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Not so fancy feast

Can anything overshadow the legendary Gus Burger at The White Spot?

By today’s standards, the Gus is a humble hamburger sandwich. But it was revolutionary 65 years ago for the fried egg tucked in its bun, and its lore has grown as generations of UVA students have stumbled into The White Spot late at night to sop up the suds in their stomachs.

“You can’t find better,” former White Spot owner Dmitri Tevampis said in a 2014 C-VILLE Weekly interview. “At three in the morning after the bar, you eat the Gus, and you’re done.”

Indeed, the name Gus has grown to be synonymous with the Spot. But another big name now shares the marquee. Ralph Sampson, the former UVA basketball great and Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Famer, is part of an ownership group that purchased the small grill and dining room on the UVA Corner in January.

“Sometimes investments are heartfelt, and about tradition and legacy,” Sampson says. “It was done for the right reasons. The traditions in Charlottesville are very special.”

Sampson said the 15-person ownership group, which has “more things to come in Charlottesville,” is composed of UVA alumni and at least three former White Spot employees.

According to Sampson, the new ownership team isn’t likely to change much at the Spot. “Maybe a few additions,” he says. “It just needs some TLC. Why change something everyone loves?”

That means the Gus Burger should remain the same as it has been since around 1955: an all-beef patty topped with cheese, egg, lettuce, and tomato.

Like the memories of so many who’ve enjoyed the Gus, the hamburger’s history is a bit fuzzy. Paul Dunsmore founded The White Spot at 1407 University Ave. in 1953. He memorialized the Gus a few years after opening, naming the burger in honor of Dr. Gus Egor, who the diner’s website indicates would “traverse University Avenue daily to order a cheeseburger topped with a fried egg.” No record of a professor Egor at UVA is readily available, however.

Dunsmore always said it was the decision to keep The White Spot open nearly all night that drove its success and kept the Gus on folks’ minds. The restaurant offered nothing more than a counter and kitchen when Dunsmore built it out of a former beauty salon, but third owner Tevampis expanded in 2005. Annexing the neighboring space formerly occupied by a jewelry and gift store, The White Spot added tables to the 11 counter barstools it solely relied on for 50 years.

Tevampis worked The White Spot tirelessly for two decades and was a constant champion of the Gus and the diner’s other delicacies like the Grillswith, two grilled Krispy Kreme donuts with a scoop of ice cream. “First you have the Gus, then the Grills,” Tevampis said in the 2014 interview. “A lot of people, as soon as they come to the airport, they come straight here. The White Spot—everybody knows it, young and old people. Everybody who passes through the university. That is the same with the Gus. These people come here, they say it is the best burger.”

Not all local burger bingers agree that the Gus is still tops, but it has its supporters. “I had never heard of a fried egg on a burger before moving to town, but it was a light-bulb moment,” local sandwich enthusiast and UVA employee Geoff Otis says. “The Gus Burger is great because you get to step outside the typical extravagant toppings that pile up so high you can barely fit the thing in your mouth. Plus, you get to eat it in The White Spot.”

Sampson, too, says he enjoyed a few Gus Burgers during his time at UVA. A skinny kid trying to fill out a gigantic 7’4″ frame, he recalls, “I wanted to gain weight, so I could eat whatever I wanted.”

During his own tenure at the Spot, Tevampis refused to tinker with tradition. Want toppings on your Grillswith? No way. Want the fried egg on your Gus over-easy? Forget about it. “I try to keep it always the same—I don’t want to change,” he told C-VILLE. “Got to be dry—it’s more safe.”

Tevampis launched the annual Gus Burger eating contest in 2002, and the springtime event has attracted national media attention and countless gustatorial feats. This past April’s eating contest champion downed four burgers in just six minutes—the time limit for the contest—and the record is said to be eight Guses in a single sitting.

But for Sampson and so many other Wahoos, the Gus lives on not because of annual media coverage, but because of its accessibility on the Corner and its ability to satisfy those late-night munchies.

“Everyone has a memory of The White Spot after a game,” Sampson says. “I lived on the Lawn my senior year, and walking from room number six to the Corner definitely provided me a lot of memories.”

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At long last: A Virginia fan looks back on 25 seasons

 

By Charlie Sallwasser

It’s 1am on Tuesday, and Virginia basketball has just won the national championship. I can’t believe it. As a 10-year-old, I used to pretend to be Virginia forward Cornel Parker when I was shooting hoops in my driveway, lining up the game-winner in the national championship game. I made countless elbow threes to secure the title for the Hoos, but driveway fantasy is a long way from hardwood reality. I’m giddy. What a night. What a team.

I cried happy tears tonight. I knew they were coming. I’m a crier anyway (weddings and father-son scenes in movies are my usual pitfalls), and I cried two Saturdays ago when Kihei Clark hit the free throws to cap the miracle comeback against Purdue, clinching the program’s first Final Four appearance since 1984, when I was a year old. On one hand, it’s just sports, but on the other, fanhood of this team is a common thread between my family, many of my friends, and the city I live in. It’s taken me from that 10-year-old shooting hoops in his driveway to a 36-year-old shooting hoops in his driveway with his 6-year-old. Following this team has covered most of my life. 

