Dirty Martin’s Celebrates A Century of Hamburger Heaven in West Campus
Each Longhorn discovers the places and people that define their years on campus. But if Austinites know anything, it’s that change is the only constant. As humans, we live in a state of near-constant adaptation, as the conditions of contemporary life shift and accelerate from moment to moment—and as a University community, we are seeking information, innovation, and athletic victories faster than ever.
It is rare, then, to find a place that feels truly generational, spanning a full century and staring squarely into the future toward the next one.
In July 2026, beloved Longhorn hamburger destination Dirty Martin’s Place celebrated its 100th anniversary as a West Campus culinary institution. Founded by John Martin under the intentionally misspelled moniker of Martin’s Kum-Back Place, the name evolved as customers lovingly referred to the spot as “Dirty Martin’s” in homage to the original dirt floors. And, eventually, just Dirty’s.
Originally built as a combination burger stand and gas station in what would have been considered the far northern geography of Austin, Dirty’s irrepressible march through the years chronicles a specific slice of Americana alongside the personal histories of an untold number of local fans and frequenters.
From its humble beginnings with only eight barstools for seating, Dirty’s came of age in the decades when carhops wore beehive hairdos, and now marches into present-day Saturday afternoons packing throngs of undergrads into the dining room with a pre-game burger in one hand and an iPhone in the other. Over the long history, Dirty’s held fast to its fundamentals as a family business under the leadership of the Nemir family who purchased the property in 1936.
Dirty’s General Manager Daniel Young was a fan before he donned his first apron. “I grew up in this neighborhood, so I used to ride my bike here all the time as a kid,” he says. “A lot of our customers have been coming here [since] the 1950s and 1960s.”
The low-slung, wood-frame, roadside vernacular of the restaurant’s exterior is one of the most recognizable physical structures on or around the Forty Acres. Evoking Pavlovian hunger pangs from Longhorns and surrounding Austinites alike, the short march through the parking lot and into the front door is a sensory journey to a land that time forgot.
The smell from the famously seasoned flat-top grill hits each customer from the moment they step through the door, soundtracked by classic rock. Headshots of now-legendary staffers adorn the walls, flanked by dusty photos depicting smiling college kids visiting Dirty’s in the ’80s who now bring their own college-aged kids in for a burger.
“I talked to a couple that went on their first date under that canopy when they were UT students,” Young says. “They’re probably in their late 80s now. That means a lot to people, to be able to go back in time and celebrate a place where it all started.”
While the table that Janis Joplin carved her name into isn’t onsite anymore, it is certainly there in spirit. There’s a placard that suggests hippies should use the back door, a weathered metal sign listing the old fountain menu from an era when milkshakes cost a quarter, and a yellowed Daily Texan ad in which the restaurant’s phone number was only five digits long.
“[With] the familiarity and the nostalgia,” Young adds, “there’s just no other place like it.”
In stark defiance to modern restaurant trends of pageantry and one-upmanship, Dirty Martin’s offerings remain remarkably similar to the photos of menu boards from bygone decades. The fundamental, immovable object that is the Kum-Bak Burger is dressed in the same fashion as it was in 1926: mustard, onion, pickle, and tomato. Only a couple of contemporary ingredients have managed to sneak their way into the all-star lineup of things to be grilled and/or fried. At some point, cilantro and a brave avocado entered the chat. Regulars still speak in hushed tones about the inevitable addition of salads to a roster that includes what many recognize as Austin’s first-ever bacon cheeseburger.
“It starts with food for sure,” Assistant Manager Lindsey Powell, BS ’21, confirms. “On top of that, we’ve created a space that has the same feeling it had 20, 40, 60 years ago. My aunt met her husband at UT, and Dirty’s was one of their early date spots.”
Even more than the physical structure and the food on the tray, the most significantly consistent element in Dirty’s century-long story is its people. The veritable army of Longhorns proudly claiming the title of regular customers has been greeted, served, and supported by a core staff of employees who have spent decades in the restaurant’s service—in contrast to the speedy turnover of most fast-food crews where students might grab an ephemeral part-time gig.
“Four [of our] cooks have been here more than 25 years,” Young says, “so our customers get to know these people. It’s a big family.”
From 1950 to 2000, the same eight staff members ran the show at Dirty’s. At the head of those veteran cooks is Will Colvin.
“I’ve been here so long, and I’ve loved a lot of people,” Colvin says. “I cherish those relationships and the new people that I get an opportunity to meet, because when they become an adult, they bring their children here, and then they become an adult. Then, they bring their children here, and so on and so on. Our guests that come here, we treat them fairly, and we treat them with love, and they just come back.”
In 2022, Dirty Martin’s Place faced perhaps its greatest existential threat—a proposed expansion to Austin’s developing light rail service called Project Connect. Ballot-approved by local voters, CapMetro’s planned Orange Line would run along North Lamar and Guadalupe, displacing the timeless restaurant that had survived multiple wars, a pandemic, and viral diet trends on TikTok.
Dirty Martin’s rallied the genuine connections formed over a near-century of happy customers, and a grassroots “Save Dirty’s” campaign quickly washed over Austin. Signs and banners blanketed West Campus, while Longhorns near and far shouted out their fervent support. By the time CapMetro submitted a revised light rail plan in 2024—which leaves Dirty’s unassailed on the corner of Nueces and Guadalupe, at least for now—more than 25,000 people had signed a petition in support of their beloved burger joint.
“We’re part of this legacy, and I hope it can continue,” Young says, “so when I’m dead and gone, I know that Dirty’s is in good hands with the next generation.”
For those uninitiated young Longhorns who arrive anew along the Drag every August, marching northward with vigor on their pilgrimage to Dirty Martin’s Place, a first glance at the legendary establishment might make them wonder, How the heck is this place still here? But halfway through their first burger, and meeting the new friends who served it, the question reframes itself. How could it not be?
“I thank God for the historical monument that has been founded on good food and beautiful people,” Colvin says.
Reporting by Christopher Yates.
CREDITS: From top, Robert Pandya; Jeff Wilson (2); Sara Jane English.
