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Francis J. Valloreo, former Inquirer truck driver and winemaker extraordinaire, dies at 84

Known by those he encountered as South Philadelphia’s godfather of winemaking, he won dozens of awards over more than 20 years of creating homemade wine.

Frankie "Blues" Valloreo (right) and brother-in-law "Big Al" Benigno were award-winning winemakers in South Philadelphia.
Frankie "Blues" Valloreo (right) and brother-in-law "Big Al" Benigno were award-winning winemakers in South Philadelphia.Read moreSTEVEN FALK/ File Photo

Francis J. Valloreo, 84, of Philadelphia, a longtime delivery truck driver for The Inquirer and an award-winning winemaker, died Sunday, Feb. 21, of bladder cancer at his son’s home in South Philadelphia.

Regarded by those he encountered as the neighborhood’s godfather of winemaking, Mr. Valloreo won dozens of awards over more than 20 years of creating wine in his backyard and a rowhouse basement. His name was engraved on so many first-place plaques that he eventually entered his wines under the names of his grandsons just to be different.

Known around town as Frankie Blues, he grew up in South Philadelphia, served three years in the Army, and worked for 35 years driving a truck for The Inquirer. He followed the Phillies, blared Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind” whenever he could, summered in North Cape May, and never met a home remodeling job he wouldn’t tackle.

“He was a quiet person,” said his son, Frank. “But he had a passion for whatever he did.”

Mr. Valloreo, together with his son in his later years, won more than 40 awards for his wines at the annual Vendemmia homemade wine festival, and a highlight of his life was exploring the Napa Valley and Sonoma County wine regions a few years ago.

He and his family had a house in North Cape May, but Mr. Valloreo rarely spent time at the beach. He preferred to work around the house, fixing this and changing that. “No one ever came to our house for repairs,” his son said.

Mr. Valloreo was born June 25, 1936, and raised in South Philadelphia by his grandparents and aunt after his parents divorced. The family also had a farm in Hammonton, and Mr. Valloreo told many tales of their bootlegging wine during Prohibition from 1920-33.

He graduated from South Philadelphia High School, joined the Army in 1955, and spent three years in Korea. He later met Pauline Bersani at a social club dance. They got married in 1959 and had a daughter, Roxanne, and their son, Frank. His wife died in 2016.

Mr. Valloreo became interested in making his own wine in 1976 and got started with a hand-cranked crusher and wooden cask in his backyard at South Marvine Street and Oregon Avenue. In the old days, the winemakers were also often the wine tasters. So Mr. Valloreo had to devise a way to keep the tasters from drinking all the product.

“I’ve got to give two or three cases to someone who doesn’t drink,” he said in a 1997 article in The Inquirer.

At first, Mr. Valloreo stuck with the old ways of producing his wine. “I’m against chemicals,” he said in 1997. “If I wanted chemicals, I’d buy State Store wine.”

Over the years, however, after collaborating with his son and others, Mr. Valloreo embraced — or at least tolerated — the chemical science of the craft. “I was the scientist, and he was the mixologist,” his son said.

Mr. Valloreo and his late brother-in-law, Al Benigno, were partners for a time, and grape merchant Lenny Procacci remembers them holding court for hours at his place. Big Al and Frankie Blues, as they were known, were Procacci’s resident experts on everything wine.

One of the secrets he shared was that location was everything.

“Making wine is no big deal,” Mr. Valloreo said in 1997. “You have to create the atmosphere.”

Mr. Valloreo survived bouts with prostate and bladder cancer about 20 years ago. An enthusiastic cook, he was known for his tripe recipe, his soppressata, and his sausage cooked with peppers, onions, and wild mushrooms.

He said he couldn’t remember how he got his nickname. The family story is that he either “cried the blues” often when he was a youngster or was seen with tears in his eyes while chopping onions at a nearby steak shop.

“He was the one man I could always count on,” his daughter said.

In addition to his son and daughter, Mr. Valloreo is survived by six grandchildren, one great-granddaughter, and other relatives.

Services were held Feb. 27. A memorial for friends is to be held later.

Donations in his name may be made to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital, 501 St. Jude Place, Memphis, Tenn. 38105.