I never wore the honors of Honor. My attitude toward high school academics was a little too cavalier for me to be a Cavalier, but both of my parents and my older sister were, and my youth was marked by trips to Charlottesville for football games and having basketball games on TV all winter. It didn’t take much exposure to any of it before I was sneaking my throwback Ralph Sampson jersey to school for picture day and spending long hours in my driveway trying to adopt Curtis Staples’ lightning-quick release for my jump shot (update: it didn’t take).

UVA and NBA superstar Ralph Sampson celebrates Virginia’s first national title. Photo: Matt Riley

When I was in high school, my parents and I would talk to my grandparents every Friday. The Hoos would always come up, and my grandfather would ask me what I thought of specific players or games. He’d oblige my youthful optimism and punctuate it with his trademark “very good,” regardless of how seriously he actually took my analysis.

Virginia’s sports teams have been a steady undercurrent in my relationship with my own father. He’s not one for idle conversation, but I started calling him during every Virginia game I watched when I went away to college, no matter where I happened to be at the time (or how sober). Those calls pinballed from the state of Todd Billet’s jumper to little minutiae of our day-to-day lives, and have kept us much closer than we would have been otherwise. I don’t know how much paternal wisdom I would have missed out on if I didn’t need to chat with my dad about an otherwise inconsequential matinée basketball game. As an adult now with two children of my own, I don’t even get to watch every game these days, much less break them down afterward, but those calls still happen often. I’d be sad if they didn’t. 

Now, I share that fanhood with my son. He wears a Kyle Guy jersey every day it’s clean (or he can sneak it out of the house), and when a game runs too late, we watch highlights together the next morning before school. I got to link arms with him on Saturday night when his favorite player lined up the winning free throws, and then hear him breathlessly recap it for my parents on the phone. I didn’t wake him up tonight (though I wish I had), but I can’t wait to sit down after dinner sometime this week, watch it with him, and celebrate all over again.

That’s what it’s about, really. Moments. The linked arms with the boy. Coining a recurring “never a doubt!” with my Dad after having plenty of doubts against Gardner-Webb, Purdue, and Auburn. The joyful, teary (and beery) celebration with my friend Will after Clark’s free throws. FaceTimes, calls, and texts with friends and family near and far tonight. The basketball’s been plenty memorable this March, but the moments have counted for a lot, too.

Hoos fans at Boylan Heights on March 30, when Virginia defeated Purdue 80-75 in overtime. Photo: Martin Kyle

For most of my life, merely seeing Virginia selected to the NCAA Tournament was a thrill. The program made just five appearances in the Big Dance from 1993-94 (the first season I can remember start to finish) to Tony Bennett’s 2009 hiring, and in four of those five appearances, they failed to emerge from the event’s first weekend. Success in that span was judged by the team winning more ACC games than they lost, rather than by any postseason benchmark, but even that modest feat only occurred four times during those 16 seasons.

There were plenty of highs, but they manifested as short bursts of excitement, like upsets of North Carolina or Duke in front of rowdy crowds at University Hall or John Paul Jones Arena, or as superlative individual performances from the likes of Staples, Travis Watson, or Sean Singletary. You could never count on any prolonged success.

More frequent were the lows, groaners like Dave Leitao locking the team out of their brand-new arena for what he felt was subpar effort, scoring three baskets in a half during a loss to Florida State, or losing by 45 to North Carolina in Chapel Hill. In the 10 seasons before Bennett was hired, the team won just 68 of 160 ACC games and played in the NIT five times. It was hard to imagine the Cavs making the jump; the Final Four runs of 1981 and 1984 felt about as relevant to me, a fan born in 1983, as Bob Cousy highlights do to someone who grew up on Allen Iverson. Final Fours felt like they were of a different sport, reserved for basketball’s blue bloods (the Kentuckys and North Carolinas) or random outliers like Loyola Chicago, who would become trivia answers for future generations, barring forever middle-of-the-road teams like Virginia, who couldn’t stay out of its own way.

Tony Bennett changed things. He developed an identity for the team. It wasn’t my favorite at first, and it took a while to get used to—artful scoring is more fun to watch than dogged defense—but it quickly made the team competitive night in and night out. Then, clued in by the slow surge in results and a connection with the humble, honest Bennett, talent started coming in. And with the talent came wins—178 of them over the last six seasons, with four ACC regular season titles and two ACC Tournament titles to boot. And with those wins come expectations of glory on the sport’s biggest stage, and that’s where, on some level, we still felt like there was something to prove.

Forward Mamadi Diakite, who sank a crucial 12-foot buzzer-beater during the Elite Eight, pours on the pressure. Photo: Matt Riley

In 2014, Virginia lost in the Sweet Sixteen. In 2015, the second round. The next year, with a Final Four spot in their sights, a 16-point lead evaporated in a flurry of Syracuse pressure and turned to a seven-point loss. And as everyone knows by now, 2018 marked the first time a top-seeded team had ever—ever!—lost to a 16. Each early exit fanned the flames of doubt around Virginia’s ability to win in March, while simultaneously finding new neuroses to add to the pile.

