BY TEQUILA MINSKY | It was the last day of De Robertis Pasticceria & Caffé, and the black-and-white photos that tracked the family were off the white- tiled walls. They lay in the empty baked goods display counter alongside cafe items — espresso spoons and tin plates for sale. The legendary half dollar cemented into the vintage, ornately tiled floor had been pried out a couple of weeks earlier. Nonetheless, a montage of photos of the last three generations of De Robertises hung above the counter.
The fourth generation of DeRobertis proprietors — both in their 30s — busily put in their final hours working at the iconic East Village shop last Friday.
Dana set up pastries and cappuccino for the loyal patrons who were lingering all afternoon. Her brother, John III, boxed outgoing orders of cakes, cannoli and cookies. Even their father, John Jr., served customers nonstop, only briefly taking a break to pose for a photo. The TV news was there to cover it, too. It was hard for everyone to say goodbye.
Paolo, the legendary pastry place’s patriarch, opened shop 110 years ago at E. 11th St. and First Ave., with the original name Caffe Pugliese, in honor of his Italian birthplace. Paolo trained John Sr., whose four children, including John Jr., grew up above the shop. When help was needed, John Sr. would rap on the pipe. Come dinnertime, the pipe would clang again, this time from above. John Jr. took over, then eventually passed the responsibilities to his two children, Dana and John III.
The cafe was refurbished in 1952, and hasn’t changed since.
The building, bought by the third generation’s four siblings some decades ago, has now been sold. The reason given was changing times and tastes and family members’ own changing health needs.
On the final afternoon, Steve Greenstein, a musician and actor, was enjoying his last pastry at De Robertis. From 2005 to 2008, on Friday and Saturday evenings, he was hired by the place to play violin or harmonica with a friend on guitar, leading Bob Dylan or Peter Seeger songfests.
“We were hit by the recession,” he said of why the “sweet gig” ended.
Actor Vincent Piazza came in for a fond gustatory goodbye. He played Lucky Luciano in the five-season HBO series “Empire Boardwalk,” and had hung out there doing research to get a sense of place and time — the 1920s — as did other cast members.
When John Jr., while working the counter, was asked, “Did the mafia come here?” he raised his eyebrows and his palms upward and answered, “So, the story goes.”
And it is quite a story. Not only did the real Luciano hang out there, it was said that his gangland ally Meyer Lansky frequented the place in the ’20s.
Another patron, drinking his last cappuccino, gave his name as “Mo…just Mo.” Asked if this had been a place where the mafia would come, he simply answered, “They liked Italian pastries.”
The Greenwich Village Society for Historic Preservation’s blog provides more information about some of the place’s former clientele.
For example, in 1935, “Mike the Boss” Sabbitini was arrested with others for running Italian numbers out of De Robertis. In the ’70s it was a favorite spot for Carmine “Lilo” Galante, then boss of the Bonanno crime family. In the late ’80s and ’90s, according to the G.V.S.H.P. site, a long list of mafia names pop up connected to doing business inside DeRobertis.
Additionally, the shop with its rich atmosphere made cameo film appearances in Spike Lee’s “Malcolm X,” Woody Allen’s “Manhattan Murder Mystery” and the first episode of “Sex and the City.”
Business was steady on the last afternoon. Three generations of one family crowded around a table, though they claimed a five-generation connection to the pasticceria.
“I came with my grandmother, whose store was across the street, when I was five,” recalled Joe Guccione, 77.
“Here is my granddaughter,” he said, pointing to the baby in a stroller by the table.
On the other hand, New York newbie Susan Penn moved to the neighborhood from Austin five years ago.
“I treasure this place,” she said.
Luisa Aponte, a 60-year East Village resident who lives on E. 13th St., was eating with her two daughters and a friend, Isaac Collazo, a neighbor of 19 years.
Collazo listed the croissants, napoleons and apple turnovers as his favorites.
Daughter Judith accurately observed, “Here, there is a real mix of people and families.”
By midafternoon Frank Sinatra’s “Thanks for the Memories” was playing.
Emily Allan, an actress/writer, 23, was reading Henry Miller’s novel “Sexus” while finishing up her cappuccino.
“I grew up on E. 12th St. and have been coming since I was a baby,” said Allan, who was probably the youngest “regular” there.
“This place is atypical — not just people on their computers,” she added.
Or as another regular put it, “This is a place for people in the neighborhood, a place where they feel comfortable.”
As time marches on, sometimes owners of older establishments don’t really want to adapt. And admittedly, many of the regulars paying tribute on this last day commented that they hadn’t seen such a lively buzz there in a long time. Last Friday, though, it was all nostalgia in the air.
At one point, during the afternoon, as she was hustling up the coffees and pastries, Dana was spotted tearing up.
“This is bittersweet,” said her brother, John.
Although the bakery was scheduled to close at 3 p.m., hours later they were still doing a brisk business.
“What can we do?” John said with a shrug. “People are having a good time.”
