Annamaria Getman, the granddaughter of original owners Tony and Ann Privitera, is serving the old recipes with her husband, Paul, at the new Tony & Ann's Pizza on Broadway Road in Dracut. SUN / TORY GERMANN

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Ah, Tony & Ann's. Love it or hate it.

Is there a pizza around that elicits such passion and fervor?

The opening of the new Tony & Ann's shop on Broadway Road in Dracut has done more for cardiologists' practices in a month than all the Dunkin' Donuts in Lowell and surrounding areas do in a year.

People have waited in line for hours. Some have placed their orders and been told to come back two hours later to pick them up -- then have to wait another hour after they return. And they don't complain.

Who knew you could miss a pizza this badly?

And the anecdotes are flowing like the grease off a Tony & Ann's slice.

There's the man who didn't feel like waiting in line so he offered another guy who was walking out carrying two pies $50 for both of them. The other guy took the offer. (No matter how good you think Tony & Ann's pizza is, 50 bucks for two pies is a deal that's hard to pass up.)

Then there's the story of the guy who bought four pizzas, saw a member of the armed forces waiting in line and gave all four pies to the guy, just as a way to say thanks. He then got back at the end of the line, but others ahead of him, witnessing the magnanimous gesture, let him go to the front of the line.

You can't buy advertising like that. (Well, actually, you can. Just call 978-458-7100 and ask for advertising.)

I grew up eating Tony & Ann's -- way before Chelmsford cartoonist Lance Wilder put it on The Simpsons. If pizza was on the menu at our house, it was either Tony & Ann's or George's on Broadway in Lowell, another longtime pizza staple of the area that is sorely missed.

Truth be told, as a kid, I always crossed my fingers and hoped Dad was in the mood for George's. It was, in my opinion, the best around when it was around. (Oh, and if you worked at either George's or Tony & Ann's back in the day, my father was "Murphy" because he was sick of having to spell Phelps every time he ordered pizza.)

Back then, I really didn't have a choice in the matter. On some pizza nights, it was either Tony & Ann's or peanut butter and jelly. (Or mayonnaise sandwiches, which I loved as a child. I know, weird, huh?)

And if you eat enough of something, particularly when you're young and impressionable, you can't help but grow to like it. So, yes, I liked Tony & Ann's pizza. I affectionately referred to it -- and still refer to it, though I haven't tried the new store's product -- as "Pizza Soup." It was that greasy. Many's the time you would pick up a piping-hot slice and move it gingerly toward your mouth, only to have the toppings slide right off, most likely onto your shirt or your lap, or have the pointy edge wilt and slap you on the lower lip with a jolt of really hot pizza sauce. You know how most pizzas can burn the roof of your mouth if you're not careful? With Tony & Ann's, you were more likely to be applying ice to your chin.

Will I go into the new shop on Broadway Road in Dracut some day and get a pizza? Well, it's kind of out of the way for me, but if I'm driving by and I'm in the mood for a pizza that the rest of my family won't eat, sure, I'll stop and pick one up.

Honestly, though, I am of the opinion that there is no such thing as a bad pizza. There is only good pizza, really good pizza and George's. And there are enough really good pizzas around -- you won't be disappointed if you try Queen's and Jimmy's Too in the Highlands, for instance, or Brickhouse in Chelmsford and Tyngsboro, or, for that matter, the Gazebo Café right here in the American Textile History Museum -- to dissuade me from making the drive and waiting in line for Tony & Ann's.

Unless I feel a burning need to char my chin.

Dan Phelps' e-mail address is dphelps@lowellsun.com.