Braddock has waited a long time for Superior Motors. Some say this small Pennsylvania borough just outside of Pittsburgh has waited a generation: Superior Motors was expected to be the first sit-down restaurant that this mill town has seen in decades, since it was decimated by the decline of the steel industry.

You might remember reading about Superior Motors more than three years ago when chef-owner Kevin Sousa broke a Kickstarter record to fund a fine-dining concept with an altruistic bent. Promising to contribute to Braddock’s rejuvenation by giving people a reason to spend money there — and assuring support for the local community through discounts and a job training program — Sousa raised $310,225 over the course of one month. His project surpassed its $250,000 goal in January 2014.

This success spawned media narratives about “how food could save a dying town.” And then nothing happened.

This success spawned media narratives about “how food could save a dying town.” I, too, explored the role restaurants play in community revitalization in Eater's January 2015 profile of Sousa and Superior Motors. Though there was some skepticism that one restaurant could turn things around for Braddock, the consensus was that it could help build momentum. Locals also believed that Sousa, a Pittsburgh native who had earned a devoted following and semifinalist nods from the James Beard Foundation for his popular restaurant Salt of the Earth, could make it happen. After all, Salt of the Earth was successful in a neighborhood that had been underdeveloped when it arrived; so, too, were his follow-up restaurants Union Pig and Chicken and Station Street Hot Dogs. He had even moved his family out to Braddock upon deciding to open a restaurant there. He promised to open it later that year.

And then nothing happened. Superior Motors halted construction for nearly two years, prompting observers and some of its own Kickstarter supporters to question the project. “PLEASE issue an update!!!!!” one donor begged on the Kickstarter page last September. “[T]wo years is a long time to wait!!!” Sousa, who had once been visible all over town, suddenly began keeping a low profile. “It looked like he ran out of money,” says Alice Julier, program director of food studies at Pittsburgh’s Chatham University. “It looked like his ambitions outstripped his capacity.”

But over the past few months, construction has started up again. Without a doubt, Sousa says, Superior Motors will open — possibly as soon as July 1. “In an odd way, we already stood the test of time,” he says. But essential questions remain: What happened and what’s changed at Superior Motors? And what will it mean to Braddock now?

Several factors, each potentially lethal on its own, threatened Superior Motors’ viability. Not only had investors been uneasy about Braddock’s cratered economy from the beginning, but it also became clear as the project progressed that construction costs were skyrocketing. New information came to light, too, about Sousa’s past financial struggles that cast doubt for some that he could succeed.

Sousa argues that it was mostly a problem of underbudgeting. As he explains it, the $310,225 from Kickstarter “disappeared quickly” when his contractor began to tear up the concrete slab in the former car dealership that he was turning into a restaurant. Although Sousa’s architect thought the building would be up to code, it was soon clear that the pipes needed to be replaced and the sewage system enlarged. On top of that, the building itself would have to be leveled out to comply with Americans with Disabilities Act requirements.

Sousa says he didn’t know — and couldn’t have known — any of those things until after they looked underneath the concrete. “It was just an unexpected expense,” he says. Braddock Mayor John Fetterman, who owns the building and is offering Superior Motors free rent, argues that Kickstarter “gets you to first base maybe” with a restaurant project. Superior Motors needed more money. Though Sousa had also raised some $900,000 in loans from organizations like Braddock’s Enterprise Zone Corporation and from Fetterman’s family for the project, it wasn’t enough. He was still pursuing loans elsewhere to close the gap and complete construction.

But that proved difficult to achieve. Sousa and his allies also point to a controversy that arose in March 2015 when the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette published a story detailing Sousa’s checkered financial history. (Disclosure: the story’s author, former Post-Gazette critic Melissa McCart, is now editor of Eater NY.) In 2014, Sousa had divested from two of his restaurants and closed down the third, but it seemed Sousa still owed money to a lot of people.

“I never did anything wrong,” Sousa says. “I didn’t skip out on any debts.”

