Karen Wils photo Above, old-time Sheridan Road and the building which became known as Spar’s beer garden are shown, circa 1940. Today the bar is known as the Northtown Crown.

ESCANABA — There’s a new awesome aroma in the air over north Escanaba.

Tomato and basil, zesty and cheesy breezes circle around the wooden ore docks and out over Little Bay de Noc.

A 1955 Ford Fairlane complete with fins and antenna sits by the curb on Sheridan Road. A Dean Martin song plays on the jukebox.

Two cooks in a tiny restaurant kitchen work on an old Italian dish but a new totally new taste for Escanaba. The Lorraine and Mike Sparapani have recently relocated to north Escanaba from the Iron Mountain area.

Pizza was on their minds.

Pepperoni, onions, garlic and mozzarella are blended to perfection using an old family recipe. I am told that the first pizza ever baked in Escanaba was created at Spar’s bar (or beer garden as it was called back then) and restaurant. Marco’s restaurant was supposed to be a close second.

My mother worked for the Sparapani’s back in the 1950s, and she liked to retell the stories about the early pizza. She also learned to cook the best spaghetti sauce and make wonderful pizza from them.

Before 1955, pizza was nearly unheard of in the central U.P. That was before the days of Pizza Hut, Dominos, Little Caesar’s and Jet’s.

Today the frozen pizza section of the grocery store spans three or more freezer bunkers. In great-grandma’s day, frozen pizzas were not a meal option.

I and most of my generation can distinctly recall the first time we laid eyes on a frozen pizza. Mine was at my Aunt Rita’s house when my Aunt Mary Ann was visiting from Chicago. My brother Dave remembers eating his first frozen pizza at a friend’s birthday party.

Pizza began in the 16th Century in southern Italy. It was a flatbread with a few toppings and was a quick meal for the poorer class of working people.

Modern American pizzas come in a huge variety. Thick crust, thin crust, pepperoni and sausage, chicken artichoke, pulled pork, cheeseburger and pineapple and bacon… there is a pizza for every taste nowadays.

Even though I’m not one drop Italian, I have a special love for pizza. My mom continued her pizza making even after her Spar’s days. On Saturday nights, Mom would get the dough rising, the cheese grated and the pepperoni sliced for a family night of pizza. It was not the evening meal but a snack to be eaten in front of the television.

Us “older” kids got to stay up and watch “Dallas” or a movie with my parents and eat pizza. Pretty soon all six of us were old enough to join in the fun. We all shared in the chores, grating cheese, greasing pans, setting out plates and forks and busing the dishes after we were done.

If one of the “older” kids were babysitting at one of my aunts’ houses, one of us younger kids would run fresh hot pizza over to them.

So that is how I learned how to make homemade pizza. Kneading the dough still makes me feel close to my mother even after all of these years. The smell of baking pizza makes me feel right at home on Sheridan Road.

Have pizza and a perfect Saturday night.

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Karen (Rose) Wils is a lifelong north Escanaba resident. Her folksy columns appear weekly in Lifestyles.