Twelve years is a lifetime in the Charleston restaurant world. Honestly, it’s an eternity. Most places don't make it past the three-year "honeymoon" phase before the rent hikes or the fickle tourist crowds find a new shiny object on King Street. But Rutledge Cab Company wasn't on King Street. It sat on the corner of Rutledge Avenue and Mount Pleasant Street, an area locals now call "NoMo," back when that neighborhood was basically just industrial shells and potential.
Then, on October 28, 2024, they served their last burger.
It was a shock. Or maybe it wasn't. Depending on who you ask at the neighborhood bar, the closure was either a tragic loss of a local "diner on steroids" or a long time coming for a place that had lost its way.
The Bill Murray Factor and the Old Exxon Station
You've probably heard the rumors. Yes, Bill Murray was an owner. Along with Mike Veeck and managing partner Brad Creger, the trio took a gamble on an abandoned 1950s-style gas station. It was an Exxon once. Then a convenience store. Then a graveyard for tow trucks.
They kept that grit.
The design was "diner chic" before that was a buzzword. They had these cool miniature garage doors that would flip open, letting the humid Charleston breeze roll through the bar. Inside, a faux alligator door and a vintage bingo board gave it this weird, eclectic energy that felt very... well, very Charleston.
Brad Creger once admitted he fell into the restaurant business by accident. He was a car dealership guy. He bought his first restaurant, Atlanticville, as a real estate play and realized—too late, kinda—that running a kitchen is a nightmare. But with Rutledge Cab Company, the automotive theme just fit his DNA.
What Really Made the Menu Work (And What Didn't)
For a long time, the food at Rutledge Cab Company Charleston South Carolina was the gold standard for "elevated comfort." They weren't trying to be Peninsula Grill—even though their founding chef, Robert Carter, was the man who put Peninsula Grill on the map.
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It was about the charcoal grill.
If you went there and didn't get something with a flame-broiled char, you were doing it wrong. The "Red Eye" burger was the heavy hitter. Imagine a burger topped with cheddar, bacon, and a fried egg, but served on an English muffin instead of a bun. It was messy. It was glorious.
- The Wings: These weren't your soggy buffalo wings. They were jumbo, chargrilled, and hit with a house herb blend.
- The Reuben Egg Rolls: A weirdly perfect mashup of corned beef, sauerkraut, and Gruyère served with pepper jelly mustard.
- The "Call Your Own" Burger: You could basically play God with a patty, adding everything from blue cheese to sprouts.
But toward the end, things got patchy.
Locals started noticing the "wither." It’s a common story. The service slowed down. The fries would come out lukewarm. One reviewer famously ranted about a beet salad served with canned beets, which in a city like Charleston—where every chef has a direct line to a farm on John’s Island—is a cardinal sin.
The NoMo Metamorphosis
When Rutledge Cab Company opened in 2012, people thought the owners were crazy. "Why are you spending money up there?" they’d ask. The area hadn't seen the influx of tech offices and luxury apartments yet.
They were the pioneers.
But being a pioneer means you eventually get surrounded. Soon, they were competing with the Tattooed Moose, Butcher & Bee, and Lewis Barbecue. The "neighborhood joint" suddenly had to compete with some of the best food in the country, all within walking distance.
Inflation didn't help. Rent didn't help.
Brad Creger mentioned in the closing announcement that they are "tossing the keys to a new tenant" and staying on as the landlord. It was a business decision. They’d rather collect the rent than fight the rising costs of labor and food in a post-pandemic economy.
Lessons From a Twelve-Year Run
So, what can we take away from the rise and fall of this corner spot?
First, consistency is the only thing that saves you. Chef Robert Carter used to say he was "militaristic" about the side dishes. He believed if you nailed the hush puppies and the biscuits, the protein took care of itself. When that attention to detail slipped, the "neighborhood favorite" status started to crumble.
Second, the "NoMo" area is no longer a secret. It’s a battleground. If you’re going to run a restaurant there in 2026, you can’t just be "good enough."
How to Find Your Next Favorite Charleston Spot
If you’re still mourning the loss of those spiked milkshakes or the charcoal-grilled wings, you've got to pivot.
- Check the "Upper" Upper Peninsula: Look further north toward the neck area. That’s where the "accidental" vibes still live.
- Follow the Chefs, Not the Names: Keep tabs on where the kitchen staff from Rutledge ended up. Usually, a closing like this scatters talent into 4-5 other local kitchens.
- Support the Landlords: It sounds corporate, but Creger and his team are still the landlords. Whoever moves into that old gas station next will likely have a similar "open-air" vibe because the building demands it.
The sign might be coming down, but the corner of Rutledge and Mt. Pleasant isn't going anywhere. It’s just waiting for the next person to think, "How hard could it be to run a restaurant?"
Hopefully, they know the answer is "very."
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Actionable Insight: If you're looking for that specific Rutledge Cab Company vibe—casual, open-air, and unpretentious—try heading to the Tattooed Moose or The Park Cafe nearby. They’ve managed to maintain that local-first energy even as the neighborhood around them turns into a high-rent district.