A Mansard Roof McDonald’s
Even as I write this post and feel a slight craving for a Double Quarter Pounder w/ Cheese, I’m reminded that I have no true desire for McDonald’s. The product’s fine enough for drive-thru food, but the experience of visiting one is rarely worth the hassle. A “first world problem?” Absolutely. But, also the choice of a consumer who knows that the ice cream machine probably isn’t working. There was a time, however, when I truly loved McDonald’s. When I craved it with every fiber of my childhood being. Maybe as an adult I’m only looking back through rose ketchup-colored glasses, but McDonald’s was different once. After a conversation with someone of a similar mind, I once again set out in search of fast food nostalgia.
Journalist Rolando Pujol runs The Retrologist, a great website complemented by his popular Instagram account. “Telling the stories of the classic American roadside,” Rolando presents beautiful visuals alongside incredibly informative and entertaining words. I’d first come across him while researching my Pizza Hut Classic story and what I love most about his work is that it’s timeless. Whether you personally experienced the places he features, only knew about them in passing, or are just reading about something well after it’s gone—Rolando takes great care to highlight slices of sentimentality that connect with readers of any generation. There’s a ubiquity to this kind of subject matter, a commonality that a wide audience can relate to.
We spoke about this idea on the phone recently. This desire to document seemingly mundane subjects such as old fast food restaurants. Buy me a few beers and I’ll go on for hours about the notion of nostalgia, but in this current moment—I want to highlight something that Rolando tipped me off to: a Mansard roof McDonald’s located nearby.
The Mansard Roof McDonald’s of Harrison, Ohio.
Credited as being created by Pierre Lescot in the 16th century and popularized by Francois Mansart in the 17th century, those of us who aren’t architectural scholars will best recognize the Mansard roof due to its once prolific use by the McDonald’s corporation. This specific architectural feature had once been as defining a piece of branding as the Golden Arches themselves. Much like Pizza Hut, you could easily know a McDonald’s was a McDonald’s just by looking at it.
Although the fast food giant has several unique locations throughout the world and has often altered its trademark construction to fit within various surroundings, the Mansard roof version was once the company’s most recognizable form. These were the places of collectible Batman Forever glasses, Happy Meals featuring Beanie Babies, and slides that emptied into ball pits. Marc Lortie sums it up best in a 2012 piece for Architecture + Branding:
“Through menu changes, economic ebbs and flows, wars, recessions, the design persevered, proliferated and became emblematic of the [McDonald’s] brand, effectively elevating the double-sloped Mansard to iconic status. But alas, all good things must come to an end.”
- Marc Lortie, Architecture + Branding, Feb. 15, 2012
And come to an end they did. These days, the Mansard roof McDonald’s is a rare breed. Something that’s been mostly renovated or replaced out of existence thanks to a new marketing strategy. One that has ushered in a fresh vision for the company. The McDonald’s of today goes to great lengths to seem more mature, attempting to evoke competitors like Panera while discarding its “Play Places” of the past. These days, they usually look like this:
A modern day McDonald’s as seen in Bellevue, KY, 2013.
Occasionally, though, you can still find the McDonald’s of yore, and very recently: Travis and I set out to do just that.
Interior of the Harrison, Ohio McDonald’s.
Only The Grimace in his infinite wisdom knows for sure, but I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d actually dined within a McDonald’s. This particular day was like stepping into a time machine, a straight shot back to my sister’s mid-90s birthday party. West of Cincinnati, the Harrison, Ohio location featured modern, flat-screen television menus with updated items such as the “McCafe” offerings, but the old school charm was still very much present. The plastic booths of yesteryear remained and the floor still had that pattern. The one that looks like this…
…even if it’d been modified to accommodate recent global events such as a pandemic.
I’m not sure if the franchises of today have the same leeway over their interior decorations, but this one featured several characteristics that tied it to the local community: faded photographs of Ronald McDonald with children at a fishing event, a mural painted on the wall commemorating the same celebration, and a stack of the Over 50 publication set out for the morning coffee regulars. An employee let me know that the building had originated in 1980. That same employee also told me that the building’s last day was apparently slated for May 3, 2022. Just over a week away from when we’d placed our lunch order. What’d come next? I didn’t ask. I just assumed a newer, generic McDonald’s.
Note the subliminal logo and French fries in the clouds.
Although featuring a few modern additions such as McCafe branding, the Harrison, Ohio McDonald’s still retains an old school feel.
The folks working had not only offered courteous service, but they’d been kind enough to entertain the questions of two guys who’d come to see their specific restaurant. Who exactly spends their afternoon looking for an old McDonald’s? Folks like Rolando, Travis, myself, and apparently quite a few others according to Instagram and Flickr.
Why?
Well, I don’t quite have a simple or succinct answer after this post, the Pizza Hut one, the McPizza one, that one about the floating McDonald’s, those two abandoned McDonald’s, or my entire Suburbia Lost series. What I can conjure at the moment is that there was a time when locations like this one were as common as the McDonald’s found on our roadside today. Now, the Mansard roof buildings have become relics of Americana and in their rarity evoke a nostalgia one might be hesitant to admit to. I’d much rather eat a fresh burger from the local spot down the street, but damn if I didn’t enjoy the one I had in Harrison’s old school location. All the while remembering how special a trip to McDonald’s was a kid.
Before any suit on the marketing floor of the Hamburglar’s Headquarters forwards such happy inclinations along, though: relax. Even when the McRib is risen, no modern locations evoke similar feelings. They might one day, though. When a new generation goes out to document the last few remaining double drive-thru McCafe’s that maybe… just maybe… finally got the damn ice cream machine working.
Rest In peace, sweet prince.
Related Posts:
For a short time, McDonald’s sold pizza. After the product was cut from most stores, one location in rural Ohio held out for years. My friends and I went looking for it in 2015.
Speaking of iconic fast food roofs, there’s still a a few classic Pizza Huts around, but they’re not always what they seem to be.
Cincinnati almost had a floating McDonald’s restaurant in the 1980s. Almost.
My Suburbia Lost series takes a photographic look at abandoned places dotting our landscape, many of which are forsaken fast food locations.
On the subject of abandoned fast food places, it’s rare to find an abandoned McDonald’s. The brand is very protective of its image, but sometimes you get lucky.
If you enjoy posts like this one, you might also enjoy: “This is What a Blockbuster Looked Like…”
Since 2007, the content of this website (and its former life as Queen City Discovery) has been a huge labor of love.
If you’ve enjoyed stories like The Ghost Ship, abandoned amusement parks, the Cincinnati Subway, Fading Ads, or others over the years—might you consider showing some support for future projects?
