by Travis Mullis

Gus’ Sir Beef, a Charlotte destination since 1969 has officially closed. Peter Taylor / Peter Taylor Photography

A few months ago, I was driving down Monroe Road when I passed Gus’ Sir Beef. It looked shabby. It was in need of a good pressure washing. It needed customers too.

The parking lot was empty thanks to what many hoped was a temporary closure. Weeds were starting to come up through the asphalt. I thought to myself that it probably didn’t have too much life left in it.

Now my suspicions have been confirmed. Gus’ Sir Beef has closed its doors forever. Another Charlotte icon has become just another memory. These types of closings seem inevitable at this point as developers make a city of my town. Charlotte hurdles into the future with little regard for the past. But it’s in the past that the story of Gus’ Sir Beef begins.

Framed photo of Gus Bacogeorge on display at Gus’ Sir Beef. Peter Taylor / Peter Taylor Photography

Gus Bacogeorge was born in 1923 in Daphne, Greece. His parents died when he was young and Gus was forced to become the breadwinner for his five siblings. In 1953, Gus was finally able to emigrate to America, where he married Clara Fokakis and raised a family. Then in 1969, Gus’s dream of owning a restaurant came true when he opened the door’s of Gus’ Sir Beef.

The slogan “fresh my farm” vegetables may have been an instance of an immigrant’s English, but nevertheless, Gus’ Sir Beef focused on using only locally grown produce and family recipes long before doing so was a trend. The business thrived and loyal customers flocked to the restaurant for years, including my grandfather, Frank.

Frank Mullis was a man set in his ways. He knew what he liked and he had a small list of local restaurants that he loved. Gus’ Sir Beef was probably at the top of that list, along with Landmark Diner.

Gus’ Sir Beef signature fried squash. Peter Taylor / Peter Taylor Photography

Most Saturdays we would hop in his Buick LeSabre and head to Gus’ Sir Beef for lunch. Everybody there knew my grandfather by name, and believe it or not, the place was usually packed. We would always get their fried squash, the best thing on the menu. I usually ordered their chicken tenders and sweet tea. Pawpaw, that’s what I called my Grandpa, would get coffee and the chuckwagon steak.

It was simple food, classic Americana with a few Greek and Italian dishes thrown in to service the large Greek population that came to call Charlotte home. It was always consistent. In the summers, you had to order their vegetable platter. That was North Carolina produce at its finest.

If we were lucky, some of my Pawpaw’s Greek friends with would come join us, telling dirty jokes in Greek and obsessively thumbing their worry beads. It was a neighborhood joint through and through.

I stopped going to Gus’ Sir Beef when my Pawpaw died in 2006. It just wasn’t the same without him and I had moved on. It seems like Charlotte has moved on, too. I imagine that the majority of the restaurant’s patrons have passed on now and it’s hard to run a business without customers — especially when the cost of running the business would have included expensive structural repairs, as was the case with Gus’.

I’ve grown weary of the news of restaurant closings in Charlotte. I know they’ll continue. I suppose it’s the part of me that doesn’t want to acknowledge the passing of time that I hate to see them go.

I hope another restaurant takes the place of Gus’ Sir Beef and becomes another favorite neighborhood joint, but I doubt it will bring as much comfort and joy as it brought to a boy and his Pawpaw back when Charlotte was just a town and not a city.