A long, long time ago, well 30 years anyway, a young Nick Cantone attended high school in Harrisburg. An athlete, Cantone was known for his quick temper, on and off the field. Suspended from school repeatedly for fighting, Cantone is quick to admit that he just couldn’t walk away from a fight. He rarely started trouble, but he never avoided it either. Parents Ann and Lou were at once proud of and baffled by the son who was devoted to his family, a good son and athlete, and yet also a “loose cannon” who seemed to attract trouble. This was the ’60s and Cantone was a street kid. Fighting was a way of life in his community. One just didn’t walk away from a taunt or challenge. Not Nick Cantone, anyway. And although the ’60s were tame by today’s drug and weapons culture, Cantone did nearly die of a stab wound he suffered during a Friday the 13th encounter with trouble. After that near-death experience, Nick Cantone truly tried to change his ways. But even as a freshman at Shippensburg College (now University) in 1966, it was clear that he carried a huge chip on his wide shoulders. With his love affair with alcohol, Cantone was a walking timebomb and trouble followed him. After being charged with eleven disorderly conducts and three assault and batteries in a month, Cantone was literally tossed out of Shippensburg. He knew that he was headed for big trouble and would eventually end up incarcerated if he did not change his attitude. It was time to grow up and be the man he had fought so many fights to prove. Like many local boys, he found employment in the steel mills. Eventually, he came to own a restaurant that specializes in southern Italian fare. He became well known in his community — for better and for worse.

It is 1999, and I am sitting at one of the quieter tables in Cantone’s Southern Italian Restaurant with Cantone. He is a slightly smaller man than I expected. This is the infamous Nick Cantone, Bad Boy and restaurateur? My first impression is that he’s smaller in life. Is this polite, neatly dressed man the same man who was arrested twice for gambling and once for solicitation? I am eager to learn the real story behind the image. Just who is Nick Cantone, and why have certain members of the law enforcement community (according to Cantone) targeted him? And how did he come to be the owner of an award-winning restaurant, now celebrating 20 years of success? Cantone was happy to tell his story.

Nick Cantone was born to Ann and Louis Cantone on April 20, 1948, in Harrisburg, and grew up on Allison Hill Street. Cantone admits to being blessed with two wonderful, supportive parents, and states that they have contributed greatly to his life and the success of his restaurant. He remembers his neighborhood fondly and smiles when he reminisces about the great times he experienced as a young boy and adolescent. Sure, there were a lot of fights, but that was just the way it was in his neighborhood. And it was important to Cantone to be part of his crowd. He rarely rebelled and was more concerned with fitting in and being accepted. A typical teenager — although he admits to a bad temper and a short fuse. These days, Cantone has learned to manage that temper, and it surfaces now only when alcohol and frustration with the law enforcement community collide. Then he is insistent and angry. Maybe even paranoid. “They,” — members of local law enforcement agencies — are out to get me, he says. His story begins almost 30 years ago.

After leaving Shippensburg College, Cantone sought to find his calling. He worked in six different jobs, finally spending a couple of years working for a distributor as a wine and spirits salesman. It was during this time that Cantone became interested in the restaurant business. He saw the profit margins and believed he could create a successful operation. With the backing of family and friends, and some large personal loans, Cantone set out to create his restaurant, which opened in September 1979. Cantone loves sports, and Nick Cantone’s Sports Tavern quickly became a popular watering hole where sports fans could catch the action on any one of several televisions. With excellent dinners and sandwiches, a wide selection of beers and liquors, strategic marketing, and a friendly neighborhood atmosphere, Cantone’s quickly took off and put a remote Fritchey Street on the map. Celebrities passing through Harrisburg found their way to Cantone’s and the restaurant walls are covered with photos of Tony Bennett, Bill Cosby, Billy Crystal, David Brenner, Larry Cirillo, Denny Green, and of course, Frank Sinatra. Photos of Cantone’s close friends Ron Marsico and Rich Lewis are prominently displayed, and he is quick to state that, “Rich Lewis as a DA and judge is the class of the field. And Ron Marsico is equally fantastic.” But if Cantone honors these two leaders, his adjectives become unprintable when he describes others who he believes have unfairly targeted him and his business.

From the start, Cantone says that his restaurant was falsely alleged to have mob connections. But he is adamant that there is no organized crime in Harrisburg and, in fact, that there never was. So why all the fuss, and why target Nick Cantone? Well, Cantone replies, “I’m Italian and my restaurant is a success. It’s a success because I work hard at it, believe in it, and provide great food and service. Some people get jealous. They want to make their reputations and climb up that political ladder. I was an easy target. I’d already had somewhat of a Bad Boy rep and my business was growing rapidly. Agents would see Italians hanging out at Cantone’s, some were known gamblers, some may have had run-ins with the law, but they were customers and friends.”

