Pike Place patriarch left his mark on food scene
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He has survived fire, fads, urban renewal, robbery, even two teenagers.
An onslaught of fancy-pants fooderies emerged to rival his mom-and-pop shop, yet he endured.
And through it all, folks have called him - still call him - a gentleman and a teacher, a father figure, a pioneer who wasn't afraid to take risks. A humble but astute businessman who never forgot the value of hard work.
Louie DeLaurenti, proprietor of the specialty-food market and deli that has greeted customers at the front door of the Pike Place Market for nearly 28 years, is planning to turn over his emerald-green apron to another owner. But his store, his name and his mark on the local food scene are here to stay - at least as long as he and his many admirers have anything to say about it.
The sale of DeLaurenti's business at the corner of First Avenue and Pike Street is looking like a done deal. The Market Historical Commission has approved a "change of use," providing the new owners agree to keep the name, the basic product selection and especially the character of the place intact.
If his landlord - the Pike Place Market Preservation and Development Authority - approves the lease, as expected next month, ownership will transfer to Patrick McCarthy and his two partners, who also own the Pagliacci pizza enterprise. But DeLaurenti will stay on as consultant and mother hen for the business his father began building downstairs at the Market in 1946.
More than a meat cutter
McCarthy says he can't wait to work alongside the master of meat- and cheese-slicing who knows not only his customers' names, but what they want in a store like his.
Remo Borracchini, whose Rainier Avenue bakery/market is an institution itself, says DeLaurenti's has succeeded because "Louie is there and Louie cares. And when you walk in that door, Louie recognizes you." Borracchini has known DeLaurenti since they were kids and his father hired Louie's dad to deliver bread. When they were teenagers at Franklin High School and all you needed for fun was a hardwood floor and a phonograph, they used to dance around the proof box in the Borracchini bakery. These days, some might call them competitors, but Borracchini says it's never felt like that.
"We've never had a cross word ... He's the most respected businessman I know."
Mike Osborn, a Market veteran who worked at DeLaurenti's for a short time between stints at Pure Food Fish Market and his present venue, Sosio's Produce, says guys like DeLaurenti know more than just how to cut the meat. "It's the experience of putting together a meal." Someone younger might know the ingredients, but they don't have that, or the look. "It's like you know you've seen him in the movies - he's the guy behind the cheese counter," Osborn says. "He's one of the icons."
Then there's the experience of working in the Market. "You can't be trained anywhere else" to be successful there, says Osborn. "It's its own entity," an idiosyncratic mélange of colorful characters and independent entrepreneurs looking to make a buck in a country dominated by shopping malls and quickie, cookie-cutter food.
DeLaurenti is dismayed by the blanderizing trends, but determined to hold the line, even as he turns his "condiment store" over to others. In the beginning, he didn't know he'd have so much success. But he did know he wasn't interested in pursuing the shoe business he'd entered after high school. His company talked of promotion. "But I didn't want to move," he says, "and I was not a good fit for the corporate world."
He and his wife, Pat, had always felt "the fire in the belly to be self-employed." Their daughters Candace and Victoria were entering their teens, and the Market had recently been "saved" by city ordinance and creation of the development authority. "We came in with that spirit of revival," DeLaurenti says, and moved the business upstairs to First and Pike.
"We came on the scene at the right time," he adds, noting that most groceries then didn't have delis, and practically nobody was importing the kinds of products he was offering - beautiful olive oils from Italy; cheese from France, Spain; anchovies and capers, peppers and pickled things of every sort. Sauces, pastas, pastries. Balsamic vinegars, too.
And espresso. In Venezuela, "I saw people drinking espresso outta Styrofoam cups." When he got home, he became the first in town to do the same. Eventually, Louie tired of fussing with the machine and gave it up. Still, he's proud of the first. Proud, too, of introducing people to so many things.
He and Pat would go to fancy-food shows and travel in search of products. The thing that made Louie better at it than most, says Pat, was "he always knew what would sell in Seattle. He wasn't looking for the cutesy, cottage things."
Early on, says DeLaurenti, he had a great rapport with sellers, especially "starter-uppers - people who would bring things to us first." Now, he says, you can get almost anything anywhere. The Larry's Markets and Queen Anne Thriftways are doing a great job, but "we showed them how to display and sell merchandise."
Which brings us to now. If supermarkets have the gourmet stuff, the laundry soap and nail polish, too, why shop at his place?
"People want to talk to someone ... discuss ingredients, execution," he says - compare and maybe even kibbitz.
"I love telling stories. The deli case is a great shield, and you can get away with a lot of things" back there. And besides, "my customers - I feel if they make an effort to come in, I gotta entertain them."
And tantalize them with that mix of goodies. Bob Squaglia, director of Market operations and construction management, says DeLaurenti brought in interesting things before it was fashionable, and "it was a higher-quality product, taking a risk with things like real expensive prosciutto."
The prosciutto will still be there when McCarthy takes over. And DeLaurenti is already dishing out advice. "To do this right, it takes a lot of daylight hours" addressing everything from how the displays look first thing in the morning to fixing whatever breaks down in the night. He recognizes that most people, even his daughters who grew up working in the business, don't want to put in those kinds of hours anymore.
As for him, when he's not behind the case, he'll be sharing meals and good times with his family and many friends. He enjoyed his 65th birthday last week (for the record, his given name is Lewis), and he's looking forward to celebrating his 46th wedding anniversary in April. How was it having a wife as a business partner? "Well, we're still together," he says with that wry grin he displays so often. And, he offers more than once, "she cleans up my messes."
There'll still be the annual Festa Italiana and the bocce ball tournament he sponsors. He'll have other duties as chairman of the board at the Italian Community Center. And they will travel, says Pat. "While we have legs and eyes, we're gonna do it."
Buon viaggio.