Joe Zucchero never relaxed.
Approaching 70, his routine was the same: Wake up. Trim and slice beef. Serve happy customers sandwiches at his River North beef joint, Mr. Beef.
“I’d be like, ‘Dad, just let me do it. I can trim and slice.’ But he just wouldn’t let go of that,” said his son, Chris Zucchero, who took the reins, mostly, from his father in recent years. “I could have done it the same exact way as he wanted it, but he couldn’t let it go. That was his baby. That was his life.”
Mr. Zucchero died March 1. His family said sepsis might have been the cause. He was 69.
He cut beef until the day before he was admitted into Rush University Medical Center on Feb. 24.
Demand had spiked in recent months due to the popularity of “The Bear,” a television show loosely based on the Zuccheros and Mr. Beef.
It was written by Chris Storer, a childhood friend of Chris Zucchero.
Storer called hours after Mr. Zucchero’s death.
“He was in shock. Total shock,” Chris Zucchero said.
“Italian beef for years was a really small tribal Chicago thing; each neighborhood had a beef stand. Now it’s known all over the place, so the attention it brought after we were lucky to survive through the pandemic, any restaurant owner would have kicked their mother off the f------ roof to get that kind of attention,” he said.
The sandwich dates back to poor Italian immigrant families from the West Side who thinly shaved the beef to make it go further and served it on a roll — another item to bulk up the meal.
The sandwiches, largely served at weddings, became so popular that Italian Americans set up beef carts near the Union Stockyards, drawing hungry laborers.
“My dad gave Storer and that show so much respect for giving the beef sandwich to another generation of respect,” said his daughter, Lauren Zucchero.
“He was old school. He could be gruff, rough around the edges. He’d f--- with you, but in the end, you loved that man,” his son said.
He occasionally scratched his head when fans of the show came in expecting to encounter the fictionalized version that appeared on the show, where the main character transformed the beef stand’s menu into a culinary experience.
“Someone would come in and order chicken piccata and mashed potatoes, and Dad would be like “Are you f——— serious?’ and I’d be like “Dad, just go in the back, you don’t understand. You can’t yell at people the way you used to,’” Chris Zucchero said.
Mr. Zucchero had no delusions about offering a fine dining experience. He made beef sandwiches. He made them the best he could. And he hated to raise prices, even eating cost increases to keep his sandwiches affordable to a customer base — be they city workers or fat cats — that stayed loyal.
“We were like fast-food dummies. We were incredibly lucky, though, because most never got the kind of attention or accolades that Mr. Beef got,” his son said, ticking off a list of devoted Hollywood notable customers that include Jay Leno, Joe Mantegna and the late Paul Newman.
“I don’t know what it was, maybe the location on the doorstep to downtown, but my dad bought this place in 1978 and changed it completely around and rose like a phoenix in this joint,” said Chris Zucchero.
Mr. Zucchero was raised in Norwood Park and attended Taft High School but didn’t graduate.
“He was a guy who was a high school dropout who came from nothing, and he could have went one way or the other way, but became a successful man,” his son said.
And he helped out a lot of people along the way.
“My dad took in a lot of guys from the Cabrini-Green housing projects and gave them jobs,” his son said.
Mr. Zucchero started his professional career as a butcher at a Dominick’s grocery store before opening Mr. Beef.
“Growing up, everyone thought, ‘Oh, her dad’s Mr. Beef, she gets everything and is a little princess,” said Lauren Zucchero, who works at the central office of Chicago Public Schools. “But I didn’t. He made me super tough.”
She didn’t enjoy coming into the family’s beef shop because, to the chagrin of her father, she is a vegetarian.
“I’d come, and he’d be cutting the meat, and I’d be grossed out by it. And I just hated the smell of Mr. Beef, and he’d say ‘You’re going to have to eat meat sometime; you’re going to get sick, Lauren.’”
Mr. Zucchero loved collecting original movie posters, bobbleheads and antiques. He was also an avid music fan with tastes ranging from Frank Sinatra to Steely Dan, the Rascals and Boy George. He adored films from the golden age of Hollywood and had a huge soft spot for several dogs he counted as family over the years.
35 years ago my wife surprised me on my birthday by having a party in Chicago catered by Mr. Beef. Thus began a friendship that has endured all these years.
— Joe Mantegna (@JoeMantegna) March 3, 2023
R.I.P Joe Zucchero. I’m glad you were around to see the success of @TheBearFX The beat goes on.
In addition to his two children, Mr. Zucchero is survived by his wife, Camille.
A visitation is scheduled for Saturday from 9 to 11:30 am at Cooney Funeral Home in Park Ridge, 625 Busse Highway. A funeral service will follow immediately at the same location.
