A Tribute to Ernest Nardone

This Post is a Tribute to Ernest Nardone who passed away recently, and was written by Gerard A. Nardone (Son of Peter), for the benefit of Ernie's family. It is in the form of a collection of recollections or anecdotes about the life that they had together as "next door cousins" growing up. It is a touching reflection on the good life that existed during the days following the Great Depression, and is proof that life can be, and is, a wonderful experience. This is especially true if we are able to (and allow ourselves) make a friend for life - as is expressed in this most wonderful Tribute to a Friend. Here is Gerard's text:
15 February 2006


To Ernie's family:

I want to extend my very deepest condolences for your great loss. I also want to thank you for keeping me informed about Ernie's condition, I know that my questions were even harder to answer than they were to ask. Then I want also to say how it saddened me not to be able to be there to try to give you some comfort while you endured those difficult days.

However, I thought it might be of some little comfort to you if I told you a little about Ernie's early years and the loving relationship he and I had even before you knew him. It is not my intention to bring a tear, but perhaps a chuckle or two.

Ernie and I were close even before we met. We were born next door to each other toward the end of 1922, Ernie a couple of weeks earlier than I. We were Christened at the same time with his parents as my Godparents and mine as his. The Christening took place early in the summer of 1923 and our parents were quite upset by Fr. Bruno's snide remark, "What took you so long? Were you waiting for them to walk here by themselves?" My mother never got over that.
Mammanonna, who never learned very much English, lived upstairs in Ernie’s house with the Antoninos and we must have spent some time there as our first language was Italian, albeit Mirabellanese. Our households were bi-lingual as our parents were still learning English so our converstions were a mixture of both. We still use some Italian words that are not translatable, but I think you know that.
We played in the yard as little boys and we both remembered the time I was trimming the grass at the edge of the sidewalk with a small axe when Ernie knelt down near to watch and I accidentally cut his knee. I never forgave myself, but in 83 years we never hurt each other again. We also played "down the bank." Behind our houses was a sizeable area where Uncle Sam was excavating gravel to make concrete and his men dug almost to the edge of the lot leaving a narrow grassy strip where we clambered to the top so we could slide down the gravelly slope. This tore large holes in our clothes which our mothers didn't enjoy very much. But all the cousins would gather "down the bank" for our fun games. We would play "Tip-the-finger" where one kid (whoever was "it")would cover his eyes and lean against the barn holding his index finger out behind him. Someone would touch the finger and the one who was "it" would guess who touched him. If he guessed correctly, he would now be "it," if not, everyone would go and hide and the kid who was "it" had to go and find them. A variation of this game was "Kick the can" where we'd place an empty tin can in the middle of a circle while everyone would go hide. Whoever was "it" had to go find everyone and if someone sneaked in and kicked the can out of the circle all those already caught would go free and go and hide again. All went well until someone who was "it"( Cheech Antonino, I think) had the brilliant idea to pee in the can when nobody was looking and the next guy to kick the can got a very unpleasant surprise.
When we were old enough to be allowed to cross the street, we played in the ballfield and at the playground. All the cousins would get together, choose up sides and play baseball or football or Red Rover which was a variation of "Tag" where one kid stood in the center of the field and all the rest ran from one end of the field to the other while the kid who was “it” tried to touch a runner. Those he couldn’t catch then ran the other way the entire length of the field again. This is probably where Ernie developed his running ability because he was the most difficult to catch. On warm summer nights we’d amuse ourselves by seeing how many times we could run around the house, Ernie’s house. Ernie would always run more turns than anybody. During these days we went from roller skates (the clamp-on kind) to scooters and finally to bicycles. Ernie inherited an old bike from his brother (who had bought it from cousin Leo) and I had one that I had bought second-hand for 3 dollars. Mine had a bent fork so to ride “no-hands” I had to lean to the right. These were depression days and our toys weren’t expensive ones, but we were very happy with what we had.
It was during these days that our “bonding” became very strong. Ernie and I were hardly ever out of each other’s shadow, so to speak. Everywhere we went, we went together. We had a counter-pair of closely bonded buddies, too. Henry and Leo. For many years we thought they were cousins like we were, but we found out much later that Henry was Leo’s Uncle! Leo Cardinal was the son of one of Henry’s older sisters. Henry and Leo went to Parochial School where they had classes in religion, but Ernie and I went to Public School so we had to go to Catechism classes after school for First Communion and Confirmation. First Communion wasn’t a problem, but we went to classes for confirmation for two years because the Bishop came down to Westerly from Providence to do confirmations only every two years. Worse yet, when our time came to be confirmed, we were told that we couldn’t be confirmed because we wouldn’t be twelve years old (a requirement) at confirmation time since we started school early. So, we had to go to catechism classes ANOTHER two years! We were so quick with the answers the second time around that the sisters figured we were really eager-beavers and thought that we should become priests! I don’t know how Ernie felt about it, but for me, NO WAY!
