Gus’s Is Back--and It Still Feels Like Home

Phil and Marie Logan had their first date here 14 years ago. Ken Funsten long ago signed the deal with his wedding photographer in a back booth. Melva James used to eat ribs with her Pasadena Community College sorority sister in the 1950s.

Everyone seem to revel in memories and relish the immediate moment of good and messy, hands-on eating at Tuesday’s reopening of Gus’s Restaurant.

For many here, Gus’s epitomizes South Pasadenans’ image of their town as a place where you know your neighbors or, even if you don’t, you still speak to people as you pass on the street or encounter them in shops and restaurants.

Almost three years after the 1987 Whittier earthquake forced its closure, the South Pasadena institution reopened to great fanfare, with its celebrated neon running-pig-and-chicken sign flashing once more.

Legend and lore of Gus’s abounded in the conversations of the more than 600 people who paid $10 to sample barbecue, stuffed grape leaves and fresh strawberries. The opening was a benefit for the chamber of commerce.

“Until we closed because of the earthquake, we didn’t realize how famous we were,” said co-owner Dino Lappas, who eight years ago left his job as United Artists’ director of recordings to become a partner with his brother-in-law, Peter Tripodes.

Tripodes summed up the close-knit feeling that many have about the restaurant founded in 1946 by three Greek immigrants, including Tripodes’ father. “I hate to tell you how many people met their wives or husbands here for the first time. Or got their divorces here,” said Tripodes, 48. He was 13 when he started working as a dishwasher for his father, Jack, who now is retired.

The restaurant is in a 1921 building that has been refurbished to meet earthquake standards. But the new layout was familiar: The famous “horse mirror” depicting a race at Santa Anita Park--untouched by the quake--was back, as was the neon sign out front, which violates a new law prohibiting animated signs but was OKd by city officials after a public clamor.

“It’s still like home,” said Marie Logan, who first came to Gus’s in 1976, on her first date with her future husband.

Down the counter from the Logans, founder Jack Tripodes recalled the good old days and wiped away his tears with a handkerchief. “I spent 44 years of my life here,” said Tripodes, 78, a cane at his side as he sat on a counter stool, watching the noisy crowd swirl around him.