In 1949, Short Sugars BBQ opened its doors on South Scales Street in Reidsville, North Carolina, and for 75 years, it became more than just a barbecue joint—it was a cornerstone of the community. Known for its unique clear brown sauce, built on a Worcestershire base that refused to fit neatly into North Carolina’s barbecue camps, Short Sugars served up sliced and chopped barbecue sandwiches that drew generations of loyal customers. But this wasn’t just a restaurant; it was a way of life.
In its early days, Short Sugars was a drive-in during the doo-wop era, a buzzing hub where the famous cruise-ins lit up the night. In a town where what you knew didn’t define you, but the car you drove did, Short Sugars was where it all came together. Whether you were a Mustang man or loyal to Chevrolet, you’d roll in, grab a bite, and let the chrome gleam under the streetlights. It wasn’t just about the food; it was about the scene, the connections, and the pride that came from being part of something bigger.
It was also the kind of place where old-timers came every day, sometimes three meals a day, sitting in the same spot and ordering the same thing. I’ve been there when a fellow would just walk in, plop down, and start laughing with the guy next to him,the waitress didn’t even have to ask what he wanted—she’d just set his drink and plate down like clockwork. Short Sugars had a rhythm, a soul, and now it’s slipping away, taking with it the kind of small-town magic that’s becoming harder to find.
I can’t help but want to look God in the eyes and ask him why he gave up on this place. How do you let something so sacred, so steeped in tradition, just fade away?
As the lights dim and the doors close for the final time, it feels like more than just the end of a restaurant. It feels like the loss of something we can’t quite get back. It seems like our fate’s already been sealed in, Reidsville.
