New Franky Bradley's puts the kitsch in a restaurant kitchen

FACE FULLY obscured but voice fully audible, Tom Bee rummages around the compartments of Franky Bradley's host stand, leading a one-man search party for something. Suddenly, his hand pops up like a periscope, waving a yellowed magazine half-shrouded in a black plastic bag.

"Is this your Playboy?"

His cousin Mark Bee, owner and primary resurrector of this historic Center City space, shoots it a quick glance and nods. "Oh, yeah. There's a couple really good articles in there."

In the parlance of the red-blooded American male, lauding a lad mag for its journalism is one of the oldest nyuk-nyuks in the book. But Bee is telling the truth.

There's simply no need to mislead when there's already so much skin on the walls. That old, dog-eared Playboy is but a sliver of the source material that Bee leaned on to zap one of Philadelphia's storied old dining rooms back into consciousness, and into the 21st century.

A plumber and contractor turned bar guy, Mark Bee has been a successful local restaurateur for well over a decade, running N. 3rd and Silk City on the opposite side of town in Northern Liberties. (Tom pitches in at all three.) But when he isn't fiddling with kegs, taste-testing specials or burying his nose in ledgers, Bee focuses energy on his chief hobby.

"I love everything vintage," he said. "I'm a collector."

Many self-described collectors have specified tastes, like stamps, coins or baseball cards, but Bee casts his gaze a tad wider to include pretty much everything. He's the type to dumpster-dive at construction sites and make abrupt U-turns to rummage at yard sales.

While this is more of a hypothetical than a plan, Bee would love to land a gig along the lines of History Channel's "American Pickers" once he retires from the food biz. "Those guys got the best job," he said.

Bee's knack for antique aggregation has had a brilliant impact on Franky Bradley's, at 1320 Chancellor.

It's not a name well-known to the latest generation of local diners, but Frankie Bradley was once a big deal in these parts.

Born into a Lithuanian-Jewish family in South Philly, Bradley was born Bloch, but the prizefighter took on an Irish moniker to fit in with the most successful brawlers of the day. He made his nut in the ring but eventually shifted over to hospitality, opening his restaurant in 1933 where Bee's is today.

Over the years, it gained a reputation as a magnet for celebrities, thanks in large part to Bradley's big personality. A 1983 Daily News column marking the establishment's 50th anniversary called it "the Sardi's of Philadelphia," a reference to the famed NYC showbiz hang, before launching into anecdotes about star customers like Jason Robards, Liz Taylor, Eddie Fisher and Yul Brynner.

After Bradley died, in 1976, at age 81, the restaurant was run by family members until the late '80s. It was briefly Harry Jay Katz's Hesch's, then Sisters Nightclub until two years back.

Given the wave of interest in dining nostalgia brought on by pop-culture influences like "Mad Men," it would've been very easy for anyone to tap into all this flashy lineage to reopen Franky's, now spelled with a Y. But very easy is not very Mark Bee.

"I'm trying to tie it all together," said Bee, gesturing to Franky's windowless, glowing-red ground floor, featuring a big, U-shaped bar, plush studded booths and a scattering of dining-room tables. (The second floor, featuring a dance floor and private event space, will open Feb. 13.) It's not exactly clear what the thematic glue is, other than to say it works.

Perhaps the most noticeable touches are the 3-D knights, their armor varying levels of shining, a nod to a 1983 Inquirer review that noted the restaurant's "somewhat medieval-impressionistic appearance." There's a ludicrously kitschy motorized lamp, featuring what looks like a wooden conquistador shrouded in plastic strands that drip beads of mineral oil.

There are loads of random paintings - a haunted pirate ship, a drunken rooster - and images of flirty Brazilian flight attendants out of an old Pan Am calendar. (The beauty of the female form is undoubtedly a focal point.) There's a shelf stocked with cutesy seashell art and an alcove framed with enough creepy loose antlers to make the set designers of "True Detective" tug at their collars.

Bee's artist friend Scott Johnston, who also moonlights as Franky's doorman on weekends, put together a ton of art for the place, including a killer Pam Grier portrait constructed entirely of $1 and $2 bills, and the decoupaged restroom walls, heavy on old liquor ads, pin-up babes, Boris Vallejo fantasy art and old-school athletes.

The dizzying decor has proven to be a hit among customers via social media, already thick with snapshots and videos.

Franky's is still very new, and it'll need some time before people catch on to the fact that there are reasons to visit beyond mere aesthetics - the beer, the cocktails, the music, the vibe. And especially chef Dave Kane's menu, a mix of reliable pub eats (burgers, wings, potato skins) and more ambitious cooking, like pan-seared chicken livers and a cider-braised lamb shank.

That's fine with Bee, since he isn't even close to finished decorating yet.

"This business can be stressful," he said, eyeing up chunks of unclaimed interior real estate that won't stay that way for long. "When I'm out shopping, collecting, antiquing, it's when I'm at my calmest. It's like my therapy, you know?"