Bartender and Raconteur John 'The Squid' Squitero

John "The Squid" Squitero, 86, a retired bartender who died of congestive heart disease Jan. 28 at the Veterans Affairs hospital in the District, was renowned among regular customers of Poor Robert's Tavern for his gift of gab and for his penchant for pouring cocktails "with a stiff wrist" (not stinting on the liquor, in other words).

A longtime resident of the District, he served up drinks, tales and horse-racing advice at the Connecticut Avenue NW establishment -- across the street from the Uptown Theater in Cleveland Park -- from 1968 until it closed its doors in 1997.

" 'The Squid' was always telling stories," his friend Vinnie "Baretta" Emerson recalled. "He talked politics, talked sports. He had a lot of regular customers that spanned generations. He knew their grandkids."

Emerson recalled that before Mr. Squitero went in to work every evening, "he could be found playing action-packed rounds of golf with his buddies and pigeons at Rock Creek Golf Course." According to Emerson, he was the only golfer ever to score a hole-in-one on the course's challenging seventh hole.

He was a snappy dresser who favored colorful bow ties and flashy plaids. With his glasses and slicked-back hair, Emerson thought Mr. Squitero resembled a professor, although his fashion sense was probably more Pimlico or Hialeah than Johns Hopkins faculty club.

His regular customers at Poor Robert's included U.S. senators and congressmen (who nightly replenished his store of political gossip) and racehorse owners (who offered valuable tips from the track). He liked to bet the big races.

Summers he enjoyed Saratoga, N.Y., where he relaxed and played the horses. Occasionally he traveled to Miami, where he favored the legendary Fontainebleau Hotel and nearby golf courses. He had marriage prospects over the years, but he worried that matrimony might cramp his style.

Mr. Squitero was born Giovanni Candelino Squitero, the son of Italian immigrants, in Schenectady, N.Y. He joined the Navy after graduating from high school and was a seaman on the USS Independence in 1943, when it was torpedoed by Japanese aircraft in the South Pacific. Because he was toiling below deck in the engine room, he considered himself lucky to have survived.

After World War II, he moved to Washington, where a brother lived, and for a few years worked the graveyard shift as the manager of the Mayflower Donut Shop on F Street.

One of his employees was a young woman from West Virginia named Fannie Bell Fleming, who would find fame and some fortune as exotic dancer Blaze Starr (particularly after her notorious affair with Louisiana Gov. Earl K. Long). She became a good friend and in later years would drop by Poor Robert's to see Mr. Squitero after her performances at the Blue Mirror on 14th Street or the Champagne Room.

When the early morning hours at the doughnut shop got to be too much, he tried his hand at selling insurance but decided that he wasn't cut out to knock on doors and make cold calls about coverage. Pounding the pavement along Wisconsin Avenue one day in 1964, he called on the owner of a club and restaurant called the Silver Fox. The man didn't need insurance but did need a bartender. Mr. Squitero took the job.

When Roma Restaurant owner Frank Abbo opened Poor Robert's Tavern next door to his restaurant -- naming it after his son -- he enticed Mr. Squitero from the Silver Fox. Mr. Squitero was still behind the bar nearly three decades later.

"It was unbelievable," Bobby Abbo said. "All kinds of guys would come in just to say hello to Johnny. He'd always have a kind word for you."

When Poor Robert's went out of business, Mr. Squitero had more time for his golf game. He also made the rounds visiting old friends on Connecticut between Porter and Macomb streets, and he held court at Yanni's Greek Taverna and Starbucks, where he continued to tell his tales and make people laugh.

According to his old friend Emerson, he had a final recommendation: "The Bears and seven" in Sunday's Super Bowl.

There are no immediate survivors.