Alfredo Pinheiro, dancer, civic and animal rights activist, philanthropist, raconteur, gourmet chef and baker, and all-around bon vivant has died in Fort Lauderdale, his friend of decades, Craig Kline announced. He was 76.
If you have been in Wilton Manors in the past 30 years, you have seen him. Maybe heard him. Crooning “The Girl from Ipanema” in perfect Portuguese. Or, urging long-time Tropics’ bartender, Frankie Caputo, to “Listen to me, listen to me, listen to me...!”. If the story you told became too lengthy, he might direct you to “land the plane.”
Pinheiro, was a fixture of the Wilton Manors social scene from the mid 1990s. You may have seen him tending bar at the “old” Bill’s Filling Station; or heard him speaking out in many civic meetings, (even before the Village grew to become the City of Wilton Manors) advocating for creation of a large central park, and limited growth (he later often angrily lamented the city “fathers” for their spineless decision permitting several blocks of natural tree canopied natural space which neighbors wanted for the park to be destroyed for houses: “they just brought in a house-shitter which plopped out houses,” his hands gesturing as if squeezing a pastry bag); or perhaps saw him volunteering at Abandoned Pet Rescue; or attending the opera at the Broward Center; or savoring a café con leche at Las Colinas.
But, more likely on any given afternoon in the past decades you may have seen him at Table 19 on the patio of Georgie’s Alibi, along with his partner, George M. Hester, for afternoon cocktails (George: gin and tonic “mother’s milk;” Pinheiro: Dewars, one cube); and later that evening at their high-top table in the entertainment section of Tropic’s.
In each venue, both would compete for listeners to be mesmerized by their stories and favorite topics. George often pleading with Pinheiro to just “Shut up!”. After putting George to bed (he was 25 years older), Pinheiro would typically return to the Drive to dance his proverbial ass off ‘til the wee hours at Boom (now Hunter’s).
Since George’s move to assisted living for some years before his death in January 2022, Pinheiro began to enjoy his evenings at home; rarely out and about, insisting that he had already more than had his share of the gayborhood nightlife.
Pinheiro was born October 17, 1947 in rural Pirassununga, São Paulo, Brazil, and was reared in a home in which his foster father was a high ranking military general. His hometown became the headquarters of the Brazilian Air Force.
In his early 20s he joined a professional dance troupe with which he toured to Ireland, the U.K., and ultimately New York. In Manhattan, he was actor, director, and choreographer in a number of off-Broadway plays.
In about 1975, he met Hester, an internationally acclaimed photographer, and eventually moved to the rent controlled five-bedroom historic brownstone two blocks from Lincoln Center which doubled as Hester’s photo studio/lab. When his immigration status was in limbo, they relocated to Columbia County, in New York’s Hudson Valley, where they operated a large apple orchard and packing house serving the metropolitan area. In harvest season, Pinheiro would drive an 18- wheeler full of fresh packed apples to restaurants and green groceries in Manhattan. Should immigration agents come looking for Pinheiro, he planned to seek refuge with one of many neighbors, safe from capture.
Fortunately, with Ronald Reagan’s amnesty legalization program, Pinheiro became a resident, and ultimately a proud United States citizen.
Not shy, nor afraid to express his opinion, he would often very theatrically clutch at his phantom pearls, and ask, incredulously, “Excuse Me!?”
Stories would flow from his mouth as the Dewars flowed in. Often, he might go out for a smoke at the Tropic’s, and clandestinely down an icy Jagermeister, before returning to George’s side.
He and George owned a 6-acre plot of land on Jamaica’s northern coast, but unfortunately, because of their pets (which Pinheiro refused to place in boarding), they would have to travel independently. That was all set to change when their last dog died. Eager to be able to travel together, Pinheiro was rather upset when George brought home the last of his animals, a three-legged rescue, “Tripod.” Years later in recounting the story, he would still say (as he often did when frustrated with anyone, or anything) “Motherfucker!”
Pinheiro was an excellent chef and baker, and often put on a spread to give Martha Stewart pause. Knowing this, and seemingly oblivious to the time and detail such entertaining entailed, George would occasionally “announce” in early afternoon that dinner would be with guests, sometimes a table of twelve. Pinheiro would make it happen, no doubt muttering, “Motherfucker!”
After selling the duplex home where he and George lived since the mid-1990s on the canal on 20th Street (conveniently between Alibi and Tropic’s), Pinheiro lived at Blys, across from Scandals, for the past 18 months.
Pinheiro is survived by an elder sister, and many nieces and nephews, all in Brazil.
Kline, who he and Pinheiro as devout fans of “The Golden Girls” always addressed each other as “Blanche,” said a Celebration of Life is planned for October.
