Classical gas

The vintage look of neon signs is fading away, as zoning laws and expense reduce their numbers

At dusk and sometimes in the early morning, the managers of Skip's Restaurant in Chelmsford flip on the multiple neon signs that light up the roof of the roadside landmark.

The dazzling array of colors spells out the restaurant's name in script, announces the presence of a cocktail lounge inside, and depicts a pair of anchors, powder-blue waves, and a ship steering wheel. Like the best neon signs, the one above Skip's is designed to stop traffic.

"It's a neon sign you can see from [Interstate] 495," said George Burliss, co-owner of the restaurant. "It's like a lighthouse in the distance."

The glow of Skip's and other similar 20th-century survivors is fading from the northwest suburbs. Neon is costly and difficult to maintain. Most cities and towns in Massachusetts prohibit or severely restrict new neon signs via zoning.

The neon at Skip's is succumbing to another pressure: development. This spring, Burliss and his partner, Fred Gefteas, announced that the building was being sold to a strip mall developer.

Neon holdouts, though, can be found elsewhere in the region. Downtown Lowell, in particular, is a treasure trove for lovers of classic neon.

Looming over the city, atop the 10-story Sun Building Apartments in Kearney Square, is the oversized blue neon "Sun" sign, erected by the Lowell Sun newspaper, which formerly occupied the building.

A few blocks away on Dutton Street is the trademark animated kicking donkey at Haffner's gas station. The regional oil and gas chain has other donkey signs but only one other where the donkey still kicks, at its station on Lawrence Street in Lawrence.

Across the street from the Lowell donkey is Merrimac Rug & Linoleum, which has a classic 1940s neon sign over its entrance. On Merrimac Street west of the city center, an otherwise unassuming liquor store, Excel Bottled Liquors, sports a beautifully maintained pink, green, and orange neon sign, which flashes "package store."

The sign atop the Market Basket grocery store in Burlington is a well-maintained double-outline neon structure and one of the largest neon signs in the Boston area. On Massachusetts Avenue in Lexington, just over the Arlington line, eye-catching rooftop neon announces Berman's drive-in liquor mart, with a downward pointing arrow aimed at the store's entrance.

The building that houses Berman's was originally the Newport Drive-In Restaurant. The father and uncle of current owner Joel Berman purchased the building in the mid-1950s and decided to keep the sign, even though there are no car-hops and you have to go inside to actually purchase beverages.

"It says 'drive-in liquor mart,' which is not what we are, but they kept it," said Berman. "It means you can drive right in and drive right out."

Berman said the sign has been good for business. "It works. It's distinctive. It's grandfathered in. I couldn't build it today because of the zoning," he said.

Over the last 100 years or so, neon has fallen in and out of public favor.

Invented in the late 1800s, neon lights work by passing a high-voltage charge through neon gas trapped in a glass tube. Signs are produced by bending the glass.

In the 1920s, neon signs were considered elegant works of art, and over the next several decades, they spread to commercial establishments across the country.

In the 1960s and 1970s, tastes changed, and neon came to be viewed as tacky and garish. Communities all over the country used zoning to curb the spread of neon signs.

Today, as nostalgia for the 20th century grows, appreciation also is growing for neon signs, even as the number of survivors dwindles. Activists have mounted campaigns to save some endangered neon signs. Neon sign museums have opened in Cincinnati, Las Vegas, and elsewhere.

Advances in lighting technology have hastened the demise of neon signs. Even the storied Citgo sign in Boston's Kenmore Square, which was saved by activists in the 1980s, is no longer neon. Several years ago, more energy-efficient LEDs replaced the sign's neon.

Arthur Krim, a geographer and founder of the preservationist group the Society for Commercial Archeology, said neon has a special appeal.

"It does have a lifelike quality to it. It burns through the fog. It seems to have an animated inner life," said Krim, who was a leader of the campaign to save the Citgo sign.

Richard Batten, owner of Batten Brothers Sign Advertising in Wakefield, said neon is different from other kinds of lighting.

"There's a glow to it. Neon has a warmer quality," said Batten, whose firm maintains neon signs.

Owners of neon signs must put a lot of effort into maintenance, and acquiring new ones is very difficult, according to Batten. "There is a diminishing number of tube benders. It is a manufacturing process that hasn't changed since the turn of the century, and I don't mean this last century," he said.

Among those trying to save neon signs today is David Waller, a Malden resident with a large collection of signs, many of which were headed for the trash heap before he got involved. Waller, whose collection was displayed in the National Heritage Museum in Lexington, said he views neon signs as folk art.

Waller said he is saddened by the impending demise of Skip's. "It really is a throwback," he said. "There used to be signs like that in every town.

Waller's collection includes some former Boston landmarks, including the signs for Ellis the Rim Man, the European restaurant, and Fontaine's flapping chicken. He said he is very fond of Haffner's kicking donkey.

"It's so sweet and dear," he said. "It makes you want to laugh every time you see it."

Haffner Fournier, head of the company today, said his grandfather, John F. Haffner, came up with the idea for the kicking donkey in the 1930s after blending an additive known as benzol with gasoline.

"He found when he put it in the gas, it gave it a kick," said Fournier. "That gave him the idea for the kicking donkey."

The Haffner's donkey in Lowell is well known because of its proximity to historic attractions downtown, according to Fournier. He said maintaining the signs is a challenge.

"They're open to the weather. We try to keep them operating, but it's an ongoing problem," Fournier said.

Robert Preer can be reached at preer@globe.com.