From 1880 to 1915, over 13 million Italians migrated out of Italy, marking the largest voluntary emigration in world history. During that time, my ancestor, Ernesto Larco, came to the United States. He opened a restaurant during the Roaring Twenties in Providence, Rhode Island, serving authentic Italian recipes and traditions. In due time, he had three sons: Mike, Nick, and my great-grandfather, Pete, born on October 30, 1926. With the help of his young sons, the restaurant survived the Great Depression. When Ernesto passed, the sons moved to Detroit in search of the American dream.
Pete found a job at Parke Davis, America’s oldest and once largest pharmaceutical company. There, he was labeled a laboratory worker. It wasn’t his father’s restaurant, but it was something. During this time, he met his first wife, Grace. The two young lovebirds didn’t spend much time together before the Americans joined the Second World War. News rang out across the country that Japanese fighter planes bombed the American fleet in Pearl Harbor. With little hesitation, President Roosevelt called for the United States to join the war. In 1942, Pete and all his brothers were drafted. Pete had to leave his sweetheart and travel with his brothers to the Pacific.
Pete Larco found himself as a Tank Commander, leading infantry from island to island, pushing towards mainland Japan. He was part of the 44th Tank Battalion, or what they liked to call themselves, the Wolf Battalion. Painting a snarling wolf head onto the side of his tank, Pete was determined to lead his men with great selflessness and valor. It was off the East coast of Manila, a city in the Philippines where Pete was stationed, that he earned his Bronze Star. In the growing battle for the Marikina watershed, the “Screaming Japanese” attempted to flank the United States soldiers. The Japanese soldiers led a large-scale Banzai charge from behind the American Infantry. During this time, Pete was part of the heaviest artillery barrage taking place against the Japanese.
Equipped with his M1 Carbine combat rifle and his M4 Sherman tank, Pete, as the tank commander, led the counter-assault on the Japanese. Pushing the soldiers back, he cleared the way for the infantry to secure the area. In the words of Fred Hampson of The Associated Press, “The Nipponese [Japanese] were beaten off with heavy losses.” Chasing the assault, the Wolf Battalion led the Sixth and First cavalry divisions to the fleeing Japanese. American soldiers uncovered a series of interconnected caves and pillboxes along the ridge of the Sierra Madre mountains. On foot, infantrymen cleared the caves of Japanese soldiers with flamethrowers and soon occupied the area. It was one more step towards American victory.
Being far from home can be taxing on many, but for the Larco brothers, they brought their home with them. Late on the beaches of New Guinea, his brothers gathered to honor their father. They built a fire and cooked a huge pot of spaghetti, warming their brothers in arms with the food their dad once cooked for many. It was a night the brothers would remember, a night that lifted their spirits and kept them pushing for victory.
Pete couldn’t stay on that beach forever. When Truman ordered the dropping of two atomic bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki, it was time to leave. Pete was loaded onto a plane and sent to his final goal of the war, Mainland Japan. Stepping off the plane, Pete placed his hand on the dirt; until his last breath, he claimed that the ground was still hot from the bomb. Pete and his division were sent to Hiroshima, and with the occupation of the country, the war was over. With one last plane ride, the brothers were back home. Unfortunately, Pete brought back something from those jungles that would haunt him for the rest of his life: Malaria.
Returning to Detroit and his wife Grace, they had their first child less than a year later. The couple then divorced soon after, with their child bouncing between households. In the meantime, the brothers found work at their cousin’s restaurant, Lelli’s, one of the most renowned Italian restaurants in the area. The upscale establishment was grown inside an old retrofitted house. Despite the makeshift fixes and additions to the building, it was known as quite elegant.
During Pete’s time at Lelli’s, he met his second wife, Fran. They married in 1950 and went on to have three more kids. In 1951, the Larco brothers decided to open their own restaurant. The family wasn’t rich, but everyone pitched in what they had. Pete brought his smile. Larco’s Inn became the go-to restaurant for all of Detroit. The traditional recipes combined with the outstanding service proved unbeatable. Waiters were all dressed in tuxedos, and it is told that they were at your table the second you put your fork down. Gliding effortlessly through the building, Larco’s could accommodate over 500 people, serving the traditional Italian cuisine that their father had taught them. Larco’s was known for its prime steaks, chops, and seafood, with the brothers in the kitchen butchering their own meat and cooking every meal. During Pete’s time at the restaurant, he even created his own sauce known as “Zip Sauce.” It was a busy night, and the kitchen had run out of their steak sauce, so Pete whipped something together in a zip, hence the name. It turned out to be a big hit.
