Even on a busy night at his Spaghetti Garden restaurant in the Adams Morgan neighborhood, Iraj Askarinam would answer a knock at the back door of his kitchen.
“Order up! Spaghetti and meatballs,” he would yell to the chef. Minutes later, he would pass a hot meal in a foam container with plastic silverware and warm garlic bread to a waiting homeless person.
They often called him, “Mr. Spaghetti,” according to his family and friends.
“We grew up poor, and we knew how the poor situation is, so he tried to help,” said his brother, 79-year-old Soleimon Askarinam.
Askarinam, 76, of Northwest Washington, died June 2 due to complications from covid-19, his family said.
Born in Shiraz, Iran, Askarinam was Jewish and one of 11 children. His father was a spice and herb merchant, and his mother was a homemaker. They lived in a small house that only later got electricity and running water, his family said.
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After a mandatory two years of military service, Askarinam left Iran in 1972 and went to Texas, where he had a cousin. He had $180 in his pocket.
He wanted to be an engineer but dropped out of college because he couldn’t afford it. Askarinam married his wife, Sherry, and the two moved to the District in the mid-1970s. They divorced in 1985, and she died in 2016.
Once in the nation’s capital, Askarinam took jobs washing dishes and busing restaurant tables. He saved money and often sent some to family in Iran.
His friend of nearly five decades, 75-year-old Jamshid Sharifi, of Arlington, said he once asked Askarinam about his proudest moment in life. It was the first time he sent a big chunk of money, $3,000, back home decades ago, he responded.
Askarinam learned to cook Italian food and eventually opened his own restaurant, the Spaghetti Garden, in Adams Morgan in 1981, before the area was known for its restaurants and bars. The restaurant gained a reputation for selling good food at reasonable prices, according to a 1981 review by The Washington Post.
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Askarinam served as chef in those first few years. In subsequent years, when a cook or a waitress didn’t show up, Askarinam jumped in and cooked or served customers.
He operated the Spaghetti Garden until 2018. Over four decades, Askarinam and his brothers also opened five other bars and restaurants, most recently Johnny Pistolas in Adams Morgan. Over the past year, he was working on opening a new restaurant along Georgia Avenue, his daughters said.
For his employees, he made cakes on their birthdays, listened to their problems and served as a mentor. His youngest daughter, Elizabeth Makris, 37, of Arlington, said he “treated everyone the same whether you were a millionaire or homeless.”
“Even though he experienced so many challenges, he never looked back and said ‘I had a really unfair life,’” Makris said. “He just thought of it as ‘I got so lucky in life.’ ”
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Askarinam could often be found on Sundays playing chess at the outdoor tables in Dupont Circle with the homeless, his family said. They would usually bet a dime or a quarter on a game.
Once a week, Askarinam and Sharifi took jaunts to Atlantic City, where Askarinam favored playing craps. When he won, he would give large tips to the dealers and janitorial staff.
Sharifi said he once asked his friend why he was so generous. “These people don’t get enough pay,” Sharifi said Askarinam told him. “He had so much respect for everybody. He would help anybody he could.”
When his former wife died, Askarinam handed out $800 worth of Subway sandwiches to homeless people in Dupont Circle instead of a traditional meal after the funeral.
“He said, ‘Those are the people who could use a real meal,’ ” said his eldest daughter, Rachel Askarinam Wagner, 39, of Clarksburg. “He liked the idea of feeding people who didn’t have anything.”
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When the coronavirus hit the Washington region, Askarinam was disappointed he couldn’t hug his grandchildren; he would watch them play in the backyard at one of his daughter’s houses. He and one of his grandchildren often enjoyed outings for ice cream or visiting museums.
In late May, Askarinam told one of his daughters he had a “tickle” in his throat and thought maybe it was allergies. He went to a clinic near his home and tested positive for the coronavirus and was diagnosed with pneumonia. He was taken to MedStar Georgetown University Hospital.
His condition worsened, and he was put on a ventilator. His family said he also suffered from high blood pressure and diabetes.
Makris wore personal protective equipment and was at her father’s side for nearly two hours before he died. She called other relatives on FaceTime so they could say their goodbyes.
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The family had a funeral with 10 people in person and 100 on a Zoom call. They also held a shiva by Zoom.
Weeks after her father’s death, Makris called covid-19 “a really cruel disease.”
“It is like a freight train,” she said. “He had probably 10 more years, and now he’s just gone.”
Sharifi said he went to Askarinam’s grave two hours before the service started and played Persian music for his friend. A few days ago, he called Askarinam’s phone to see if it was still working. It was.
He left a message: “Iraj, I miss you.”
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