Tag Archives: Wayne Uccellini

Appreciating Wayne Uccellini

Wayne Uccellini — the longtime owner and chef of the legendary Allen’s Clam & Lobster House — died last month, at 80. (Click here, then scroll down, for his obituary.)

Dave Stalling is one of many Westporters who worked at Allen’s. The Staples High School graduate now lives in Montana. But he has fond memories of his years at the restaurant. Dave writes:

It’s difficult to imagine that anyone who went to Staples High School in the 1970s didn’t, at one time or another, work for Wayne Uccellini at Allen’s Clam & Lobster House.

Wayne and his family owned Allen’s, a once beloved Westport landmark built in 1890 by Captain Walter Allen. When I was growing up, it was a wonderful restaurant and a central part of the town’s character. (The restaurant closed in the late 1990s, was demolished in 2004, and the site is now the Sherwood Mill Pond Preserve.)

Exterior and interior views of Allen’s Clam House. Today, it’s the Sherwood Mill Pond Preserve.

When I attended Staples High School (Class of 1979), it seemed like almost everyone I knew worked there — washing dishes, bussing tables, prepping food or cooking.

Wayne ran the kitchen. I can still picture him clearly: dressed in his white chef’s uniform, black mustache, always smiling, efficiently moving through the kitchen. He seemed constantly busy, yet never too busy to stop and say hello or, more likely, continuing to work while visiting.

Wayne Uccellini (left) and his brother Ron in Allen’s kitchen, 1978.

We became friends. He took me fishing and grouse hunting. When I was strapped for cash, he paid me to do yard work at his home.

Later, when I came home on leave from the Marine Corps, Wayne was always genuinely happy to see me. He’d invite me into the kitchen, always cooking something up, and say, “Hey Dave, try this.” It might be a bit of scampi, some lobster or a bowl of clam chowder to bring home. He always asked how my mom and dad were doing.

Wayne was kind, generous and compassionate, always eager to help anyone in need.

The Uccellini family.

A lifelong resident of Westport, Wayne was a graduate of Staples High School, Class of 1964, and proudly served in the US Army. He and his wonderful wife Karen raised their 3 children in Westport.

I will always remember Wayne as a cherished friend and mentor — someone who gave countless high school students their very first jobs, and left a lasting, positive influence on the town of Westport.

Wayne Uccellini 

 

Bloody Marys And The Mill Pond

Terry Brannigan is a native Westporter.  He still lives here — and, with his wife, is raising a young family.  Last week he went to the library to see “The End of an Era” — Chuck Tannen’s film about our town in the before-Terry-was-born 1950s. Here’s his report:

When I got to the library I should have known I’d be in trouble.  Drivers circling the lot for parking spaces were as aggressive as the shoppers at Wal-Mart on Black Friday.

When I got inside, the place was packed.  The movie was already under way, and a semi-angry mob waited in the lobby for a 2nd showing.   I distracted the bouncer at the door long enough to peer inside.

Since I already had a “hall pass” from my wife, I debated staying for the next show, going home or finding a Bloody Mary somewhere.  I settled on #3.

I pulled into the parking lot of the River House Tavern and met the same aggressive drivers looking for parking spaces, only this time we all shared the conviction of someone looking for Bloody Marys.  I found a spot and headed inside alone (a therapist would call this a cry for help).

As I approached the door I was flooded with my own Westport memories.  Owner Scott Rochlin and I went to Staples together, and I count him as a friend.

This is all that remains of Allen's Clam House. (Photo courtesy of Westportct.gov)

We both did our internships at Allen’s Clam House behind the broiler working for Wayne Uccellini, and now Scott owns his own place.  Back then I worked as hard as I ever have in my life, and I can’t tell you how proud I was to sport a chef’s jacket next to Wayne.

Back then everyone seemed to work.  Allen’s was as good a place to be on a Friday night as anywhere else, because Wayne employed half the football and soccer teams.  Being on the broiler (as opposed to the dish washing line) did more for my social status than being elected Homecoming King would have.

Walking up to Scott’s restaurant on a night when I had planned to revisit Westport memories at the library triggered all kinds of my own memories — 99% of them great.  My folks’ 1st house in Westport 50-plus years ago was on Old Mill Beach.  I take my 3 boys to the bridges at Old Mill all the time.  It is as familiar to me as it when I was 10.  However, now as a parent I cringe at the thought of them jumping off the bridge into the current and being swept under the “gates,” only to pop out the other side — as we did for fun and honor back then.

Generations of Westporters have jumped off the Sherwood Mill Pond bridge.

If I squint, the beautiful Newport shingle cottages behind the “No Trespassing” sign on the island look like the bungalows of my youth.  I wonder if I would be grandfathered visitation rights along the sidewalk if I told them my father donated to the state the spit of land out there he was willed by “Loretta” of Loretta Court fame, or if I would be turned away as a trespasser?

Just as importantly, Steve Gargiulo caught a bluefish with his bare hands in the shallows of Old Mill.  I was there to witness it.

I walked up to the River House feeling a bit weird because at 49, I’d never gone into a bar by myself.  But I recognized someone standing outside, and got a big smile.  Stepping inside, I felt a bit like Norm walking into Cheers.  Sometimes I lament that I’m so provincial and live in the same town I grew up in, but guess what?  That town is Westport, and there really is something to be said about growing old(er) in your own home.  I live 2 1/2 miles away from my parents, and my boys see them every week.

At the River House we covered all the topics Wednesday night:  friendships, funny stories, institutions (Allen’s, the Playhouse, my favorite — The Penguin — and more).  We talked about all the famous and infamous local characters and personalities.

In the end, even though I did not see the documentary — it did what it intended.  It made me think about growing up here.

I’m sure similar reminiscences took place all over town.  No matter how old we were — or are now — Westport has that effect.