
Spears lived frugally while growing up in Fort Worth, the oldest of four children (and the only son) born to a housewife mom and an electrical engineer dad. Once he became a restaurant baron, he spent money more freely -- too freely, some acquaintances said. He and first wife Sara married the same year the first Reata opened. Divorce records from 2000 show his expenses were about $14,000 a month, including house, warehouse, apartment, car, and credit card payments, along with $800 a month in telephone bills. As part of the divorce, Spears received most of the couple's property, including his beloved 1976 Cadillac El Dorado with the steer horns attached to the bumper, but was obligated to pay most of the couple's debts, including $20,000 in credit card balances, a $25,000 bank note, and balances on the house and warehouse. Sara would get 25 percent of Spears' monthly payment from Reata, a BMW, furniture, appliances, and jewelry. They each kept their own Rolex watches. Spears was living higher than his means. The house and warehouse were soon gone. But he was riding a crest of popularity and could sell a Popsicle to an Eskimo, so he was confident he could find people itching to ride the Grady train. Prospects started surfacing quickly. Spears teamed with Fort Worth food critic and friend June Naylor to write a coffee-table cookbook, and he began negotiating with Marriott to open a restaurant in Sundance Square's Renaissance Worthington Hotel, a deal that would include the potential to create more restaurants across the country. Hotel execs wanted his name and image, and he wanted their infrastructure. More than $3 million would be used to renovate the hotel's existing restaurant and turn it into the upscale Chisholm Club. Negotiations with a corporation like Marriott can lumber along slowly, and Spears was without steady work for almost two years. He had convinced some Reata employees to move with him, and he needed to pay them and himself during the down time. Seeking financial backing to tide him over until his income returned, he rounded up investors, some of them characters as colorful as himself, such as Argyle rancher and former Dallas Cowboys fullback Walt Garrison, Fort Worth Star-Telegram sports columnist Randy Galloway, and members of country-rock band Cross Canadian Ragweed. The investors dubbed themselves the Chisholm Group, with Spears taking the lead role. While waiting for the Marriott deal to jell, Spears and his investors took over operations of the Nutt House Restaurant on Granbury's town square. In typical fashion, Spears developed a concept and put a staff in place but didn't spend much time there. The restaurant had a splashy opening in early 2002 and developed a reputation for quality food and service. That reputation, along with attendance, has reportedly slipped in the past year, according to some locals, although Spears disputes both claims. The Chisholm Club opened in late 2002 to much fanfare. Next came The Burning Pear at a Marriott in Sugar Land. But Spears was seldom around. A place that bills itself as "A Grady Spears Restaurant" wanted the namesake around to mingle. Spears said he was hired to promote restaurants, which he interpreted as writing cookbooks, traveling, making appearances, and doing tv shows. When he did show up at the Chisholm Club, Spears complained that too many of his ideas were squelched by corporate types and red tape. A New York-based designer arrived to create a "Texas chic" atmosphere that clashed with Spears' vision. The designer's suggestion to incorporate tractor seats in the décor was met with hostile disbelief. "There weren't any tractors on the Chisholm Trail!" Spears hollered. What might seem like a minor detail to some was a major affront to a man infatuated with historical homage. Meanwhile, some of the Chisholm Group's more business-minded investors wondered if a guy with focus problems was the best person to handle details. Attorney Bill Wood gained the upper hand in managing money, and the outflow slowed to a trickle, according to Spears, who said his income from endorsements, appearances, cooking classes, and the monthly Reata check (minus the $1,000 a month that went to his ex-wife) were collected and doled out by the investment group. Unpaid bills led to several lawsuits by vendors and a former employee. Eventually, the dribble of money to Spears dried up entirely; Spears said he stopped receiving any salary, had a car repossessed, and moved into a house owned by his mother. His second wife, Jennifer, gave birth to their son, Gage, six weeks ago, even as the couple struggled to make their insurance payments, fearful the baby's medical coverage would be cancelled. Wood did not return five calls from the Weekly. Rose, the former Nutt House chef, became concerned when he didn't receive a raise in salary and benefits promised to him by Spears. Rose called the investment group, realized that Spears was no longer in control, and quit. "I saw a bunch of friction," he said. "The mood in the air was that there was a lot of uncertainty and Grady wasn't getting along with them, and he was being overpowered and being told what to do instead of being the partner that had the initial vision. There was a lot of jockeying for control. ... It just didn't look good." The Chisholm Club announced on May 10 that Spears was out, and his longtime protégé, chef Brian Olenjack, would stay as head chef. Olenjack was Spears' friend and had been his right-hand man in the kitchen at Reata. Afterward, they traveled together, doing cooking shows and other events until the Marriott negotiations were finalized. Spears pegged Olenjack as the Chisholm Group's executive chef, and Olenjack helped open the Nutt House and the Chisholm Club. But his relationship with Spears soured along the way. "He's got so much on his plate it's hard to get one-on-one time," Olenjack said. "Back at Reata, we'd sit and have a beer and write new menus and have a good time. When we got back together this time, Grady's focus was in other areas. Grady wanted to focus more on the books and tv shows." Tellingly, Olenjack said Spears' absence wouldn't affect the Chisholm Club. "The separation between us and Grady didn't make much difference at the restaurant because the same people are still here," he said. "I love being in the kitchen. For me, I'm very anal on quality and consistency and the only way to get that is to be in the kitchen every day." Still, food critics say it's common for big-name chefs associated with numerous restaurants to run around promoting themselves, restaurants, and books without spending much face time in workaday kitchens. The day after the split, a nervous Chisholm Group called an investors' meeting. There were more questions than answers. "We don't want to jump ship, but we all got in this because of the alliance that Grady had with Marriott and the fact we could grow that relationship," said local realtor Jamie Adams, a primary investor. "Now that that's washed up and gone, where do we go now?" Little was resolved. Investors say attorneys are still haggling, and they hope for a clearer picture after the fallout settles in a few weeks. "We'll make a decision whether to fold up the Chisholm Group and move on or see if he has something else lined up and if we think it's beneficial to the investment group," Adams said. Randy Galloway, who describes himself as a hands-off investor, didn't attend the meeting and continues to support Spears, whom he considers a friend, a "true Texas character," and a talented restaurant creator. "At this point I would say everything is on hold, and we'll see how everything works out," he said. "I still believe in Grady Spears. No question. I don't think there is any doubt he is one of the best at what he does in the country." Where this leaves Spears is open to debate. Some say a split from the Chisholm Group would shut him out of the Nutt House and Burning Pear and leave him without any restaurants, strapped for cash, and shouldering a damaged reputation. Typically, the least worried of all appears to be Spears. During recent conversations, he was upbeat, carefree, and excited as he discussed his future. Plans and ideas are flowing, but achieving them could be more difficult this time around.
In the expansive red brick Westside house that the Spears family now calls home, Grady has claimed an upstairs office, decorated with game trophies and framed magazine covers with his picture. A noisy and temperamental window-unit air conditioner does its best to keep him cool while he watches tv and listens to the stereo -- often at the same time. When he sat down on a recent evening for a long conversation about future plans, the blare from both was overridden only by barking from Grady's two dogs, which ignored his pleas for silence. Throughout, he clicked a pen over and over and over. NEXT » |
That's a Two-Moo Meeting
- - - - - - - - - - - From the Week of May 19
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New threats and old mistakes challenge the Brazos' protectors. |