Stepping into the backyard of his home in Rutland, Joseph Rovezzi looked quite dapper in a short-sleeved, blue-toned Hawaiian shirt and charcoal grey shorts. He wore a pair of loafers and glasses. His handshake was firm, with a direct look into his guest’s eyes. 

It was a gorgeous, sunbaked Sunday afternoon and the yard was relatively empty. A steady stream of friends and family members, along with a few dignitaries, would soon fill the space for what had initially been planned as a surprise birthday party. By now, the secret was out, and he questioned all the pomp and circumstance.

To hear him tell it, his century of life (Joe, as he is known, was born in 1926 when Calvin Coolidge was president and you could see a movie for 25 cents) has been fairly unremarkable. 

In fact, an incredulous expression crossed his face when a guest marveled at how fit and spry he looked at 100 years old, joking that it would be a miracle if they made it to that age.

“Why would you say that?” Joe Rovezzi asked, appearing genuinely surprised at the suggestion. “I’m just like you.”

The truth, however, is Joe Rovezzi is not just like you or me. 

“He would tell you he has lived the most normal and average life,” his grandson Michael A. Rovezzi said. “Obviously, that’s not true.”

Joe Rovezzi is the namesake behind the former Rovezzi’s Restaurant (one he founded in Worcester, a second operated by his son, Christopher, for many years in Sturbridge) and a US Army veteran who spent 28 months in captivity in North Korea until after the Korean War Armistice Agreement was signed on July 27, 1953.  Ironically enough, the agreement was signed just one day before his 27th birthday. 

That he had served in the military at all is a story unto itself.

“I was drafted for World War II. I took the physical at a hospital in Springfield and I got rejected,” he said. “I had a perforated eardrum.”

Several years later, he was drafted once more, for what at the time was called the Korean Conflict.

“Same hospital in Springfield,” Joe Rovezzi recalled. “They had a big stamp, and they banged it on the sheet of paper. ‘Accepted.’ I said, ‘What happened to my eardrum?’ The guy said, ‘Must be better.’ Next!’”

He tells the story with a laugh, but what happened while he was serving overseas was no laughing matter. Although he doesn’t remember exactly when, Joe and his squad were surrounded and captured by Chinese forces. He spent the final 28 months of his tour in captivity.

He has told the story before, most recently during a local radio interview. His recounting of the ordeal was brief and matter of fact when asked how he survived two-plus year as a prisoner: “You do what you have to do.” He added: “We had guys like me that survived it very well. And then we had guys that just couldn’t handle it. In all my life ... I just did what I had to do.”

All these years later, Joe Rovezzi said he doesn’t “give it much thought.”

There’s a humility and quiet toughness to the man, however, that hints at some of the trials and tribulations. Maybe those qualities came from being part of a large Italian family, one of 10 siblings. 

“We just had to do whatever we had to do everyday and moved along like you’re supposed to,” he said. 

One thing is certain: food was a big part of his family’s life, and as a young man, Joe Rovezzi got into the food business, selling raw chicken out of the F.W. Woolworth’s five-and-dime store. 

“All of a sudden,” he said to his guest as others started trickling in, “I became popular.”

At one point, he teamed up with two other men, brothers, to open the former Colony Restaurant. In 1979, the old Cypress Room on Main Street went up for sale, “so I took the opportunity buy it.”

That became the first Rovezzi’s Restaurant. The hospitality industry is something two of his six children (one son, Paul, passed in 2024) have continued. 

Years later, his son, Chris, would operate Rovezzi’s Ristorante in Sturbridge. That space ultimately closed and in 2021, Chris opened Villa Sofia (so named after his daughter) in Brimfield. 

Another son, Joey, and his wife Erika, own and operate the popular Joey’s Bar and Grill in Worcester. 

Michael A. Rovezzi operates a winery and recalled making sausage and bread with his grandfather, who he said essentially served as his daycare when he was a young boy.

“He still makes bread three times a week,” Michael A. Rovezzi said of his grandfather. “He really was as big an influence on my life as anyone, other than my mother. He is just a remarkable guy.”

As for celebrating his grandfather’s 100th year on earth, even if Joe Rovezzi didn’t see it as anything special, Michael A. Rovezzi said, “It’s pretty amazing. I believe there’s got to be a trick to it. He swears there isn’t.”

Well, maybe one or two. 

Joe’s son, Michael C. Rovezzi, let slip that his father does enjoy a glass of vodka in the afternoon. And, as Michael A. Rovezzi pointed out, a healthy dose of olive oil. 

For his part, Joe Rovezzi, whose wife passed in 2002, insists his longevity isn’t the result of some secret ingredient or magical elixir. 

“I’ve been very fortunate that I’ve had good health, really,” he said, with Michael C. Rovezzi adding that his father “never stops moving.”

On this Sunday, at least, Joe Rovezzi, didn’t have to move much. He relaxed in a chair under a pop-up canopy, receiving praise and citations from a number of officials, including state Sen. Peter Durant and representatives of local and state veterans’ groups, to name some. There was no speech from the guest of honor. He simply accepted the accolades, the hugs, the handshakes, and the flowers with a smile and little more in the way of expression.

Still, there had to be something truly special about living to 100. Joe Rovezzi was asked; something of which he is most proud?

“There’s a lot of things I did,” he said. “First of all, to bring up six boys. I was always proud of my kids. They were always good kids and good to me.”

While the guest of honor may have preferred a big fuss not be made about this particular birthday, others were more than happy to do so on his behalf.

“He doesn’t treat it as a big deal,” Chris Rovezzi said during a break from shoveling freshly made pizzas in and out of a small pizza oven in the backyard. “But we are all amazed at him.” W