CAÑON CITY • It seems odd and out of place, the gladiator statue here by the front door of DiRito’s Italian Restaurant. It seems odd, until you see the gladiator tattooed on the arm of the owner and realize the statue stands for something.
The tattoo bears the living years of Greg DiRito’s father: 1934-2007. Toward the end, Bob DiRito kept asking his son about the gladiator — about the under-construction statue he commissioned for the restaurant.
However seemingly out of place, “For some reason, it was really important to him,” Greg says.
And so the statue stands here in honor of his father, the man Greg knew as his best friend before his business partner starting in 2001, when they opened the restaurant that is now a local staple.
Honor — perhaps that’s what the statue stands for. Perhaps that’s what has kept Greg going at DiRito’s.
“I think it’s his love for Dad,” says Greg’s sister, Marian. “Not wanting to disappoint his father is the No. 1 thing. And it’s our family name: DiRito’s.”
It’s a name known by all in Cañon City who have been around long enough. Over 25 years, they’ve come to this corner of Main Street to gather around homemade pasta, pizza and calzones from passed-down recipes.
Waitress Madison Bowman visits with customers at DiRito’s Italian Restaurant in Cañon City on Wednesday, April 8, 2026. Bowman’s mother also worked at the restaurant when she was her daughter’s age. (The Gazette, Christian Murdock)
Of course, the family name has been known long before the restaurant that was Bob DiRito’s last of many business ventures.
Indeed, the man’s legacy reaches beyond the restaurant. That’s clear from a look around the walls here, where a local Citizen of the Year Award hangs between celebratory newspaper clips and photos from over the years. The story is told here of Bob DiRito opening Cañon City’s first pizza joint back in the ’50s, before undertaking other businesses and hard work learned from his father, an Italian immigrant.
Bernardino’s story is also told here at DiRito’s. Greg looks at his grandfather’s picture now, among family pictures he hung front and center at the restaurant.
“I’m a big believer in knowing where you came from so you know where you’re headed,” Greg says.
His family comes from a small, humble village of Italy’s Chieti province. “Lowly peasants,” says another sister, Lisa. “Just good, God-fearing people that love family.”
That was Bernardino, who in 1909 settled in Cañon City for the coal mines and the promise of a better life. The American dream, it turned out, was not promised. It would have to be earned — against the prejudice Bernardino and fellow Italians faced in the mines.
The story Greg heard from family: “There were some complaints; miners thought they gave these Italians this good vein, because my grandpa and great uncle were making pretty good money.”
They were moved to an unproductive vein. “Within two weeks, they were right back at it,” Greg says. “It wasn’t about the vein. It was because they wanted to work hard and wanted to earn for their family.”
The work cost Bernardino his back. He shifted to farming on a patch of land where he and his wife grew fruit and veggies and raised eight kids. Their mother died young. And so they raised each other, according to other family stories.
Along with her dad — Bob was the youngest of the eight — “I did many interviews with my aunts and uncles before they passed,” Lisa says. “I asked the same question: Was it hard to get up and work on the farm? They all said no. … Ultimately, they knew they lived or died by the work.”
They lived mostly without meat, “a luxury,” Lisa says. They lived generously, as their father instructed. Lisa heard stories of “windfalls,” apples on the ground still fine to eat but not to be sold: “Grandfather would have the kids gather the windfalls and take them to neighbors up and down the road.”
Young Bob gathered other apples to make pies. He learned several formative skills — homebuilding among them — but baking was a particular interest, according to more family stories that end with his sisters cleaning the mess he always made.
In this gritty town back in those days, it probably wasn’t common to find boys baking. But “people love food,” Lisa says. “I think he learned that at a young age.”
A picture of Joker Drive-In where Greg DiRito’s dad, Bob DiRito, sold Cañon City’s first pizza is pictured on the wall in DiRito’s Italian Restaurant on Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (The Gazette, Christian Murdock)
Bob cooked in the Army during the Korean War. Back home, in 1956, he opened the Joker Drive-In, complete with a sign reading “Pizza Togo” rather than “Pizza To-Go” — the mistake of the maker “thinking it was a new Italian dish,” the family story goes. Bob and his brother are remembered for introducing pizza to Cañon City, selling it all day and night.
