Back in the 1970s, ‘80s, and ‘90s in Providence, Leo’s bar and restaurant was an institution and a pioneer in the city’s Jewelry District, known for its support of local artists, and its eclectic clientele, late hours, and great food. And the man behind it all was John Rector.
John passed away March 6 at the age of 75. When she heard the news, Artscape editor Mareva Lindo started asking around to see who might want to talk with us about John and the bar. And people came out of the woodwork. So many people wanted to share their memories about John, and that time and place. Here is but a slice of what they all had to say about John Rector and Leo’s.
The following interviews have been edited for length and clarity.
Linda Edmondson: I’m Linda Edmondson, I’m 74, I live in Cranston.
When he opened Leo’s … within a year, I was there, and I was in charge of the kitchen.
I learned how to cook while at Leo’s. I didn’t really know how when I started cooking there, and I pretty much taught myself.
John Birt: I’m John Birt. I’m 65 and I live in Pawtucket.
I started working at Leo’s in March of 1982. I’d finished college the December before that … And then I spent seven years in the kitchen with Linda, working for John. And I met Donna, my wife, there.
Donna Birt: Donna Birt, I’m 70, I live in Pawtucket.
I started to hang out at Leo’s in 1977. I had been in college at URI in South County, so I had moved to Providence by ‘77 and I’ve been his friend ever since.
Scott MacKay: Scott McKay. I’m a hundred years old – actually I’m 72, and I live in beautiful Bristol, Rhode Island.
Well, my connection to Leo’s was pretty much like everyone else’s in those days. I was part of a group of folks who then worked at the Providence Journal. It was kind of a reporter hangout.
And the thing about Leo’s was it was always open late. So you could go to the Statehouse and have to cover some night hearing, and then you could still get a full dinner at 10 or 11 o’clock. And uh, people appreciated that because Providence in those days was a city that went to bed pretty early. I mean, it was 50 years ago.
Teresa Level: Teresa Level, 71, I live in Pawtucket, and I was John’s wife.
Leo’s opened in ‘74, and I was working there in ‘75 after I graduated from RISD.
I moved on from Leo’s because I got a job designing for Whiting and Davis, which is a jewelry company in Plainfield, Mass. … And then I came back to Rhode Island, and it was around 1982 that I got to know John, not as my employer, but as a friend. And really sat down, and we started talking, and one thing led to another … I married John in 1983.
I got involved in the restaurant around 1989 and I did hostessing, scheduling, and basically fixed anything that needed to be fixed in this old restaurant.
Ann-Marie Harrington: I’m Ann-Marie Harrington. I’m 60 years old, just turned 60 in August, and I live in Portsmouth, Rhode Island.
I actually went to Bryant University. Actually, it was called Bryant College at that time. And when I graduated … I wasn’t quite sure what I wanted to do. So I also wanted to be more involved in Providence and all of the activities in arts and culture that were happening there. So a friend of mine told me that there was an opening for a bartender position and bar manager position at Leo’s. And this was 1988. … And they interviewed me, and I got the job.
MacKay: It was the first restaurant, the first business really in the Jewelry District that led to the revivication of that district, which frankly was crumbling. … It was kind of a gritty manufacturing part of the city, even though the manufacturing was dying. This is when the textile industry and the jewelry industry were kind of in their last gasps here in Providence.
Harrington: There’s a couple of things that are striking to you when you first walked in. Number one was the absolutely gorgeous mahogany bar that … probably could fit 25 people, 25 stools. Beautiful mahogany, brass, shiny brass fixtures, with a really old mirror. … So it had a real old feel to it.
Edmondson: Coming in in the morning, it smelled like a liquor store. You know, the ones that have old wooden floors that are just saturated with beer and wine.
You could always tell when … John, walked in the bar, because he turned the lights down every time.
Harrington: I can see John in my mind’s eye right now walking in … in a suit, he would wear like the white collared shirt and a suit jacket.
