California’s history, culture, and natural wonders. Huell brought genuine enthusiasm and endless curiosity to every episode, whether he was marveling at the Golden Gate Bridge, taking in the beauty of Big Sur, exploring the Mission at San Juan Capistrano, feeling star-struck at the Hollywood Walk of Fame, hanging with surfers at Zuma beach, or chowing down at a burger joint in Chatsworth. He also had a signature catchphrase that made it into every episode.

As usual, Huell brought his A-game when he filmed at The Munch Box. He asked hard-hitting questions like, “Why is this place so special?” and “Why are you getting a hot dog, when everyone else says the thing to order is the hickory burger?” When the owner gave him a tour of the kitchen, Huell was excited as a kid on Christmas morning and as curious as Geraldo in front of Al Capone’s safe. And when he found out that a woman was about to try her very first Munch Box hickory burger, Huell captured “history” on camera. He put on a masterclass of absurdist journalism that day at The Munch Box, except for one thing. Huell didn’t ask about the Charles Manson connection.

Atomic Redhead, who chronicles “unique destinations, weird history, and more” on her blog also missed the Manson angle. But she did capture some more vanilla Munch Box history.

When The Munch Box opened in 1956 it made root beer on site, and it even had a hitching post out front for horses. Arriving at The Munch Box in the 1950s meant you even had the possibility of bumping into famed western stars Roy Rogers and Dale Evans, who were known patrons of the tiny burger stand.

The Roy Rogers and Dale Evans connection made sense. A long time ago, in the chaparral-covered mountains really close to my house, Hollywood studios filmed hundreds of westerns. In fact, a lot of that filming took place at Spahn Movie Ranch. Which brings us back to Manson. Was he really a regular at The Munch Box?

To answer that question, I had to go pretty deep into the bowels of YouTube. I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I no longer trust vaccines, only eat raw liver, and believe that Donald Trump won the 1820, 1920, and 2020 elections. I also believe the world is flat, but it doesn’t matter because we’re living in a simulation. In addition to those learnings, I also found out the truth about Charles Manson’s connection to The Munch Box. Ready? Here we go.

Despite being a strict vegetarian, Charles Manson regularly hung out at The Munch Box, where he reportedly drank root beer floats.

Manson chose The Munch Box because it was across the street from a strip club where Manson Family member Susan Atkins, aka Sexy Sadie, worked as a topless dancer.

Supposedly, Manson would wait for Atkins to finish work, steal her money, and pay his root beer float tab.

But for Manson, The Munch Box wasn’t just about keeping tabs on Atkins, larceny, and satisfying his sweet tooth. The location was also inspiration. Across the street and half a block down there was a grocery store owned by future Manson family victims Leno and Rosemary LaBianca.

The grocery store has since become a Ralphs, but even before I knew about the Manson connection, I had told Christina that Ralphs was off limits because “shit always goes down in that parking lot” and “the vibes are way the fuck off.”

Except for my take on the Ralphs, I learned all of this from a YouTuber who goes by the handle Creepy Crawl Adventures. Is Creepy Crawl Adventures reliable? I do not know. Is he one of those newfangled AI agents that spreads disinformation about local eateries and notorious murderers? Again, I do not know. But I will say this about Creepy Crawl Adventures. The Munch Box name makes him giggle too.

Field Work with a Side of Chili Cheese Fries

After doing my own research, which is really just a nice way to say, “I Googled it,” I was ready to visit The Munch Box. So I slathered on some sunscreen, grabbed some cash (Yelp said The Munch Box was cash only), and headed out.

It was lunch time, although there weren’t as many people there as when Huell visited back in the ‘90s. But it wasn’t a ghost town either. The Munch Box has regulars, and so I chatted with a few of them while I was in line. They assured me that the hickory burger was the move.

“What about the hot dog?” I asked. “I hear some people get the hot dog.”

“Not me,” said a sun-burnt man wearing a Shohei Ohtani Dodgers jersey.

“If I want a hot dog, I’m going to Pinks,” said a woman who had two little girls with her.

“Pinks is too far,” I said. “You’re telling me you drive all the way to Hollywood for a hot dog?”

