LOCAL / WHY SAN DIEGO AREA LOVES ITS COMMUNITY SIGNS

San Diego County likes to introduce itself overhead. 

On a freeway map, San Diego County can seem like an assortment of exits. On the street, its community signs give those places a recognizable face. Turn onto a neighborhood business street and there, suspended above the traffic, is the name of the place in letters large enough to suggest that you have arrived somewhere worth remembering. 

It offers a place to meet, a backdrop for a celebration and a familiar sight on the way home. Hillcrest has its familiar red flourish. Kensington makes its announcement in restrained green and white. North Park plants its name in the median. The Gaslamp Quarter supplies an elaborate entrance, as though downtown has dressed for dinner. 

There are cheaper ways to tell people where they are. San Diego has developed a taste for this one. The signs began with a practical ambition: bring customers to local businesses. Merchants wanted people to stop and spend money. Residents wanted their neighborhood to retain a recognizable face. That bargain has survived remarkably well, even after the businesses that paid for the originals have disappeared. 

Over the decades, the signs became landmarks people would raise money to restore, argue over and photograph. The county did not acquire its collection through one grand plan. Different communities commissioned their own signs at different times, creating a regional tradition almost by accumulation. 

North Park offers a particularly good account of how that happened. The North Park Historical Society dates the first overhead sign at University Avenue and 30th Street to 1935. A replacement with the familiar scalloped outline followed in 1948. That sign came down in 1966, leaving a gap that residents remembered long after the hardware was gone. In 1993, the name returned on a pedestal in the University Avenue median near 30th Street. Its form recalled the earlier landmark, but its new home brought it down from the overhead wires. North Park had recovered a piece of its public identity. 

Hillcrest's original sign arrived in 1940, a gift from the Hillcrest Women's Association. The women who helped establish the tradition deserve a place in its history alongside the merchants and civic officials. These neighborhood introductions required someone to organize, raise money and get the thing built. The Hillcrest sign eventually went dark. Its rebuilding and relighting in August 1984 drew a crowd and helped launch CityFest. That is a respectable return on a repair job: restore the sign and acquire an annual street party. 

Kensington's sign went up in 1954 to promote the Adams Avenue commercial district. Save Our Heritage Organisation records its purchase by the Kensington Park Business Association for $1,166. Its straightforward lettering and green background made a modest advertisement that became a neighborhood emblem. By 2008, the original had earned city historic designation. A dispute over its deteriorating condition eventually led to a replica, installed in 2010. The argument itself tells us something about these signs. 

Residents may disagree over how to preserve one precisely because they agree that it matters. The later generation was often more deliberate about using a gateway to encourage business revival. 

The Boulevard sign near Park Boulevard and El Cajon Boulevard was erected in 1989. The city's photographic archive describes it as an effort to recover the appeal of the neon that had flourished along the commercial strip from the 1940s through the 1960s. Local officials and business leaders wanted a landmark that would help make the Boulevard a destination again. 

The Gaslamp Quarter archway followed in 1990. 

Little Italy first illuminated its landmark sign in October 2000 during the neighborhood's annual Festa. The Little Italy Association connects the sign to the district's history as a center of tuna fishing and canning. An entrance that visitors now associate with restaurants also recalls the working waterfront that helped build the neighborhood. 

Beyond San Diego's city limits, the same appetite appears in different forms. 

Chula Vista's Third Avenue gateway, installed in 2003, was part of a broader effort to give its historic commercial district a coordinated identity. 

City of El Cajon's decorative arch arrived in 2009, its design chosen by public vote. 

Encinitas installed its present gateway in 2001, reviving an overhead-sign tradition dating to the 1920s. 

The San Diego Union-Tribune shared its photo collage accompanying this blog feature showing the geographic spread is easy to see. Vista, Escondido, Del Mar, Solana Beach, Ramona and Imperial Beach join the urban neighborhoods. Even the ordinary mileage sign pointing toward Borrego Springs earns a place. 

There is no reliable nationwide inventory here to support a claim that San Diego County has the most. What stands out is the way the idea recurs across the region, from neighborhood shopping streets to independent downtowns. Residents recognize the form and keep adapting it. A sign can look thoroughly local while belonging to a countywide family. San Diego County has spent decades hanging its introductions over the road. The message remains invitingly simple: You have arrived. Have a look around. 

