By Paul Carmichael
Joseph DiPasquale, aka Joey D was born November 13, 1935, the elder son of Frank and Jennie (Genco) DiPasquale, and peacefully passed away on March 14, 2023.
He proudly and happily shared with anyone who would listen that he grew up in Kenmore, NY, in a place and time that he thought was ideal. Joe was brought up in a loving home, and had lots of friends. Often he and his friends poured into his house, and Ma, as she was known by everyone, made sure all were well fed. In the warm months he played baseball every minute he could, and in the winter, hockey.
Joe attended St. Paul’s Grammar School, and with his parent’s encouragement (or insistence), Joe went on to Canisius High school. Always an outspoken rebel, after three years Joe and the Jesuits decided that perhaps a change of venue would be for the best, and he happily spent his senior year at Kenmore High School, now Kenmore West. After high school Joe Graduated from The University of Buffalo.
Everyone who new Joe has a story to share, he was that kind of man. He was a character, maybe the last of the many characters who came to Ellicottville in the late 1950’s and 60’s to ski and have fun, changing the nature of this little mill town forever. Joe first came to Ellicottville in 1959, soon after Holiday Valley opened, and became a member of the Ellicottville Ski Club. Joe was the kid in the club, with most of his closest friends being a bit older, and many had served in the armed forces during WWII. Among the members were Edna and Doc Northrup, Corky Kantowski, Roseann and Bob Truckenbrode, Bob and Audrey McNight, Duke Stock, Tony Cassetta, Oliver and Marcy, and Ricky Berrara.
I have spent thousands of hours with Joe over the years, but usually in 3 – 5 minute bursts. Abhorring boredom, he was seldom in one place for long. In any case, it is hard to really know another person. We are all so complex, and do not always share our inner selves openly. To learn more we must share what we know with others, and in turn, learn from them, and in that way create a more accurate picture of the man. The stories that we all have reflect the key attributes of his nature, some obvious, and some not.
I’ll start by saying that Joe loved his family, and he was so proud of them all. So many of the stories he shared were about his father and mother, his Uncle Sam Genco, who fought in Europe in WWII, his daughters Dina and Jennifer, his brother Frank, and Frank’s daughters Dana and Danielle, and of course, his grandchildren. Joe really got a kick out of watching Cecelia, Emmylou, and Coleman Carls and Gigi Barlow grow and develop their own personalities, talents and accomplishments. He laughed when he heard about their little transgressions, probably because he knew they paled in comparison to his own. I deeply admire the parenting and commitment demonstrated by Joe and Judy. Joe used to say, many times, “De fontibus et non disputondum”, meaning the source is beyond dispute, or the apples don’t fall far from the tree.
Joe was a showman. When he stepped out, he was on stage, and he had a costume for every occasion. From pastel suits and saddle shoes to a General Patton Uniform with army boots, Joe came to the party ready to entertain. Who could forget Joe on spoons, playing with local bands in town? On the occasion of his 80th birthday, Dina hosted a beautifully planned and executed party at Holimont. The grandchildren were dressed and ready for the professional photographer that Dina had arranged. Joe’s friends were asked to dress as Joe might on such an occasion, but Joe was not to be outdone. He was way ahead of us all, for he came as a clown! To say that didn’t go over so well might be an understatement. The grandkids were frightened, and Dina was mortified, but Joe . . . he had a great time!
Joe was a Patriot. He was drafted by the Army in 1955 and proudly served two years in the famed 10th Mountain Division in Germany as a tank driver during the very height of the cold War. This was a time when the Iron Curtain kept the populace of Eastern Europe firmly in the grip of Soviet oppression, with little hope of reform or escape. In the Fall of 1956, Joe was among the USA and NATO Forces positioned at the border as the USSR violently crushed the short lived Hungarian Revolution. It was a high stakes and extremely tense affair, with nuclear war or armed conflict between the West and the USSR a real possibility. He had a ring side seat. Thanks Joe.
