Bamie’s Pizza

When I think of pizza, I believe there is hope in the world. It’s one of the few foods that seems to unite everyone, regardless of social status. Growing up in a blue-collar house with a single parent, Fridays meant pizza. Even today, parents get off work and don’t want to have to go home and cook after working five days. Pizza was the solution. Growing up in the Quad Cities, we had Harris Pizza (still there) that defined the Quad Cities style. It became a style when multiple employees who worked in Harris’ kitchen quit and opened their own place. They changed the recipe just enough to make it their own. Whenever I am on the road for a project, I have two places I must visit: a local tiki lounge and the local pizza spot of the town. It is not an easy place to find because most of the small towns have been plagued with chains as their “pizza spot.” A good pizza place is one that has been around for decade after decade. 

David Boyer reached out to me about Bamie’s Pizza, which was located on Des Moines’ southside on the southeast corner of Fleur Drive and Army Post Road. Frank “Bamie” Bonanno opened the joint in 1963. Frank was known as the delightful maniac who wore firemen’s garb and would squirt the customers with a fire extinguisher. Boyer remembers going there as a teenager in the 1980s.

In an interview with the food blog, “The Delicious Story,” Ron Bonanno, Frank’s son, said his father worked 18 hours a day, six days a week. That was the norm for someone determined to support his family. All the kids had their day working in the restaurant while they were growing up, which was the standard rite of passage you don’t hear about much these days. That seemed to end with the Baby Boomers, who swore they didn’t want to work as hard as their parents.  

Anni Zika remembers when they used to take their kids to Bamie’s Pizza.

“It was such a fun place,” Zika said. “Bamie would squirt you with a fire extinguisher — mostly the kids — and they got such a kick out of it. He also had a trombone with a boxing glove on the end of it. He would carry a tray over his head — supposedly with food on it — and drop it on your table. He was a real character. Also, they had the best stromboli sandwiches, which are hard to find these days. We miss it.”

George Formaro, a man who knows something about pizza, couldn’t say enough about Bamie’s.

“Man, I loved that pizza. It was, to this day, what I look for in a pizzeria and why I get so upset when we lose an iconic place like that,” Formaro said. “For me, I love the feeling I get when I walk into a place like that, filled with memories and nostalgia. Few smells in the world rival that of the pizzeria.”

Formaro said the trombone with the boxing glove on the end of it should be in the state historical museum. 

“I can still remember the pizza like it was yesterday,” Formaro added. “I’m not sure if it was what he always used, but the last pizza I had there used stick pepperoni that had been sliced, and then sliced again almost julienne, but I’m sure he did not call it by that fancy-pants name. Whereas the pizza can be replicated, you cannot replicate Bamie.”

Bamie’s closed in 1986, and the building was torn down to make runway space for the Des Moines Airport. I don’t know if we have pizza like that in Des Moines anymore. We have lots of pizza places but nothing that defines “Des Moines-style pizza” or anything like that. I do frequent Big Tomato because they are the only ones that know how to make veggie pie that rocks your world (try their Crop Top with thin honey crust, spinach, olives, artichoke hearts and jalapenos). Noah’s Ark also has amazing pizza, but I prefer the atmosphere of Big Tomato. And in case you are wondering, deep dish pizza is just a casserole.

Kristian Day is a filmmaker and writer based in Des Moines. He also hosts the syndicated Iowa Basement Tapes radio program on 98.9 FM KFMG. Instagram: @kristianday Twitter: @kristianmday