‘A guy who had the spirit of Annapolis inside of him’
‘Larger-than-life’ small business owner dies at 65
Gregg Maggio was a daredevil. An athletic specimen at nearly 6-feet-4 with movie star good looks, friends used to tease him that he resembled Tom Selleck, the star of the 1980s television show “Magnum P.I.”
Sporting a dark bushy mustache and broad shoulders, during his youth Maggio would frequent a public pool on Bay Ridge Avenue where he often performed double backflips off the diving board and was promptly kicked out by the lifeguards, said Catherine Russell Maggio, his wife of more than 40 years.
Eventually, he would come back and perform the stunt again, no matter how many times they made him leave.
Maggio was born and raised in Annapolis and fiercely proud to be a local business
owner like his father and grandfather before him.
Armed with an outgoing and largerthan-life personality, his friends and family said, he never missed a chance to crack a joke one minute and lend a helping hand the next.
Maggio died of complications from lung cancer Tuesday at Anne Arundel Medical Center. He was 65.
He is survived by his wife; two daughters, Jacquelin Maggio and Sarah Dolan; and five grandchildren, as well as four brothers, Michael Maggio, Patrick McCrindle, Jason Maggio and Brad Matthews.
Gregory John Maggio was born Oct. 18, 1955, in Annapolis. The son of Patrice and Joseph Maggio, he was one of five boys.
Maggio graduated from Annapolis High School in 1974 and later attended Texas A&M University, earning a teaching degree. He met Catherine in the mid-1970s. The couple married on Maggio’s 25th birthday, Oct. 18, 1980, after moving back to Annapolis following a brief stint in Texas. They had three daughters, Lauren, Jacquelin and Sarah.
For years, Maggio ran La Rosa Construction, helping reshape businesses all across town like Zachary’s Jewelers, Maria’s Sicilian Ristorante & Cafe and many others.
La Rosa was a small company, but it was successful in part because of the connections Maggio made in the city. He spent almost no money on advertising, his wife said.
“It was all word of mouth,” she said. “It wasn’t about how much money he was going to make, it was always about having a happy customer, and that he took care of his employees.”
When he wasn’t working, he was playing sports — boxing, lacrosse and football in his youth, and flag football and golf as he got older. As his athleticism diminished, Maggio’s passion for sports remained strong. He would attend his grandchildren’s football and basketball games at Broadneck High School, his daughter said.
Steve Samaras, owner of Zachary’s Jewelers in Annapolis, grew up with Maggio. The pair played golf at Annapolis Roads Golf Course, Samaras said, who recalled his striking resemblance to Selleck.
Later, Maggio did some construction work on Zachary’s in the early 1990s.
“The guy was always so full of life,” Samaras said. “We lost a guy who had the spirit of Annapolis inside of him.”
Though he no longer sported the mustache and his hair had gone mostly white, Maggio’s daredevil spirit never waned, his daughter said recalling a time last summer when Maggio took a dive into her pool, reminiscent of his antics on Bay Ridge Avenue decades earlier.
Outside of his work, his family was his biggest priority.
On his 40th wedding anniversary in October, Maggio wrote in a Facebook post, “40 years ago today, on my 25th Birthday I married this beautiful woman. She is today as in these photos, the Love of my life!”
Maggio was fiercely proud of his last name and the history it held in Annapolis, his daughter Catherine Maggio said.
Maggio’s grandfather, Rosario “Sam” Maggio immigrated to Baltimore from Cefalu, Sicily, in 1910 and settled in Annapolis in 1915. The family operated a produce store on Main Street and subsequently a bowling alley, which later became the Mayflower Cafe and Hotel, and finally, LaRosa Restaurant and Cocktail Lounge, which sold the first pizza slices in the city, according to a family history on the La Rosa Construction website.
Maggio’s father Joe and uncle Harry were World War II veterans who took part in D-Day and were wounded. Harry Maggio, now in his 90s, still lives in Annapolis.
From his father, Gregg Maggio learned a steely sense of honesty, Catherine Maggio said. He would never tell a lie. Not even a white lie, she said.
“He took that very seriously,” she said. “He just believed in that, being very open. Facing your challenges and not running from them.”
Maggio faced his share of challenges, his wife said.
About a year after his oldest daughter Lauren died of breast cancer in 2015, Maggio, after a long night of drinking, woke up and decided to get sober.
“He drank too much that day, you know, drinking his feelings away,” Jacquelin Maggio said, “and he woke up the next day and said, ‘You know what, I am done. I just want a new life.’”
He stuck to his word. From that day, Maggio quit smoking and drinking cold turkey, she said.
He would drive around Annapolis in his van playing old rock n’ roll tunes and film his drives — music blasting — and post them on Facebook. In June 2017, Maggio posted a video commemorating his first year of sobriety. As he drove through Ocean City, the Beatles song “Getting Better” could be heard in the background. In the caption, he echoed the song’s lyrics, “I have to admit it’s getting better, it’s getting better all the time!”
He regularly attended Alcoholics Anonymous meetings, speaking about his experience and trying to help in any way he could. A prolific cook, Maggio was known for his fresh-baked bread and linguini with clam sauce, which he would often take to meetings.
The last four years “have been the best part of him that we’ve seen,” his daughter said.
“He wasn’t different in his personality,” his wife said. “He was happy to be sober. He looked at life and appreciated what he had been given.”
Dalene Lupinek knew Maggio for 45 years. A roommate of Catherine Maggio’s in the mid-70s, Lupinek recalled first meeting Gregg Maggio thinking he was “wild and crazy” but also “charming and charismatic.”
Recently, Maggio helped a member of Lupinek’s family who was in recovery, something she will remain thankful for, she said.
“They broke the mold when they made him,” Lupinek said. “He was the kind of friend you could go to with a problem, but he was never judgmental.”
Funeral plans are on hold due to the coronavirus pandemic, the family said. A celebration will be held at a later date.