So What's the Pizza Vote in Pennsylvania?

We probably don’t have to tell you how special Old Forge is. It’s the Pizza Capital of the World, for Chrissake. Which might come as a surprise to, say, Naples, but it’s true!  If I were on death row? It would be my last meal.

But that’s not all.

This tiny borough (population 8,500-ish), nestled atop the depleted coal mines of greater Scranton in Lackawanna County, has been a pretty good bellwether in election cycles. It is our own Dixville Notch, that goofy little (very little; population 4) town in New Hampshire that gets to vote first during presidential primaries and usually gets it right. It gets a crapload of national attention and it doesn’t even have pizza.

Fridays during Lent? Forgettaboutit! “Main Street’s like Las Vegas on Friday nights,” Bill Nocera, owner of Bobo’s, a relative newcomer in town at three years old, told WNEP, Channel 16. Yes, in Old Forge, businesses aren’t closing, they’re opening. Or re-opening.

It was to much fanfare that Ghigiarelli’s, the first pizza place (they are not parlors) that opened in 1926, reopened in April, after something that doesn’t happen much in Old Forge: a murder. Third-generation owner Bob Baron disappeared one freezing day in January 2017. The room he kept above the shop was empty, the money beneath his mattress gone, the bread delivery by the door out front, his tooth was in the pizza sink. After six years of massive, massive searches, he was found in a shallow grave less than a mile from the shop. (His killer has been tried and convicted.)

Easier to find is Jesus in the pizza sauce. Ok, so it wasn’t technically in Old Forge, but it was, as they say, a hop skip and a jump down the road in West Side and it was spotted by an Old Forge woman, so there.

“Old Forge is a great sample of an American small town,” says T.J. Cusumano, owner of Cusumano’s, “in that  you have the remnants of an immigrant community that’s like 100 years old and hailed from Italy and Poland and Ireland, sort of like a mini melting pot” — yes, it’s not just Italians — “and you still have a lot of the descendants of those people living here and working and owning businesses. And it’s a really self-sufficient town.”  This is true. You do not have to ever leave Old Forge. And who would?

While the surrounding areas of Lackawanna County have changed significantly in recent decades — the South Side of Scranton, just a hop skip and a jump away, is predominantly Hispanic now, and the city’s Hill Section is home to a large Nepali-Bhutanese population — Old Forge is still Old Forge.

Believe it or not, there’s more than just pizza in Old Forge. There are actually 204 businesses crammed into 1.3 square miles. “And 96% of them are family-owned,” says Russell Rinaldi, owner of Rinaldi’s Café and President of City Council, proudly. He knows that from the Old Forge Fire Department’s recent annual round of inspections and tallying.  “Although Old Forge is known for its restaurants — I’m not saying that cause I have one — there’s a lot of great businesses in Old Forge. We have funeral homes that have been in business 100 years.”

 “Oh, it’s a fantastic place!” says Matt Cartwright, who lost his congressional seat in 2024 to Republican Bob Bresnahan, but did carry Old Forge by 2.7%.  “I was at Café Rinaldi last night.” Of course he was. He lives in Moosic. “You know, a 3-iron from Old Forge.” Not a hop skip and a jump?

Cartwright says you have to go to the bocce tournaments at Arcaro & Genell’s — and he is correct — and to the Felitesse Italian Festival in September. “They had the Mayor of Gubbio, Italy, a few years ago. It was so cool.”

But how are they going to vote?

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Oh, right.

Things have been a little quiet on the strip since Bob Bolus died in September, and his big honking obnoxious “Trump Truck” has not been seen careening loudly down Main Street, past all the pizza places, the same holy route that John F. Kennedy took in 1960, among his last stops before the White House. There are Old Forgians who still carry faded photos in their wallets from that day, a day long ago when this scrappy little coal town was still firmly entrenched in FDR’s party. Not so much anymore.

“I think it’s very split,” says Joe Janesko, proprietor of Mary Lou’s (she is his grandmother). “Even just by the people who come in here. You really do get, like, 50% of each coming in.”

Old Forge’s registered voters are essentially split between Republicans and Democrats. In 2024, however, Trump took 53.7% of the vote in Old Forge to Kamala Harris’s 46.2%.

There’s a perception that Old Forge is Trumpier than it is. I mean, it’s certainly not Luzerne County. We can blame Bolus for that. Or maybe it was the visit Trump made to Arcaro & Genell’s in August 2020. What a day that was.

“I was sitting at the bar watching the speech on TV,” says Angelo Genell. Trump was down the road at Mariotti Lumber. “And the girls came and said, ‘The President’s coming!’  We didn’t know he was coming until a few minutes before he showed up when the Secret Service came in with the dogs and all that.”

You’d think they’d scope the place out earlier. “Well, there was sights of them the day before,” says Angelo. “At all different places and on the streets. The cars were from Virginia.” A big tell. “And there were U.S. Government cars. You didn’t know who was who but you knew they weren’t local people!”

As always, the Lackawanna grapevine was correct. And there was that order placed in the afternoon under the name of Austin. That’s not a name you hear around Old Forge. “And that was the pizza that he picked up.”

The Genells took a lot of heat for this visit. “People were calling us and saying we shouldn’t have allowed him to come in. But who’s not gonna allow the President of the United States to come into his business? You’d have to be crazy not to do that.”          

But they also had a lot of supporters. “People lined up outside to buy pizza in support of him coming here.” Angelo couldn’t keep up with the orders. Then, Bikers for Trump came en masse “to keep an eye on everything.”  And did they ever.

“He’s a controversial guy, you know what I mean?” Old Forge can be known for understatement.  “I’m just glad he liked the pizza.” In fact, a couple days later, a call came in and the caller ID said The White House. “I don’t know if it was somebody just pulling our leg, but they said, ‘We ate the pizza on Air Force One and everybody liked it.’”

