New Photo of Cariero's Restaurant

I have been chronicling the history of Cafiero's Restaurant for five years or so now and accumulated quite a cache was previously unseen, private photographs of the once-legendary Brooklyn restaurant by now.

Here's a new arrival. I was told it was taken in the 1930s, when the restaurant was relatively fresh to President Street. (It would last until the 1970s when owner "Sharkey" Cafiero retired and closed it down for good, breaking the hearts of many.) However, it looks just like one I have on which the date "1949" is written. Whatever. It's still one of the best photos I've seen. For more, click here.

What I still lack is an actual artifact from the place: a napkin, ashtray, menu, advertisement, plate, anything. I know it wasn't the kind of place that printed menus, or advertised, or have dishware with its name on it. But I keep hoping.

"A Bowl & A Roll": A Cafiero's Memory

I have a feeling that, as long as keep this blog going (and maybe long after I'm gone), memories from people who experienced Cafiero's Restaurant will continue to flow in.

Over the years, I've written about the long gone South Brooklyn Italian joint more than any other subject. My posts have travelled far, and I've made connections not only to past patrons of the President Street eatery, but several actual descendants of owner Sharkey Cafiero and his relations.

Here's the latest memory, from one Howard Linker. It's a particularly lengthy and poignant reminiscence:

My best friend’s father was in the wholesale and retail poultry business and supplied Sharkey with his products. That couldn’t have been their only connection because of the way they were treated during their regular visits to Cafiero’s. My visits to Cafiero’s were during the late 50’s and early 60’s and always with my friend and his family, even when I had a son of my own (He was about two years old during his first and only visit to Sharkey’s). We always sat in the little Dining Room in the back. You had to pass through the kitchen to get there, so you got a good look at the four sauces on the cook-top and a huge dose of the delicious aromas. I do believe the menu was written on one white sheet of paper, however, other than the rolled stuffed steak, I never saw any of the items mentioned in your blog. I remember Veal & Peas, Veal and Mushrooms, Bragiole (not the rolled steak, but a large stuffed meat ball). Our favorite was pasta and meat sauce. We weren’t that interested in the pasta, it was the sauce we adored. What we really wanted was to finish the pasta and sop up the sauce with the best Italian bread I ever tasted (a Bowl & a Roll). No long thin sub shaped rolls, these were large bagel shaped breads about one foot in diameter and sectioned for easier tearing into fairly uniform chunks.

Desert was around the corner at a waterfront bakery I can’t remember the name of. Inside were immaculate polished wood cabinets with framed glass “windows” that revealed marvelous old world pastry treasures.

We were teenagers with gargantuan appetites and it was heaven!

The Inside of Cafiero's

For almost as many years as I've been writing this blog (seven and counting), I've been obsessively tracking the history of Cafiero's, a locally legendary Italian restaurant on President Street between Hicks and Columbia Streets. Once the haunt of judges, lawyers, mobsters and celebrities (including, Arthur Miller, Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe), it shut down in the 1970s when the owner, Sharkey Cafiero, decided it was time to retire. Sharkey remained in the house and would sometimes teasingly sit outside the restaurant, but steadfastly refused to sell the business or let anyone else take it over. (He had no children.) The building is still standing today, owned by artists who ripped out every trace of the restaurant save the bathroom.

Over the years, I've accrued quite a bit of information about Cafiero's. Some it is was gathered from locals who had memories to share; some from readers who had been to the place, or whose parents had. But the best information came from actual descendants of the Cafiero clan (various siblings and in-laws worked in the restaurant), who related memories or the clientele, the menu, the staff, and sometimes sent along photos. All of these photos were either of Sharkey and his wife, or of the exterior of the restaurant. But the Holy Grail for me (aside from a menu card, which I'm pretty sure doesn't exist; it wasn't a menu kind of place) was a picture of the interior. I figured I'd never find one, because it was a private joint; mobsters don't like to get their picture taken.

But finally, after six years of searching, I have one. It was sent to me by the grand-niece of Josephine Cafiero, who was married to Frank Cafiero, the restaurant's chef and Sharkey's brother. (The above exterior shot, from 1949, is also from her.) Here it is:

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Arthur Miller Ate at Cafiero's, and Other Facts

One day I will write a book about Cafiero's, the Red Hook Italian restaurant that was a legend in its day, but is all but forgotten today. I have been slowly piecing together the history of this mysterious President Street eatery, which was a favorite of mobsters and judges, and today lives on only in the memories of the people who ate there before owner Sharkey Cafiero closed the place in the 1970s, refusing to sell the place to anyone else.