Dan Gosch: My name is Dan Gosch, I’m 77, and I live in Franklin, Massachusetts.
I was there on day one. I was also … you know, for the first time in my life tending bar.
A good friend of mine was originally one of the partners and, you know, he owned some of my artwork and … liked my stuff and he just said, “I’m opening a bar with John Rector, and you’re gonna do a mural and you’re gonna bartend.” And I thought, okay to the mural. I’ve never, bartending? Okay. But that’s what happened.
The first mural, which was like six by almost 20 feet wide, was like a big crowd scene in a bar.
Level: And it filled the whole back wall of the restaurant. And the title of it was, “What’ll It Be?” So that was at one end of the restaurant. At the other end was a mural of sorts of 125 individual masonite panels that each had a different face on it. And it was celebrities, known celebrities or characters within the community.
John had this instinctive style of quality and the arts, and he didn’t decorate the place. There was no specific style about Leo’s. It was as eclectic as the people.
It was a place where food, art, lawmakers, politicians, law breakers, all got together and enjoyed themselves and had a mutual respect for one another. And I don’t think that anybody has replicated it, because it was just a certain time, and John had the personality to enable that, and he didn’t treat it as a business. It was a community, and it was his friends.
Edmondson: What I remember the most, and the most fondly, about Leo’s is the community.
John Birt: You also had, whoever was governor at the time would be in there, whether it was Ed DiPrete or Bruce Sundlun, they’d be in there with their entourage. Buddy Cianci was notorious for coming in 10 minutes before the kitchen closed at midnight on a Friday with his entourage. So there’d be, you know, 10 or 15 people coming in to order, you know, 10 minutes before you close the kitchen down. And it was just like, okay. That’s just the way it was.
Gosch: Buddy Cianci was a regular. That was interesting. There’s a memory, while I was bartending, behind the bar bartending, and then I look over and then there’s Buddy sort of a few feet down from me, like refreshing his drink with a soda gun behind the bar. Okay Buddy, this is your town. So I guess I can’t really complain.
Edmondson: One of our regulars was Charlie Moran. … He was an older man, but he was utterly charming. He was a very affable drunk, and he liked to play checkers with anybody who would play checkers with him. And John would usually give him a beer, some money, and Charlie was happy as a clam. He played checkers with Buddy Cianci and anybody else who chose to take him on. He wasn’t bad.
John Birt: Leo’s was the first food in the area. And, you know, there was The Last Call saloon that opened, and then the Met was across the street. Lupo’s was a few blocks away. So you could, you know, make the circuit, which I did many, many times. But the only place that had food, really good food, was at Leo’s.
Gosch: They poured a nice big drink and they had great food. … And the food, it really ranged from sort of like just stick to your ribs kind of stuff to, you know, interesting cuisine as well that wasn’t readily available at the time.
On my Facebook page very often, you know, Leo’s stuff comes up. Very often it’s people just going on and on about the food. “Oh, the chili. I would love to have the chili again,” you know.
Harrington: I still think about the bread that was there, and the soups and just the chili and all of the sandwiches. They were really, really good.
Level: One thing that stands out, and I’ve heard a lot of other people mention, is John’s Labor Day parties. And he always closed the restaurant on Labor Day, and he would rent a building down at the park in Wickford, Rhode Island, and he would get steaks and lobsters and Bass ale and bushels of corn, and he would make this big meal for all the employees. And he got clientele of the restaurant to serve the employees. So it was a surf and turf dinner on John, served by the people that the staff would normally serve.
Donna Birt: I’m just recalling in 1978 when the great blizzard hit, because of the proximity of the restaurant in the factory district where there were a lot of buildings with lots of employees, John opened up his business for the National Guard to bring in frozen foods to feed the people that were trapped in the buildings. … So he wasn’t making money on every dish for this. This was like just the sense of community he had, responsibility to help.