“They worked a lot of hours,” says Greg, Bob’s youngest of six. “My dad was growing a family, my uncle was growing a family, and both wives wanted the guys home.”
Between some 30 businesses he started over the years, Bob would only be home every so often. “I missed him all the time,” says Marian, the eldest daughter.
But she always looked forward to dinner, when Dad would be home. Marian and her siblings especially looked forward to Sunday, the only day the man did not work — just on the dinners he tried to make big and special.
“Sunday dinner was always sacred,” Greg says.
Though it didn’t always look like it, as finances were often tight. On the DiRito’s menu today is a tribute to those days: Olio Oule, or “poor man’s pasta” — spaghetti noodles tossed in butter, olive oil, spices, hard cheese, potatoes and garlic.
Bob always loved to make pork chops, too. Marian remembers him eating half of one to ensure everyone else had enough to eat.
But those Sunday dinners weren’t so much about the food, Marian says. “It was about the camaraderie of the food. Being with your family, bonding with your family. It was always about his love for family.”
As it was for her as she opened a restaurant in 1991 in nearby Florence. Her father was proud of the name: Bernardino’s.
And Bob seemed proud to contribute. While running a truss mill, he’d take lunch breaks to go bake bread, then he’d return to the mill to work all afternoon, then he’d be back at Bernardino’s to cook dinner through the night.
He did more than contribute, Marian says. “Dad was the main cook, the main teacher, the main everything.”
His heart was failing. And yet he kept working — “too hard,” Marian says.
And while she and other family members had to move on and close Bernardino’s, Bob could never let go of his love for food and cooking for others.
Also: “He could never stop seeing something for what it could be,” Greg says.
In an automotive garage at a corner of Main Street, Bob saw his next restaurant. More so, DiRito’s would be Greg’s restaurant — the youngest son whose passion was obvious back at Bernardino’s.
“It was amazing how well he could cook,” Marian says.
But maybe it was no surprise. Greg was the boy who delighted in baking and cooking alongside his father. Some of his favorite childhood memories are of making a mess, like the boy his father was, making those pies at the farm.
Just as Greg inherited skills in the kitchen, it seems in those early, busy years of DiRito’s he had inherited the work ethic. And maybe he inherited the costs of it.
“I got married and divorced the first year we were open,” he says. “Sometimes family doesn’t mesh with everything a restaurant requires.”
The years did not get easier. His dad died in 2007.
Without Bob, some thought the restaurant would close.
“I didn’t want that to be the case,” Greg says. “I wanted to show them I learned from my dad. So I did everything I could to make a successful restaurant and be there to take care of Mom.”
He’d take care of many others. Greg’s sister recently wrote about this in preparing a speech for his Citizen of the Year Award.
Marian wrote about all of the free meals for schools and sports teams. “And firefighters and Rotary Clubs,” she says. “Homeless people have come into the restaurant and sat down and had a meal on Greg, I don’t know how many times. He gives so much.”
He’s given himself to the restaurant, she says, sounding emotional.
From opening and closing Bernardino’s, Marian knows all too well the demands of a restaurant. “What he suffered was a family of his own and children, which he wanted forever,” she says. “That’s the sad part for me.”
The sadness is not felt at DiRito’s.
Greg is often found happily greeting regulars, hugging them, like family. He looks across the dining room and sees what his father saw. “Food brings people together,” Greg says.
Customers are indeed like family. Of everyone who walks through the door, “I probably know 75% of them,” he says.
They walk through the door where that statue stands, that honorable soldier. And they don’t leave without a slice of their favorite dessert, as listed on the menu: Bob’s Chocolate Cake.
The Combo Calzone at DiRito’s Italian Restaurant in Cañon City on Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (The Gazette, Christian Murdock)
The Olive You pizza at DiRito’s Italian Restaurant in Cañon City on Wednesday, April 8, 2026. (The Gazette, Christian Murdock)
About the series
Craving Colorado is a regular dive into the culinary character of the Centennial State. Send your recommendations to [email protected]
Details
DiRito’s Italian Restaurant at 231 Main St. in Cañon City. Open 11 a.m.-8/9 p.m. Tuesday-Saturday. 719-276-7240, gotodiritos.com
Dining and Cooking