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Artwork credit: Photo collage from The San Diego Union-Tribune. Text: Staff PillartoPost.org daily online magazine  

MEDIA MONDAY / MONDAY HAS A SOUNDTRACK

Listen for the one "Monday" lyric reference in this classic 40s tune brought back by Sinead O'Connor

The following is an example of the topics you'll find in no other general interest blog. Here's what we mean: 

A train leaves Chicago. 

A woman misses her ride to work. 

A man waits for his lover to come home. 

Another wishes the weekend would hurry up and end. 

All four songs have something to say about Monday, but they cannot agree on what the day means. Popular music has spent decades making it stand for fatigue, loneliness, romance, routine, escape and, occasionally, relief. 

Here are 25 songs PillartoPost.org's research team discovered with Monday in their lyrics.  This Monday hunt is arranged roughly by public recognition. Each entry names the writer and the first identified recording when it differs from the familiar one. 

-- “Monday, Monday” — The Mamas & the Papas (1966). Written by John Phillips; first recorded by the Mamas & the Papas. Their glorious harmonies make a lover’s departure sound almost pleasant. The singer knows better. Monday brought the news, and he no longer trusts it. 

-- “Lady Madonna” — The Beatles (1968). Primarily written by Paul McCartney, credited to Lennon–McCartney; first recorded by the Beatles. The song follows a mother trying to feed her children and pay the rent. Monday appears as one small moment in the relentless business of raising a family. Its title gave us no warning that it belonged on this list. 

-- “Manic Monday” — The Bangles (1986). Written by Prince, credited as Christopher; first recorded by Prince for a proposed Apollonia 6 version, but first released as a hit by the Bangles. A romantic dream gives way to a missed-train panic. Monday is the instant a private life collides with a work schedule. 

-- “Rainy Days and Mondays” — The Carpenters (1971). Words by Paul Williams, music by Roger Nichols; first released recording by the Carpenters. Karen Carpenter does not need a storm outside to convey the weather inside. Monday gives an otherwise hard-to-name sadness a place on the calendar. 

-- “Blue Monday” — New Order (1983). Written and first recorded by Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook, Stephen Morris and Gillian Gilbert of New Order. The phrase is in the title, though it is not sung. That title still shapes the way we hear the record’s mechanical pulse and cool emotional distance. 

-- “Friday I’m in Love” — The Cure (1992). Written and first recorded by the Cure’s Robert Smith, Simon Gallup, Porl Thompson, Boris Williams and Perry Bamonte. The song celebrates Friday, but first it acknowledges Monday’s blues. The weekend needs a working week to escape from. 

-- “FourFiveSeconds” — Rihanna, Kanye West and Paul McCartney (2015). Credited to a team of ten writers, including Rihanna, West and McCartney; first recorded by these performers. Its chorus repeatedly looks toward getting home by Monday morning. Here Monday is a deadline for finding one’s way back. 

-- “New Moon on Monday” — Duran Duran (1984). Written and first recorded by the band’s five members: Simon Le Bon, Nick Rhodes, John Taylor, Roger Taylor and Andy Taylor. Leave it to Duran Duran to put a moon over Monday and turn the least glamorous day into an evening of mystery and dancing. 

-- “Blue Monday” — Fats Domino (1956). Originally written by Dave Bartholomew; later recordings commonly credit Bartholomew and Domino. First recorded by Smiley Lewis in 1953. Domino gave the song its enduring rock ’n’ roll voice. This “Blue Monday” is a separate composition from New Order’s, grounded in the familiar drag of the working week. 

-- “I Don’t Like Mondays” — The Boomtown Rats (1979). Written by Bob Geldof and Johnnie Fingers; first recorded by the Boomtown Rats. The title sounds like a joke one might make over breakfast. The song is anything but: it was prompted by the 1979 shooting at Cleveland Elementary School in San Diego. It should never be mistaken for a routine protest against the alarm clock. 

