Spies, Bones & Pancakes: The Battle of Fishkill

When Domenic Broccoli set out to expand his IHOP empire to upstate New York, he didn't expect to find a grave site-or start a war.

- REEVES WIEDEMAN

DOMENIC BROCCOLI, the IHOP kingpin of the Bronx, lives a good life. He drives a nice car, spends time with his six grandkids, and golfs often enough to have a tan for most of the year. He owns a four-bedroom home in Pelham Manor, a house upstate, and IHOPS throughout the borough where he grew up, each of which runs smoothly enough to give Broccoli the time and resources to devote himself, at the age of 66, to the animating force in his life: destroying his enemies. This mission came as a surprise to Broccoli, who had little reason to expect that trying to expand his pancake empire into upstate New York and to build his grandest IHOP yet-would lead to such conflict. But sometimes that's what happens when you find a dead body.

On Memorial Day, Broccoli drove to his property in Fishkill, where a crowd was gathering to protest his planned development. These were the Friends of the Fishkill Supply Depot, a nonprofit organization dedicated to preserving the town's Revolutionary War history and, in Broccoli's view, to making his life hell. For more than a decade, the Friends have argued-based on some evidence, but not as much as they would like-that there are more Revolutionary War soldiers buried on Broccoli's land than anywhere else in the United States. Broccoli argues that this is rubbish and accuses his foes with some evidence, but not as much as he would like-of going so far as to plant human remains on his lot in their effort to make it seem more grave-stuffed than it actually is.