Thursday, February 2, 2017

Oh No, Say It Ain't So

There's been a death at Rao's, that tiny, famous, Italian eatery in East Harlem where it is virtually impossible to get a table unless you know someone who knows someone. And even then, you might have to eat somewhere else.

Frank Pellegrino Sr., 72, a co-owner of Rao's, passed away on Tuesday from lung cancer. Mr. Pellegrino was famously known by the usual answer he gave when he was asked for a reservation. He said it so often it became his nickname: Frankie No.

A restaurant that only has four tables and six booths fills up fast when anyone who is anyone, and anyone who thinks they're anyone, wants to eat there. The food has been rated more than desirable.

So popular is the place by those deemed to be worthy of sitting there that Mr. Pellegrino basically got known for usually telling anyone who called for a reservation that "no" they were full up. Basically, "never" had to work for you.

Celebrities and those connected to the city's superstructure are those who get to eat there. Sam Roberts, in his obituary for Mr. Pellegrino in today's NYT, describes the seating to be owned by a core of certain regulars, somewhat like a time share, that allows them to have a certain seat, at a certain time, on a given day of the week. They in turn can let others use their seats. It's almost like a seat license for a season ticket holder to a NYC major league sporting venue.

Names other than immediate family are not too freely sprinkled about in the obituary, but the film director Martin Scorsese was mentioned, so you have to know Robert De Niro's name would be close at hand. Bo Dietl, a private investigator and former NYC detective, and perhaps candidate for mayor this year, would also represent the kind of notoriety it takes to be someone Frankie would have said "yes" to.

The passing of Mr. Pellegrino Sr. is not the first notable death connected with Rao's There was the time in 2003 when someone objected to the criticism someone else was heaping on a person who was singing along to a number from the jukebox. They thought the person's vocal dislike for the singer was not warranted, so they pulled out a handgun and fatally shot the complainer. The effect was immediate. They were no longer complaining, and no one was singing.

This action of course didn't exactly bring an evening of peace to the place. The next day, the New York Post, a city tabloid noted for its playful headlines (Headless Body Found in Topless Bar), announced the prior evening's events as 'Bullets Over Bolognese,' a riff on the Woody Allen mob play, 'Bullets Over Broadway.'  Both the victim and the shooter were associated with organized crime.

Even before Mr. Pellegrino's passing, I'm sure there were enough jokes that imagined Frankie No getting to the pearly gates and having to wait for St. Peter's answer. What would it be?

As can be the case when someone of notoriety gets a bylined news obituary in the NYT, there can also be those who take out notices that appear in the paid death notice section that pay tribute to the deceased. In Mr. Pellegrino's case there are two today. One is one from the Friar's Club extending their heartfelt sympathy to the family of one of their members.

The other is a little shorter and is from Joy and Victor Barron who simply state: "Frankie, Thank you for saying "YES."

We don't know however what the question was, but the answer was surely appreciated.

http://www.onofframp.blogspot.com

No comments:

Post a Comment