Over the years, I have heard from a few folks who told me they were relations of Shakey and Kate Cafiero, or regulars of the restaurant. To recap the history, Sharkey, who was born in Naples, owned the place. Wife Kate and Sharkey's sister Mamie (Marie) were waitresses. Sharkey's brother Frank was the cook, and apparently quite adept at flinging balls of dough at local kids with great accuracy. Everybody lived above the restaurant. The bill of fare would be based on what Frank could find at the markets that day. There were a few tables up front, but the real dining room for the locals was in back, back the open kitchen. The waiters were named John and Red.

So, recently I heard from Linda, who told me she is the granddaughter of Mamie. She wrote in to clarify a few points of Cafiero's history and also add some additional information. Sharkey's real name was Gaetano. He changed it to Anthony in the 1940s, though everyone called him Sharkey anyway. Linda believes there was indeed a menu, but it may have been added in the 1960s or 1970s. Sharkey closed the restaurant in 1975.

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Cafiero's in Color!

A descendent of the Cafiero family has once again been in touch with me. The result is the above photo, the first color image I have ever seen of Cafiero's, the once-famed South Brooklyn Italian eatery. 


The image is from 1970,  just a few years before owner Sharkey Cafiero closed the legendary gathering place for good. I'm sure if the picture was a wider shot, we would see on either side of the business a rather down-on-its-luck neighborhood. In the picture are Kate Cafiero, Sharkey's wife, and one of her nieces. (The niece's sister sent me the photo.) The picture confirmed that the blue frontage, which is still visible on the building, was original. We can also see small demi-curtains inside of a kind that were common to restaurants in the first half of the 20th century.

The Menu at Cafiero's

During my years-long obsession with Cafiero's—the family-owned Italian restaurant that was a President Street legend back in the day, frequented by mobsters and judges and plenty of regular folk—I have grown accustomed to the fact that it left behind no paper trail. Private and old fashioned to a fault, Cafiero's had no matchbooks or napkins with its name on it, placed no ads, did no interviews. And there was no menu! I've been told a hundred times by people who actually went there. There was no menu! The waiter told you what was available and it could change every day. [CORRECTION: A reader write in to say: "Cafieros definitely did have a menu. It was a simply typed piece of white paper enclosed in plastic, listing the dish and the price. No description, just “Ravioli….$1.10”"

However, through various remembrances I've collected over the years, I think I am now able to reconstruct a reasonable facsimile of a typical evening's menu at Cafiero's. Or at least part of one. The Cafieros—owner Sharkey, his wife Anna, and his brother Frank, who was chef—were from Naples and served Neapolitan dishes. They served simple food, but well-made. And if you visited, here were some of the things you could order:

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Mondo the Midget

Tom Folsom, the author of "The Mad Ones," a new tome about Brooklyn gangster Joey Gallo, dropped me a line recently, letting me know they he'd be heading a series of "Gangster Walking Tours" around Carroll Gardens and Red Hook this month. Now, I've stated before that I have next to nil interest in the lives of uneducated sociopaths who make their living through a organized system of intimidation, stealing and killing—no matter how colorful they might be. Joey Gallo led a valueless life, in my books, and he doesn't get extra points for having cracked Camus, hung out in Greenwich Village and struck up a friendship with Jerry Orbach. I like my bohemians without a body count attached.

Still, I am interested in local history, and you can't really delve into Red Hook's life and times without bumping into the Gallo brothers sooner or later. So I tailed along for Folsom's final walking tour, on May 24 (that's him above). The man knows his stuff, and related in full detail the mob wars that took place on the block of President Street between Van Brunt and Columbia, between the Gallo gang and the Profaci mob. This included the Gallos basically holing up in their mother's house, at 49-51 President, for two years, while waiting out a death blow from the Profacis.

This was in the early 1960s. No trace of what that block was then now remains, including the original Church of the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary, which stood on President near Van Brunt and is now the site of Mother Cabrini Park. (Cabrini did indeed teach and pray there.) In its place are facing rows of affordable row housing known as Columbia Terrace and built in 1987.

One site that had survived from those days, and was park of Folsom's tour, was 99 President Street (below), the home of Mondo the Midget. Living in this area as long as I have, I've heard many stories of the midget gangster who worked for Joey Gallo. People told me it was his job to walk Joey's pet lion, which was used to intimidate Gallo victims. One local told me that Mondo was a nasty thing, pissed off at everybody, and basically angry at the world owning to the miniature height fate had dealt him. People laugh at the idea of a dwarf gangster, but I'm betting Mondo was pretty scary. And when a guys got a gun in one hand, and a lion's leash in the other, who cares how tall he is?

