DEBT, SWEAT AND TEARS, but the Ventura ship sails on
Like his model ships, restaurateur built to survive
ACITY INSPECTOR came through the door of Ventura’s Signature Restaurant on James Street North. “It’s about the ship,” he said. The wooden ship, sailing over the sidewalk. It had clearly seen some stormy days. Masts sagging, planks rotting, paint peeling.
Virgilio Ventura led the inspector through the restaurant and out to the back. There, on a large work table, was a new craft under construction — about six-feet long, another Portuguese sailing ship, carved figurehead and all.
So the inspector cut the restaurateur some slack. The new ship will be mounted soon.
“Before Supercrawl for sure,” Virgilio says.
The craft is a landmark that’s paid dividends. Virgilio swears receipts went up after it went up. But a boost to business or not, there would be a ship out front. Virgilio is from Portugal, and Portugal is about the sea.
Inside, you will see ships on the walls. And postcards of the seaside. And nets hanging from the ceiling. Real ones, from the village where Virgilio’s wife Ilda grew up. The kind of nets that were used to catch eels in the rainy season.
It is a dark-wood wonderland here, every inch created by Virgilio. But first came the debt, sweat and tears.
VIRGILIO WAS BORN 58 years ago in Carapelhos, a town of about 150 families. His father had a café. Virgilio learned the art of the espresso machine early. He was about eight when his father said, “If you want coffee, you need to make it yourself.”
Virgilio ended up with the Caterpillar corporation, working for them around Europe. Then he married Ilda, from Praia de Mira, a seaside town near his own. Within a year they had a son, Pedro. Nine months later, daughter Bruna. Virgilio didn’t want to be travelling around anymore.
By then, all of Virgilio’s family — his brothers, his sisters, his parents — had left Portugal for Canada. And on Aug. 24, 1987, he and his own young family made the journey too.
Within six months he bought a place on West Avenue that people called the Dog House. There had been four big dogs there and they chewed through the woodwork and the drywall. The house reeked of dog urine.
By day, Virgilio worked in construction, a hotel project in St. Catharines. It was winter.
“I never felt cold like that,” he says. And when each 12-hour shift was done, he would come home to his family at the Dog House and work late to fix it up.
“That first year, I cried a lot. And my kids were crying. School was hard and they didn’t speak the language.”
But the kids survived. The Dog House got fixed up and sold, the family moved on. They added another daughter, Cindy. Virgilio bought other places, fixed them, sold them.
One day in 1991 a real estate agent convinced Virgilio to look at the big derelict building on James North. It had been a tattoo shop and dry-cleaning outlet in front, a laundry in back, and was empty for too long. The bank wanted it sold.
It started at $500,000, but the agent told Virgilio he could get it for less than that. Final price, $120,000.
A good deal, except Virgilio didn’t have the money. “I used my Visa to make the $10,000 deposit. I was broke. I paid 30 per cent interest for a year.”
He worked and he slept and he worked some more.
Twenty years ago, he and Ilda opened Ventura’s. They’ve expanded it three times. There are many restaurants on hip James North today, but only a handful have been around as long as the one with the ship out front.
Virgilio is always there to greet his customers. He is grateful that they come. He is grateful to this country.
“My kids all got degrees,” he says. “Back in the old country, I could never do that for them. We came for a better life and we found it.”
A good deal, except Virgilio didn’t have the money. “I used my Visa to make the $10,000 deposit. I was broke. I paid 30 per cent interest for a year.” Within six months he bought a place on West Avenue that people called the Dog House. There had been four big dogs there and they chewed through the woodwork and the drywall. The house reeked of dog urine.