The Essays of Sam Person
After Forty-Eight Years
.....By Samuel Person
February 26, 2000
Have you ever wondered where the people you grew up with are? Over the years, names that I associate with my youth, including people I knew in college and the military, would occasionally, and for no apparent reason, pop in and out of my mind. I would think about the faces that go with the names for a moment or two, and generally my thoughts ended there.
In the days before the arrival of the Internet, finding people you had lost track of often required efforts reminiscent of that old radio show, "Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons." While the Internet is a marvelous tool, it has not really helped, perhaps because I had essentially lost interest in hunting people down anyway. Once or twice I surfed around and was able to find a name from the past, but had no reason to want to dig further. I suppose that when a tie is severed, it is best to leave things be.
One day about four months ago, my wife was logged on to the Internet and was reading some email messages. As I walked past the desk she was sitting at, she asked "Does the name Pagone mean anything to you?" Replying, "Who the devil is Pagone?" I kept walking, and after taking two or three steps, it hit me. The name shot through my brain and I did a double take.
"Pagone, Mike Pagone?" I inquired. "Sure, I remember that name. I believe that I was in the Air Force with him." I was anxious to know what was the reason for the question. My wife could hardly have known Mike Pagone; in our forty-six years of marriage I had never given him any thought. He was a memory that I had left behind upon my separation from the Air Force in September 1952. Now, after forty-eight years (with apologies to O. Henry for borrowing from the title of his classic story "After Twenty Years"), Mike Pagone was about to resurface.
My wife gave me a quick summary of the facts that led her to invoke the name of Mike Pagone and send me back in time. I was about to learn that it all began with an email message that she had received based on a rather unlikely series of events.
Before hearing the details of this chance encounter, my thoughts drifted back over the years to 1950. Mike and I had been "one year enlistees" in the Air Force, a program instituted during the administration of Harry S. Truman. President Truman believed in Universal Military Training for all eighteen-year-olds. The Congress never enacted the plan, and an experimental program of one-year of active duty in any of the various service branches (to be followed by six years of duty in the active reserves) was put into place by Executive Order.
After serving our one-year "tour," we were assigned to an Air Force Reserve unit based at Floyd Bennett Naval Air Station in Brooklyn, New York, our home. There we got to know each other. In June 1950, the Korean War broke out and our unit was recalled to active duty. We were to be sworn into active service on May 1, 1951.
Just prior to our recall, Mike became the proud owner of a 1951 Mercury automobile, which was a beautiful two door coupe, and as memory allows, a "hot" car in its time. Living in Brooklyn, one did not need a car to get around, and few of my generation owned them. Not only couldn't I afford a car at the time, I couldn't even drive. The fact that Mike had a car intrigued me when it developed that we were to be assigned to MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa, Florida. My older brother and his family lived in nearby St. Petersburg, and I envisioned making many social contacts through him, which of course would require access to a car. After all, Tampa/St. Petersburg was not the big city we hailed from, and getting around with public transportation was going to be difficult.
It seemed to make sense, therefore, to latch on to Mike; so much the better to have wheels, I thought. This is not to say that there were not other reasons; Mike was a very likeable guy. I pondered as to how I could create a working relationship with Mike. It occurred to me that with my brother's contacts in St. Petersburg, I might be able to arrange an introduction to a young lady that Mike would hit it off with. If this could be done, I would have a mode of transportation to and from Tampa.
On the day we assembled at Floyd Bennett Field in the spring of 1951 for physical exams prior to going on active duty, I approached Mike and told him that I had a brother living near Tampa, and we had a "knockout" girl to introduce him to. Mike was somewhat interested, and I needed then to proceed with my plan (and find such a young lady, I might add). I made contact with my brother, who had no idea that he had been become part of my conspiracy. I told my brother that I was coming down to MacDill with a buddy, and wondered if he could introduce Mike to a young lady he might know of. Of course, not only was he to find a young lady for Mike to meet, but it would be nice if he was to introduce his younger brother (me) around. Fact is, in looking back, when I think of the nerve I must have had in concocting this scheme, I shudder.
Upon hearing my question, my brother Joe responded, "Mike Pagone sounds like an Italian name, so I will have to see if I can find a young lady of Italian background." Brother Joe made inquiry, and through a friend of his wife's, learned of an absolute beauty who met the "qualifications," and yes, she was interested in meeting Mike. In fact, to facilitate the introduction, she provided a picture of herself. The picture was one of Mike's date-to-be sitting on the beach with a friend, who was to be my date. According to my brother, from looking at the picture, it was patently clear that Mary Lou Esposito, who was to be Mike's date, was a beauty. The friend was not bad either.