Not only had the food supplier Sysco Corp. sued him for $25,173.96, but the paper also reported that “Sousa was on the hook for a $150,000 loan from the Urban Redevelopment Authority of Pittsburgh for his first restaurant [Salt of the Earth]” as well as unpaid sales taxes from his two other restaurants. He also carried miscellaneous other debts. The story further noted that Sousa wasn’t required to, and didn’t, disclose any of these debts to his Kickstarter investors, pointing out that “experts in business ethics say that disclosing past problems is usually the best route for entrepreneurs while trying to raise capital.”

These revelations did seem to have consequences with potential investors. “It was devastating,” says Fetterman. Sousa stops just short of placing blame on the Post-Gazette, but he notes that one potential creditor he was pursuing bailed just one day after the story came out. He and Fetterman both argue the piece unfairly painted Sousa as dishonorable and untrustworthy. “I never did anything wrong,” Sousa says. “I didn’t skip out on any debts. All of those debts were paid. All of the Kickstarter money went to where we said it went.”

When asked for comment, McCart said the article was not about the Kickstarter but rather about the grant money Sousa had obtained from foundations. “What restaurateur doesn’t have failures?” she says. “It’s just that when you take public money then you’re on the hook for it the way a government official is. That’s the issue.”

There’s another issue, too: Should financial troubles continue to dog Sousa, would Superior Motors have a shot at success? In the past, even one failure would have been likely to tank any entrepreneur’s future endeavors in Pittsburgh. But Mike Madison, a University of Pittsburgh law professor and writer who has studied Pittsburgh's revitalization, argues that’s changing as tech companies have migrated to the city, bringing Silicon Valley’s high tolerance for failure with them. “Just because you failed doesn’t mean you don’t get round two or round three or even round four,” Madison says. “I think Superior Motors and Kevin Sousa is an interesting illustration of this longer-run cultural shift about entrepreneurship and risk.”

Failure is something Sousa has addressed himself. Early last year, he participated in the Pittsburgh edition of Failure:Lab, a traveling storytelling event in which entrepreneurs share the stories of failure behind their successes. Sousa spoke about his financial conflicts at his earlier restaurants and how he learned to drop his ego and keep his head down. That’s where Gregg Kander came in.

Superior Motors had essentially failed when Kander — an attorney who specializes in corporate taxation, business planning, and bankruptcy — came on board as a partner and investor last fall. He had been looking to get more involved with the community when he heard a restaurant with a social mission was looking for investors. “Oh my god, I’d be an idiot not to do this,” Kander remembers thinking.

Sousa’s financial history didn’t daunt him. It’s not unusual for restaurateurs to take on debt or even be forced to close down, since restaurants run on thin margins and most chefs don’t have business degrees. “The point is to put people in the job they’re good at,” Kander says. They brought former WD~50 maitre d’ Chris Clark on to serve as general manager, while Sousa focuses on the food.

Kander won’t be actively involved in the day-to-day details of the restaurant. “He acknowledges he’s not the greatest financial guy in the world, but he’s the greatest cook in the world,” Kander says of Sousa. “I’m not the greatest cook in the world, but I’m good at putting deals together. And so we’re all just using that skills when we need ’em.” Kander had also heard some other concerns about Sousa, who has a reputation around town for being hard to work with, but says the new partners “have been just gelling perfectly.”

Over the next few months, Kander raised $600,000 from investors and then arranged for a loan from Allegheny County to complete the funding. “He’s been an amazing force,” Sousa says. In December, they announced that the restaurant was back on track and since then have been focused on completing construction, working with a local company on making custom furniture, and procuring artwork. There was one change to Sousa’s original vision for the space: A theater company has taken over the back of the building and will open a performance space there.

But food-wise, Sousa’s plan remains the same. His seasonal American menu will rely on local ingredients from Grow Pittsburgh’s urban farm down the street, the restaurant’s own fully operational greenhouse, and a community bread oven that has been serving Braddock for the past few years.

“Are we even going to be able to afford to eat there? Will we be welcome?”

Sousa’s still committed to the social aspect of the restaurant, too. He’s already hired from the community; four of the eight people he’s hired so far are Braddock residents (including the City Council president’s daughter). Sousa is also working out the details of his proposed job training program and community discount.

