Life in the Ville by Jimmy Del Ponte

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My dad once called Fort Devans and claimed to be an alderman from Somerville. They gave us a VIP tour of the base complete with lunch, and an official car and driver to show us around. My dad will be gone 20 years this November but I have tons of hilarious memories of him. After reading the previous statement, one might say that “the nut doesn’t fall far from the tree.” No, it doesn’t.

Ferdinando “Fred” Del Ponte was born on October 5, 1920 at 51 Elmwood Street off of Holland. He was born IN the house. There is a beautiful sign that designates the area in front of that house (still in the family) as Del Ponte Square to honor dad, my grandpa and my uncle who served in World War I, World War II and Korea respectively.

Fred then walked up that hill, all the way to the corner and attended Western Junior High School, as I did years later. I loved his stories about riding the trolleys around Somerville as a kid. He was an usher at The Somerville Theatre, just like me, and my son. He graduated from Somerville High School in 1938. The message under his yearbook picture read, “I have yet to reach the height of my greatness.” Well, he certainly reached the height of his greatness as a father.

Ferdinando “Fred” Del Ponte

Dad bought me a really cool old acoustic guitar from a guy at Pat Connelly’s bar in Davis Square and paid for my guitar lessons. At one point he actually bought himself a guitar and took lessons with me. How cool was that? He was very strict and hardly ever let his stern side down yet he was also caring, comical and nurturing. He became a scoutmaster when my brother and I joined Troop 71. At a week long summer camp he picked up the nickname “Ferd.” He hated it. So, of course, I was Ferd Junior and my brother was little Ferd. We didn’t really like it either but we just sucked it up.

Dad had a walking stick made out of a branch he found and the other kids called it his “Fernando stick.” They used to hide it from him. Dad jokingly came up with nicknames of his own for two of the biggest trouble makers although deep down he really liked “bulb nose” and “frying pan head.”

Dad had the same job as the steam plant engineer at WR Grace near Alewife Brook Parkway for 38 years. He was the guy who blew the curfew whistle at 9 p.m. every night. Every so often he would toot it twice as a joke. He used to take us into the plant and I remember carefully walking over channels and ravines of flowing, glowing phosphorescent sludge. The trash barrels that I rolled out every Sunday night were actually empty chemical containers. Yikes! When he was stationed in Italy during World War II, dad graciously shared some of Uncle Sam’s surplus supplies with the townspeople from our ancestors’ village. What a guy.

One of his favorite stories was about Frank Sinatra. It seems that Old Blue Eyes was doing a USO show and for some reason he ticked off some of my father’s fellow platoon members. Well, Dad was in charge of putting the entertainers on the plane and somehow Frank was bumped from the flight. That will teach him to mess around with a kid from Somerville! Dad also did watch repair at home. We still have a couple of St Clements’ nun’s watches in the cellar. Before becoming a Mason, dad was an usher at St. Clements church. I think it was the free breakfasts at the Rectory that sealed that deal.

One of Dad’s favorite lines was, “You tell them you daddy said so.” And that summed up Fred Del Pontes’ life. Everything he did was for his family. He stuck up for his three kids ferociously. When my sister unexpectedly passed away in 1992, he went to court and fought for custody of his granddaughter and won. They were best pals and he took care of her the way he took care of her mother.

He held court at The Supreme Deli, formerly in Davis Square where the Indian restaurant is now. While his dog “Poopsie” waited patiently in the car, he entertained his friends with his boisterous comments and wisecracking observations.

Lots of us will be celebrating Father’s Day without our dads but we will never forget these guys. We will tell our kids stories about them, and show them photos. Sometimes when I am talking to my kids, I hear my dad’s voice coming out of my mouth. I say things he used to say, and I get a warm feeling. Anyone who ever knew Fred Del Ponte will agree that he was one hell of a guy. And he was one hell of a dad too!