LAFAYETTE, CALIFORNIA – For over 70 years, El Charro restaurant faithfully served the Lafayette, California community. Then the pandemic came.
Originally opened in 1947, the iconic Mexican restaurant El Charro changed hands several times but always remained in business in Lafayette.
If you grew up in the area, you most certainly remember dining there. Sadly, in late 2020, the owners of El Charro shut the restaurant down, citing losses related to the pandemic.
El Charro’s building—an iconic structure with some strange architectural details—has sat empty ever since. I wanted to photograph it.
The building is in a sad state. Given its significance in the community, I didn’t feel that shooting photos on my phone would do it justice, so I decided to photograph the building on analog film.
Specifically, this photo essay captures the sad demise of El Charro’s once-pristine building on Kodak T-MAX film, which I developed myself by hand. I felt that the timelessness and gravitas of film were a perfect fit to capture the dignity still hidden in this iconic local structure.
The El Charro building was always a bit strange. Designed to look like an aging Mexican hacienda strangely draped in a massive concrete sarape, the building stood out—even when it was in great shape.
Today, the front of the building is covered in a giant black tarp, which extends over the roof.
The tarp has holes throughout. It’s probably an ultimately vain attempt to keep water from seeping into the building.
The windows on the front of El Charro—once decorated with stained glass—are missing panels, with some broken.
Several old chairs sit in front of the building, similarly covered in black plastic.
The courtyard in front of El Charro is overgrown with weeds, although the front door still stands.
The porch on the side of the restaurant is draped in torn and fading fabric that blows in the wind.
Where cheerful, colorful string lights once adorned the front of the restaurant, now there are just torn cords and empty sockets.
The restaurant’s once-lively back patio is sadly in a similar state of disrepair.
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The thatch covering an outdoor bar is torn and falling apart, and the backyard is full of debris.
Towards the rear of the restaurant, a construction fence blocks the fallen permanent fence that led into the back.
Inside is a pile of old scrap wood that appears to have been there for so long that plants have started to grow out of the wooden beams.
Graffiti has started to spring up on the back walls.
Around the side of El Charro, I found one of the most striking sights: a single forlorn piano sits on the front patio of the restaurant, draped in a tarp.
I have no idea how long it’s been there or whether it’s still playable, but–sitting beside a torn couch–it captures the warmth of music that once would’ve rung out inside this iconic local restaurant.
Despite all this ruin, there is some hope for the future of El Charro. There’s also some levity.
Someone has affixed a sign to the front of the building, asking people to stop smoking and dropping their cigarette butts on the ground. The sign says that a local cat has been coming at night and smoking them, and that the owners of the building would like him to quit.
The city is reportedly considering turning the site into housing. It would be sad to see the iconic building torn down, but I’m happy to have had the chance to come and help document how it stands today.
Community Reacts
Our readers have been writing in after reading this essay. Shirley F says “What a sad ending for a wonderful establishment. My first visit was in 1972 to meet friends from San Francisco for a wedding shower gathering. I am truly missing this fine place.”
Jane S writes “El Charro was a great restaurant to take your kids to because it was super casual.” She also praised its “kitschy type interior” and its “lively bar scene”, but shared that most visitors were likely from outside of Lafayette.
Do you have any memories of El Charro? Email them to tom@bayareatelegraph.com or post in the comments below.
What you describe and photo-document here is known in preservation/development circles as “demolition by neglect.” Leave it alone long enough, and eventually there will be nothing left to protect. This is a slightly different situation because, sadly, Lafayette has no historic preservation policies, so the “neglect” element is technically not even needed. The owner, be it a private developer or the City, can simply tear it down.
And before anyone gets too excised about private property rights, a good historic preservation ordinance recognizes the public good while protecting, and even in many cases, enhancing the privileges of the property owner in renovating or developing private property.