The former, which is similar to other culinary training programs like that of Louisville chef Edward Lee, will launch three months after the restaurant opens with six to nine students in the first cycle before gradually ramping up. Sousa says he’ll be teaching classic and modern cooking techniques through both hands-on experience and classroom training on everything from sanitation to kitchen management. Participants who complete the program will either receive a letter of recommendation or an opportunity to stay on at Superior Motors. And all Braddock residents will get a 50 percent discount on food, with membership cards that they can discreetly show their server. With entrees ranging from $18 to $28, Sousa says, the cost of eating at Superior Motors would be comparable to going to PF Chang’s, “but with better food.”

Through these initiatives, Braddock Borough Council President Tina Doose says Sousa has addressed the concerns people in her mostly poor, mostly African-American community had about white men opening a restaurant in town. “There’s been a lot of questions: ‘Are we even going to be able to afford to eat there? Will there be dining for everyone? Will we be welcome?’” she says. She’s glad to see Sousa offering struggling families the opportunity to go out to eat — and at a fine-dining restaurant to boot. Kander says it’s important to him, too, to make sure Braddock’s potential revitalization doesn’t displace the existing community. “No one leaves,” he says.

On the surface, not much has changed in Braddock since Superior Motors sputtered out. Its population still hovers around 2,000, with a median income of around $24,000, as recorded in the 2014 Census. Its buildings are aged and, in some cases, decrepit. After having torn down more than 200 blighted structures in the last decade, the Braddock Borough Council is still trying to create new housing opportunities, according to Doose. There’s not much new life to the town’s commercial strip, Braddock Avenue, either (or “what’s left of it,” Doose says).

But change is percolating. Three years ago, two Carnegie Mellon grads opened a brewery on Braddock Avenue called Brew Gentlemen. At the time, co-owner Matt Katase remembers worrying that it would be difficult to convince Pittsburgh residents to make the drive out to Braddock to visit the taproom. “Our biggest thing was dispelling the myth that Braddock was some dangerous neighborhood,” Katase says. He wanted to remind them of the days long before steel’s decline when Braddock had a bustling main street — the kind of place where you might spend a leisurely Saturday afternoon. That seems to have worked. Fetterman says he’s seen people line up down a four-block stretch for beer release parties.

“The Brew Gentlemen opening was really important because it demonstrated that people are eager for options and are cheerfully coming down to Braddock,” he says. Doose argues that this new interest extends beyond the brewery: The borough recently received more than 400 applications for the 23 housing units it had developed for lease-purchase. People are increasingly interested in moving to Braddock.

So are businesses. In late 2015, Studebaker Metals opened a workshop and storefront in Braddock’s Free Press building to make and sell their hand-crafted jewelry, key hooks, and other accessories. Laurel Green, a company that produces medical marijuana, is also in talks to open a facility in town. It would be one more company contributing to Braddock’s tax base, Doose says, which “would mean a lot to a struggling community.”

Doose is encouraged by the new dining options coming to town, too. Last fall, Portogallo Peppers N’at, an Italian bar and restaurant, opened near the Rankin Bridge, the entrance to town if you’re coming from Pittsburgh. Owner Bob Portogallo got the idea over beers at Brew Gentlemen. He’s from the nearby suburbs and used to commute through the town daily, and he was surprised to see the brewery crop up. “What are these yuppies doing here?” Portogallo remembers thinking.

With the Brew Gentlemen drawing young crowds, Portogallo saw an opportunity for a more blue-collar restaurant to appeal to his baby boomer generation. So he moved his Swissvale storefront that sold Italian beef sandwiches, sausages, and giardiniera into Braddock and turned it into a bar with live music, an enormous patio, and a bocce court. Portogallo says his bet has paid off. Not only are people coming out to eat and drink, but they’re thanking him for being there. “It’s a reason to come back to Braddock,” he says.

