Milan, “Milo,” Zagar, age 83, of Fairfield, died peacefully on Tuesday, February 24, 2015.

Milo was born and raised in the small farming village of Sutomiscica, Croatia on the Island of Ugljan. His family was farmers of such crops as nuts, olives and figs. They worked hard and made a humble living. Later in life, Milo used to tell his daughters about how, as a little boy, before he and his sister left for school, they would hold out their cupped hands so their mom could fill them with a mixture of cornmeal and olive oil. As Milo walked barefoot to school he would eat the breakfast out of his hands. Often times, he chose to save some and put the leftover mixture into his pants pocket.

Milan’s father Mario left Croatia for the United States, seeking a better life for his wife Matija and their two children. He joined the U.S. Army and in 1950, after adequately establishing himself in New York City, Mario sent for his family to come join him. Like so many other thousands of immigrants, Milan, his sister and his mother’s first glimpse of the U.S.A. was Ellis Island. They arrived on a Friday and had to wait there all weekend to be processed the following Monday morning. Milan’s first home in America was in the famous Hell’s Kitchen neighborhood of Manhattan. By now Milan was a young man of eighteen and he soon got a job at the Brooklyn Shipping Yard building shipping crates. He eventually got an opportunity to join the carpenters union. He worked as a carpenter with a company from Linden that had building contracts with many well-known retail establishments including Bamberger’s, Sears, Thom Mcan, and Kinney. Milo worked hard and his generous spirit emerged as he helped many other immigrants to obtain jobs where he worked too, often picking them up for work because he was the only one with a driver’s license and car.

In 1960, now ten years in the U.S., Milo moved to West New York, NJ, got married and, a year later, became a father for the first time. His new little girl was named Frances (after his favorite singer, Connie Francis) and she was joined in 1963 by a little baby sister named Sandra (after the actress Sandra Dee). That same year, Milo moved his family to North Bergen. In 1967, he and his family moved one more time, this time to Fairfield where they built a brand-new home. In those days, with a 30-year mortgage with payments of $100 per month, it was a little bit of a financial stretch but Milan wasn’t worried; this is why he came to the United States. Milan was realizing “The American dream!” He came here, never expecting handouts and he always worked hard, never quitting the job until it was done and done right! One of his philosophies when he did a job was “Measure twice, cut once.”

In 1970, baby Stacy was welcomed into the world. That same year, Milo went to work with his parents in the family business, a restaurant and tavern called Film Center Café located in Manhattan. He worked the night shift from 3 PM to 3 AM so, when the older girls got off the bus after a day at school, he welcomed them home, gave them a kiss and headed off to work in the city. In his work, often tending bar, Milo’s generous spirit was again, a blessing to many. Many times he befriended the friendless and down-and-out, offering to hold their money so they wouldn’t be tempted to waste it all. Many times he’d also give them a meal or take them next door to a little bodega-type establishment called Smiler’s where he’d buy them something to eat. Throughout the 70s, Fran, Sandra, and Stacy have fond memories of going to their dad’s workplace where holidays like Christmas were often spent. The girls loved to listen to the juke-box, play shuffle board, and eat those little bags of potato chips that were never offered at home. The ethnic food served was excellent too and one of the girl’s favorite recipes was the Croatian version of zeppoles called “Frita” that Grandma "Baba" Zagar made.

Milo loved to come home from work and spend time in his huge garden. He had wonderful apple, pear, fig, cherry and peach trees, and he grew many Jersey vegetables. Some of the plants and flowering trees he grew were started from seeds brought back from his native Croatia. Milo’s grapevine was so big that the trellis it grew on covered the whole patio and, in his early days, he converted a washing machine into a grape crusher and made delicious wine in Aunt Teti’s basement. Sunday was grass cutting day and Milan always cut the lawn on an angle that was 45 degrees different than the angle he had cut it the week before. He’d always take a break from mowing to enjoy a nice cold, refreshing beer and when he was finished, he would follow it up with a steak barbecue where everyone could sit outside and enjoy the food as they gazed on his meticulously manicured yard. Later in the day, Milo would tell his daughters to invite their friends over and they all went out for ice cream treats at Carvel. Milo usually had a vanilla milkshake and he treated the girls to whatever they wanted, as long as it wasn’t ice cream in a cone. He believed that cones had a tendency to drip and since Milo was as meticulous about his cars as he was about his yard, he didn’t want ice cream to drip on the seats and carpet.

Despite his friendship and generous reputation with many of his tavern patrons, Milo sustained a gunshot wound working on Christmas Eve in 1983. This led to an early retirement, only occasionally returning to New York to do repairs on the family’s apartment building adjacent to the tavern. Milo spent a lot more time tending his gardens, often shared the fruits and vegetables of his labor, plus his homemade culinary creations, with many of his neighbors and family members. He really enjoyed cooking and talking about food, while he’d watch the experts like Emeril Lagasse on the cooking shows, Milo would often tell you “They don’t know what they’re talking about.

Milo loved having a sense of routine in his life. He took really good care of his 1978 Pontiac Bonneville, with its velour upholstery and an 8-track player, which he still had to this very day and which has only 48,000 original miles. When the girls eventually started driving, Milo insisted they bring their cars over on Sunday to wash and wax them too. On Sunday nights, he always watched the Lawrence Welk Show, and popcorn was always popped the natural way – not in a microwave. Milo was always ready to help his neighbors with chores especially snow blowing. He’d make sure he had enough gas well before the storm so that he was ready. He also liked to save the bone scraps from his cooking so that he could give them to the neighbor’s dogs.

In 1987, Milo returned to his native country of Croatia for the first time since emigrating to the U.S. in 1950. After that first trip back with his daughters, he made it an annual pilgrimage for several more summers, often staying for eight to ten weeks at a time. In spite of loving those visits "back home", Milo was an extremely patriotic American. He was known for regularly saying “God Bless America” and he’d get a little upset when he heard Americans speaking negatively about this country that gave him such great opportunities.

Milan will always be remembered for his enormously generous heart and love of gathering family and friends for all occasion. On the day he passed away, bells were rung in his hometown of Sutomiscica, Croatia, so friends can gather to mourn his loss and celebrate his memory.

Surviving are his three daughters: Frances and husband Mark Allen of Ringwood, Sandra and husband Larry Ennis of Chester, and Stacy and husband Luis Maldonado of Sparta; six grandchildren: Casey, Kayla, Meghan, Samantha, Jack, and Riley; and his former wife Sonja Zagar of Lincoln Park.

In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions to Sveta Eufemija Church (in Croatia) would be appreciated. Checks may be made out to Frances Allen and sent to P.O. Box 3, Ringwood, NJ 07456.