I hadn't known where Mondo lived, though. Right next door to what used to be Cafiero's Italian restaurant. I guess we can assume that Mondo was a regular customer.

Meet the YOUNG Cafieros

Last week you got to lay your peepers on Sharkey and Kate Cafiero, the owners of Cafiero's, legendary South Brooklyn Italian eatery, courtesy of a photo sent to me by Anne, the granddaughter of Katie's brother. The pictures captured them in retirement, after they had closed the President Street restaurant once beloved by judges, celebrities and gangsters.

This week we get to see the Cafieros when they were young and newly married, courtesy of a picture sent by another family descendant—Tom, Anna's cousin! Look at them! Look at that snazzy tie. Look at that stylish hat. Look at the utterly dignified darkness of the photograph's composition.

Tom tells me that "Sharkey would see Aunt Kate on Columbia street, with her flowing red hair tucked under her hat and would quote to his friends 'That's the girl I am going to marry,'"

Meet the Cafieros

It's been a while since I've revisited my obsession with Cafiero's, the extinct Italian family restaurant that once dominated social activity on President Street in Brooklyn the way The Colony once ruled Cafe Society on the Upper East Side. This is mainly because I had nothing new to report about the place, which was so local, so secretive, so insidery that there were (to the best of my beliefs) no advertisements, no newspaper write-ups, no menus, no matchbooks, no paper trail whatsoever. The eatery, which closed in the 1970s, only lives on in the memories of some very old people.

But one of the joys of writing Lost City is it brings people to me I otherwise would never meet. A week or so ago, I was contacted by an actual Cafiero! I kid you not. Not the progeny of owners Sharkey and Katie Cafiero—they had no children. But Anna, the granddaughter of Katie's brother.

After I overcame the shock of this visitation, I began asking questions. Anna confirmed most of what I had reported before—That Cafiero's was the hangout of judges, celebrities and mobsters alike, that Sharkey kept things very low-profile so as not to attract too much attention; the privacy of his customers was his prime concern. The place was a family affair. Katie and Sharkey's sister, Mamie, were waitresses. Brother Frank was the cook.

But I also learned some new information. The restaurant was founded by Sharkey's parents, who subsequently lived in the rooms above the dining room. Mamie lived on the top floor. The Cafieros were from Naples and served Neapolitan dishes. People who ate there have mentioned to me such dishes as the Charcoal Broiled Veal Spedini, Vinegar Peppers over grilled pork chop, potato croquettes, the sides of rigatoni, the heros. I asked Anna is the family had retained any of the recipes and I could hear her laugh come over the next e-mail. There were no recipes. The menu changed daily, depended on what could be had at the market that day.

Anna sent over the photo above, which was taken at Chez Royale in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, probably years after Cafiero's closed. Sharkey and Katie are on the left and Katie's sister-in-law Anna is on the right. Looks like the man pictured below, no?



Anna's grandmother Anna, incidentally, also owned and operated a restaurant in the area. It was called Anna' Luncheonette, and was on the southeast corner of Columbia and Summit Streets. A vacant lot is there now. The luncheonette consisted of a large room with booths on the right side and a counter on the left. There was a telephone booth at the back wall along with a jukebox with 45 records. It had a tin ceiling.

I have learned recently that I may have a chance to go inside the old Cafiero building. Watch this space.

Cafiero's: An Eye-Witness Account

In my continuing excavation of Cafiero's—the once legendary, now forgotten Italian eatery on President Street near Columbia—one thing I have not been able to discover was how the place looked and operated inside. From the looks of the storefront, it couldn't have been that big.

Clearing up this matter and many more is one Ralph Scarfogliero, who lived across from said restaurant as a kid, and recently left a comment on Cafiero's item I posted way back in May 2007. First among his many tidbits of information was the name of the proprietor: he was called Sharkey, if you can believe it. He wife Katie and sister Mamie were waitresses. Brother Frank was the cook. There were also waiters named John and Red.

From the sound of Ralph's account—which I will unroll verbatim soon—the place operated a bit like a private club and could easily have provided a scene in many a Scorcese film. There were a few tables up front as you walked in, and twice as many in the back, and I have heard from other past visitors that if Sharkey knew you, you were taken to the back.

If you ever have heard all that talk about New York life being more flavorful in the past and have questioned it, consider Ralph's testimony:

Sharkey would always greet the neighborwomen by saying hello Sophie dear, or hello Connie dear. He lived above the restaurant and his sister and her husband lived on the top floor. They only served lunch and one 6PM sitting for dinner. There were 6 tables in the front, and you could walk back through the kitchen to the back room to find another 8 tables. When I was a kid Sharkey would send me around the corner to the bakery to get another 3 or 4 loaves of fresh Italian bread when he ran short. His wife would type up the menu for the day, there were no printed menus. He retired in the seventies and although was approached to sell the restaurant many times, he always refused. I can remember one time some 15 years after he retired, someone would come back from being out of town to dine there only to discover Sharkey sitting outside telling them sorry, he's retired.

