That one time in Michigan: When an official funeral was held for frozen pizzas
The next time you’re forced to discard a recalled product, draw inspiration from one of Michigan’s most inventive pizza producers.
We’ve all experienced the disappointment and minor panic of a food recall. Few things strike fear into the hearts of Michiganders like wondering if that last backyard barbecue meal might have given them a touch of salmonella or E. Coli. And while it pains most of us to dispose of perfectly good food, we’re willing to do it for the sake of health.
The bulk of our discarded and recalled products likely end up in local dumpsters, followed by a landfill, but one moment in Michigan history takes the unfortunate reality of contaminated food to a hilarious (and downright odd) new level.
The Great Michigan Pizza Funeral is just as delightfully bizarre as it sounds—and it might just make you reconsider your disposal methods next time the grocery store sends a recall alert.
A Michigan pizza empire is born
The year was 1973. In Ossineke, a tiny Lake Huron town known for its quirky Dinosaur Gardens roadside attraction, locals gathered around a mass grave. They bowed their heads, closed their eyes, and listened intently to a thoughtful homily in honor of … thousands of pizzas.
To reach the pizza funeral, we’ve got to step back in time to post-World War II Ossineke. It was then that Ilario Fabbrini arrived in the Great Lakes State from Croatia. With connections to Italy, Fabbrini knew his way around a traditional pizza—and he soon turned this knowledge into a successful financial endeavor while settling into American life.
Alongside his wife, Fabbrini developed “Americanized” versions of his favorite hometown recipes and began selling frozen pizzas from his Ossineke home. As business boomed (after all, there’s always money in the pizza game), Fabbrini’s passion grew into a bona fide factory called Papa Fabbrini Pizzas. At its height, the facility could send out some 45,000 pies on a weekly basis.
Botulism brings business to a halt
By the early 1970s, Papa Fabbrini Pizzas was a well-oiled machine. But its wheels came screeching to a halt in the first weeks of 1973, when Fabbrini received word that canned mushrooms used in the factory’s pizzas had been recalled by the United States Food and Drug Administration (FDA). The concern was botulism: a potentially lethal type of food poisoning caused by bacterial growth in canned food.
When the recall took effect, Fabbrini and his employees scrambled to spread the word. This was no small feat, as about 30,000 pizzas were believed to have been topped with potentially contaminated mushrooms.
In fact, the Fabbrini recall was believed to be America’s largest pizza recall to date. The financial impact wasn’t anything to scoff at, either: Fabbrini estimated the recalled pizzas amounted to around $60,000 in retail sale value.
A community says goodbye (and eats more pizza)
Instead of simply dumping thousands of recalled pizzas into a mass waste site, Fabbrini concocted an unprecedented plan. He wanted to take accountability for what he viewed as a mistake—and if the story drummed up a bit of press for his pizzas, that was just an added bonus.
So he did what any reasonable business owner could do: dug an 18-foot hole in the ground, alerted the townspeople, and threw a full-blown funeral for the dearly departed pizzas.
Fabbrini went all out with his funeral theme. First, approximately 29,000 recalled pizzas moved to their final resting place from the backs of dump trucks. When the burial site was covered, Fabbrini topped it with a floral wreath and handed the reins to then-governor William Milliken, who partook in the amusement by reading a homily to the crowd. There was even a satirical obituary printed in memory of the pizzas, which were now in eternal rest.
Perhaps most boldly, Fabbrini used the event as an opportunity to serve (uncontaminated) pizza to locals and reporters alike. He cooked right on site as attendees mingled, basking in the scent of perfectly browned pizza crust while mourning the 30,000 ill-fated pies they’d just laid to rest.
The last days of Papa Fabbrini Pizzas
When the chatter of the Great Michigan Pizza Funeral had died down, Fabbrini took further action to protect his business from the financial impact of such a major recall. He sued the canning company where the suspected contaminated mushrooms originated, ultimately receiving a settlement of around $200,000.
While the company remained open, it never fully recovered from the ordeal, and its doors closed for good in the early 1980s.
Today, longtime Ossineke residents fondly recall the time they gathered to bid adieu to thousands of uneaten pizzas. While these cheesy pies were never eaten by hungry families, their brave sacrifices for the greater cause of avoiding a botulism-induced mass casualty incident will never be forgotten.
In fact, some say that when the air is still, you can still smell marinara sauce and flaky pizza crust while passing through the hallowed streets of Ossineke.
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