Over all the dining and food, Pete Larco was known for his generosity. His uplifting attitude and spirit infatuated all who met him. Anyone Pete knew who came to Larco’s was not allowed to order from the menu. Pete would cook specifically for them and give them a taste of his true craft. In fact, a returning patron of Larco’s was Marvin Gaye. Shaping Motown and the music industry of the ‘60s, Marvin was a huge figure of his time. In an interview, Marvin stated that when he was out of town, he would call Pete for inspiration and to lift his spirits. A more common patron of the restaurant was the Detroit Lions. In fact, the downstairs floor of Larco’s was coined “The Lion’s Den.” The Lions were huge fans of Pete Larco, but Pete didn’t limit his graciousness to inside the restaurant. After every game, Pete would bring a whole array of food down to the stadium and feed his Lions. His acts of kindness even earned him a speaking role in the 1968 film, *Paper Lion*, coined by Vice to be “The greatest movie ever made about NFL preseason.”
There were a few more men who had an affinity for the Larco brothers’ cooking and generosity: The Detroit Partnership, or in simpler terms, the Mafia. It was a regular occurrence that big-name mobsters would eat and discuss business in the private rooms at Larco’s. Although none of the brothers had any ties with the Mafia, they treated them as customers. Pete expressed some disdain for their way of business throughout his life, but nevertheless, he was dragged into one of the biggest mysteries of American history.
In the summer of 1975, the FBI had been tracking the movements of the Italian Mafia in the days leading up to the disappearance of American Labor Union leader, Jimmy Hoffa. Just a few days before his disappearance, Mob bosses Tony Provenzano and Anthony Giacalone met with Hoffa at Larco’s. The men rented a private room, ordered food, and left around an hour later. When Hoffa went missing, controversy spread like wildfire. Pete was even called to court during the case, with accusations being thrown at the Larco family, claiming ties to the Mafia. Pete testified and told the court that he treats anyone who comes to his restaurant as a customer, and that is all he knew. He was found innocent of being involved with the disappearance.
Years before, the Larco brothers watched one of the most detrimental events take place in the city of Detroit: The Detroit Riots of 1967. The city was set ablaze, businesses were torched, and people were killed. When the riots broke out, Larco’s did not fall. Instead, Pete posted his waiters on the roof of the all-brick building with rifles. He and his brothers stayed in the kitchen, cooking for the Fire Department and the Police Force. It was days into the riot that Pete received a phone call. Picking up, all he heard was, “You better get out of there, we’re gonna bomb you next, Larco.” All Pete responded with was, “Come on down, we’re waiting for you,” before he hung up the phone. Fortunately, Larco’s was spared, maybe due to the phone call or maybe due to his men. But over the years, the restaurant would still suffer heavy losses. The riots caused many people to leave the area. Buildings were vacated, and businesses were lost. Larco’s survived, though, with valet parking and a closed-off lot, patrons felt safe inside.
In 1981, Pete Larco suffered a heart attack while driving home. The accident was severe, and he did not survive. A funeral procession was held in his honor, with so many people showing up that it had to be directed by a helicopter and Motorcycle police clearing the streets. The line was so long that his cousin Mike Lelli was able to leave the line, get some ice cream at a Dairy Queen, and get back in. The city of Detroit celebrated the life Pete led. The Lions were there, his family was there, the friends he had made over the years were there, and in spirit, Pete was there as well. In honor of his life, the state of Michigan ordered the writing of a Senate Concurrent Resolution.
Larco’s Inn continued for only two more years before the entire building was burned to the ground on New Year's Day. There was a federal investigation into the fire, the first in Detroit history, and the cause was ruled as arson. However, the culprit was never found.
In Honor of Peter E. Larco
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