The Best Little “Hot Dog Stand” in the South

Words by Terrell Manasco | Images by Ryan McGill

It was “just a little hot dog stand” inside a pool room. The architects were two brothers from Carbon Hill.

Carlos Allison’s father had owned the pool room since the 1940s. When Carlos was 19, he borrowed $1,000 from his father to open one in Jasper. After his father died, Carlos made monthly payments to his mother, and he always asked for a signed receipt. Eventually, he became the owner of both businesses.

While Carlos was business-savvy, Lacy was the idea man. When he returned from military service in the early 1970s, he saw more than a pool room. “He said, ‘Carlos, we need to put in a game room and a little eating area,’” recalls Rick Allison, Carlos’ son. 

So, the brothers added a wooden bar, stools, and a window, and sold pizza and sandwiches with a pickle and chips. Rick, then 16, dubbed it “Pizza Bar,” but it was the hoagie sandwiches—another idea hatched by Lacy— that caught on like wildfire.

“Daddy paid a man to come there for two weeks and teach the workers how to make the ham and cheese,” recalls Barbara Sherer, Carlos’ daughter.

For a while, Carlos worked days at Hayes Aircraft in Birmingham while Lacy ran the business. On Friday nights, the place was often packed so full that Carlos and his wife, Sue, would call in Rick, Barbara, and the grandchildren to help. Some called it “Carlos’s” or “Lacy’s,” but the name didn’t matter—folks loved it.

The interior of the restaurant was remodeled several times. Gradually, they removed the bar, added seats, and enclosed the front area. When their friend, Mrs. Bozeman, closed her barbecue business and taught Lacy her secrets, they built a barbecue pit. Carlos would drive to auctions and return with his 1971 Chevrolet pickup loaded with restaurant equipment. “He had it so full, it looked like the Beverly Hillbillies,” Barbara laughs.

In the spring of 1999, Carlos died of cancer. Sue followed him to heaven 27 days later.

A year later, a college student named Catie Merchant came to ask Lacy about a job. Her husband, Jayson, who had never been inside the Pizza Bar, was enthralled.

“I told Lacy I wanted to buy this place,” Jayson recalls.

Lacy wasn’t interested, so Jayson decided to try again later. Then, the death of his uncle in 2013 galvanized him into action. “I'm not going to be 80 years old looking back in my rocking chair saying, ‘Man, I sure am glad I played it safe,’” Jayson says.

Jayson and Catie looked at “over 600 restaurants,” with Lacy advising them each time. In January 2014, Jayson was set to begin culinary school in Orange Beach when he got a call.

“I’m ready,” Lacy said.

The Merchants became business owners that August. “If it wasn’t for Carlos, Sue, and Lacy, we wouldn't be here now,” Jayson says. “They laid the foundation.”

In July 2020, the man Jayson calls “one of my favorite humans” passed away. “We loved Lacy,” Jayson says. “His love and his heart changed this community.”

Lacy Allison was a beloved figure in his hometown, a humble soul with a 24-karat heart who delighted in a simple meal and a good stogie. “If he had his cigars and something to eat, he was alright,” Rick says.

Today, the brick walls still bear the scrawled signatures of past customers. If you’ve recently noticed the iconic sign outside is gone, fear not—it’s just being updated and will return. [The sign is now back.]

And the ham and cheese is still king. Another popular item is the Cu-Bama, which Jayson calls the “redneck version” of the Cuban sandwich.

“It’s a ham and barbecue mix with cheese, pickles, and mustard,” Catie explains.

The Merchants have tremendous respect for this town. Their goal is to honor the Allison legacy—and the “little hot dog stand” they built.

“I love the history, heritage, and tradition of this business,” Jayson says. “We know what we've been handed. We want to preserve the legacy.” 78