Buzz Dalesandro made his Italian grandmother’s sauce at his namesake restaurant with a spice level that mirrored his mood. He made sure extra food got into the hands of Tulsans who lived on the streets. He would change a tire at midnight in a snowstorm for a friend.
He told bawdy jokes. Rode loud motorcycles. Made everyone feel like they were his best friend. He also could cuss a mean streak, throw a solid punch and decided some laws weren’t worth following.
His life was celebrated Monday by at least 200 people at the historic Cain’s Ballroom, where more laughs were heard than tears shed. He died Jan. 4 at age 73 after a period of failing health. His love-hard, fight-hard persona was resurrected as those who loved him told poignant and often hilarious profanity-laced stories.
More than 40 former and current employees shared stories from the stage that included a tequila shot ritual.
“I’ve never really been a drinker, except for the 10 years I worked for him,” said one former employee. “I had to learn all his recipes in two weeks but wasn’t allowed to write any down,” said another.
Chef Trevor Tack of Cherry Street’s Ava June was once a neighbor and recalled an angry oversized Dalesandro showing up in tighty-whitey briefs to break up a late-night party. Tack later worked at the restaurant, where Dalesandro taught him culinary skills.
“To say he was larger than life seems redundant because how else are you going to fit all that heart in a normal-sized person,” Tack said. “I didn’t have another mentor that I could grow with like that for the rest of my life. He gave me something that I continually get to give to others — to show people their worth when they don’t think that they deserve it. ”
Born Vincent Dalesandro III in Chicago, he grew up in Wisconsin and followed his sister to Tulsa in the early 1970s. He is survived by his children (Sonny and Olivia), grandson (Camden), former wife (Candy), sister (Laura Dalesandro), nephew (Christopher Martin) and niece (Elizabeth Schoenleber).
His children described their dad as the fun one who turned song lyrics into fart jokes, taught headstands and used them as air guitars when they were little. Among the tidbits they shared: Buzz dabbled in dirt track racing, played both offensive center and defensive tackle as a high schooler, once kept a Christmas tree alive for a year, could do wheelies on “12 different forms of transportation” and bought a trash bag full of “street weed” while on a family vacation in Mexico.
Dalesandro had an eye for the ladies, but his ex-wife remained the love of his life.
Mostly, he loved people. An early memory from his daughter was taking leftover bread to John 3:16 Mission, a Tulsa nonprofit providing food and shelter to the homeless.
“My dad took the extra time, energy and effort to make sure that excess and abundance made it into the hands of people who needed it most,” Olivia Dalesandro said. “A few lessons from him I carry with me every day are being in service to others, not letting people be hungry and if you have something then share.
“I know my father played a different role in so many lives. I watched him be a father, a mentor, a champion, a getaway driver, a menace, a secret keeper and a literal life saver.”
Dalesandro was the kind of parent who believed the Tulsa State Fair was a legitimate reason for skipping school. He was the kind of business owner who viewed liquor laws as suggestions.
“My dad didn’t have a disdain for rules or the law, but he was far from a conformist,” said Sonny Dalesandro.
It was 37 years ago Dalesandro opened a 45-seat restaurant at 526 S. Main St., among the few downtown restaurants at the time.
“At a minimum, this served as a beta test for proving Tulsans would return downtown,” Sonny Dalesandro said. “It was a special place and a different time: A place where mayors would turn a blind eye to my dad illegally serving wine in coffee cups.
“It was a spot where he could be his true, unfiltered self. That restaurant literally could not exist today. More than that, it brought people together and formed lifelong friendships.”
Dalesandro successfully got a municipal ordinance passed so he could serve espresso from the sidewalk. Years later, that became the basis for the city’s flourishing food truck industry.
“Pops was ahead of his time when Tulsa was desperate for vision,” his son said.
In August 2000, Dalesandro received notice the building was sold and being demolished to make way for an Arvest Bank expansion. He opened a new restaurant at Skiatook Lake but couldn’t make it work financially.
Then Sonny decided to end his decade-long professional soccer career to return home and learn the family business. The pair re-opened Dalesandro’s at 18th Street and South Boston Avenue by offering the old popular recipes, hanging the original downtown sign and even getting back the restaurant’s former phone number.
Eventually, he and Sonny figured out they didn’t work well together in business, so Buzz sold his share to his son at a rock-bottom price.
“He, again, had my back,” his son said. “Let’s not get it twisted: My dad was a pain in the ass, and he admitted it constantly. But the thing is that once you weathered the storm, the relationship was ultimately stronger.”
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