Brett Banter

This week marked the alleged death of Elvis Presley, but more importantly (and more sadly), it marks the end of a long-time Greenville staple, The Hot Dog King.

The King was more than a restaurant. It was more than a store front. It was a remnant of an era in downtown Greenville when things weren't so bright and shiny. The King was the redneck uncle at the fancy wedding. He was a good guy, nice guy, but he reminded everyone at the party that there was a past not so clean. In a town that prides itself on aesthetics, The King's logo of a smiling hot dog tipping his crown in your honor was blatantly tacky, yet beautiful.

I remember my esteemed editor Bob Paslay taking me there when I first moved to Greenville in 2000. I was a "health" nut then, and had already found the hipper places in Greenville. I didn't want to go, but I did. The King was a hole in the wall restaurant with tables that looked like they were stolen from an abandoned Arby's, bad lightning and a plastic board with the menu on it. Not my kind of place. But I ate the food, and The King became a secret pleasure for me. Bad day at work? Head over for a dog all out including onions, which I hate, but strangely could only consumer at The King.

The King became part of a mythic group of restaurants for me over the years that represent when Greenville was a little grittier, a little less sophisticated, a little more Southern. There was the King, Tommy's Ham House, the Clock, Pete's, the original Stax, the Zorba, Tanner's Big Orange and Henry's. For those under 40 and not from Greenville, finding them was liking joining a secret club. Oh, you've eaten there? Did you like it? No? Are you going back? Yes, ok, we can hang out. You get it.

This is not saying I don't like the changes Greenville has made. I like the art galleries, and craft beers. I like walking along the Liberty Bridge and riding the trolley. I like the Bi-Lo Center and I like Fluor Field.

But it feels like sometimes that Greenville has lost its past deliberately. It went "whoo" when the redneck uncle got in his old truck and drove away. Little did it know, the old guy took the party with him.

Goodbye to The King.