Howie Siegel: A Flavourful Life
The plucky origins of a local icon and Pagliacci’s founder
woRds by sophiA frers // iMages by hoWie sieGel + paGliacci’s
“My whole life has been to have fun. To get a laugh, enjoy company, celebrate life.”
Brooklyn in the mid-twentieth century was a crowded hub of immigrant communities and insular boroughs. Williamsburg, Greenpoint, and Bensonhurst were filled with Italian, Jewish, Irish, and Black families. It was a place where hard work and simple pleasures went hand in hand, and a sense of community was at the heart of everyday life.
In the evenings, cool jazz echoed in the streets, a serene respite from the urban chaos. Outside cinemas, crowds eagerly lined up to see the latest in Hollywood noir. Aromas of freshly baked bread, savoury meats, and exotic spices wafted through the air as people went about their routines.
In the midst of it all, on June 2, 1945, Howie Siegel was born.
A “maniac short Jew,” as he likes to call himself, Siegel was a small yet bold and eccentric character who roamed the Brooklyn streets until the age of eight.
In the forties, Brooklyn was a place where people worked hard and enjoyed the simple pleasures of life, and it was a time of community and connection. For Siegel, it was the place that shaped him into who he is today.
His father, Solomon Siegel, was a bookmaker from the Lower East Side, a neighbourhood historically rich in European and Jewish heritage. Despite the illegal nature of his father’s profession, he was a successful man, guided by determination and big dreams.
In 1953, the Siegel family crossed the continent to Los Angeles, joining many of their relatives who had already done so. Siegel’s mother, Celia, was thrilled to reunite with her sisters. “It was a big change in our lives,” Siegel recalls. He had two younger siblings, Gail and David, and they were all excited to start their new life in the Golden State.
However, their hopes of continuing their comfortable lifestyle were quickly dashed when Solomon’s bookmaking success didn’t translate to the West Coast. Instead, Celia took a job at the Prudential Insurance Company of America, where she earned $1 per hour. They worked hard and did whatever they could to raise their children, a work ethic that Siegel took to heart.
For Siegel, life in Los Angeles was about two things: baseball and movies. The arrival of the Dodgers in 1958 was the “greatest epiphany” of his life. He attended games on the weekends with his brother or friends, indulging in Carnation Frozen Malts, chocolate delicacies that took three innings to finish, even in the hot California sun.
By the early seventies, Siegel was living the quintessential hippie life on Venice Beach, wearing nothing but flannels, hitchhiking, and hopping on buses for a quarter. He soon heard tales about a “magical island” in Canada, and, along with thirty like-minded individuals, moved up to Lasqueti Island, off the east coast of Vancouver Island, in 1972.
On the island, Siegel remained a proud hippie, constructing his own home and doing “all that hunting and fishing stuff.” In 1979, he relocated to Victoria where he met up with his brother David (who sadly passed away in 2018). Though it wasn’t the scope of American big-city life he was used to, Siegel was elated to have hot running water and flush toilets, which he likened to the epitome of civilization: “It was like Paris.”
Despite his newfound appreciation for modern conveniences, Siegel’s elation was short-lived. He was penniless and couldn’t afford food for himself or his furry companion, a pit mix named Hilda. Thankfully, his friend Alan DiFiore came to the rescue by faking Siegel’s résumé and getting him a job at a CJVI 900, a local AM talk radio station, where he made $200 per week.
After a few months in Victoria, Siegel and DiFiore went to see Woody Allen’s Manhattan. In true Brooklyn fashion, Siegel suggested they grab some cheesecake and discuss the movie. “There’s no cheesecake in Victoria,” DiFiore responded. After a moment to fully absorb this revelation, DiFiore suggested that he, Siegel, and David open a restaurant.
In the heart of Victoria, nestled on Broad Street, that restaurant still operates—Pagliacci’s, named by DiFiore for an 1892 Italian opera by Ruggero Leoncavallo. Pagliacci’s—or Pag’s, in the local parlance—is an homage to another era: its walls adorned with photos of visiting actors and musicians and a soundtrack of non-stop swing and bebop jazz.
Pag’s menu is defined by its Italian roots, courtesy of the DiFiore heritage. DiFiore initially recruited family, including his wife, to help in the kitchen. One dish in particular quickly became a staple that still brings customers back for more: focaccia bread. And not just because it’s complimentary. This fluffy, olive-oil-drenched delight is one of DiFiore’s mother’s recipes, a common one from the middle of Italy.
Before Pagliacci’s, Victoria’s culinary scene was, in Siegel’s words, “a disaster.” “Focaccia bread didn’t exist in Victoria! Or al dente noodles!” Despite having no prior business knowledge, Siegel and DiFiore had plenty of passion and charisma. “I can add and subtract—it doesn’t take much more than that,” Siegel asserts. And he quickly learned that in Victoria, “everyone was charging extra everything . . . extra, extra, extra. So the first thing we decided was no charge for extras. You want more cheese? You want more butter? More chocolate on your cappuccino? No extra charge!”
Pagliacci’s has been satisfying Victoria’s cravings for over four decades. And while DiFiore has since left the business, it continues to thrive as a family-owned establishment: Siegel’s sons Solomon and Harry took over the business nine years ago and have been faithfully carrying on the legacy. Amidst the changes, Pagliacci’s commitment to quality food and community has remained constant.
However, without DiFiore’s heritage, Siegel has chosen to move away from using the term “Italian” to describe the food they serve. As he puts it, with typical candour, “Pagliacci’s: we’re Jews who hire East Indians to make Italian food for goyim.”
“Pagliacci’s: we’re Jews who hire East Indians to make Italian food for goyim.”
For Siegel, Pag’s is all about the people. “People talk about atmosphere as if it’s a commodity, but it’s really a by-product of happy customers talking in joyous ways and feeling honestly treated. That’s where the good feeling comes from, where the atmosphere comes from.” This philosophy goes beyond satisfied diners. Siegel’s recipe for success? Hire nice staff. “If the people aren’t nice, they can’t work here,” he says. “You can always teach somebody what to do, but you can’t teach them to be happy. You have to find happy people.”
Siegel’s influence has fostered a community that transcends the restaurant’s confines. And that’s why people keep coming back—not just for the unlimited focaccia bread, but for the warmth and hospitality that Siegel’s family and their team provide.
When asked about the hospitality industry’s competitive nature, Siegel simply laughs it off. “Are you joking? I don’t think there’s a f—ing restaurant on earth that can compare with us.” Judging by Pag’s long history and devoted following, Siegel’s bravado might actually be in the ballpark.
