Today, we’re looking at two pedestrian buildings along the U.S. 1 corridor in Alexandria and Woodbridge, Virginia. (Pedestrian in the sense of plain, that is.)

First we’ll do the one in Woodbridge; here it is today. It’s been this burger restaurant for a few months. Take a look at that somewhat odd office-like extension on the right side of the building.

Here’s what it was previously, for many years. That’s where that office came from.

But originally, as you might guess, this was not a car rental agency either. It’s a brand-based building design that was built all over the country, so you either know it or you don’t. But you can probably at least guess the category.

It’s a vintage Roy Rogers fast-food restaurant! There are a few throughout the D.C. area—one in Maryland is a KFC, and another one in Virginia is a patio furniture showroom. Despite their fast-food aesthetic, they’re simple, adaptable, and apparently sturdy buildings. In their frequency and variety of reuse, these are a little like Kinney Shoes. (Check out my illustrated post tracking down every surviving Fairfax County, Virginia location of the iconic shoe retailer.)

Search for “Roy Rogers” in this page over at Roadside Architecture (there are lots of chains featured on that page), and you’ll see a bunch of examples like this.

Now we’re moving a few miles north to suburban Alexandria, where this charcoal chicken joint inhabits a fitting barn-like structure.

These structures, too, dot the D.C.-area suburbs. One was until recently a pizza restaurant; one is a laundromat. They are also sturdy and adaptable, little more than ornamented boxes. That isn’t really so bad, is it?

What you’re looking at is a former Red Barn location. Red Barn is probably not as well known as Roy Rogers, and it doesn’t exist anymore. But it was found all over the United States, and even in Canada, at its peak.

For more, check out the Wikipedia article on the Ohio-based chain founded in 1961 and defunct in 1988.

This phenomenon—brand-centric, somewhat prefabricated buildings remaining after a chain closes down or vacates an old location—often goes unnoticed, or is seen as kind of tacky or down-market. However, I think it’s very cool. I like to think of it as forming an architectural public domain.

Lots of design features that originally signaled a specific brand have become parts of the general build landscape, adapted and evolved in divergent ways by later tenants, often independent or small businesses without the cash or the need for a full remodel or teardown.

Older commercial corridors, like the U.S. 1 or U.S. 50 corridors in Northern Virginia or the U.S. 22 corridor in New Jersey, are assemblages of lots of different eras of buildings, and lots of different adaptation by business owner down the line.

As much as I advocate for more urban, walkable, mixed-use built environments, I don’t denigrate these old suburban commercial strips. They’re complex, layered places that have sort of grown into their own. And there are many things in these places worth appreciating.

Related Reading:

Buildings With a Drive-Thru

Is This Really a Strip Mall?

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