Armonde Patullo

“Hey, whatdoyou care?” If he had a signature line that was it. It turns out, a great many people cared a great deal about Armonde S. Patullo, who died Wednesday morning at the age of 91. Born lucky, the seventh child of Carmine and Carmella Patullo, Armonde grew up in Bound Brook, New Jersey playing Kick the Can and Ringolevio, before a series of boyhood jobs, starting at age nine, including a stint working for the Civilian Conservation Corps. Drafted into the U.S. Army at age 19, he served for two and a half years, in North Africa and Italy during World War II. Part of the invasion force at Anzio, his unit -- the 135th Infantry Regiment of the 34th Infantry Division – drove up the peninsula through Rome, northwards until the end of the war. “I'm coming around [the corner and there’s] the Coliseum. That was really amazing to see, though,” he recalled years later of his wartime service in the Eternal City. “I can remember reading [about] that and seeing pictures of it when I was a kid, in history books... It was really something -- something you never forget.” Forever proud of his military service, Armonde often talked of his days carrying a Thompson submachine gun as a member of the Blue Devils, a “raider platoon” that engaged in night operations behind enemy lines. “We went out at night, to try and get prisoners and find out any information that we could,” he recalled. He earned a Combat Infantryman’s Badge, a Carbine Sharpshooter’s badge, a European-African-Middle-Eastern Service Medal with four Bronze Stars, and a Good Conduct Medal. In the service, he met the late Fred Meucci, a medic in the 34th Infantry Division, who became a lifelong friend. Armonde returned home to the United States where he married the former Vivian Petrozziello in 1946. “I said to her, ‘Well, six months after I'm home, we're going to get married.’ She says, ‘Okay.’ She had everything set and, sure enough, I got home in November, we were married in June. We went on from there,” he recalled years later. Blessed with four daughters, Barbara, Diane and twins Denise and Debra, he raised his family in Middlesex, New Jersey where he was a business owner for more than 45 years. A mechanic by trade, he owned three service stations. “It was always Armonde's,” he said. “I started out, it was Armonde's Shell. Then, the next one was Armonde's Sinclair, and then, the other one's Armonde's Mobil. I had the three of them [after] I come home.” Armonde and Vivian enjoyed traveling, taking trips to Atlantic City, New Jersey and Las Vegas, Nevada, as well as a cruise to Bermuda and many Army reunions. He fondly remembered taking his family to Italy in 1972, where he and Vivian visited their ancestral homes. “The kids had a great time there,” he recalled decades later. His daughter Barbara agreed. “He was so happy to take his whole family there – his children, his wife, his mother-in-law,” she added. “He was adventurous and wanted to see…” his daughter Diane recalled. “Every place he served in the war,” said daughter Denise, finishing the thought. For many years, Armonde was a member of bowling leagues at Manville Lanes in Manville, New Jersey and through this spring of 2015 was bowling alongside men half his age at Strike and Spare in Greenbrook, New Jersey. A member of the Elks, the American Legion, and the Veterans of Foreign Wars during the 1950s, 1960s, and 1970s, he and Vivian attended many banquets, dinners, and charity balls. After Vivian’s death in 1987, his companion was Marion Reim of Piscataway, New Jersey. They spent 26 happy years together, frequently traveling to Atlantic City and the Pocono Mountains of Pennsylvania. Survivors include his four daughters – Barbara Turse of Bound Brook, New Jersey; Diane Blaney of Flemington, New Jersey; Debra MacDonald of Flemington, and Denise Yannuzzi also of Bound Brook; grandchildren Dana Blaney, Nick Turse, Christopher Yannuzzi, and Michael Yannuzzi; Marion Reim; her children Denise Mignon and Darlene Daley; and their children Matthew and Kristen Mignon and Devin Daley. Armonde reveled in the accomplishments of his grandchildren, frequently recounting their educational attainments, jobs, and work ethic. He considered Nick’s wife, Tamara, to be his fifth grandchild. Armonde Patullo was a man of simple pleasures. Daughter Debra recalled the many hours he spent sitting in her backyard, admiring the tree line, keeping an eye out for deer and fox. At family gatherings, he was the star. “The party didn’t start until Grandpop arrived,” his granddaughter Dana remembered of holidays. “Everybody was coming to hang out with him.” Armonde enjoyed playing the lottery and long road trips. To say he was a skilled mechanic would be an understatement. “He had an intuitive, almost instinctual ability to diagnose the problem with a car based on only the barest description,” said his son-in-law, Tony Turse, who worked alongside him for years. “As far as diagnostics by ear – his abilities were uncanny. What he thought it was, it always turned out to be.” But Armonde’s real skill was people. “Give him five minutes with someone and he’d have their life story. Go anywhere with the man and it was like being with a local celebrity. He had friends everywhere and seemed to know everyone. He was naturally charming and disarming and people warmed to him because of it,” said his grandson Nick. Armonde will be deeply missed by friends and mourned by his family. Days will be dimmer without him. Those who loved Armonde can take solace in the fact that, to the end, he was adamant that he had no regrets. Looking back on his life at the time of his 91st birthday, he summed things up succinctly: “I wouldn't change anything I done, really.”