Today, St. Louis lost one of its biggest fans and civic promoters. J. Kim Tucci, co-founder of The Pasta House Co., died this morning after a decade-long battle with cancer. He was 78.
Tucci, Joe Fresta, and the late John Ferrara founded The Pasta House Co. in 1974. Today, there are 18 locations and a fast-casual offshoot, The Pasta House Co. Pronto!, with the majority of them located in metro St. Louis.
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A tireless advocate for the city, Tucci served on many corporate and charitable boards, including the St. Louis Convention & Visitors Commission, Saint Louis Billiken Club, St. Louis International Film Festival, Heat Up/Cool Down St. Louis, the Soldiers Memorial Museum Foundation, the Missouri Athletic Club Preservation Foundation, Kilo Diabetes Foundation, and Queen of Peace Center. According to a post on the Pasta House Facebook, Tucci had been honored with more than 30 Man of the Year Awards.
His license plate was PASTA 1. It could just as aptly have read ST LOUIS 1.
One of Tucci’s good friends, advertising executive Bob Kochan, met him in 1981. They were close since, attending church together every Sunday in Clayton, where they both passed the collection basket. Kochan says he knew of no one with Kim’s energy, spirit, and enthusiasm.
“The man was truly bigger than life,” he says of the man who became the city’s favorite boniface, emcee, and auctioneer. “Everybody in St. Louis seems to know Kim Tucci, and everyone has a story about him.”
Tucci was nearly impossible to pin down, but we were able to briefly corral him back in 2011 to conduct a Q&A.
As the interview began, Tucci took a phone call from a vendor. “OK, my friend, you’ve got that $5,000 table,” he said. “Yes, for Tony Bennett… Great guy; he’s doing us a favor for St. Jude’s… And he’ll spend the rest of the weekend at your house with you and your new dog… Thank you. You’re the best, I’ll say a prayer for ya.” Then he set down his cell phone and talked with us.
One of Tucci’s first jobs was working as a cashier at the The Fatted Calf, which Tony and Vince Bommarito Sr. owned at the time. “For the first three months, my brother Tony cooked, and I took the orders,” Vince recalls. “Kim worked for us as a cashier.” Did the line move slow with Tucci, ever the storyteller, as a cashier? “Yeah, we had to get him out of there,” Vince says with a smile. “We were better off just making him a manager.”
Tucci eventually became a waiter at Tony’s. “One time, a few of my bigger guys were escorting one guy out the door, but somehow he and I end up in the little vestibule, together, and he decides to take a swing at me,” recalls Vince. “He didn’t know I was at one time a champion boxer, in high school, in the boxing Hall of Fame. That fight didn’t last long.
“After it was all over, Kim said, ‘I did my part. I helped,’” Vince recalls. “I asked him, ‘What was your part, Kim? Maybe I missed something here.’ Kim said, ‘I stood in front of the door, so no one would see the owner fighting.’ He said he was worried about Tony’s image—yeah, but not so much about its owner.”
Employees of The Pasta House often learned from Tucci, who would travel to each location and impart his words of wisdom. His common-sense presentations became classics to those in the business. “Think of your five-table station not as my restaurant but as your own little restaurant,” he’d say, “one where I’m paying the utilities and rent.” Then he’d proceed to tell them how they could make more money doing so—for instance, hosting a “series of classes on suggestive selling aimed at increasing each server’s sales by 15 percent, involving five add-ons: cheesy garlic bread, appetizers, desserts, glasses/bottles of wine, and specialty drinks.” He told the servers how much money they make is up to them “and if they do it right, they’ll make more than I do. And some do.”
His pitch for selling garlic bread reverberated throughout the chain. Tucci would instruct the servers to say, “There’s also a special on hot, cheesy garlic bread. It’s only $1.99, half-price,” because it frequently was, “How about an order?” He’d drive home the point that “an extra $2 a table—just that one item—can be huge for everybody up and down the line.”
Tucci and his wife, Sharon, were constantly at events and checking out the city’s hottest restaurants. I would often see the couple on a Friday night—and, then, again the next night. Eventually, the coincidence became a running joke. When I’d see them on Friday, Tucci would quip, “So where are we all going tomorrow night?”