 “City of New Orleans” — Steve Goodman and Arlo Guthrie. Written and first recorded by Goodman for his 1971 debut album; made a hit by Guthrie in 1972. Its Illinois Central train runs on a Monday morning. The day gives the journey its point of departure; the passing countryside, passengers and railroad workers give the song its soul. 

-- “She Came In Through the Bathroom Window” — The Beatles (1969). Primarily written by McCartney, credited to Lennon–McCartney; first recorded by the Beatles. In a refrain from Abbey Road, Sunday is on the telephone to Monday. The days pass news along as though they know one another. 

-- “Come Monday” — Jimmy Buffett (1974). Written and first recorded by Buffett. Monday is welcome for once. It promises the end of a separation and the return of the woman he loves. 

-- “Monday Morning” — Fleetwood Mac (1975). Written by Lindsey Buckingham; first released recording by Fleetwood Mac. The song opens the band’s 1975 album at a brisk pace. Its romantic uncertainty is as unsettled as the start of a new week. 

 --“Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad)” — T-Bone Walker (1947). Written and first recorded by Walker. One of the great electric blues records begins its account of trouble on Monday, then discovers that Tuesday offers little improvement. 

-- “Black Coffee” — Sinéad O’Connor (1992). Music by Sonny Burke, words by Paul Francis Webster; Sarah Vaughan made an early recording in 1949. O’Connor’s version finds a sleepless singer tending her heartache with coffee. Monday enters as Sunday’s dreams fade. It may be the gentlest way into this collection, even with sadness in the cup. 

-- “Long Monday” — John Prine (2005). Written by Prine and Keith Sykes; first released recording by Prine. He remembers a weekend with his lover, then faces the hours after she leaves. The day grows long because he misses her. 

-- “Except for Monday” — Lorrie Morgan (1991). Written by Reed Nielsen; first recorded by Morgan. She tells an old flame she has recovered nicely from their breakup. There is, she admits, one exception—and Monday was never much good anyway. 

-- “Monday” — Imagine Dragons (2021). Credited to Dan Reynolds, Wayne Sermon, Ben McKee, Daniel Platzman and Andrew Tolman; first recorded by Imagine Dragons. It borrows Monday’s poor reputation to make an affectionate point: even an unpopular day can become dear to someone. 

-- “Monday Morning Church” — Alan Jackson, with Patty Loveless (2004). Written by Brent Baxter and Erin Enderlin; first released recording by Jackson, with Loveless on harmony. A church that was full on Sunday stands empty on Monday. The image becomes a measure of the singer’s grief. 

-- “Monday Morning” — Pulp (1995). Written and first recorded by Pulp members Jarvis Cocker, Candida Doyle, Nick Banks, Russell Senior and Steve Mackey. A new day appears to offer a fresh start. Then it reveals itself as another Monday morning, with the same life waiting. 

 --“Monday” — Wilco (1996). Written by Jeff Tweedy; first recorded by Wilco. Horns and guitars send this Monday charging down the road. Its restless narrator wants to get somewhere else. 

-- “Silent Weekend” — Bob Dylan. Written and first recorded by Dylan during the 1967 Basement Tapes sessions; officially released in 2014. His weekend has gone badly enough that he wishes Monday would arrive. Dylan turns the usual complaint neatly upside down. 

-- “Monday Monday Monday” — Tegan and Sara (2002). Written by Sara Quin; first recorded by Tegan and Sara. The day repeats in the title like a thought that refuses to leave. 

-- “Stone Cold Sober” — Rod Stewart (1975). Written by Stewart and Steve Cropper; first recorded by Stewart. Its lively run through the days of the week gives Monday a place in a calendar kept for late nights and good times. 

 The songs disagree because Monday itself is useful to a writer. It stands immediately after something—rest, pleasure, company, freedom—and immediately before the obligations of another week. 

That makes it a hinge for almost any story. 

 For the Bangles, it is a train to catch. 

For Prine, an empty stretch of time. 

For Goodman, a train already moving. 

For Buffett, a reunion. 

Dylan cannot wait for Monday; New Order can summon its mood without singing its name. Most days have to be explained. Monday walks into a song carrying its own baggage. The pleasure lies in hearing what each musician decides to do with it.