At our next reserve meeting, I spoke with Mike again, and told him that I had somebody for him to meet. I would be flying to Tampa, and Mike was driving his 1951 Mercury, which of course was the impetus for contacting my brother to begin with. According to my plan, upon Mike's arrival two days after mine, we would scoot over to St. Petersburg for him to meet the young lady. All seemed right with the world, and I looked forward to a busy social life, provided of course, that Air Force duties did not intervene. But, being young and silly, the latter was not a serious concern.
As soon as I arrived in Tampa, I headed to my brother's, received the picture, and arranged a date for the four of us (Mike, Mary Lou, her friend, and me) to meet. I took the picture for Mike to see, having no doubt that my mission was accomplished and that Mary Lou was everything I had blindly hoped for.
Two days later, Mike arrived at MacDill in the evening after a long drive from New York. I rushed to meet him with the news that we had a date in St. Petersburg, and advised him to hurry, as it was getting late. He protested, saying, "But I just arrived, and I need to check out my bedding and get settled." Then I showed him the picture. Mike responded that "I will shower and we are on our way."
Events moved rather quickly after that introduction in May 1951. Right from the start, Mike and Mary Lou became an "item," as they say. Mike's stroke of luck was good. For me, however, it was bad, since I shortly fell by the wayside, and my dreams of cheap transportation were shattered. In due course, Mike and I were assigned to different units on the base, and we sort of drifted apart. Nevertheless, I was present at their wedding in 1952 (after all, I had been the matchmaker, so to speak). I was released from active duty in September 1952, while Mike was to continue in uniform for six months thereafter.
Ironically, perhaps, I cannot recall Mary Lou's friend who joined us that first night. And I never did get to own a car while I was at MacDill Air Force Base in Tampa. My transportation was at the whim of other airmen or successful use of my thumb. I tried to promote my brother into lending me the money to buy a car, but he wouldn't go for it. I suspect that I was also becoming underfoot in St. Petersburg by virtue of being there every time he looked up.
With these recollections behind me, I mentally sorted through the circumstances leading to the email message that brought Mike Pagone back into my life, as best as they could be established after contacting my nephew. It seems that Mike and Mary Lou Pagone (who had retired to St. Petersburg) were attending a luncheon at MacDill Air Force base in November 1999. Mike had stayed in the Air Force Reserve for twenty-six years, long enough to retire and be entitled to privileges such as using military installation facilities to dine, shop, and what have you.
By great coincidence, at the luncheon in question, the Pagones were sitting at the same table with people who had lived in St. Petersburg and had known my brother and his wife (both of whom were deceased). During the course of conversation, Mike mentioned that he was from Brooklyn, and had been stationed at MacDill during the Korean War.
One of the people sitting with Mike and Mary Lou suddenly recalled that my brother had a brother, also from Brooklyn, who was stationed at MacDill during the Korean War; yours truly, of course. Mike asked, "Do you happen to know his name?" Lo and behold, they did, and my name was brought up. I have been given to understand that Mike and Mary Lou immediately reacted with glee and enthusiasm over this return to memories of a happy past.
The Pagones' phone number was given to my late brother's acquaintances, who relayed it to my brother's son (my nephew). My wife and I have separate email addresses, and my nephew emailed the phone number to my wife (presumably because he had her email address, but not mine).
I immediately called Mike and Mary Lou, and we had a marvelous time on the telephone. We agreed to meet mid-way between St. Petersburg, and Bonita Springs, Florida, where my wife and I reside for seven months of the year. Our meeting took place in February 2000 in Venice, Florida.
As we pulled up to the appointed meeting place, I recognized them immediately, and for an instant, it was 1952 at MacDill Air Force Base. In reality, of course, we had all changed physically. We spent a delightful afternoon recalling the days of our youth, and how it came to pass that Mike and Mary Lou met. I imagine that Mike and I did what friends who have not met for forty-eight years do; we searched our minds to recall people associated with our days together at MacDill. Names were mentioned; some we recalled, most drew blanks from one of us. Incidents that returned to our memory, happy and otherwise, were discussed. My wife, Joan, and the Pagones became acquainted.
Needless to say, we updated each other on the paths we took after our Air Force service. I think that we both have had successful careers and meaningful lives. Certainly, there were no complaints from any of us.
As the afternoon drew to a close, there was a rather unexpected and exceedingly memorable moment. Mike Pagone reached into a folder he had brought with him and pulled out two items. One was a picture of the Pagones cutting their wedding cake in 1952, with me standing in the background. The other was the very picture that was given to my brother to give to me to show to Mike; the picture that set Mike Pagone and Mary Lou Esposito off on their life together.