Later on, Joe helped Gale and me to make our Annual Pearl Harbor Remembrance a wonderful success by identifying and encouraging local WWII veterans to attend and share their special memories. Thanks to Joe, we were made aware of our long unsung local heroes such as Bob Truckenbrode, who flew a TBM Avenger from an aircraft carrier in the Pacific. Bob sank two Japanese ships, including a destroyer, in one sortie. Retired Ellicottville Central School superintendent Dan Siriani shared his experience as a navigator aboard a B-17 bomber. His plane with a crew of ten men was shot down over Schweinfurt, Germany in the infamous Black Thursday raid on the essential ball bearing factories. 60 US bombers and their crews were lost on that day, and 17 others returned to their base so severely damaged they had to be scrapped. Dan was severely wounded, and spent a year and a half in Stalag 17 before being liberated at the end of the war. Thanks Joe.
Joe was also a compassionate caregiver and loyal friend. A short list of those he cared for near the end of their lives include Panje Erickson, Pete Seely, Norm Koch, Junior Lafferty, Dave Collins, Don & Mary Ellen Morrison, his beloved ‘Ma’, and Grace Kell’s big brother, Tommy O’Connor. For each he offered transportation, companionship, shopping, and wellness visits. In the case of Tom, this was especially so, for Joe knew that Tom had served in a bloody, thankless war and carried the memories deep inside. Joe devoted himself to his wellbeing, dropping everything at a moments notice to help with many trips to Veteran’s Hospital, pick something up, or to just spend some time with him. This is only a sample of Joe’s compassion for others, and I am sure others could share more. Thanks Joe.
Joe was athletic and graceful. His time spent on ice rinks growing up prepared him well for roller skates and later, roller blades. There is a photo I once saw of Joe at an Ellicottville Ski Club party. He is dressed in a tuxedo, wearing roller skates, and holding a full glass of beer. The photo captures him in a tight turn, leaning at a steep but fully coordinated angle, with the beer level in his glass. . .not a drop spilled.
Some 20 years ago we flew in my plane to Key West. Deciding that we really needed to explore the Key, I rented a motor scooter, and Joe followed on his roller blades. His grace and skill on blades were a huge hit wherever he went, and surprisingly after that, handsome young men were present wherever we went, and I don’t think he had to buy a drink for two days.
Joe was a poet, and his work has been published in our local press over the years. In them you will find his wit, humor, understanding of the world, and directions for improving it. In fact, he left behind a handwritten book of his original poems, complete with table of contents.
Which brings us to his love of people. He needed their presence and attention. He was attractive to guys and girls alike. I mention two very special fiends. First, the ever devoted and loving Patty Laidlaw who along with his family stayed by Joe’s side until the end. Next, Joe’s dear friend and part-time antagonist, the late Bob McCarthy. Their friendship was unbreakable, but their banter was endless.
Joe’s stories, his comments, his opinions, his antics were often outrageous, but always entertaining. He could enrage, but also disarm with his wit, and he was fearless. Like a little bantam rooster he would stand his ground in the face of overwhelming odds, yet always survive.
As an illustration, I will share one last story that I hope will spark many more from those who knew him. About 10 years ago, Gale and I were staying at her sister’s home in Central Florida. Joe decided to drive down and meet us on his way to Naples. He was driving alone non-stop except for gas, and occasionally called to let us know where he was. Since he didn’t know where we were staying, I suggested that he meet us a local bar I had noticed in town. Gale and I arrived just before Joe, and quickly observed that the place was full of local, middle-aged guys, each resembling Larry The Cable Guy, and they had probably been there most of the day.
To them it was obvious we were Yankees, and one guy was particularly vocal about his opinion of folks who represented the occupying enemy from the North. That’s when Joe came in, and the mouthy guy started on him. It was looking a bit tense, knowing that what Joe said next could restart the War of Northern Aggression. He looked at the de-facto leader and asked, “So, were you born here?” He responded, “No, I was born in Plum Branch, South Carolina.” Joe replied, “Boy, I’ll bet they threw a party when you left”. The howls that followed completely filled the room, and once again, Joe purchased no drinks that night.
So long, my friend, and thanks. You will be missed far more than you ever imagined.