Behind an unlit neon sign on 43rd Street, there’s a 25-year-old Gainesville institution. Paul Cakmis owns the place. He’s 61, round like Santa Claus but without the beard. When things were good — before the crash, the layoffs and the lists — the Gator football team would come and eat at the 43rd Street Deli.
When he was the king, and he sold one of his restaurants for an obscene amount of money, he had enough to put away to give his family a good life. Things were easy.
But that nest egg he worked so hard to nurture is running out. And not enough money is coming in.
“When you’re successful you take it for granted,” he said. “When the shit hits the fan it’s a whole different operation.”
Cakmis’ Greek immigrant parents were both restaurateurs, a word he uses with pride. One time his dad, a handshake man, bought him a black Schwinn Jaguar bike, then gave it to an orphanage because he didn’t keep up with chores.
According to Cakmis, at one point his parents owned 30 different restaurants. They worked hard, long hours. His said his dad died from the stress, and his mom was stuck with the responsibility of the restaurants. The restaurants went like a “fire sale,” he said.
He grew up, got married and then divorced.
In 1983 he opened his first restaurant in downtown Gainesville. He was 35, and he learned what it took to run a business. How to treat customers. How to cook. At times he was a janitor and a maintenance man, but he was a restaurateur just like his dad.
In 1986 he moved to his flagship location on 43rd Street. He remarried and continued working. His wife worked, too, while pregnant.
He had a philosophy about give-and-take with his customers.
“People want to feel important when they come into a restaurant,” he said. “And you want to make them feel good, because without them you’re nothing.”
His business grew, as good ones do, steadily over the years. But he couldn’t forget about his dad and all those restaurants in Ohio. He wanted more.
After 10 years, he opened a restaurant on 13th Street. The students found him, the money found him, and Tim Tebow and the Gators found him, too.
He would set up a breakfast buffet and close off the back of the restaurant for the football team. He loved that Urban Meyer, and before him, Steve Spurrier, were spending their money locally.
Four years later he opened a third location at Williston Road and I-75.
“That’ll be a little goldmine in a few years.”
Cakmis was the breakfast king. Three restaurants. A nice house for his wife and kids and some nice cars. But three places meant triple the problems and a strain on the marriage. He went through a few managers because he kept catching them stealing. His health started to flicker.
In 2008, CVS wanted his real estate, and offered him buckets of money, so he sold.
After all, hadn’t he been working hard all this time? Didn’t he deserve to put a little away for his wife and kids?
He did well from the sale and didn’t notice at first when monthly profits started to drop.
One less restaurant meant fewer customers. Die-hards who came in four times a week only came once. Fewer students. Something was in the air.
“You could just tell people were tightening up with their money,” he said. “You could just sense it.”
Deliveries got more expensive. Food prices started to spike. Then they soared.
A gas surcharge and an insurance hike hit, while his income dropped by a third. The banks started having trouble and wouldn’t lend money anymore. He lost his left eye to a virus.
Now he was living off the sale because no checks were coming in. His marriage was dissolving. He was drinking too much for a man his age. He had a heart attack.
He didn’t want all those years of hard work to go to waste. He wanted to retire one day. He wanted to leave some money for his kids when he died. He had to cut his best employees’ hours. He had to lay some off. They trusted him, and he let them down. He felt the weight of the families who depended on him. He developed ulcers that burst in his belly.
He had to compete with the dollar menu and the five-dollar footlong.
He couldn’t sleep, so he started making lists. How much bacon did he need? How much cheddar? What could he afford? Who did he owe money to? He’d call and ask for more time.
His is not the only business suffering. After 82 years in Gainesville, Louis’ Lunch will close later this month. The owner has blamed the recession and nearby road construction.
Similar construction on 43rd Street has damaged Cakmis’ already fragile business, he said.
Cakmis believes that people in Gainesville should spend their money here, in town. He’s not a corporation. He needs help.
Today, he’s thankful for what he has: his wife, kids and grandkids. He’s even optimistic.
He believes it’s going to get better, but in the meantime, he’s going to deal with it the only way he knows how.
“I’m gonna wake up every day and come to work and bust my can.”
That’s how his dad did it, and that’s how he’s going to do it. There’s no time to feel sorry for himself. He has restaurants to run.
