JAMESTOWN, N.Y. - Pace's Pizza on W. 3rd Street was the scene of soooo many nights of pizza scarfing when we were in high school. (When, pray tell, did we ever start using the expression 'scarf' for 'eat?')
But many folks might not remember that there was a Pace's Pizza in Lakewood for some years, too, a tiny little place across the street (sort of) from the Hideaway bar (another place about which I could write novels...).
When we were 13-14, we would hang out at Pace's for hours, nursing Coca-Colas. There was young woman named Donna usually running the joint, who would give us a slice or two of pizza.
We hatched a scheme in which one of us would call Pace's, order a pizza (using a phony name like Melvin Dingelweiler) and then show up a half-hour later for our Coca-Colas. Donna would start getting pissed at Mr. Dingelweiler, who, of course, wasn't going to ever show.
And she would eventually share the pizza with us. Funny now the Dingelweilers of the world never got anchovies.
I think she figured out pretty early what we were doing, but kept making the pizzas as long as we could come up with good names and changed our voices enough. We got a lot of free Coca-Cola, too, particularly if we were willing to listen to her stories about her generally messed-up love life.
I received word just today from Dave Fessenden (aka 'Fuzzy' who is married to Peggy Putney) that Dino Pace is ill and in a hospital in Florida.
Whether you caged pizzas from Dino like I did - or actually paid cash - you might consider dropping him a note.
Here's his address at the hospital:
Kindred Hospital, Ssouth Fl
1859 Van Buren St.
Hollywood, FL 33024
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