There have been far finer words for a much better man in recent days with the outpouring of love for anyone associated with my longtime friends and extended family at Costas Inn and the tragic loss of The Papou of Dundalk.
Costas Triantafilos was a giant of a man in my community because his presence was omnipresent. His authenticity, beauty and kindness, displayed over a lifetime, leave no words here that will ever appropriately convey. Not many folks know a community like Dundalk, a place like Costas Inn or a man like this rare human whose life and business was brilliantly profiled by Vice just 15 months ago, capturing his absolute essence.
Today, we will say goodbye to Mister Costas, and you deserve a good smile, laugh and Greek cry and American weep, so I beg of you to go watch this gift:
The last time I saw Mister Costas, two Saturdays ago at the bar, wasn’t unusual until the end of our meal. As per usual, I looked at the menu, fussed about what to order and just got the mushroom caps that I always get and he came over 20 minutes after I arrived and offered me a beer; I refused. I always refused because I’m the one who drives home. (Once in a while, he’d bring me a beer, anyway!)
He would then offer us dessert; Jenn is diabetic, so we usually refuse that as well. And I don’t need to let my booty grow.
“I just want you to be happy…” he always said to us.
He said that to everyone because he lived it. I always told him that I was happy because I was at Costas eating food, chatting up folks and watching the game!!!
As always, at Costas Inn, I run into friends – old and new. Two weeks ago, I ran into one of my best friends from childhood (and longtime roommate) on the way out with his family and snapped a picture. Mister Costas then came over to Jenn and gave her a branded Costas Inn pen. We thought it kind of odd but not too unusual for him to want to gift us something but it has become poignant and priceless in his loss.
My wife found this in the bottom of her purse the morning after he died. It was his parting gift to her.
The tragedy of the accident that took his life and the energy and charm he brought to so many lives has brought a sobering sadness to us this spring weekend.
I will miss his smile the most.
My Pop brought Costas Inn steamed shrimp home in the 1970s on Fridays after getting his paycheck at Bethlehem Steel. He would catch a ride home from The Point with Mr. Joe Thomas, whose daughter married my childhood pal, Johnny Raf, so this reunion – literally in the cage in front of Mister Costas office under the “Whiskey Line” sign – was uncanny because our fathers drank beer together and brought both of us home dinner on Fridays from this man 50 years ago.
This all happened the last time we saw Mister Costas.
And what a legend Mister Costas and his restaurant and legacy have become with a new location about to open at the Timonium Race Course grandstand and he had been updating me on it over the past few months, along with his sons Pete and Nick and daughter Christine, whom I see and interact and love up every time we drop in or whenever I am doing the Maryland Crab Cake Tour from Costas Inn.
These are the folks and my extended family who have helped me do everything I’ve ever done in life by sponsoring my radio station, my Dundalk dreams and three decades of my employees, and our families. No one has ever stood by me over this century like Costas Triantafilos and his family.
He admired my outspokenness, listened to my radio show all the time, would come to me at the bar and discuss the issues I was discussing. I sat in his office and told him that I had been spending time with his old pal Ted Venetoulis, when I was considering a Mayoral run in 2020.
Costas Triantafilos loved that I didn’t “stick to sports” and believed in me all the way to the finish line.
Four years ago, when Bob Baffert was poached after the Medina Spirit Kentucky Derby win, he was the one who told me at 11 o’clock in the morning in the bar. Costas beat the WNST Text Service with news because I had done 30 minutes on a Zoom with Baffert for my radio show the day before and was wrecked that I couldn’t run it because the whole thing sounded like he was coming to the Preakness.
It made Costas smile that he was telling me some “breaking news” that I always sent to him. And when Costas Triantafilos smiled at you, it was the best feeling in the world!
In the Greek language (and y’all can – and will – correct me if I’m wrong), I believe the word is “storge” and it means more than family…
My story is that every time I went in there, he made me feel like I was his lost grandson and he was my Papou. For half of my life, he tried to bring me a beer every single time he saw me, even when I always refused them.
