Stephen Montoya
Derek Muzquiz, the owner of the property where he Original Mexican Eats Café resided for 93 years, is busy remodeling the space to make way for six new storefronts.
Broken artifacts and shredded remnants are now all that occupy the 7,500-square-foot space that once housed Tarrant County’s first Tex-Mex joint, the Original Mexican Eats Café. Planks of wood flooring are stacked in what was once a bustling dining room, and a mural of Mexican farmers gathering food now feels eerily ironic.
The Original, as most grew to know it, was more than a restaurant; it was a cherished icon. Say what you will about the food and occasional health code violations — opinions vary — this is the place where, nearly 90 years ago, Franklin Delano Roosevelt famously and frequently ordered a plate with a beef taco, cheese enchilada, and a bean chalupa during his many visits to the city.
The Original on Camp Bowie Boulevard was living history.
And the restaurant’s July departure, neither an eviction nor a shuttering due to low sales or economic climate, was the result of a 13-year-long legal dispute over a dubious lease agreement signed 20 years ago.
Today, the shell that housed this culinary landmark is quickly transforming into a different space entirely. No longer will west siders dine where the Original once stood. Instead, the whole of the space, which runs from the back wall of the Blue Bonnet Bakery to the end cap containing both Texas Designer Flooring and Fort Worth Coffee Co., will transform into six new retail spots.
All of this is the vision of property owner Derek Muzquiz, who has enlisted the help of retail neighbor and commercial real estate broker/developer Rodger Chieffalo. Chieffalo’s involvement in Roy Pope Grocery and Paris Coffee Shop point to a positive track record with revitalized spaces.
Stephen Montoya
The developer, whose side hustle is owning nearby boutique Chieffalo Americana, says the building is being restored back to its original delineated spaces, which include six in all. “They’re all relatively small spaces and very easy to lease here on Camp Bowie,” he says. “I like to think of it like a small-business incubator, which can allow a business to get a foothold and some much-needed exposure in a relatively high-traffic area.”
The idea of small businesses and startups occupying the space is a far cry from the comforts of a 93-year-old restaurant — especially in a town that can occasionally show an aversion to change. But the property, arguably, is in need of a fresh start.
Derek became the property’s owner this summer, taking over from his father, Joe Frank Muzquiz.
Fort Worth Star-Telegram’s Bud Kennedy, Frank, an immigrant from Mexico, owned a radio-TV shop next door to the restaurant before buying the building outright. And, with this purchase, he became one of the first Mexican immigrants to own property on what we deem the west side of town. According to the East Texas Historical Association, at the time, the majority of Latinos were concentrated heavily in the north side and “the southern part of the city east of Hemphill Street.”
“This building was supposed to be an investment that would be in my family for generations to come,” Derek says. “It was a way of establishing a financial foothold for all of us.”
After his grandfather died, the business was passed to Derek’s grandmother, Leticia Grimaldo.
“Over the years, she got multiple offers to sell, and she refused every single one of them,” Derek says. “She did not want to sell. She even emphasized to us to never sell the property. My grandfather worked hard for it. And so, she felt a sense of responsibility to keep it in the family.”
Derek’s father, Joe Frank, was then bequeathed the business upon his grandmother’s death in 2014. Keeping with tradition, his father passed the deed to him this past summer.
In 1928, long before the Muzquiz family was involved, the building, then a brand-new structure, was leased to Lola San Miguel and Geronimo Piñeda, both immigrants — he from Barcelona and she, ironically, from Muzquiz, Mexico. Records verify that the Piñedas leased the space circa 1928 and opened the Original around 1930 (though their website claims an opening year of 1926). Obviously, the Piñedas remained tenants when Frank purchased the property 34 years later.
In 1999, Robert “Butch” Self took over the ownership of the Original. And, four years later, the new owner drafted a lease agreement that, according to Derek, included handwritten sentences. After Derek’s grandmother, Leticia Grimaldo, signed the document, she effectively agreed to Self’s peculiar terms that made the agreement permanent. In other words, the Muzquizes were perpetually locked into a $3.85-per-square-foot lease agreement.
By the time Self finished expanding, Derek says his footprint expanded from 3,971 square feet to 7,500 square feet. “He did all of this while still paying the same rent as before,” Derek adds.
In 2010, Derek says his grandmother approached Self about increasing rent due to rising insurance costs, taxes, and general maintenance on the building.
“He basically said you can’t raise the rent on me, and she doesn’t understand why. So, he goes to the back and pulls out this lease and points out to her that it says the lease is perpetual.”
This began what would turn into a 13-year legal battle for the Muzquiz family.
Not long after Grimaldo asked Self for more rent, he took her to court, using the aforementioned lease agreement as his basis for not complying with her request. According to Derek, his family lost almost $2 million in unrealized revenue from the property due to Self’s stubbornness. Adding to this situation, Derek verified that his family spent a quarter of a million dollars in attorney’s fees over the years to fight this claim.
In September of 2022, the years-long legal dispute between the Muzquiz family and Self finally came to an end. A decision handed down by the Texas Eighth Court of Appeals refused to acknowledge the lease agreement as perpetual. In other words, Self’s landlords could finally increase rent. The Texas Supreme Court also weighed in by declining to hear the case and backing the decision of the lower court.
Despite the ruling, Derek says he attempted to keep the restaurant in the space, hoping to look past any acrimony. But Self’s unwillingness to negotiate led to the eventual departure of the Original.
Or, at least, mostly.
Stephen Montoya
From the left, Derek and Sara Muzquiz, and Rodger Chieffalo.
When Self purchased the Original, he also inherited ownership of the parking spaces directly behind the restaurant and on the western-most end of the pie-shaped lot. This footprint accounts for 30 parking spaces, equaling nearly half of the available spaces around the large structure that also houses Fort Worth Coffee Co. and Texas Designer Flooring. And, since one can’t very well pack up and take parking spaces with them, the day after the Original closed its doors, metal blockades appeared around the areas, prohibiting parking.
“He owns both of those [parking lots] and, I mean, to this day his goal is to choke off the parking and to squeeze me into selling him the property,” Derek says. “It’s not going to happen.”
Though a bit of a trek for west siders, people can still get their Original fix at the restaurant’s now only location on the north side of town (1400 N. Main St.), where the Roosevelt Special lives on. As for Derek and his family’s legacy, he says he’s optimistic about the future and is currently putting a million dollars’ worth of upgrades into the property. This includes a new roof, fresh paint, a total gut job on the water-damaged flooring, and more.
Despite the ongoing construction and renovations, Chieffalo remains hard at work finding viable tenants for the six new spaces — three of which should be ready for move-in by year’s end. “I’ve got more activity on this property than any other property I’ve ever had on the street,” Chieffalo says. “We just signed the first lease today. We also have three leases in the works here out of the six spaces.”
Derek says this Pyrrhic victory is bittersweet given the great memories he has eating at the Original with his family over the years, especially his grandmother. “If Grandma was here, she would say, ‘Oh, my lord,’” he says, welling up with tears. “She would be amazed and probably be pleasantly surprised that we fought this hard to keep this building in our family. No matter how tall the mountain is that you have to climb, you know, if you just keep working at it, you’ll get to the top.”
[Fort Worth Magazine reached out to Robert Self several times for comment but did not hear back before press time.]