Family carries on father's tradition, minus the opera singing, at Villa Milano in Manhasset

The voice would carry from the back of the kitchen to the front of the pizzeria, greeting Villa Milano patrons with a song from an opera before they could even order a slice.

“People would be like, ‘Is that the radio?’ " Nazlije Bekteshi, who also goes by Nancy, said in an interview. “I’m like, ‘No, that’s my dad.' ”

Eventually, people started to request the voice for their birthdays. So Donald Bekteshi would emerge from the kitchen and sing “Happy Birthday,” with his white apron around his waist, swinging his arms to the words for emphasis. The ritual was part of the familial atmosphere Donald fostered that's made Villa Milano, in Manhasset, central to the community, longtime patrons said.

Donald and his brother Eli, sons of Albanian immigrants, grew up in Brooklyn and opened Villa Milano in 1985. The Plandome Road pizzeria has become a staple: It was a place where kids would do their homework after school; where young adults would propose to their loved ones; where old friends would bond over a slice.

Donald and Eli died unexpectedly in 2023, six days apart. Donald was 65; Eli was 76. But their influence lives on in the pizzeria that is steps from North Hempstead Town Hall. The town will rename the portion of Plandome Road in front of the restaurant, from George Street to Andrew Street, Bekteshi Brothers Way later this summer.

“They just loved pizza, they loved people, so they figured what better way to combine the two?” Nazlije Bekteshi said. “They took that and ran with it."

Brothers died days apart

Matthew Donno, co-president of the Manhasset Chamber of Commerce, was born on Feb. 29, 1984. It was a leap year, meaning his birthday technically only comes around once every four years.

One day when he was a kid, in late February, he lamented to Donald Bekteshi that he wouldn’t get to celebrate his birth that year. Donald’s birthday was Feb. 28.

“He said, ‘You know what, you can share it with me,’ ” Donno recalled in an interview. “It almost became a thing, like we’d go to Benihana for dinner and then go to Villa and get an [Italian] ice or something, so I could stop in and see Donnie and celebrate my birthday with him.”

Donno, like many other local kids, would often hang out at Villa Milano after school. Donald would walk from table to table, Nazlije Bekteshi said, making sure every kid had eaten. If they hadn’t, he would give them a slice for free.

"My boys are tall, and people used to say, 'What are you feeding them?' I’d say 'Villa Milano,' " Supervisor Jennifer DeSena, a Manhasset resident, said last month at a board meeting where the street renaming was approved. "The Town of North Hempstead is very grateful for people and businesses like the Bekteshis who inspire us. The loss has been tremendous, but it shows how much we gained,  how much we learned from them."

Donald's kindness extended to adults, too. Jack Caruso, a Manhasset resident, called him a “special person” during the town board meeting. 

"I would watch the people come in and the love, and how he would hug and kiss everybody," Caruso said. 

Donald did a good job of hiding his illness from the general public, Nazlije Bekteshi said. He died Aug. 12, 2023, from kidney cancer. Six days later, Eli, who had retired to Florida more than a decade earlier, died as well.

"When he found out my father passed away, he was distraught," she said. "He passed away from a broken heart."

'Danny's Pizzeria'

Nazlije Bekteshi, 44, still works occasionally at the restaurant, as do Donald's sons Sal, 33, and Danny, 41, but it is Danny Bekteshi who has taken his father's mantle as the face of the restaurant. He didn't inherit his father's singing voice, but he did pick up his big personality. Kids refer to Villa Milano as "Danny's Pizzeria," Nazlije Bekteshi said. Danny is sure to give kids a lollipop on their way out. 

On a scorching July afternoon, Danny shoved five boxes of pizza into the back of his sport utility vehicle and delivered them to a camp; Villa Milano doesn't typically do deliveries, he said, but he makes exceptions for camps and schools.

He returned to the restaurant and lost himself in the familiar rhythms of the pizza counter — taking orders, slipping slices into the oven and making small talk with the customers beneath a picture of Donald, Eli and their brother, John.

The only thing that pulls him out of the trance is when, every day at 2 p.m., he looks at the clock. That was the time his father used to come in to work, he said.

"He would come in at 2 o'clock, and it would be a totally different day," Danny Bekteshi said. "He didn't even need to say anything; just his smile, his energy that he had around him, it would make my day like a totally different day. Say I got upset, something happened or something got messed up — total wash."

The lunch rush was starting to pick up, but Danny continued to move with pace, thanking customers by their first names. "Take care," he said to one woman as she left, flashing a smile, before retreating to the back of the kitchen — to the place where his father used to sing.