Florence Acotto died July 16 at age 87. She served as grande dame of Niagara Street for decades as owner of the Press Box restaurant, as a county Republican committeewoman and delegate to state Republican conventions.

The Press Box, a gathering spot and de facto office for newspapermen at the nearby Niagara Gazette, as such, became a hangout for cops, politicians, attorneys and riff raff.

Politics was the lifeblood of the Press Box. It was a pleasure to ask an unsuspecting politico to meet you there for lunch then watch as Flo reamed them up and down for their failures. If he agreed to meet you there a second time, you knew he was brave enough to govern effectively.

I once saw Flo smack then Congressman John LaFalce over the back of the head with a rolled up newspaper. When he good naturedly complained she said he had the same North End excrement under his shoes she had under hers. Back in 1959, when Flo opened the joint, the Gazette employed more than 100 people. Her big salads, Pittsburgers, fish fries and steaks were a hit and the kitchen stayed open past midnight to accommodate hungry pressmen on graveyard shift. Before it was over, the Press Box was hailed in books like “Road Food” and “Road Trip USA” as well as in travel magazines and newspapers throughout the country.
In the early days, you had to show you sold a certain amount of food before they'd give you a liquor license. Flo got help from Pete "The Bull" Magaddino, the don's brother, who'd pay $20 for his two-dollar lunch.
"Ring it up," he'd say. Before too long, Flo had her license. Pete, meanwhile, had a new customer for the beer he distributed. From Compobosso, Italy, Flo knew the drill.

It became a Press Box tradition for patrons to tape dollar bills onto the walls with their name, hometown or a greeting written on them. Visitors from Japan, Australia, Europe and across the country notated their visits.

Every year around Christmas, Flo would take the bills down and donate the money to charity. They covered the walls, sometimes two or three deep in more accessible spaces. Over decades, she gave away tens of thousands.

She also gave away a lot of free lunches and drinks and, every day at noon, she'd amble across Niagara Street to St. Mary's for Mass.

I don't think the state raised much money back in 2004 when it auctioned the contents of the Press Box restaurant for unpaid taxes. Flo was too poor to keep much of a stock of beer or liquor on hand, and the tables, chairs, barstools and kitchenware dated back to the Kennedy administration.

In return for a couple thousand it raised, the state threw 10 people out of work and created another vacant storefront in its "Empire Zone," next to the casino.

The tax enforcers didn’t care that the Press Box has been a cornerstone of the South End entertainment and social scene for a half-century. While others in the area have benefited from the state's programs, Flo's view was that a restaurant should be in the business of selling food and drinks, not sucking up to politicians for handouts.

Things went badly in the 1990s. An unfavorable currency exchange rate resulted in a drop-off in Canadian trade, for which the Press Box was famous. The Gazette staff dwindled and the days when newshounds needed six or eight drinks to get them through the day had ended. The place had thrived on convention business, but that was eliminated when the state gifted the Seneca Nation of Indians the convention center for a casino and the state's anti-smoking law was the final nail.

After paying vendors and employees, there was little left. Flo didn't pay herself and lived on Social Security. She fell $70,000 behind on state sales tax. The irony of the state creating the Seneca Niagara Casino across the street wasn’t lost on anyone. While Flo’s establishment was forced out of business, the Seneca don’t pay sales tax, property tax or any other kind of tax. Their patrons smoke to their heart’s content.

Other bars and restaurants also went out of business including the Arterial, Café Etc. and Shadow. While opening the casino was to revive downtown, it has looked more and more like the final nail in the coffin.   

Near the end, the Press Box had become a small social club in the afternoons, where a newspaperman could mingle with firefighters from North Tonawanda, gay guys from the neighborhood, aging Mafiosi and occasional tourists. Flo played mother to all, feisty but lovable, hard-boiled with a heart of gold. She was 80 when they took away the only thing that meant anything to her. They destroyed a landmark business, known around the world and one of few authentic vestiges of "old Niagara." They threw 10 men and women out of work and eliminated any chance of collecting taxes owed by shutting her down and selling contents for pennies on the dollar.

She moved to Spallino Towers, keeping close contact with her friend, former city Councilwoman Barbara Ann Geractiano. Finally, she moved to Habour House Multicare Center in Buffalo, where she spent her last days.

In her a freewheeling place, she embodied a time when people who  ran the city thought more about seeing to it that everyone made money instead of sucking the last bit of marrow from bones of a once prosperous city.