Angie Tantillo: A Remembrance… On Monday morning, January 21, Angie Tantillo passed away. At her funeral mass at St. Matthias Church, Paul Kerzner delivered the following eulogy.

Wife, mother, civic leader and friend. For the past eight decades, these four categories defined Angie Tantillo’s life – wife, mother, civic leader and friend. Angie knew me before I knew her. She was at my baby shower in the summer of 1950. She and her husband, John, had taken my mother and father to the Hotel Pennsylvania in Manhattan, on my parents’ wedding night; that was July 27, 1946. Willie Tantillo, Angie’s brother-in-law, use to do homework with my mother, when they went to St. Matthias grammar school, in the 1930’s. So the Tantillo’s and the Kerzner’s go back nearly eighty years.


Angie wanted me to clear everything I said about her in this eulogy. I was beginning to prepare my notes while maintaining a promised vigil over her at the hospital. I was alone with her for awhile before her family came, to say, what would be, their last goodbyes. Angie was drifting in and out of sleep. She asked me what I was doing, as I sat in a chair at the foot of her bed - “Was I writing my testimony for the upcoming City Council budget hearings for Ridgewood’s capital projects for fiscal year ’09?” I said, “No, I am preparing your eulogy.” During this time her voice became more muted, as her life began to ebb away. Angie signaled me over to her bedside with her one finger. In a very soft voice she asked, ”Can I hear what you’ve written about me?” I said, “No, it’s only an outline.” Then she said, ”Don’t say anything bad about me.” I responded, ”Don’t worry. It’s all good. Remember, I’m talking about St. Angelina” (as the Tantillo family often referred to her, for deftly handling her husband, John, over those many years). She smiled. Then she motioned me to come closer, her voice faint. She said, “I don’t want to die.” I said, “I’m here and your family will be here soon, and we’ll all be together.” Another pause, then she said, “I’m scared.” “Don’t be”, I responded. She smiled. She motioned one last time, with her unsteady index finger and whispered, ”One more Oktoberfest.” I replied, “Angie, I wish I could grant you that request, but you’re going to have to work that out with God.” She smiled and went back to sleep.

Throughout the 1950’s and 1960’s, Angie was the typical, dutiful Ridgewood hausfrau doing the laundry, shopping, cleaning and raising her two wonderful children, Johnny and Diane, while husband, John, worked for Pan American Airways. Back then, she was not Angie to me; she was “Mrs. Tantillo”, since Johnny and I played together nearly everyday after school.


It was not until 1972, some thirty-six years ago, when Angie was in her early forties, with her children on their own, that she got into her groove and “Mrs. Tantillo” began her civic career, dedicating the next 36 years to the civic improvement of her adopted community – Ridgewood. Ridgewood in 1972 was being threatened by the spreading blight of Bushwick, and flight out of Ridgewood was very much in vogue.


Angie said she was taking a stand and after joining the Board of the Ridgewood Property Owners, she became committed to do “whatever it takes” to keep Ridgewood strong, and resist the deterioration looming all along our southern border. And work she did. We went to public hearings, sometimes testifying as late as 1:30 A. M. We went to rallies and press conferences; we met with elected officials and civic leaders; we made natural civic alliances. Finally, we became permanent fixtures on our local community board. We did it all and, after nearly four decades of volunteer community work we succeeded - succeeded beyond Angie’s wildest expectations of 1972. Angie took great satisfaction and comfort in this roaring success. Without her Herculean efforts, we would not have achieved this milestone for the Ridgewood community.


During these 36 years, Angie rose through the ranks of RPOCA as Board member, vice president and eventually the first female president of the association. She led our organization through some dark times. But she would continually say, “I pray to God all the time, for the strength to do the right thing for Ridgewood.” And, with the help of Divine Providence, and a little help from her friends, Angie always did the right thing.


After several three-year terms as president, she continued to serve as Treasurer and Board member. She volunteered to take on a heavy load of assignments, like the fight against the City Council’s redistricting of Ridgewood. She worked hard on the Oktoberfest. She was, as I mentioned earlier, looking forward to this year’s fest. But it was not meant to be. Angie was Ridgewood’s “ambassador of goodwill.” She was a natural charmer; she went on missions to convince public officials that her positions, on behalf of Ridgewood, were correct and worthy of their support. More often than not, she was successful. She was our secret weapon. And if Angie couldn’t charm, she’d wear the other side down until it capitulated. I’m glad I was always on her side. I would not ever want to be her enemy.


Angie never shied away from a good fight, if it was to protect the neighborhood she loved. She was a Williamsburg native. She and I visited her still standing old homestead on Leonard Street not too long ago. As a young girl her family moved to Richmond Hill and then as a young bride, Ridgewood became her adopted home for the rest of her life.

One of Angie’s favorite beverages – black coffee with real whipped cream. Angie’s favorite food – anything. Angie was always trying to help someone in need – whether they wanted help or not. Here’s one example. It was early spring in 1983, the one-hundredth anniversary of the Brooklyn Bridge. A group of property owners organized a walk across the bridge from Manhattan to Brooklyn. It was typical spring weather: nippy and requiring a light overcoat. So there we were, about thirty people, walking across the bridge, when Angie spots a young woman by herself coming toward us from the Brooklyn side. And as Angie sees it, this woman is in a “family way.” As Angie defined it, “she’s dropping” and could have the baby right on the bridge. She decide we had to stop this pregnant woman and offer her my, not her, services. I said to Angie, ”Tu puende il fuoco con la mia mane.” Translation: “You’re picking up fire with my hands not yours.” Angie was unimpressed by both my Italian and my plea not to pry into this woman’s private life. So Angie stops the thirty of us and the woman in the middle of the bridge. She says to the woman, ”Excuse me young lady, I see you’re in a family way, you’re dropping. Do you need us to assist you?” With that, the woman tore open her long spring coat and indignantly said, ”Lady! I’m not pregnant. This is my camera under my coat.” Angie turned around, slightly mortified, and proclaimed, “Let’s go to Junior’s for some pastrami and cheesecake.” It was the best decision she made that day.


Angie loved her families – both her biological and community family. She had time for everyone and was generally interested in everyone’s welfare (whether you had a camera under your coat or not). She was a super salesman for Ridgewood, because she believed in her product.


Angie always gave good advice, whether one asked for it or not. She loved a good challenge and was ready to tackle any project, if it was good for Ridgewood. I never, ever, heard Angie say, ”I can’t do it” or “It won’t work.” She was a “can’-do” person and civic leader. She loved life and was mentally geared up, as late as her last moments, to tackle another Oktoberfest.

For the past month, her kitchen light has been off when I go to bed. You see for years, before I close my table lamp on my night table, I would invariably look out the bedroom window and say to Maryellen, ”Angie’s still up, burning the midnight oil, working on one of our community projects.” Sometimes I would phone her at that moment to see exactly what she was doing, and most of the time, my guess was correct. I always felt a little better going to bed, knowing that Angie was on the case, working later than myself.


Her kitchen light in the wee-hours of the morning had been a lighthouse, shining out into a metaphorical evening of darkness. That light is now off.


I will miss her wise counsel, cheery disposition, determination, conscientiousness, hard work, and especially her presence at this year’s Oktoberfest.


Mrs. Tantillo, thanks for being a wonderful Ridgewood mom. Angie, thanks for becoming a great community leader.