They would make the biggest heroes ever, only cutting off about 4 inches from a loaf of Italian bread. Frank had a knack of pitching a ball of dough from the kitchen all the way to the front of the restaurant where I would be waiting for my take out, and beam me in the head. He never missed and I never caught him in the act.
Boy I sure do miss those days.

My heart just throbs with yearning when I hear stories like that.

Other things I've learned: they had valet parking, to handle the many cars that were often idling out front; the kitchen was open and could be inspected as you passed through to the back room; the cooks handed the dishes through an open window onto a buffet table, where the waiters picked them up; decor was nil; most ingredients were imported; the house wine was home made.

Everyone describes the food as not just good, but great. This could just be nostalgia talking, but the raves sound convincing. Dishes mentioned include the Charcoal Broiled Veal Spedini, Vinegar Peppers over grilled pork chop, potato croquettes, the sides of rigatoni.

Apparently, after he retired, Sharkey just kept the restaurant as it was: tables, chairs, kitchen, etc. He just didn't open it for business. Pretty sadistic, dontcha think?

What Cafiero's Looked Like

I've posted on this blog before about a legendary eatery (at least in my nabe) that used to exist on President Street between Hicks and Columbia. It was called Cafiero's, and apparently function from the 1920s until sometime in the 1960s. It was a favorite both of Brooklyn judges and politicians and local mobsters, as well as the occasional celebrity, like Joe DiMaggio and Marilyn Monroe.

Unlike some famous restaurants of the New York past, it seems to have disappeared without a trace, aside from the remembrances of local oldtimers. It's never mentioned in articles or books about Old New York, or even ones about Old Brooklyn. The building, 97 President St., is still there, which is a marvel in itself, since the construction of the BQE and extended digging along Columbia in the 1970s destroyed many of the original structures in the area.

To get a better idea of the place, I sent away to the Municipal Archives for a tax photo of the address. Looks like a quaint, cozy little place, complete with cloth awning and the restaurant's name in handsome (I assume gold) script above it. I can't imagine they had room for more than 10 tables inside, which perhaps lent to the joint's reputation for exclusivity. I've run across some some posts about Cafiero's on The South Brooklyn Network—a chat room for old Red Hook and South Brooklyn residents to shout out "Hey, Joey!" and "How's cousin Francis?" and talk about the teachers at Visitation Catholic school and their favorite bygone ice cream joints. People talk about having their Confirmation dinner there, or it being their first fancy dining experience as a kid. They all seemed to like it. Wish I could get ahold of an old menu. (Then again, it was probably the kind of place where the waiter told you what was available that night.)

I'm intrigued by the old guy in the picture, hands on hips, listening to some fella's spiel. Could it be old man Cafiero himself? The photo shows a barber shop to the left, a grocery store to the right, both long gone.

Below is how the Cafiero's building looks now. It's a private residence. I have a hunch that the large piece of metal screwed to the section of wall about the door hides the original Cafiero's sign. It looks like a quickie job. There are other remnants of the building's old life, as well.

These cast borders on either side of the structure are evident in the old photo (if you quint your eyes).

And the old awning was probably strung through these fixtures.


Finally, I have a good feeling that these few ornamental, pale-blue tiles were part of the Cafiero's front stoop.

This Was Cafiero's

About half a half-century ago, this storefront on President Street near Columbia Street was Cafiero's Italian restaurant. I've always been suspicious of the buidling; I knew it was a well-known eatery once, but could never get the straight dope on it. Everyone always told me it used to be a "famous restaurant," with eyes wide, and then couldn't recall the name of the place. Finally, a local oldtimer who lives down the block from me, and had seen Cafiero's in action, gave me the news.

The name doesn't resonate much today, but once upon a time Cafiero's was one of the preeminent fine eats places in South Brooklyn, an establishment visited by the local mobsters as well as prominent lawyers, politicians and judges driving in from downtown Brooklyn. Story goes Joe DiMaggio wined and dined Marilyn Monroe here once or twice.

The restaurant closed sometime in the early '50s, according to my oldtimer. If you peek through the ever-shuttered windows, you can spy high, ornately designed tin ceilings. I can't find out anything more about it, not a menu, not a picture, not an anecdote. Anybody out there got anything?