The Fortuna Family—Fortuna’s Restaurant
By Michelle Ann Kratts
(Special thanks to my uncle, Robert Borgatti, for capturing so much of this information many years ago in a family history of the Borgatti and Fortuna families)
Registri dello stato civile di Amatrice (Rieti) Amatrice (Rieti). Ufficio dello stato civile, FamilySearch
What I remember most of my great grandfather, Francesco Fortuna, was the rhythm and the melody of his beautiful Italian voice. Although he lived in this country for over sixty years, he never lost the thick accent rendered to him at the place of his birth. He loved to express himself; to talk and to lecture. There was never a quiet moment at our family table and no subject was off-limits. My sister and I would spend weekends with him and our great grandmother and he would use most of the time teaching us the Italian words for ordinary things. He was adamant that we would know our heritage. He would also tell us remarkable stories from his youth— tales of heroism during the First World War, of the time he wrestled a bear, anecdotes relating to his emigration to America. At large family gatherings at the restaurant it was inevitable that he would stand up and speak to all of us. This was always in Italian. I had no idea what he was saying but he was so passionate and powerful as he commanded the room. He would pound his cane or his fists–his voice rising and falling with the mood of his words. Somehow I knew he was mentioning things like respect and family and, of course, food. There was no doubt that he was the patriarch and the King of our family.
January 29, 1954
My grandfather was no ordinary man. Born to Giuseppe Marco Fortuna and Maria Bonanni, on the first of June, 1895, in Sommati– a little town located in the commune of Amatrice and the province of Rieti, in what is now the region of Lazio—he always told us he was born with a love for cooking. Perhaps it was inevitable as Amatrice is considered one of the culinary capitals of Italy. Amatrice is the birthplace of Sugo all’amatriciano—one of the most well-known pasta sauces in Italy and especially in Rome. Legend also persists revealing that the popes often chose chefs from Amatrice for their personal cooking needs at the Vatican.
As idyllic and romantic as a childhood in Italy can strike an American granddaughter’s imagination, things were not always as I envisioned—and my grandfather would not hesitate to let me know the details of a difficult existence. First of all–work began at a very young age. My grandfather assisted his father on the family farm through part of the year and during the remainder accompanied him to Sardinia to help with the manufacture of goats’ milk cheese in a firm called Paulo Luparini Landucci. But the spirit of adventure caught up with him and— just a young boy—he ran away from home. He stayed with his uncle Pietro Valentino—who operated a butcher shop in Rome. Afterwards he left that uncle to apprentice under another uncle, Baldo Bonanni. Baldo was a chef at “Il Ristorante Vigliani” –also in Rome, and he represented the seventh generation of chefs in Francesco’s mother’s family. My grandfather dreamed that he would represent the eighth generation and Baldo taught him all of his family cooking secrets—Italian family culinary traditions that Francesco brought to America.
Niagara Falls Gazette
During the First World War my grandfather served as an information dispatcher in the Italian Army. On November 1, 1915, near the city of Parmenova (on the Italian-Austrian front) he found himself trapped behind enemy lines. Holding off the German fire with only a machine gun in a small bunker he was soon overcome. He remembered nothing more—only awakening in the safety of an Italian hospital. He had been shot seven times and left for dead until Italian forces finally found him. He spent the rest of the war recovering from his devastating wounds. Hoping to start a better life for himself my grandfather arrived at the port of New York on March 12, 1921. He took a train to Niagara Falls where he met up with his cousin, Lorenzo Bonanni. In fact, the day he arrived in the city he cooked for his cousin’s wedding reception.Francesco worked various jobs in Niagara Falls. He first worked for the Niagara Junction Railroad—which proved portentous as he fell in love with a fellow railroad worker’s daughter and soon after married Clementina Ventresca (my great grandmother) on December 12, 1923, at St. Joseph’s Church. They had two children: my grandmother, Gina, and my uncle and godfather, Joseph. My grandfather obtained a barber’s license from the city of Niagara Falls and operated various barber shops until settling at 827 19th Street—the future site of his restaurant.
In the 1930’s he had saved up enough money to purchase the building. He moved his barber shop to an upstairs room and leased out the downstairs to Sylvester Sozio, another Italian immigrant who managed a tavern and restaurant called Sylvester’s Grill. On Sundays when the barber shop was closed my grandfather would cater parties in private homes for weddings and other family celebrations. In 1945 his dream of owning his own restaurant came to fruition when Sozio moved out and the Deluxe Grill was born.
The Deluxe Grill was a partnership between my grandfather and my uncle, Victor Ventresca. Uncle Victor, a recently returned veteran of World War Two, was able to procure the liquor license and help with funds to get the restaurant off the ground. My grandmother, Gina, also helped with funding the restaurant by handing over most of her wages from her work at Bell Aircraft during the war.
Not unlike the other Italian businesses in Niagara Falls, my grandfather’s business was family operated. Most of the family was somehow associated with the restaurant. My Aunt Antoinette made the salads. My Aunt Phil and my grandmother were waitresses. My great grandmother, Clementina, and great great grandmother (her mother, Adelina Ventresca) made the soups. Uncle Victor tended the bar. My Uncle Joe also worked for the business and took over when my grandfather retired. His son, Joseph, Jr., now owns and operates the family business. Before 1960, the name changed to Fortuna’s Deluxe Restaurant and finally years later to Fortuna’s.
My grandfather never tired of working at his restaurant. Eventually building a home a few blocks away on Woodlawn Avenue, Francesco walked to the restaurant every morning. Around 3:00 or 4:00 am he would begin the daily routine of preparing the lard and olive oil for frying–as well as the sauce. When the restaurant first opened the hours were grueling. Closing time was at one in the morning on weekdays and two on weekends. My grandfather always believed in using only fresh ingredients. He was particular about every food-thing that was used in the kitchen. I recall the delight of being at my grandparent’s house when the freshly baked bread was delivered from Canada. The aroma was over-powering. My grandfather also insisted that everything would be made to order. As for Francesco’s specialties…they included his raviolis, his signature sauce and his salad dressing.
Standing at far left is Victor Ventresca
Standing at far right toward the back, third from the right in the apron is Francesco Fortuna. Beside him in an apron is Clementina Fortuna
Farthest from the left in an apron is Jean (Gina) Fortuna Borgatti
Seated in dark sweater vest third from bottom, last row is Joseph Fortuna
My grandfather was puzzled over many American food customs. He did not care for soft white bread—preferring the chewy Italian bread. He also claimed that Italians—who sometimes ate pasta three meals throughout the day—maintained a healthy weight because they used less sauce and cheese than Americans. He worked hard his entire life—refusing any idle moments. When he wasn’t cooking or experimenting with recipes he enjoyed working in his gardens. He told me a little secret one day after I stopped in for a visit on my way home from school. He had such a love affair with some roses in Italy that he had hidden their seeds in his hatband on the trip to America. So, in a way, he had brought a part of Italy to Niagara Falls. And here they were growing beautifully in his little garden on Woodlawn Avenue. That day he picked a rose and handed it to me. He said (in his Italian accent, of course): a rose for a princess.
My grandfather died on August 18, 1990. He was ninety-five years old. He is buried in the mausoleum at Riverdale Cemetery in Lewiston, New York, with my great grandmother, Clementina. But in a way, he never died, for his dream and his restaurant still lives on the corner of 19th and Forest Avenue in Niagara Falls, New York.
827 19th Street
Niagara Falls, New York
The Italians of Niagara Falls 
Lived at 1032 Grove Ave and have eaten at the dairy bar, eaten at the restaurants and enjoyed the fresh bread. When we go home we try try to visit them! Great story!