Bigger Wing Span

REVIEW SUMMARY
Company. Ker's WingHouse
Industry. Sports-themed casual dining
Key. Careful consideration of expanding beyond its home base
By the Numbers. Click here for revenue information.

Anyone in the key 18-to-49 male demographic might think Crawford Ker has the best enterprise anywhere on the Gulf Coast. Yet the proprietor of Largo-based Ker's WingHouse Bar & Grill will tell you right up front that it isn't always fun and games.

Sure, the 20-something WingHouse Girls in black tank tops and shorts serving food and drinks to adoring customers — mainly guys, some accompanied by women and children — are the focus of its marketing efforts. However, Ker points out that managing such employees can be more difficult than, say, conservatively dressed older waitresses.

“You can have an attractive girl serving you,” says the married father of three, “but if she doesn't serve you well, are you going to come back?”

Working a little harder is nothing Ker can't handle, having established the WingHouse brand 16 years ago following a seven-year career in the National Football League. Besides all those tackles and injuries, he endured a hard-fought lawsuit against its most obvious competitor and has rebounded from an out-of-state expansion that didn't work out so well.

None of that is stopping Ker from trying again, though. With 19 locations throughout the Tampa Bay, Orlando and Daytona markets, WingHouse is looking to spread to other parts of the state by way of franchising.

Once the chain establishes a stronger presence in Florida, Ker says he would like to expand to other nearby states, particularly those with strong Southeastern Conference football followings. Ker grew up in Dunedin and played at the University of Florida, another point he plays up in his current restaurants.

Bringing it back home

Besides his Gators connection, Ker also displays photos and other memorabilia from his NFL days with the Dallas Cowboys, where he was an offensive lineman from 1985 to 1990. He attempted a previous expansion five years ago in the Dallas market, where he's still known, but that didn't pan out as well as he had hoped.

For the time being, Ker says he is focusing on the Florida expansion plan. With annual sales currently well above $50 million, he can afford to be highly selective about prospective franchisees, seeking experienced, multi-unit operators with at least $1.5 million net worth and $750,000 in liquid assets.

The key to success for WingHouse franchises, Ker says, will be sharing the same passion he has with the chain's own locations. “That's the tough thing about franchising,” he says. “You're kind of giving away your first born and you hope somebody else raises it the right way.”

Ker's original concept for WingHouse is pretty much the same now as when the flagship location opened in 1994 along Ulmerton Road. Aside from buxom waitresses in skin-tight nylon, the restaurants offer oversized portions at reasonable prices (most menu items are under $8) and plenty of TV screens carrying live sporting events. Buffalo wings are a specialty, but sandwiches and salads are also available.

If any of this seems familiar, that's what Hooters of America Inc. thought, too. The Atlanta-based national chain with roots in Clearwater sued Ker in 2004, claiming he was infringing on its trademark. A judge decided otherwise and ordered Hooters to pay Ker $1.2 million for his trouble. Hooters appealed the ruling and lost.

Fighting Hooters, which has more than 450 locations worldwide and maintains a strong presence along the Gulf Coast, could have taken a mental and financial toll on Ker. But he recalls using the same approach in court as on the gridiron, using data and documentation instead of helmets and pads — and shaking hands when the game was over.

“Competitors make our company better because we're more driven to do better and it's better for the customer,” he says. He adds that WingHouse adapts a simple philosophy of making sure its restaurants perform at top levels without worrying so much about what similarly themed eateries are doing.

'Not for everybody'

The WingHouse identity itself aims to be inviting to all patrons, not just those interested in devouring wings and beer while checking out the waitresses. The chain does promote its own swimsuit calendar, but doesn't want to intimidate wives or girlfriends — or their children, who are more interested in video games than cleavage anyway.

“It's not for everybody,” Ker admits, “but we like to be professional and offer good service in a clean environment.” At the top of the list on the WingHouse credo is be “brilliant on the basics,” followed by girl-next-door waitresses, a friendly environment and good value.

“We have a very loyal fan base throughout Florida,” says Chris Adkins, WingHouse's director of franchising and a seven-year employee of the chain. The plan for growth is to establish a stronger presence in its home state, then branch out regionally starting next year, he says.

Ker says he would ultimately like to go national with WingHouse, but doesn't want to grow to the point where adjustments to the business model cannot be made as easily as they can now. “When you have 100 or 200 stores, it's not as easy to reinvent your brand,” he says.

Besides keeping the WingHouse concept manageable, he also notes that he wants to keep it acceptable: “I've been to other concepts where I would kind of cringe,” he says. “I'd see that they're busy, but it doesn't have the mark of a national brand.”

Good sites available

The recession weeded out a lot of casual dining concepts, making a lot of suitable locations available for potential WingHouse franchises. Good deals are available, but Ker says the chain is meticulous about where it wants to be, requiring between 4,800 and 7,500 square feet with seating for 150, in either a standalone site or shopping center end cap in a high traffic area.

“We're a very difficult client to work with because we want the right deal and the right real estate numbers,” says Ker, who opened his latest WingHouse this summer in Clearwater. “We don't want a huge remodel on the stores we're taking over.”

Nor does he want to grow the chain too fast — two or three locations would be fine annually. “We did six stores in a year once and it was a little too much on the manpower,” he says.

Ker adds that he wouldn't be interested in any offers to sell WingHouse to a larger investor, as has been the case with similar restaurant chains across the country, including Tampa-based Beef 'O' Brady's. At 48 he's far from ready to retire again. In that respect, the former football player tackles his role as business owner.

“Let's just do the best job we can for everybody,” he says.

The post-game plan

When Crawford Ker decided to retire from football in 1992, he understood that he wouldn't always be able to trade on his popularity with Florida Gators and Dallas Cowboys fans. So he made a plan to provide for his family and take care of his own financial needs for many more years to come.

Sadly, many college standouts who are lucky enough to continue in the NFL don't do the same. Retiring in their 30s, or even 20s, they don't put much thought into what they're going to do in future decades, or how long their quick riches will last.

“You've really got to help yourself,” says Ker, who started his WingHouse chain after a brief stint selling cars. “You've got to find a passion, let go of that part of your life and move on.”

Ker says he occasionally gets calls and visits from some of his former Dallas Cowboys teammates, including a few with Super Bowl rings, asking for one thing or another. He'd like to help, but he's got his own issues.

While he didn't inherit his successful sports restaurant chain from his NFL career, he still has lingering pain from those years, which ended after one extra season with the Denver Broncos. He has his own weight room around the corner from his Largo office to stay in shape, but says he wakes up hurting each day.

The National Football League provides a pension to retired players and has other funds available for those with permanent injuries or lingering ailments from tackles and blocks. However, players complain that bureaucracy makes those payments difficult to get, particularly for those who earned tens of thousands of dollars from past NFL contracts as opposed to the millions now.

Ker sees both sides of the coin on the issue. Players sign waivers when they join the NFL advising them on the potential for injuries that they may ultimately have to take care of themselves. On the flip side, the NFL makes billions — not just on merchandise bearing the names and numbers of current players, but through sales of “throwback” gear recognizing those long retired.