Cantone also questions a system that has devoted huge amounts of tax dollars to pursuing alleged gambling while the state continues to operate one of the largest gambling operations in existence — the lottery and racetracks. Numerous other gambling operations remain protected while small bookmakers are charged with criminal activity. It just doesn’t make sense to Cantone. Go after the criminals with knives and guns and drugs, he says. Protect citizens from real crime.

Speaking of real crime, I prompt, “Tell me about your latest arrest, this past March. What happened?” Eight days after Cantone’s wedding (he married second wife Kellee in March), a couple of friends invited him to join them at the Steelton VFW. According to Cantone, these friends wanted to surprise him with a belated bachelor party. When he arrived, his friends paid the entry fee. Expecting to see a live band, Cantone says he was surprised to see nude girls dancing for the guests. Cantone planned to stay just long enough to let his friends buy him a couple of drinks, but 45 minutes later the place was raided and he and others were arrested and charged with solicitation. Furious, he argued that there was no solicitation and that that the girls were dancers and not prostitutes. Although Cantone says that the agents described recorded evidence, it never surfaced.

When Cantone heard that the charges included accusations of oral sex, he demanded to know who had made that statement. According to Cantone, the state trooper alleged to have talked to reporters told him that, “they (unidentified agents) told me to say oral sex.” Cantone insists that he did not engage in any sexual contact or solicit sex.

Cantone does believe that this particular incident was not targeted to get him and believes he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time — although he often ponders the coincidence of having 54 paid police officers raid a simple “girlie show” on the night of his attendance. Unlucky, but still angry and resolute about his innocence, Cantone was eager to tell his side of this incident. Yes, he pled guilty on the advice of his attorneys, but he did not do anything wrong. He didn’t even pay the cover charge, his friends did. Cantone admits his friends are a bit younger and thought that the evening would be a great surprise for him. It was a surprise — but not a good one.

Once again, I ask, “Who is the real Nick Cantone?” After eleven charges of disorderly conduct while in college, three assault and batteries, two charges of gambling and bookmaking, and one charge of solicitation, what is Cantone about? I knew there had to be more. Here is the other side of Nick Cantone.

The father of three children, Cantone has paid “serious attention” to his kids and their friends and has encouraged them to set their sights high, to achieve, and to be good kids, students, and adults. Cantone has tried to set an example by involving himself and Cantone’s in community projects and philanthropic efforts. During his first five years operating Cantone’s, he sponsored 18 athletic teams. While growing up and playing on sponsored teams, Cantone had sworn to himself that if and when he was ever successful, he would sponsor teams so that another generation of kids could engage in the sports he had enjoyed. He has honored that pledge.

When I talked to staff at the restaurant and asked them to describe the real Nick Cantone, I heard warm admiration for a man who is generous, caring, and hard working. Chef George Rowlands has been with Cantone’s since its start, twenty years ago. Head bartender Sandy Calderone and Nick’s new wife, Kellee, have each worked there for eleven years. Two waitresses, one fairly new and one long-term employee, described Cantone’s as a great place to work and of Cantone as a great guy. When I asked about his famous temper, both admitted they had never experienced it.

Cantone, however, admits to its continued existence. He recognizes that alcohol is a factor with his loss of control, and tells about his “lowest low” when he had been drinking and “decked” someone who had caused him to lose a lot of money. He regrets that incident and has vowed to not repeat it. But his voice grew very loud several times during our conversation whenever he discussed the harassment that he believes he continues to suffer from misguided law enforcement agents who he accuses of playing a game of cat-and-mouse with him. There is no doubt that Cantone is a very angry man who feels he has been unfairly targeted by some unscrupulous law enforcement agents. But he is just as quick to comment that most agents do their jobs well. He says he respects law enforcement personnel in general, but reiterates that a few particular agents are out to make their reputations by pinning something, anything, on Nick Cantone.

Cantone is determined to be treated fairly. He hopes his side of the story will help readers understand just who Nick Cantone really is — a father and grandfather, a husband, a businessman, a friend, and a community supporter. Yes, he may have been a “Bad Boy,” and he has had his “bad” moments as an adult, but like most people, he has his strengths and weaknesses, his good and bad points. Just ask his family members, his employees, the charitable agencies he supports, and his customers. No one will say Cantone is perfect — he’s no angel — but he is well-respected and loved by those who know him best. This once Bad Boy has changed his tune, clearly for the better.