Always a wink and a smile. Always in beautiful countenance – and as he got older, every patron in the Costas Inn universe marveled at his never-ending burning desire to work, to be serving people, to be making people happy.
Two years ago, the boys dragged him out to Camden Yards for an Orioles playoff game and we were at the bar and he showed up and I said, “I thought you were at the game?” and he said, “I had fun but I had enough. I needed to get to work, get things done. I got work to do!”
And back into the back he went greeting everyone and chattering away, giving the Papou wave.
Sometimes, he would show me his Orioles and Ravens casino betting slips from Vegas for them to get to the Super Bowl and World Series – just to talk some sports with me and show me he was a true believer! Ha, ha.
And then, the horse racing part of his life that is so evident along all of the walls of the back restaurant in the Winner’s Circle and the smiles and memories of the track, where his business will be headed this summer to expand and reach folks in new ways.
When the brilliant and better-than-almost-anything-I’ve-ever-seen Vice Network piece came out last year, I was supremely jealous because the greatest part of my “act” with Costas was always inviting him on the show to tell me his Greek story and American Dream journey.
I always invited him on the show; he never came on my show as a guest.
And it became a running gag, because as you know, I’ve done my show at Costas Inn at least a hundred times this century and he always refused me but in recent years would come by just when I was putting the last few cables into my bags and say, “I’m ready to do the show now!” and laugh at me. And, I’d say: “Next time.”
It was always, “Next time…”
I’m sorry I never got an hour of him on the show to quiz him but his beautiful and authentic accent always made him more reticent than his real English or his amazing quick wit and wisdom. It was his legendary wisdom and “code” that I was always trying to get onto the air because I truly found him infinitely fascinating.
His godson, Chrysovalantis Kefalas, wrote this:
He came to this country in 1955, a 15-year-old Greek boy with just $5 in his pocket, unable to speak a word of English. He built a family. He built a business. He built a legacy of generosity that stretches far beyond the doors of Costas Inn. He was proud of his family, his customers, his friends—and most of all, he was proud of this country that gave him the opportunity to build something lasting not just for himself but for others.
Community meant everything to him. He didn’t care if you were blood or not. If you were in his life, you were family.
And family, in his world, always made sure everyone left happy.
An immigrant family in Dundalk during hard times in their homeland, searching for a better life.
Crabs. Pit beef. The Point.
My family, the Number 4 bus that took my Pop to work from Eastpoint Mall to Sparrows Point, past Gail’s and the North Point Road strip and Pop’s Tavern to the steel mill in the 1980s. My son’s mother is from North Point Village – the Saints, as we called the streets. IYKYK.
My Mom’s favorite restaurant in the world was Costas Inn and Mister Costas always greeted her in the bar. (We never sat in the restaurant.)
And, Costas Triantafilos knew I loved him and boy did he love me, my radio show, my presence really was always something he sought out and only to let me know that he cared about me and appreciated our relationship. His office door was always open to me, but I rarely bothered him because he was always doing something there to make his business better. And he always made a fuss about us and made my wife feel special. But, we’ve found out this week that we weren’t anyone “special” at Costas Inn.
Everyone is special at Costas Inn…
Everyone is family because Mister Costas wouldn’t have it any other way.
And, wow if those walls of that office could talk over the past 54 years…
I want to thank the people from Vice and the amazing – and ever-elusive and brilliant Steve Chu – for demanding Mister Costas on the set (and he ran from me for two decades) to tell his story, albeit briefly.
“All my life, I’ve been here to satisfy people. I go out of my way to make sure everybody leaves from here happy.”
Papou, you have enriched so many lives. Rest easy, Costas.
We are so incredibly sad you are gone but your mandate to make us “happy” will live on in the eyes and arms of your family – and our bellies and souls and hearts – every time we walk into Costas Inn to honor you and what you built in our community and lives.
May your memory be eternal. You were the best of us…