No matter how unfair it is that so much of the perception of a college basketball program’s health is derived from success in a single-elimination, end-of-season tournament that is mostly popular for how much wild, unpredictable stuff happens and how many people guess wrong and lose money, it’s true, and that perception has been the cloud hanging over this unparalleled run for Virginia hoops. As well as we fans think things are going, we want everyone else to think so too. Even if Bennett is actually the paragon of perspective that he appears to be in public, I’m comfortable saying that his was a fan base in need of some vindication.

This year’s run provided that vindication in cathartic fashion. One needs to look no further than the photo of Bennett hollering to the roof of the Yum! Center after Virginia’s Final Four-clinching win for proof of that. It’s been redemptive for 2018’s historic flop and the disappointments that preceded it, and redemptive for every one of the countless times a national analyst like USA Today’s Nate Scott said something like “UVA basketball is paint-drying, grass-growing, sixth-period-algebra boring.” There is now an evergreen reply to the many critics of Virginia basketball, and it will be raised to the rafters of John Paul Jones Arena.

For me, this Virginia drive to the national championship game has been more than just another six basketball games in March. It touches on three generations of family, 25 years of patience and pain, frustration and elation, late-night phone calls and barrages of texts, and perhaps more emotional and intellectual energy than a man in his mid-30s should be devoting to a team representing a school he didn’t even go to—but my wife and friends can write that piece. Virginia’s thrilling run through March 2019 has been accompanied by joys at every step. I’ll cherish it forever. And I can’t wait to share it with my kid.

Charlie Sallwasser wrote the UVA sports blog University Ball from 2009-2017.

Students flock to the Corner on Monday to revel in the team’s win. Photo: Eze Amos
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Current men’s basketball team echoes past successes

Four minutes to play and the game was tied at 60. A sea of orange yelled from the sidelines as the time continued to whittle down. Three and a half minutes gone—still 60.

Two free throws at the 34-second mark and suddenly they’re up by two.

Up by two? The sixth seed? The team that went 15-11?

It was 1976, and the Virginia Cavaliers were about to beat No. 1 seed North Carolina for their first ACC championship, after upsetting No. 3 North Carolina State and No. 2 Maryland.

“We were 0-6 against those teams,” then-head coach Terry Holland said when he was honored at John Paul Jones Arena September 23, on the 40th anniversary of that win, “but with every one of those teams we had a game that went down to the wire. …We knew we could play with them.”

Wally Walker was the leading man for the ’76
Cavaliers, taking home MVP honors at the tournament and leading the Hoos with 21 points in the championship game.

“Just to see them,” Walker says, smiling as he recalls Virginia’s fans. “I mean tears, and people weeping.”

Walker laughs. “But I mean, we were too.”

That second ACC championship would evade Virginia for Holland’s next 14 years. In fact, it would be almost four decades before Tony Bennett’s 2014 dream team would recapture the title.

But 1981 was also a standout year as UVA went undefeated at home. It was the year Holland took his team to the program’s first Final Four.

And it was the year of Ralph Sampson.

Sampson, the 7’4” center for Virginia and three-time College Player of the Year, was untouchable. The Cavaliers went 27-2 that regular season, falling only to North Carolina and Maryland.

No one knew that in 33 years Bennett’s squad would begin duplicating the 1981 team’s accomplishments, logging back-to-back 30-win seasons in 2014 and 2015, and enjoying an undefeated season at home in 2016.

Asked how the two teams compare, Sampson’s answer is quick: “We would have killed them.”

He laughs. “It also starts with the coach, and I think that the coach that they have here in Tony Bennett is phenomenal. They should keep him here forever if they can.”

Take a step back to Virginia’s second Final Four appearance in 1984. The miracle run. The year that Holland’s team went 21-12 in the regular season and wound up losing to Houston in overtime in the Final Four.

For players such as Rick Carlisle, some moments remain painted vividly in memory, like the team’s overtime win against Arkansas that pushed them into the Sweet 16.

“It was a play designed for Othell Wilson,” Carlisle remembers of the final shot. “He went up for the shot and Albert Robinson…got a piece of the shot. It deflected into my hands, and I just grabbed it and let it go, and it went in.”

Moments like these don’t just happen. Standout years like 1976, 1981 and 1984 were the hard work of a coach and a lot of good players—and many will tell you they see aspects of Holland in Bennett.

“He played for his dad, so I got to see his dad coach,” Holland says of Bennett, “and I think they play a lot like we did. I think he’s taken the stuff that his dad did and added on to it and made good use of the caliber that he has on hand.”

Carlisle goes further, saying the coaches share humility, unselfishness and toughness; he believes Holland set the stage for Bennett.

“Without Terry Holland, there wouldn’t be a Tony Bennett.”