When we talk about preservation, we often talk about houses, neighborhoods, architectural styles and historic building materials. But some of New Orleans’ most memorable places are also defined by light: the glow of an old sign, the curve of a hand-bent tube, the way neon can turn a storefront into a landmark.
For this issue, as the Preservation Resource Center focuses on Midcentury Modern architecture and Googie design, neon felt like an essential part of the conversation. Googie architecture — with its sharp lines, roadside visibility, playful commercial forms and Space Age energy — was designed to catch the eye. Neon helped make that architecture speak.
Nate Sheaffer, founder of Big Sexy Neon, has spent decades working with neon as an artist, sign maker, restorer and teacher. His work helps preserve not only historic signs, but also the endangered handcraft behind them.
How did you first get into neon?
When I was an undergrad at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill, I was taking a lot of independent study art classes and making some big, funky structures. One of my professors introduced me to Jerry Noe, who was an early adopter of neon in his art practice in the late 1960s and early 1970s.
At one point, a sign company had donated a complete neon shop to the university, but no one had ever set it up. Another guy in the program and I set it up, and we burned through about 1,000 pounds of practice glass that had also been donated.
I was really hooked at that point. It was the whole challenge of exerting your will against the material and making it into something. There are so many complicated facets to that with neon glass bending.
What do people misunderstand about neon as a craft?
People don’t get that 100 percent of neon tubing is touched multiple times by human hands. It is a very complicated set of skills that all have to work in concert, and they really only work well after someone has put in five to 10 years of hard work.
What I would like people to understand is that this is a craft worth preserving — either through support, by buying things people make, or just by getting the word out that there is a neon glass blower and you should go check them out. If for no other reason, go see something amazing and have a better understanding of the handcraft.
Would you say neon is an endangered craft?
This craft is 100 percent endangered.
Fifty years from now, there is a good chance the only neon makers will be people who have enough money to have it as a hobby. LED and other technology are displacing it, despite the fact that LED doesn’t measure up to neon visually, and certainly not in terms of longevity.
People don’t know that. Add to that the fact that neon lasts virtually forever.
What do we lose when historic neon signs disappear?
You lose the soul of signage in America.
Illuminated signs don’t just hearken back to the glory days of Route 66 or Times Square. They defined efficient advertising for everyday Americans in small towns that may have had only six or seven neon signs and maybe a movie marquee.
But that made that town at night. It defined it as vibrant — as a living, breathing thing. When you don’t have that anymore, when you don’t have this long-standing craft, it’s gone. There no longer is that vibrancy in people’s everyday life.
This issue is focused on Midcentury Modern architecture and Googie design. What does neon add to that style?
The nice thing about neon, relative to Googie architecture and midcentury design, is that it is really effective at highlighting or creating lines.
Googie in particular relies on very sharp, dramatic lines in the architecture. Midcentury Modern is almost like layered planes of very simple forms. Neon can light that effectively.
Entire signs can make you feel like you are looking at a Googie storefront or a Googie drive-in. Neon can evoke the feelings of midcentury modern simply because of its powerful line.
We’re also writing about Ted’s Frostop, with that big roadside mug and sign identity. What makes something like that special?
There are so few things like Frostop in Louisiana.
If you get into New Mexico or Southern California, you see a lot of three-dimensional figures with neon wrapped around them, the way Frostop does. But if you are not accustomed to three-dimensional representational advertising, it really sticks in your head.
Frostop stands out because there is nothing like it in New Orleans anymore. There used to be. But because it is so unique, it is defining in terms of its originality. You look at Frostop and think, “Whoa, that’s a big old mug of root beer represented in neon and tin.”
And it’s a pity that after Katrina, they didn’t put a new rotor on it to keep it spinning. Animated neon — whether it is rotating or flashing on and off — is amazing for people to see.
What does being a preservationist mean to you?
Being a preservationist, to me, means I’m not real happy with the idea of retiring something that, with a little effort, can have a new life — and is also worthy of that life.
It is that simple.
All of these iconic neon sign cabinets that come to me, that have been stripped through age, disuse or abandonment, every single one of them has merit. Almost all of them are going to last another 50 to 100 years if you do it right.
Would you call yourself a preservationist?
Without a doubt.
I probably started feeling that around 1990. I had a commercial neon sign shop that I had built up, and word had gotten out regionally in central North Carolina. People started showing up with old sign cabinets on trailers and asking, “How much to restore it?”
One of the first ones I remember just said “Rooms.” It was porcelain, with a green background and white porcelain lettering. The neon was gone, and I looked at it and thought, “Oh, you’ve got to fix this.”
And we did. It was gorgeous.
Are there signs in New Orleans that you wish people paid more attention to?
There are a lot of signs and sign cabinets in New Orleans that need to be brought back.
The Pearl needs work. The original Tujague’s sign is sitting out back, waiting for funding for the Southern Food and Beverage Museum. As soon as they get the funding for it, I’m going to jump all over it.
What do you hope people feel when they walk into Big Sexy Neon?
My whole reason for being, and my reason for doing what I do, is to make people immediately ask two questions.
The first one is, “How did he do that?”
And the second one is, “Why?”
When this place was up and running, it was maybe a half step away from really solid maximalism. There were several hundred neon signs that we could light all at once. That is going to happen even more so in my new space, because it is a little smaller. It will be many more fish in a smaller pond.
I think there are probably commonalities with other artists and artisans who really do enjoy when people say, “How did you do that?”
I love that.
What should PRC readers understand about neon, old signs and preservation?
Almost every single thing I’ve ever made is going to outlive me and my children.
That’s what’s great about neon. When done properly, it is going to last decades — many decades. More than likely 100 years, if it is processed properly.
That is the thing people don’t recognize or understand about neon tubing. When it is done right, it is going to last a very long time.