Ernie was always a very pious Catholic, he encouraged me to go to Mass every Sunday, he dragged me to May Devotions, the Missions and to confession every month. He was never without his Rosary Beads and he had very definite opinions of the difference between right and wrong. That strength had a very strong influence on my life. I now know the benefits of strong friendships among young people and how that can structure your lives.
As we were growing, the older kids would play their own games and tried to keep us younger kids out of their games. Ernie's older brother Girard was buddies with Ralph and Mike Antonino, while Girard Antonino and Girard (Sabino) teamed up with Ernie and me and we tried to interfere with their games. We would all join ranks, however, when the fruit was ripe, or close to ripe. Adeline had a pear tree and an apple tree that bore real sweet fruit, but Mr. Chase had a couple of cherry trees in his back yard and one of them produced the sweetest cherries we ever tasted. Cheech Antonino climbed the highest, one Sunday night, and filled his shirt with a big load of ripe cherries. We were having a ball when Mr. Chase heard us and came out to chase us away. Most of us got away, but Cheech tried to clamber down quickly but slipped and fell as he hit the ground crushing most of the ripe fruit inside his Sunday shirt. I don't think his mother ever got all the red out.
Uncle Tony had been a bricklayer and stone mason working for his brother, Sam, until his doctor found a heart murmer and advised him to find lighter work. That was around 1928 or 9 so Uncle Tony and Aunt Rose built and ran a grocery store and filling station on the sharp corner of High Street at the foot of Nooseneck Hill. That corner used to be called, “Dead Man’s Corner” because cars would come speeding down the hill and go crashing over the wall at that corner. No telling how many lives were saved by that store being there. We were always afraid that someone would come crashing into the store, but nobody ever did.
We weren't six yet when we started school at the Pleasant Street School, but we were assigned to different teachers. First grade was in the afternoon and second grade was in the morning. It must have been around this time that we discovered that everybody in the world weren't our cousins! We lived in what came to be known as "Nardone Alley" on High Street where we were all cousins, I thought that everybody in the world was a cousin. Besides that, there was a Gerard (or Girard) in every house and if Ernie had been the first son instead of the second he’d be a Girard, too, I don't know what we'd call each other. Maybe we’d use our middle names—then we’d be Frank and Alfonse! Whew! I always felt that Ernie was kind of lucky to have a name all his own because there were so many Gerards. Most of the Gerards even had the same nickname, Cheech, because our grandfather after whom we were all named had that nickname ( he was called Gerardo Mastro Ciccio). I don't know how my nickname got to be "Sonny" but I tried not to let on that I hated it. Ernie's sister, Mary, still calls me Sonny, Bless her heart.
When we were about ten we thought it was time to find out what smoking was all about. We tried dried corn silk wrapped in newspaper, but that wasn’t very good so Ernie would “liberate” cigarettes from the store and we’d go down the bank to smoke. We stood some planks against the concrete wall to construct a kind of teepee as a hid-a-way to do our smoking. There were four or five of us, Ernie and I and a couple of Antonino brothers. We soon realized that we had more cigarettes than we needed, but Ernie couldn’t bring them back and we didn’t want to throw them away, so we lined them up across our mouths and lit them all just to get rid of them, I think Cheech Antonino had six. Well, we threw up such a huge smokescreen that my father thought the place was on fire so he showed up with two buckets of water to put the fire out! When he saw what we were doing, well, do you know what a “conniption” is? We scattered and I ran home and hid behind my mother’s skirt to avoid the whipping I was sure to get. We didn’t smoke again for a very long time.
For third, fourth and fifth grades we went to the High Street School. We finally got into the same classroom at the sixth grade when we were sent to Elm Street School. It was a good long walk from 168 High Street but for the first few weeks we walked home for lunch! Ernie didn't mind, he was always slim and athletic while I was a bit chubby and I could hardly keep up. After a while we brought our lunch to school. A standard lunch consisted of four sandwiches, a piece of pie or cake, a piece of fruit and a pint thermos of milk. We'd always swap a sandwich or two for variety. Aunt Rose made the most delicious banana sandwiches but Ernie graciously gave one up. At that time The Frisbee Company made these little pies, they were about 3 inches in diameter, just right for lunch. I wish they still made them.
