A short biography, written by Eleni and Laki Vlachos, Vasili's daughter and son, follows below.

Dad in Seattle, 1969

It didn't seem possible. Despite a lifetime of preparing for this day, we could not see dad as someone who would die. He's far too alive, far too much a part of our lives to disappear. He's present tense.

Yet, we just learned that Vasili "Bill" Vlachos, Dad, died unexpectedly in his hometown of Karditsa, Greece at 11:00 PM on September 4th, 2009. We were shocked and saddened by the suddeness of his disappearance. In order to preserve his memory, we want to share a bit about his life. His existence was on his terms, which few are brave enough (or as Dad might comment, "Crazy enough") to live by.

Dad grew up during the Greek civil war, leaving at 18 to attend the University of Bonn in Germany. His dream was to sail to America and become rich to help his family. Following this dream a few years later, he boarded a ship in Holland set for Canada with only $250 in his pocket and no one to meet him at the other end. He described the moment of departure:

"Finally I get aboard, by afternoon and the boat was leaving in few hours.
There were about 1500 passengers, and as many in the dock, waving their hankerchiefs,
to their friends and relatives. I didn't have no one to wave at, but I always wanted to do that.
It was a very emotional moment...I start waving back too...why not?
Do you think that anyone might still remember, Eleni?"

Dad in Germany, circa 1960

Eleven days later he was in Canada. Dad always wanted to head west, and worked in a series of restaurants and eventually made it to Vancouver, BC, where he met our mom and invited her to join him in his row boat in Stanley Lake. He only knew a few English phrases at the time, such as "You are beautiful," but that was enough.

He moved to Seattle, Mom's hometown, in 1968 and eventually opened a series of pizza and other restaurants including Vasili's, Mama Ella's, Poseidon's, Captain's, and Apollo's. He co-founded Bill's Off Broadway with his good friend Jim Donor.

Dad at Poseidon's Fish & Chips in Seattle's industrial neighborhood of Georgetown, ~1986.

Jim was a passanger in Dad's taxi, a profession he held for a few years between restaurants. Taxi driving allowed Dad the freedom and flexibility he craved, as well as access to a lot of people and eventual friendships.

Dad always stayed in our lives, and Sunday was Daddy Day.

One of many Daddy Days.

Sundays were full of adventures like restaurant-seeking and old Greek music playing from his ash-covered tape recorder. He'd sing his favorite song Summer Time, then I'd run home to tell mom he thought she was good looking, so maybe they would get back together. When we moved to California he sold his restaurant and followed us, opening new places in the Bay Area. When we returned to Seattle a year later he too moved back, wanting to be near his kids.

For as long as we can remember, he was always dreaming of his next big project. His latest projects were alternative fuel production in Greece, as well as writing a memoir about his experiences opening up over 25 restaurants in the US with very little funding.

Dad, with his nephew Vangelis, at his property with the ethanol producing machine he built, 2006.

In Seattle, he'd take us to the grey and dreamy shipyards to watch the huge vessels and wonder about owning one someday: "Imagine what you would do with such a big ship!"

Dad wanted to be a captain and built a boat once in his mother-in-law's yard.

Dad (with mom) by the outline of the 60' boat he eventually built.

Dad (with mom) on another boat (30') he fiberglassed.

His heart was always stuck between Greece and America, never quite settled in either.

Dad in Greece at Meteora, 1993.

He brought us to Greece for three months every summer from 1984 onward so we would know our family. We not only got to experience a foreign culture, but we gained additional loving family. When I (Eleni) wanted to move to Greece, Dad obliged and we lived in Thessaloniki for a year while I attended the American school in Panorama.

Dad with Laki in Athens.

Dad with Laki in the town of Kala Nera.

Dad taught us the value of hard work by putting us to use at his many restaurants scraping grease, operating cash registers, distributing coupons, and topping pizzas. He worked seven days a week usually, often 12 hour days.

But he knew how to have fun too. He loved backgammon, conversation, and cards. His stories kept friends laughing and he was the Ms. PacMan champion. He was deeply interested in philosophy (particularly the ancient Greeks, as you might guess). Yet he could make the lightest of topics philosophical or instructional. In his unpublished memoir, he observed the following about playing Ms. PacMan,

"When I played during the day, I would score over 100,000 points.
At night after a few drinks, I would rarely score even 10,000 to get one bonus 'man.'
I got very impressed by that finding. Ms. Pac-man is a game of reaction,
and alcohol slows down your reaction. So...don't drink and drive!
But you can drink and play Ms. Pac-man...hoping to get the bonus man!"

The last time he spoke with me (Eleni) he asked me to send him recipes for tarter sauce. Though he was 70, he was planning on opening another restaurant, returning to America. He also told me he'd call every day of my tour to ensure I didn't get swine flu.

Dad with Laki and I on Christmas Eve, 2004, Seattle.

The last time he and Laki spoke he told him how many minutes he had left on his cell phone. Laki says, "It was not just the trips and restaurants that I remember, but the encouragement and support that he gave me in everything I did. Even when I entered the Marine Corps, which is something that he didn't approve of, he supported me and was proud of what I had accomplished. I cannot believe that I will never be able to see him or speak with him again, and I will miss him with all of my heart."

The smell of pizza and cigarettes bring back our childhood. We just want them to bring back our dad. We miss you and it's not real.

Thank you for the adventure and love you brought to our world and life. We love you Daddio.

Dad and Mom, Laki, and I, 1976, Seattle.

Dad at his property in Greece, 2004, making fun of my sunglasses in this "Hollywood" shot.

Dad with his sister Katie in Greece, 2008.

Dad is survived by his two kids, two grandchildren, six siblings, and many other loving relatives and friends. To contact us about him, or share any stories you have, feel free to write Eleni at porchlifeproductions AT gmail.com.