More is on the way. Local coffee chain Crazy Mocha has recently signaled its intent to open an outpost in Braddock, while the owners of the Brassero Grill food truck just announced their first brick-and-mortar Mexican restaurant will join Studebaker Metals in the Free Press building. “There’s increasingly something for everybody,” Fetterman says. “It’s kind of all coming together and creating a critical mass of momentum, which I genuinely believe that we have right now.”

So where does Superior Motors fit into Braddock’s revitalization now? It may no longer become Braddock’s first restaurant in a generation, but there’s reason for optimism about how Superior Motors can boost Braddock — and vice versa.

Though he had been skeptical of Superior Motors’ ability to revitalize Braddock, Madison, the University of Pittsburgh professor, says he’s become a fan of the idea. “I’m a little bit more optimistic about the idea of looking at Superior Motors as part of an emerging ecology in Braddock,” he says. Alongside the likes of Crazy Mocha and Studebaker Metals, Superior Motors could help create “a positive feedback loop” for Braddock that would attract other investors and retail, which would provide more employment opportunities.

Rust Belt tourism has mostly gone out of vogue.

“The more businesses the better for Braddock,” Portogallo says. Katase believes Superior Motors could help tie all the various facets of the emerging Braddock business community together, using produce from the local farm and serving beer from Brew Gentlemen. Not to mention that dinner and a show will become a real possibility in Braddock when the theater opens in the same building. “I think it’ll be a nice way to connect a lot of disjointed dots,” Katase says. “And who knows, we may get a new regular out of that ourselves.”

Braddock may benefit from that increase in foot traffic in more ways than one. Doose is excited for the possibility that Superior Motors and other businesses might help attract new residents and build a robust housing market. “They’re spending money, they’re eating, they’re socializing — and they’re finding out that Braddock can be a great place to live, work, and play,” Doose says.

But observers might be better served by tempering their expectations. Community revitalization takes time. Katase points out that Braddock residents still need a lot of essentials. “There are still houses that are falling down,” he says. “There’s no gas station in town. We don’t have a bank in town.” He thinks Braddock’s maturation as a community is still a long way off. Sousa agrees. “It would be great if we could get to the point of having a grocery store,” he says.

Pittsburgh also might not come to Braddock. Mary Miller, a culinary tourism consultant who has led food tours of the communities surrounding Braddock, says Rust Belt tourism has mostly gone out of vogue. People are no longer looking at a trip to Braddock as as voyeuristic thrill.

Julier also points out that Pittsburgh’s dining scene has come into its own in the last three years. Though she’s sure people will be excited about Superior Motors — after all, Sousa has many fans — there’s just so much more competition now. Pittsburgh diners have their choice of everything from Indian restaurants in Monroeville to vegan Eastern European food in Lawrenceville. “It’s not like everyone’s been waiting for Superior Motors to save Braddock,” she says of Pittsburgh’s food obsessives.

The Superior Motors narrative has been tied to one about Braddock’s potential comeback ever since Sousa launched his Kickstarter campaign for a restaurant with an ambitious social mission. Although it’s ultimately unclear whether the fate of the restaurant and the town are related, these conjoined stories have invited both praise and skepticism of Superior Motors — and Sousa has seen his share of both over the last few years as he’s struggled to get the restaurant to the brink of opening. But Sousa argues he didn’t come to save Braddock.

“I moved here out of straight love,” he says. “We want to be a part of something special.” He argues that three years isn’t really that long when it comes to restaurant construction, and he hopes his supporters will understand the delay. But he is aware that scrutiny is “the other edge of the sword” with Kickstarter. People want to see their investment materialize right away.

That scrutiny is also why Sousa is not planning any fanfare around Superior Motors’ opening. There’s going to be a lot to get right — like working with an entirely new staff and a wood hearth that he’s never had in a restaurant before — and he wants to do it all well. “We’ve been trying to stay out of the limelight,” he says. “Just shut up and get the work done.” He’s just excited to finally open Superior Motors and see what happens. “I’ve already proven that my goal wasn’t to come in, open a restaurant, and move on,” he says. “My goal was to be here. I live here.”

Amy McKeever is a freelance writer in Philadelphia. Justin Merriman is a photographer based in Pittsburgh.

Editor: Hillary Dixler