After sixth grade we went to Junior High School, it was where we got to meet all the kids from other schools, including Quarry Hill School. In that group was a gorgeous Classic Italian Beauty with jet-black hair and she was a real good singer, too! I think her name was Alice Giannoni, or something like that. With so many Italians in Westerly there was never a problem getting people for Glee Club or Chorus and we joined both. When the High School put on Handel’s Messiah they needed a few more tenors so they canvassed the Junior High for volunteers so Ernie and I went. We had a great time with the older kids, made us feel somewhat more grown up.
Then we went to the new High School. We were in the first class to go through all three years in the new school. Ernie would pop out of his house exactly on time and call my name and we’d go off to school. By the time we graduated, we were among the very few who had gone three years of high school without ever missing a day or being late! I never would have accomplished that without Ernie.
High school was really fun, we enjoyed every minute of it. We did our homework at the store in the show room on Uncle Tony’s side. We helped each other with problems while Uncle Tony rocked in his chair. Whenever we could, we’d go to a movie together, first at the old Lyric Theater on the old bridge, then to the Central Theater “on the other side of the river” then to the United where Henry and Leo were ushers. Until we were 12 we paid a dime, then after that it was a quarter. We loved sports, but since we lived across the street from the ballfield where our mothers could see the ambulance go by during football games, neither of us could get their signatures on the permission slip to play football so we went out for soccer and track. They didn’t know that soccer was almost as brutal as football. Ernie also ran on the track team and since I couldn’t run very fast, I threw things like the javelin and discus. I’ve heard from others, and I’ve learned for myself, that “Home” is where you went to High School.
We graduated together with Henry and Albert Moscaritolo (another cousin) in June of 1940. I still have a picture somewhere of the four of us in our graduation gowns smoking cigars on the front steps of the school. The war in Europe had been going on for 2 years already, but we didn’t pay all that much attention to it. President Roosevelt had promised that “No American boy would be sent to fight in a war overseas,” and we believed him.
With all his outgoing personality and gregariousness, Ernie was a very private person. He kept certain of his personal affairs to himself. I never knew he ever thought about becoming a Dentist! He went off to Providence College and I went to Tufts. Ernie came with us when my family delivered me to the dormitory where I’d been assigned. Saying goodby and watching them drive off was a very sad day in my life. It would have been much sadder if I had realized that the buddy-buddy days with Ernie were over. The Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn of Westerly had grown up. We weren’t the kind of guys who wrote letters and we hardly ever did, but the joy of seeing each other never diminished.
I’d go home to Westerly every 3rd week or so and when I did I’d sometimes take the train with Ernie on Monday morning. He always took the 5:19 out of Westerly and it seemed like a gift when it was changed to the 5:29! Wow! That was early! Ernie did that every day and I’d miss my guess if I thought he ever missed a day!
Ernie went to Dental School in Baltimore before I finished college. He stayed with a Mrs. B. Miller, I think. In February of 1944 I graduated and applied for a commission in the Navy and off I went to the Aleutian Islands. Ernie served in the Army a bit later, but we kind of lost touch there for a while. During the war my family moved to New York. My dad had to give up his business since all the carpenters were either gone to war or working in defense plants and there was no materials for building houses anyway. He was too proud to take a menial job in Westerly. Anyway, when I got out of the Navy I went to New York to live. In those days it was no disgrace for a 24 year-old to live with his parents. Matter of fact, it was a disgrace NOT to.
Ernie and I visited occasionally and when Ernie came to New York, he introduced me to a Dentist friend he met in Baltimore who lived near us. His name was Ralph Menichino. Ernie introduced us to the entire Menichino family. Ralph’s brother, John, was in the same business as me (Construction, of course) so we became good friends.
I attended Ernie and Alice’s wedding in 1949. Phil and I were engaged at the time but it was unheard of for non-married people to travel together, so I went alone. It was a beautiful wedding and Alice made a really beautiful bride. I was a bit upset, though, when some of the guests went into another room to listen to a World Series baseball game.
Ernie and Alice came to our wedding in 1950 and we’ve been visiting back and forth ever since. When Phil had her colon cancer operation, they brought a cooler- full of lobsters! We’ll never forget that and all the other things we’ve done together. Every day I use a silver jigger to pour my scotch, it’s in the shape of a thimble. Every day I hang my coat on a wooden hangar that’s one of six in a gift from Ernie and Alice. We cherish the memories of the visits we enjoyed together in Whitestone, Westbury and here in Knoxville and there on High Street, Champion Street and Shelter Harbor. I can’t forget the graciousness extended to us when my father died nor the sadness of Uncle Tony’s death just one week later. Our house and our lives are filled with the memories of more than 80 years of love and friendship that cannot be matched by anyone, anywhere.

With much love,
Gerard (Sonny)