So I walk into Azteca restaurant in Garden Grove by happenstance, a couple of days removed from the anniversary of Elvis’ death in 1977, hungry for some taquitos, and, man, The King is everywhere: wall-to-wall, on the ceilings, on TV, balladeering out of speakers.
Bingo, I think. I’ve got my column for the week.
And so I did, but today we have a story within a story.
I’ll get to that, but first, The King and his most fervent disciple…
So I walk into Azteca restaurant in Garden Grove by happenstance, a couple of days removed from the anniversary of Elvis’ death in 1977, hungry for some taquitos, and, man, The King is everywhere: wall-to-wall, on the ceilings, on TV, balladeering out of speakers.
Bingo, I think. I’ve got my column for the week.
And so I did, but today we have a story within a story.
I’ll get to that, but first, The King and his most fervent disciple…
Azteca owner J.J. Jauregui owns the largest collection of Elvis memorabilia this side of Memphis. Try to find an empty space – an Elvis-less space, if you will – on the walls or the ceilings of the 54-year-old family restaurant that he took over from his sick Aunt Connie in 1992 … it’s futile.
It’s too overwhelming to describe, really, but I’ll give you a few notables:
· Before you enter the place, look up and you’ll see a life-size statue of Elvis on the balcony overlooking Historic Main Street;
· Once inside, make your way through the large dining area to a little nook of a bar called Crooners Lounge and look to high noon of the backbar, but beware if you’re politically correct or easily offended because there’s a picture of Elvis and Jesus, for crying out loud, and Elvis has a halo over his head. “It’s so wrong,” says Jauregui, with an impish smile.
· The first piece of memorabilia that Jauregui placed on the wall of the once-traditional eatery is an Elvis poster. “Where’d you get it from?” I asked. “I ordered it from National Enquirer,” said the 55-year-old competitive runner. “Why’d you do it?” I asked. Well, Jauregui said, he’s adored Elvis since he was 6 years old and saw him sing “Teddy Bear,” but it wasn’t really mapped out, it just became, well, a monster. “You don’t plan a Mexican restaurant and Elvis,” he said. “It makes no sense.”
There’s no need to go on; you have to see it for yourself, and if you do go, and you happen to make your way past the Elvis impersonator and the regulars and run into Jauregui, zero in on his right arm, which says a lot about this affable guy whose story deepens the longer you talk to him: tattoed on that limb are the words “Dad,” “Mom,” “Aunt Connie” and illustrations of Elvis and the American flag.
Which brings me to the story behind the story.
Doesn’t every tale in these times turn back to the economy?
This one does. Along about 2008, at the onset of a recession that feels more like a depression, Jauregui found himself in dire straits.
“People stopped going out,” he said.
He had overextended himself over the years, traveling across the country to auctions and collectors’ shows spending – who knows? Has to be well into six figures, could be seven figures – in his latest Presley pursuits.
“Yeah, I spent it on Elvis, but at least I didn’t put it up my nose or spend it on alcohol.”
A small consolation, but a consolation nonetheless.
Jauregui closed at lunchtime three days a week, held garage sales, selling personal possessions (but no Elvis stuff) and was forced from his Garden Grove house into a 600-square-foot apartment, where he lives now.
And that’s just the financial ruin he found himself in. Possibly more difficult to deal with is what such a calamity does to a man’s, or woman’s, moods and mental health, and that’s when the rather svelte Jauregui took up running – not necessarily to win races but to heal himself.
“Absolutely, it was therapy,” he said, and still runs about 30 miles a week.
There’s no fairy-tale ending to this little saga. From a fiscal standpoint, Jauregui is no longer circling the drain, as they say. Consumer spending is loosening up, he says, and things are tough but getting better at Azteca. On the day I visited at about noon, a smattering of folks got their grub on, and by the way, the food is top-notch, and a few locals gathered at the bar to enjoy margaritas, and Jauregui was pleased but point-blank, which seems to be his nature.
“I didn’t save for a rainy day and shame on me,” he said.
Chalk it up to a lesson learned, one that many of us have tucked away for another rainy day, and good on you, J.J., for your can-do spirit, and before I left I looked around and he looked around at all that he salvaged from the worst of times and I asked, “What is it about Elvis that gets to you?” and he said, “This guy was born in Tupelo, Mississippi … and he changed the world.”
Brady Rhoades is the editor. He can be reached at brhoades@localnewspapers.org.