“We drove all the way here from Pasadena for a burger,” she said.

I marveled at this fast food connoisseur. With LA traffic, it would take her hours to get a burger or a hot dog, rendering fast food slow. You have to respect that kind of commitment, even if it’s counterproductive.

“What about the root beer float?” I asked, hoping to turn the conversation to Manson.

“Nah, I don’t like ice cream.”

I let the conversation die right then and there. This woman was a monster.

At the counter, I ordered a hickory burger and chili cheese fries. Then I asked about the root beer float.

“Anyone famous, I mean notorious, fancy your root beer floats?”

I was trying to find a polite way to bring up Manson, but the cashier wasn’t picking up what I was putting down.

“I think Frank Sinatra used to come here. He liked our root beer floats.”

That made sense. Sinatra used to own a house in the hills overlooking Chatsworth, and he had a drinking problem. I could see him ordering a root beer float, getting mad that it wasn’t actually beer, but then being super chill about it, because everyone, except for that monster in line, likes ice cream.

“I’ll take a Diet Coke.”

The total came to $16 and change. I gave her a picture of Andrew Jackson, she gave me some pictures of George Washington and some coins with pictures of Abraham Lincoln, Franklin D Roosevelt, and Thomas Jefferson. I put the presidents in the tip jar, and she turned around to tell the cook what I’d ordered. That was when I saw it. Dishonest to badness proof of the Charles Manson connection to The Munch Box.

“Who made that drawing?” I asked.

“One of our regulars. He heard on the internet that Charles Manson used to eat here, so he drew this for us.”

“Did he actually eat here?”

“I guess so,” she said. “That’s what it says on the internet.”

I had found it. Not the truth, per se, but the ouroboros of bullshit that masquerades as truth in the digital age. It didn’t matter if Manson ate at The Munch Box or not. What mattered was that the internet believed Manson was a regular at The Munch Box. That belief inspired content, and in turn that content inspired belief. I wasn’t looking at a drawing of Charles Manson at The Munch Box, I was looking at a cipher, and now that I understood it’s meaning, I knew I’d have to wrestle with my own complicity in this absurd story. After all, the internet had sent me here … to make more internet.

Lunch!

At this point, I need to make a confession. I am not a food writer. Sure, this story is about a burger joint, and yes, I did get a burger. But before you make a decision to visit The Munch Box, consider the wisdom of The Dude.

I liked the hickory burger. It had a smokey, barbecue vibe that hit different, but also hit the spot. The chili cheese fries were a dead-ringer for the chili-cheese fries at Carney’s, a famous LA burger joint that’s housed in an old train car. I grew up going to Carney’s. All my life I thought, “nobody makes chili like this.” After eating at The Munch Box, I know I was wrong. I’m also pretty sure the chili comes straight out of a can, so it probably tastes exactly like the chili at your local burger joint.

Would I eat at The Munch Box again? Yes, I would. But like the people the late-great Huell Howser interviewed, I can’t really explain why, except to say that it’s there. And the food is solid, if you like burgers and fries, which I do. Plus, The Munch Box is a historic landmark, so the place has that going for it. And it’s quite possible that Manson’s ghost haunts The Munch Box; the strip club across the street, which is now a dispensary; and the Ralphs, which again, is a no-go. But deep down, I guess the thing that would bring me back to The Munch Box is that the name still makes me giggle.

Shout out time!

A big thank you goes out to Brenna Mayhew, the newest paid subscriber at Situation Normal. I don’t paywall Situation Normal stories, because I want them to be free. The generous support of situation normies like Brenna is the team work that makes the dream work. Thank you, Brenna, and check your mailbox, because I just sent you some good vibes.

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A, Like, Totally Rad Conversation About Valley Girl, For Sure

I chatted with my pal about the movie Valley Girl. That film would’ve been a perfect representation of life in the San Fernando Valley, except there was no mention of The Munch Box. Nine out of ten. Regardless, Valley Girl is a funny exploration of teen romance and conformity, it has a kickass soundtrack, and an incredibly young and handsome Nicolas Cage. It’s also free on Amazon Prime, which isn’t actually free, so once again, the internet should be taken with a grain of salt. Listen to my conversation with Sheila here.