Some treasure hunts last decades, and this is the story of one of my most memorable rescues.
I first encountered this sign as early as 1963, stopping for a hot dog on the way to Dover Drag Strip in Wingdale, NY. Back then, my fascination with vintage signs hadn't started yet, that would come later in the '80s when I began focusing my attention on acquiring rare pieces.
By 1998, I was a verified sign-a-holic and had made it my mission to acquire this particular sign and save it from oblivion. For the next 25 years, I drove past it on my way home, watching the building slowly deteriorate around it. With each passing year, the mission grew more critical.

After searching county records and reaching out to the current landowners, I discovered why this sign had survived for so long. Signage on commercial property requires zoning approval, a process that can take six months to a year to navigate.
Here's the catch: a derelict sign on the property preserves the permit to have signage there. Demolish that old sign, and you give up the right to put a new one in its place.
For 25 years, the property owners wouldn't sell the sign because keeping it, even in deteriorating condition, maintained their valuable signage rights. I watched and waited, hoping the place wouldn't burn down and take the sign with it. In a town like this, after all those years, it was a miracle it hadn't already been torched by local kids, vandals, or vagrants looking for shelter.

Then came the moment every collector dreads: one rainy afternoon, heading south on Route 25, I spotted an excavator and dumpster being delivered to the property.
That weekend, on a rainy Sunday, I went back to the site and left a note on the excavator: "$500 cash offer. Please don't destroy the sign," along with my phone number.

Monday morning, my phone rang. I was 20 minutes away. I dropped everything and rushed to the site. The operator called the realtor, who finally agreed I could have the sign. I handed the operator an extra hundred dollars for his trouble, and we got to work immediately cutting it down from the building.

Believe it or not, as I was tying the straps down to secure the sign in the pouring rain, another guy pulled up in a pickup. He told me the sign was his—he'd been chasing it just like me! Too late. To the victor go the spoils.
Minutes later, the building was demolished. We had saved it just in time.
We began our restoration quest with the intent to make the sign shiny and glossy—like new. It needed new neon tubes and electrical work. However, after much consideration, we made a different choice: preserve the authentic rust patina and encapsulate it with a matte clear coat, ensuring it would last for years to come while maintaining its character and history.
After completing the initial work, I delivered it to a neon artisan in Massachusetts. What should have been a straightforward job turned into a two-year chase! I eventually discovered he had gone out of business and lost his lease. I tracked him down to his house and the sign was lying unfinished in the snow his driveway. He hadn’t touched it in two years. Through another sign collector I pressured him and he finished the job at a different studio.







This classic piece of roadside Americana found its final home with the help of Rockabilly Auction. Twenty-five years of watching, one weekend to rescue it, and I beat another collector by minutes. Now that's what I call a successful hunt.

I found a great blog and used a picture or two from it. Check it out learn more about the Circle Dot Cafe here.

This ad for Roessler’s hot dogs appeared in the Waterbury Republican in 1939. Roesseler’s got its start in 1915. Carl Roessler began making his Frankfurters in New Haven.
Roessler’s was a Connecticut-made favorite. The “all-meat” hot dogs were available everywhere from grocery stores to roadside stands
In early 2024 there was an effort to re-launch Roesseler’s hot dogs but the idea failed to raise the capital needed.
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