Jumbo's Clown Room — Restaurant in Los Angeles

If I had to imagine the back story of Jumbo's it would go something like this: A guy obsessed with circus clowns decides to open a burlesque bar. He buys a bunch of velvet clown paintings, hangs them up and then plugs in the big Jumbo's Clown Room sign and opens for business. It attracts a small but steady stream of tourists and proto-hipsters which is just enough to give the owner hope. The owner slides deep into debt chasing his elusive dream of running LA's hippest circus clown themed burlesque bar until his loans are sold to the Russian mob. The mob begins laundering money through the business and plans heists and other crimes at night in the rear corner booth. Girls are smuggled, passports confiscated, and they are forced to pay for their own dance music on a rundown jukebox. Years pass, dust collects on the clowns and the upholstery wears thin. One day, the feds catch on and the original owner is offered up as a patsy. He is convicted and sent to prison and Jumbo's is reduced to a 50/50 liquor license. One of the mobsters buys a crock-pot, fills it with ketchup, and sticks it in the corner as their "kitchen," and business resumes. Fast forward to 2000 when I move to LA and begin hearing rumors of a psuedo-strip club with a circus clown theme. Described as dingy, scary or just "gross," it is a must see LA institution. So, one weekday afternoon, I set out in search of Jumbo's and instead find bliss. The entrance is guarded by either a bouncer or a homeless man (or both) on a broken stool. I approach slowly and hear him snoring. Pushing open the entrance I remove mirrored aviators and squint as my vision adjusts to the dark. The dead eyes of a thousand clowns stare back at me from their black velvet prisons, wooden frames covered in a thick patina of dust. There are regular clowns, hobo clowns, rodeo clowns, and even child-molestery clowns but they are ALL sad clowns. The upholstery is a mix of duct tape and stuffing and the floor is concrete. The thin girl sadly gyrating on stage is dressed in half bikini and half lingerie and has a scar on her belly that is either a bad C-section or a really bad stab wound. I sit down in an empty stool as the woman behind the bar yells at me in a thick Russian accent, "What do you want?" She is a haggard 60 something but could easily pass for a really haggard 50 something. I order a margarita and she serves a bud light with an empty Styrofoam cup. I try to decline the cup but all she does is point a knotted finger at a crusty old crock pot in the corner and then makes a shooing gestures at me. I take my beer and head over, confused yet curious. Decade old blackened and chunky ketchup slowly bubbles like a tiny La Brea Tar Pit, collecting fat flies that hover around it and preserving them for future generations. The bartender stares so I pick up a filthy ladle and stir, releasing a stench of old tomatoes and vinegar. My eyes water, I leave the cup on the counter and return to my seat as the bartender gives me a disapproving look. Perfection. Jumbo's becomes one of my regular stops for day drinking. I eventually move to the valley and it is six years before I see the inside of the Clown Room again. Current day: It appears that Jumbo's may be under new management. It's cleaner, friendlier and the deco is moderately updated. I also noticed that the dancers seemed more hipster-burlesque than sad-addict and don't awkwardly approach patrons hinting at tips and adding drinks to their tabs. There was a good mix of girls and guys and everyone appeared to be under 50. My guess is that a big fan of the old bar wanted to rejuvenate it and preserve the experience but instead sterilized it and killed all that I loved about it. Still better than most...

Make it rain dolla dolla bills y'all!! :)

I never in a million years would have imagined that my night at an innocent Yelp hair salon event would lead me to Jumbo's Clown Room, but I'm kinda glad it did!

Jumbo's Clown Room was part 3 of our Friday night debauchery. Some of my friends suggested coming here to experience some eye candy to end our night. I didn't know what to expect since I've never even step foot into a strip club, but i walked out pleasantly entertained!

When we arrived around 12pm, there was already a long line outside. There was a parking lot with valet parking but we got lucky and found street parking nearby in the residential area. The valet attendant kept suggesting for us to get a table for $20/each person for our group of 10 people to bypass the line. We decided against it and waited about 35 minutes to get in instead. Since we were the last group to be let in, we ended up staying until the end of the night for the last remaining shows. The place itself is very small and only holds a max of 40 people or so. There's seating around the stage and limited standing room. We were able to snatch a table for 4 of us.

Once the girls started coming out to perform, I realized it really wasn't as raunchy as I thought it would be.There was no nudity but the girls did dress in pretty provocative clothing, although it wasn't anything I've never seen before at regular dance clubs. I admired how athletic some of these girls were during their performances. Some of them did some crazy tricks on the pole and we all admired in awe of their strength.

If you want to end your night admiring sexy girls on strip poles and want to avoid the raunchiness of an actual strip club, I'd definitely suggest Jumbo's! Plus what better way to end the night than making it rain...

Since my yelp reviewed got censored. God forbid why? So this is dive bar with strippers. It's more like dancers. I felt like I seen women more naked at music festivals. You know how those go. They wear pasties. This place is more of bar feel to it. Like good ole American bar. They have parking but the parking is 9 bucks. LA makes more money from parking than actually doing any other sort of business. Outside of giving tickets to parking that is not paid for.

The girls here are pretty. But I try my best to stay away from the dancers while they're dancing. I feel like I will get impaled by they're shoes. If there is slip up 500 Newtons.

It's a cozy bar. Comparing it Vietnamese coffee shops to the OC. The OC is more roomie. I'm not pho. I'm panda express. Well, I'm American born. Whatever.

It's 2 drink minimum here. No cover. It's next to thai town. Thai food is pretty bomb. I have yet to try the food nearby. I will in the future though. You can't take pictures inside.

I find it funny how they sanitize the pole and not the money. Money is more dirty than the pole. Facepalm. Everyone touches money.

Seems like every pretty girl is in the sex business. Either be it cam girl, OF, twitch gamer chick, hooters, or sugar. That's how the world is now....