 Of course they did. But here’s the thing. There’s a reason the pizza guys (and women) have been in business so long, 60, 80, 100 years. They don’t talk about politics!

“No, absolutely not,” says Angelo. “I don’t talk politics with anybody. It’s a bad habit. I don’t even like to talk politics with my wife.”  

T.J. Cusumano: “I was taught a long time ago to be very close to the vest about it and to really not discuss politics at all. My parents taught me that. We don’t share our political views with anybody. And I wish we had more of that as a country. I think a little humility in our politics is a good thing.”

Even the (Democratic) Council president Russell Rinaldi: “Oh, no, keep politics outta work. You don’t mix business and politics.”  

Only two of the pizza guys would tell me who they voted for president, and it wasn’t Trump.

I really wanted to talk to one of the women owners, Phyllis Mischello of Anthony’s, who the boys all rave about, and consider to be one of the “statesmen,” along with Angelo and Mark Genell.  T.J. Cusumano calls her “the North Star” of Old Forge. I tried everything, including dragging out all of my Old Forge cred. I stooped so low I mentioned my cousin Tootsie’s funeral lunch at Anthony’s (it was beautiful). But nope. Not about politics. “As a business owner, that has always been my stance.”

It was a woman who, according to legend, started this Old Forge Pizza thing in 1926. “Three women started it,” says Russell Rinaldi. “Mrs. Ghigiarelli, Mrs. Pelosi, and Mrs. Laurenzi,” who was his great grandmother. They came up with this glorious creation — a big rectangular slab of dough, topped with sauce (not gravy) and a blend of cheeses that somehow has remained secret for a hundred years (I’ve tried. Oh, I’ve tried) — to feed the hungry coal miners.

A century later, the descendants of those women are all buddies. What always struck me about Old Forge is that here you have a bunch of Italian guys and there are never any feuds!  They are competitors, but they are friends. When PJ Cusumano runs out of pizza boxes, he calls Pat Revello. “'No problem, buddy, go over and take whatever you need.'” They all do this. “Happens once or twice a week, sometimes once a night,” says Russell Rinaldi. “We go next door, they come over here.”  And you will never hear an Old Forge businessperson talk smack about another. Even on social media, says Rinaldi. “No negativity about any place from any other place in our town.” And this is true.

So no politics, no trash talk. But surely, they have something to say about the economy. If the average Guiseppe in Old Forge is pissed about his grocery bills and the price of gas, undoubtedly this is slamming the pizza guys. And yes, it is. But it’s Old Forge. “We’re sleeping on the floor if we have to,” says Angelo Genell. “You suck it up and you wait your turn.”

They all have noticed that the customers are still coming, but they order less. Maybe two trays of pizza instead of three, or “a couple two tree” as they say in Old Forge. And it’s trays, not pies. Cuts, not slices. Get with it. Ordering a pizza pie in Old Forge is like ordering a cheesesteak with Swiss Cheese in Philadelphia, which John Kerry did one time, and it cost him the presidency.

At the places that serve the famous pizza but are also known for fine dining, they’re skipping the appetizer, says T.J. Cusumano. So he’s coming up with ways to make them less expensive. “Like, now we’re doing a handbreaded cauliflower Milanese-style,” says T.J. “Somebody sees that on the menu, hmm, an appetizer for 10 dollars, well that’s not bad.” He has reluctantly raised the prices on some beef items. “The meats are sort of hurting us now, the red meat products.” Joe Janesko begrudgingly raised his prices earlier this year. There was just no way he was going to skimp on quality. He started doing pasta nights  “and that’s been a huge help.” Has it affected how he is going to vote? “To be completely honest with you?” says Janesko. “I didn’t vote for him.”  Finally.

This time around, it’s the 8th District congressional race that will most affect the residents of Old Forge. And it is a nail biter. Between the incumbent Republican Rob Bresnahan, who ousted Cartwright, and Scranton Mayor Paige Cognetti. “She’s got her own brand a little bit,” says Chris Borick, a researcher and pollster and professor of political science at Lehigh. “And that comes with outside donors because they like her and they know the importance of the district. She’s not hurting for money and she’s got a lot of buzz. For a challenger, she’s in a strong position.”

The polls are neck-and-neck. “Maybe a little leaning Dem, but very modestly.”

Ah, but astute Old Forge residents have noticed a shitload of Bresnahan signs and hardly any for Cognetti. “Paige don’t have any signs up,” one Old Forge resident, who early voted for Paige, told me.  Do yard signs matter?

“I’m not a big believer in yard signs,” says Republican strategist Vince Galko. “But if they are actually in someone’s yard, that means something. If you see them on the side of the road, they don’t mean anything.” Galko is of course hoping that Bresnahan keeps his seat. “It’s gonna be really tight, but I think he’ll do well in Old Forge,” says Galko. Rob is that kinda guy. He’s a conservative businessman but he’s also a union shop, he understands the value of union labor. So he’s right in the wheelhouse of what an Old Forge voter would be.”

But what about the canary in the coal mine? Will somebody say it?  “A name like Cognetti?” says Borick. “Oh my God.” “It doesn’t hurt that she has an Italian last name.,” says Matt Cartwright. “People think it’s a modern world.”

“We know that’s her husband’s name,” says one Old Forge resident.

And so it goes. Fasten your seatbelts.

And remember, we’ll always have the Hillary booth at Revello’s. Customers ask to sit there, under the framed photo of Mrs. Clinton wolfing down a tray of Revello’s red.  But they also brag about serving the late and great Republican John Heinz 40 years ago.

It’s Old Forge, Jake.

Lisa DePaulo is a writer in Philadelphia.