Edmondson: They actually brought people off 195 where the cars were stuck in the snow, and brought them down the embankment into Leo’s. And we fed those people and the people from the surrounding buildings till we ran out of food, which took about 48 – no, maybe, like, 36 hours. And then the National Guard came and was bringing us frozen peas and frozen fish and hamburger patties and strange stuff, and in huge amounts.
I don’t think we ever used all those peas, but it was neat. It was fun to be helpful. It was nice. Everybody was so friendly, so happy to be there, because they couldn’t go home. There was no way, you know, there were miles and miles of cars stuck in the snow on the highways. So it was an adventure.
Level: One of the stories that I hear all the time, still – and this is 31 years after Leo’s closed – is how many people met their spouse or their significant other at Leo’s, because it was a safe place for anybody to go. … Everyone protected everybody else.
John Birt: If anybody did become unruly or needed to be gotten out of the place, it was just this communication between people at the bar, patrons, and those of us that were in the kitchen and stuff. You know, this person would get pointed out, and the customers, the patrons, we would just take care of that person. Just like, “Nope, it’s time to go.” And you would just do it with as little fanfare as possible.
Level: And by the time the restaurant closed in ‘94 they were coming in with their spouse that they met at the restaurant, with the children that they now had. So it went from a place to go on a Friday night to see who you could meet, to people coming in on a Sunday evening to get a decent meal with their children.
Harrington: If I had to just say one thing about my experience at Leo’s, was that John Rector created an environment where people felt seen and heard and respected and affirmed, no matter who you were.
You would walk into Leo’s and it was like walking into your family living room. I mean, you just always knew someone. You always could have a great conversation. You could sit next to someone that you may not have talked to before, and have the best conversation. … Thirty years later, I still have friends that I met and became really friendly with back 30 years ago.
Donna Birt: I just remember John was always very accepting of me personally, and very kind to the people around him. If you had a struggle, he looked at you intently as you spoke of it, and was just a caring person, and socially, was very dynamic, to run that restaurant and have the amount of friends that he did. He just commanded a lot of love and respect.
John Birt: His wit and his intellect really were just like sharp on. He could just like banter with anybody … and just would always have something to add to any conversation with anybody that was in there. So it was just always fun to just like banter with John, because you were always going to get a joke a day out of it.
MacKay: I remember John Rector as a very witty and generous and decent man.
He was friends with a lot of his patrons, and I think that is a lot different than a lot of restaurants, actually. You know, he knew people, he would go out socially with folks. … And he was very trusting. For instance – no tavern does this anymore – he used to have personal tabs. You know, people, if they didn’t pay him, he’d just carry them from month to month.
Edmondson: Well, some people took advantage of him, because he would always give anybody two or three chances. You know, if they made mistakes or stole something or was a non-show for work, whatever – things that most employers would not put up with for one second – he always gave people more chances.
Level: I mean, he was my sidekick. And we’d always say that we were five-footers, because we were always five feet apart. And we just did things together, and we trusted each other, knew that the other one had the other one’s back. And it was just, I think, trust and loyalty, and John’s kindness, and just a gentle guy.
John didn’t exclude anybody from anything. … He didn’t have an ego. It was really all about friends. And I think to some extent, the reason he was attracted to that industry was because he could be generous, and that was his biggest trait. … And he just enjoyed people and made it a comfortable, safe, familiar place.
Donna Birt: With great art.
MacKay: For a lot of us, it was just a place that, in your early professional years, that people look back with, that look back upon with just a lot of great, great vibes and just wonderful memories that all of us had of both John and Leo’s. And you know, it’s always trite sometimes to say, well, it’s the end of an era. But with John now gone, uh, that might be trite, but it’s also true.
There’s a birthday celebration of John’s life, with live music and an AV show, at The Met in Pawtucket on Saturday, May 17, from 2-5 p.m.
Music included in the radio story: “Psycho Killer” by The Talking Heads; “Leaving Home” by Yo La Tengo
