The Unusual History of Five Guys on Bay Street

In the heart of Savannah, where the cobblestones have stories etched into their surfaces and the moss-draped oaks whisper secrets of the past, there lies an establishment unlike any other: Five Guys on Bay Street. Now, before you start envisioning a typical fast-food joint serving up burgers and fries, let me assure you, this story is anything but typical.

Our tale begins in the sultry summer of '92, a time when Bay Street was less a tourist haven and more a backdrop for the peculiar and the extraordinary. It was then that five gentlemen, none of whom were related nor particularly skilled in the culinary arts, decided to embark on a venture that would forever change the fabric of Savannah's dining scene.

The original "Five Guys" were, in fact, a motley crew of a retired pirate (yes, you read that right), a disillusioned mime, a wayward meteorologist, an out-of-work astronaut (budget cuts are brutal), and a Savannah socialite who believed he was the reincarnation of General James Oglethorpe, the city's founder. Their mission? To open a burger joint that doubled as a museum of "peculiar artifacts," each item somehow connected to their diverse backgrounds.

The establishment's decor was as eclectic as its founders. A Jolly Roger flag waved beside a mime's invisible box, a spacesuit hung next to weather vanes of dubious accuracy, and a portrait of General Oglethorpe (complete with burger in hand) presided over it all. The menu, equally bizarre, featured items like the "Buccaneer Burger," complete with a secret sauce rumored to contain rum, and the "Cosmic Fries," dusted with a seasoning that purportedly tasted like the moon.

But the real draw of this Five Guys was the stories. Each burger came with a tale, each fry with a fable. The retired pirate swore his Buccaneer Burger was the same dish he used to quell mutinies. The mime, though silent, would perform a dramatic reenactment of the inspiration behind his "Silent but Deadly Chili Fries." The meteorologist's "Stormy Weather Bacon Burger" came with a forecast that was right only as often as the weatherman himself.

As word of this bizarre eatery spread, locals and tourists alike flocked to Bay Street, eager for a taste of the extraordinary. It wasn't just about the food; it was about the experience, the connection to a Savannah that existed in the gaps between history books and ghost tours, a city as whimsical as it was haunting.

Yet, as all good things must, the era of the original Five Guys came to an end. The pirate set sail on one last adventure, the mime found his voice (and a lucrative career in radio), the meteorologist finally got a weather prediction right and moved to a top-secret government job, the astronaut was called back for a mission to Mars, and the socialite was last seen trying to charter a boat back to England, claiming his kingdom awaited.

Today, the Five Guys on Bay Street remains, though under new management and with fewer artifacts. But if you listen closely over the din of diners, you might just catch the echo of a pirate's laugh, the silent applause for a mime's performance, the whoosh of a rocket taking off, the incorrect patter of a weather forecast, or the regal decree of a would-be general.

In Savannah, where history and whimsy intertwine like the branches of its ancient oaks, the story of the original Five Guys on Bay Street reminds us that sometimes the most incredible tales are found not in the grand narratives but in the quirky, the peculiar, and the downright implausible.