If you drive down Victory Drive today, you might miss the spot where an empire once stood. It's just a vacant lot now. Savannah has a way of holding onto its ghosts, and the ghost of the johnny harris restaurant savannah ga is particularly loud for anyone who grew up here.
Most people know it as the place with the neon sign and the legendary BBQ sauce. But the story is a lot more complicated than just a restaurant closing down. It was a 92-year run that ended not with a whimper, but with a community-wide heartbreak in 2016.
The Rise of a Roadside Legend
It all started in 1924. Johnny Harris opened a tiny roadside BBQ shack at the corner of Bee Road and Victory Drive. It wasn't fancy. We're talking white clapboard, black shutters, and sawdust on the floors. Basically, the kind of place you go for the food and stay because the atmosphere feels like home.
In 1927, a guy named Kermit "Red" Donaldson walked in and started washing dishes. Red was a hustler. He walked from Abercorn Street to work every single day, eventually working his way up to manager. When the place got too small for the crowds, Red helped build the massive, iconic circular building just down the street at 1651 East Victory Drive. That was 1936.
The building was a marvel. It looked like an upscale 1950s diner before the 1950s even happened. It had these high, domed ceilings and dark wood booths that felt like they'd seen every secret in Savannah.
📖 Related: Gomez Palacio Durango Mexico: Why Most People Just Drive Right Through (And Why They’re Wrong)
That Famous Batterless Fried Chicken
You can't talk about Johnny Harris without mentioning the chicken.
Honestly, it was weird.
Most Southern fried chicken is caked in flour or batter. Johnny Harris did "batterless" fried chicken. It was just seasoned skin and meat, fried until the skin was so crispy it shattered like glass. People either loved it or they didn't get it, but if you grew up on it, no other chicken tasted right.
Why did Johnny Harris Restaurant Savannah GA actually close?
The doors shut for good on May 28, 2016. People were stunned. There were lines wrapped around the building for the final week. Folks were literally buying the chairs they sat in during the final auction.
So, what happened?
The owners—the descendants of Red Donaldson—were pretty transparent about it. The building was a beast. It was 11 acres of property and a massive, aging structure that was becoming impossible to maintain. We’re talking about 1930s infrastructure trying to keep up with 21st-century health codes and utility bills.
- Maintenance costs: The "infrastructure simply was not built to continue operations without substantial investment," according to restaurant president Norman Heidt at the time.
- The Land Deal: A regional developer made an offer for the 28 lots.
- Generational Shifts: The families involved were ready to move on. Running a 90-year-old institution is exhausting work.
There was a massive push to save the building. Petitions were signed. People called for "landmark" status. But in the end, the wrecking ball won. The building was demolished, and ironically, the big development that was supposed to happen stalled for years, leaving a gaping hole in the Savannah landscape.
The Legacy Lives On (In Two Ways)
If you're craving that flavor right now, you aren't totally out of luck.
First, there's the sauce. The Johnny Harris BBQ Sauce business was always the most profitable part of the operation. It’s still being made. You can find it in grocery stores all over the Southeast or order it online. It’s that same tangy, slightly sweet, mustard-and-vinegar-tinged recipe that Red Donaldson perfected when he took a break from the restaurant in the late 1950s.
Second, there's BowTie Barbecue Co. When Johnny Harris closed, some of the management and family members (specifically the Lowenthals) decided to start something new. They opened BowTie on Waters Avenue. It’s not a replica of Johnny Harris—it’s its own thing—but you’ll find nods to the old menu there, and a lot of the old staff moved over when the Victory Drive location folded.
✨ Don't miss: Garden City Weather SC: What Locals Know That Tourists Usually Miss
What Most People Get Wrong
There’s a common myth that the restaurant failed because the food went downhill.
That's not really fair.
While reviews toward the very end were mixed (as they are with any place that’s been open for a century), the restaurant was still doing massive volume. It didn't die because people stopped eating there; it died because the physical cost of the past caught up with the reality of the present.
Actionable Insights for the Savannah Nostalgic
If you’re looking to recapture the Johnny Harris magic in 2026, here is your game plan:
- Skip the Empty Lot: Don't go to Victory Drive expecting to see a plaque. There isn't much there.
- Visit BowTie Barbecue: Head over to 6724 Waters Ave. It’s the spiritual successor. Try the "Original" sauce there to see how it stacks up to your memory.
- The DIY Route: Buy a bottle of the Original or Hickory Smoke sauce from their website or a local Kroger. The trick to the Johnny Harris taste? Brush it on at the very end of grilling so the sugars don't burn.
- Check the Auction Finds: Many Savannah locals still have the original menus or fixtures. If you're a collector, keep an eye on local estate sales; that memorabilia is still highly prized in the Lowcountry.
Savannah is a city that loves to talk about what used to be there. Johnny Harris is the king of those conversations. It was more than a restaurant; it was a time capsule. Even though the building is gone, the fact that we're still talking about their fried chicken and sauce a decade after the closure says everything you need to know.