“We’re going to Malaysia!” my cousin Brett yelled on the phone. The reason? Kenny Rogers Roasters. While Kenny Rogers Roasters might seem like a blast from the past, a culinary ghost of the late 20th century in America, it’s alive and clucking in Malaysia. This bizarre fact led me down a rabbit hole, exploring the forgotten fast-food empires of America and their surprising afterlives. And that’s where I rediscovered Pioneer Chicken.
Like many, I thought Pioneer Chicken was just another faded memory, a fast-food chain that vanished along with rotary phones and dial-up internet. Arthur Treacher’s fish and chips? Still clinging to life in a handful of locations. McPizza at McDonald’s? A discontinued legend. Howard Johnson’s? Mostly gone, for more reasons than just changing tastes. Wimpy burgers? Thriving in South Africa, a world away from its American origins. And then there’s Pioneer Chicken, the fried chicken chain once endorsed by O.J. Simpson and Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, boasting over 270 locations at its peak.
Is it really still around? That was my incredulous thought. Living in Los Angeles, the birthplace of fast food, how had I missed this?
A quick online search revealed the astonishing truth: Pioneer Chicken lives! Not just in memory, but in Indonesia, rebranded as California Fried Chicken, founded by Indonesian USC alumni who fell in love with the taste. But even more surprisingly, two original Pioneer Chicken locations stubbornly remain in Los Angeles itself – one in Boyle Heights and the other in Bell Gardens. A pilgrimage was in order.
Los Angeles is synonymous with fast food innovation. This sprawling, car-centric city practically invented the concept of speed-driven dining. It’s the land of McDonald’s, the reason Bob’s Big Boy is a landmark, and home to the oldest surviving McDonald’s, complete with the eerie gaze of Speedee the Chef. Pioneer Chicken, in its heyday, was just as much a part of this landscape. So why has it faded into obscurity while other fast-food relics are celebrated?
Established in Echo Park in 1962, Pioneer Chicken was one of many fried chicken contenders vying for a piece of the Los Angeles market. By the late 1970s, it had reached its zenith, with hundreds of outposts across California, many dotting the greater Los Angeles area. The classic fast-food architecture was unmistakable: expansive windows, a compact dining space, a drive-through, and the iconic sign featuring Pioneer Pete and his chuck wagon. The chicken was distinctly orange, unapologetically greasy, and delivered a satisfyingly loud crunch with every bite.
And then there was Orange Bang, the aggressively sugary, hyper-orange beverage that put Orange Julius to shame in terms of sheer sweetness. My mom, a Pioneer Chicken regular, described it as the kind of guilty pleasure that becomes an intense craving once it’s gone. The kind of taste that transports you back in time, even if you know it’s not exactly “good for you.”
If you lived in Los Angeles between the 70s and 90s, Pioneer Chicken was inescapable. Officially named Pioneer Take-Out, a nod to the Pioneer Market that once stood beside the original Sunset Boulevard location, it was a constant presence.
The television commercials were equally pervasive. Rotating breaded chicken against a stark black background, families terrorized by their demanding children, and the ever-smiling O.J. Simpson, then known for his football prowess rather than later infamy, all hawked Pioneer Chicken with varying degrees of effectiveness.
Pioneer Chicken Boyle Heights storefront with vintage ads in windows
Photo by Kaleb Horton. The Boyle Heights Pioneer Chicken location displays faded, vintage advertisements in its windows, hinting at its long history.
Like many fast-food ads of the era, they were undeniably low-budget and, in retrospect, almost surreal.
But even with relentless advertising, by 1987, Pioneer Chicken was facing bankruptcy. In 1993, Popeyes, a national fried chicken chain with a completely different style, acquired the struggling company, converting most Pioneer Chicken locations into Popeyes restaurants. While some lamented the loss, life moved on, and a piece of Los Angeles’ fast-food identity vanished.
Pioneer Chicken had become an ingrained part of the Los Angeles experience, a quiet fixture in the city’s mythology. As common as orange streetlights or jacaranda blossoms, it was simply there. And then, almost overnight, it wasn’t.
Beyond the two surviving restaurants, Pioneer Chicken lives on in an unexpected place: a lyric in Warren Zevon’s song “Carmelita.” A seemingly mundane detail about a heroin addict near Alvarado Street, it captures a specific kind of Los Angeles melancholy, the despair found in the ordinary.
When Dwight Yoakam played “Carmelita” at the Hollywood Palladium, the line “He hangs out down on Alvarado Street, by the Pioneer Chicken stand” drew cheers from the crowd of seasoned Los Angeles music fans.
Walking up to the Pioneer Chicken in Boyle Heights, the first thing that struck me was the window advertisement.
It was like stepping back in time. The faded red, orange, and yellow hues screamed 1970s California. The specials advertised, “Econo Pac” and “Jumbo Pac,” were relics of a bygone era. The photos featured that same orange chicken against the same stark, vaguely unsettling background from the old commercials. The interior was a genuine time capsule, not a kitschy, retro diner, but the real deal – dusty, worn, and sun-faded, evoking a sense of displacement in rapidly changing Los Angeles.
Pioneer Chicken interior with original fixtures
Photo by Kaleb Horton. The interior of the Boyle Heights Pioneer Chicken shows original, aged fixtures, contributing to its time capsule atmosphere.
Everything felt original, hinting that any breakdown of fixtures might spell the end for this location, like Willie Nelson’s trusty guitar falling apart.
I ordered a leg and thigh and took a seat. And I have to admit, the chicken is surprisingly good. It’s not Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles, but the crunchy breading is strangely addictive, and you can almost taste the grease working its slow magic, which, let’s be honest, is part of the appeal of fried chicken. The texture is unique, almost more akin to fish and chips batter than typical fried chicken breading. It’s distinctive and, dare I say, superior to Kentucky Fried Chicken.
Determined to experience the full Pioneer Chicken spectrum, I headed to the Bell Gardens location the following weekend, primarily because they promised Orange Bang.
The Bell Gardens Pioneer Chicken is noticeably more modern and bustling. The drive-through was consistently busy, and families were placing large orders. Inside, a father and daughter shared a meal. I ordered more chicken, realizing this would likely become an occasional pilgrimage until these last outposts inevitably close, and I tried the Orange Bang. It confirmed my suspicion: sugary drinks that are bad for you aren’t my thing, but greasy, crunchy chicken that’s bad for you? That’s another story. The Bell Gardens experience, complete with the slightly-too-sweet Orange Bang, was, in its own way, magical.
Pioneer Chicken Bell Gardens exterior with drive-thru
Photo by Kaleb Horton. The Bell Gardens Pioneer Chicken location features a busy drive-thru, indicating its continued popularity in the community.
Los Angeles may be a city of fleeting moments, the capital of ephemera. It struggles to preserve its history, and rising rents constantly threaten local institutions. The places we cherish can vanish without warning, casualties of relentless capitalism. Pioneer Chicken is an endangered fast-food species that deserves our attention and preservation.
It’s a portal to the Los Angeles of The Rockford Files, a Los Angeles that’s fading fast. Pioneer Chicken should be recognized as a historical landmark, like Bob’s Big Boy, not bulldozed like Du-par’s in Studio City. When Quentin Tarantino filmed Once Upon a Time in Hollywood in Toluca Lake, set during the Manson era, his crew even erected a replica Pioneer Chicken sign.
I overheard a couple in their 50s walk by, the husband pointing at the sign and wistfully saying, “God, I wish Pioneer Chicken was still around.”
It’s time to spread the word: Pioneer Chicken is still around. Go taste a piece of Los Angeles history before it’s gone for good.
