A Eulogy Properly Done - written by a friend for publication in the Tampa Tribune.

Last October, some time after learning about his terminal condition, Johnny T, an old friend of my father's, suggested that my dad and I go with him to Barcelona and the French Riviera, to live the good life the way Johnny liked to do. After decades of saying we would go on an adventure together, we finally did. It was his last trip abroad.

By that time the barrel chested, Cheshire grinned force of a man had lost his hair to cancer treatments, but he remained true to character. One evening, after dinner in Barcelona, we went for a walk down an avenue called Gran de Gracia. Johnny put his giant arm around me and said, “Jason, my maaan! You are a great kid, but you can be too uptight sometimes! You gotta loosen up, my son. Otherwise, it goes bad.”

I write today to celebrate the history and contributions of a heroic Tampa soul, so people will know such a big man once thrived here. His name was John E. Tranquillo (a.k.a. Johnny T and John E. T), and he proved optimism could generate a phenomenal lifetime.

Johnny T came to Tampa in 1956, looking to start fresh. At first, all anybody here knew about the enigmatic 22 year old was that he had grown up in Boston’s Italian North End, then a rough and tumble neighborhood. Nobody really knew whether the ruggedly handsome Johnny had witnessed any criminal activity before arriving here, but this only added to his aura of intrigue. After all, he maintained a wise guy demeanor and was even missing two fingertips.

Friends learned fast that this streetwise and fun-loving Sicilian-American charmer left Boston because he wanted to see what he could do with his life. Over a fifty-year period, he moved from “rags to riches” by applying his strong work ethic to real estate investments and business ventures, including bars and hair salons. Along the way he became like a loyal brother and father to hundreds in Tampa and an icon to those who considered him a friend. He served as mentor, partner, guide and protector.

“Widout friends, you got nuttin’”, Johnny often opined. He could electrify a crowd with smiles and bonhomie, making everyone he talked to feel like the most important person in the world. People effortless gravitated to his walk, heavy Boston accent, and theatrical panache.

Johnny possessed extraordinary communication skills and could find common ground amongst differing points of view. Beneath his tough guy exterior, friends found a gentle spirit who would occasionally send little notes and cards to the people he cared for, just because. He got along with nearly everyone, regardless of race, economic status or cultural background. A republican out of appreciation to Ronald Reagan, Johnny liked most democrats just as much. He was a bar of steel wrapped in velvet.

Gorgeous, sophisticated women surrounded him. Wonderful women loved him.

Probably because of his neighborhood experiences, he remained profoundly concerned about the fate of Tampa’s poor and sick children. From volunteering and raising funds for the Shriners’ Hospital, to spending afternoons teaching kids from the Children’s Home how to swim in the pool at the International Inn, Johnny always loved doing a “little something” for others.

Johnny loved to ride his Harley, ski and travel with his friends, and while doing these activities, he would make still more friends. He traversed 4 continents, and no matter where he was in the world, when English did not work, he used his own Sicilian pigeon dialect, accompanied by lots of gestures, to get his points across, and strangely enough, people usually understood, because Johnny wanted to be understood.

He ate with gusto. Legend has it that one evening at a Detroit Hotel, Johnny ate 16 lobsters in one sitting. Remembering the many meals they shared on Sunday afternoons, his friend Lou Caggiano calculated that Johnny had to have eaten over 5,000 meatballs in his lifetime. He also never missed a chance to toast at dinner parties.

Johnny T always had a “can do” attitude, which left many to wonder how much energy it must have taken simply to be him. Johnny knew how to say yes to life, even when it dealt harsh blows his way. He never surrendered to pessimism and remained in the limelight for five decades, well after the sun set on the Rat Pack era in America.

Johnny was one of my father’s best friends for forty years. They became friends when Johnny would let my dad into the Chez Louis (the hippest nightclub in 1950s Tampa where Johnny worked as maitre’d ) even though my dad was not yet 21. When I was born, Johnny told my dad that he wanted to be “my godfather and bodyguard”.

During our European trip with Johnny, we had an unforgettable afternoon lunch on the terrace of Hotel Maeterlinck, nestled atop Nice’s jagged sea cliffs. As we dined overlooking the sparkling turquoise Mediterranean, Johnny T glowed, mesmerized by the moment. The food, the wine, the scenery, the company, the beauty of it all overwhelmed him. He sat there, imbibing the experience like it was his favorite Chianti, breathing in the sea breeze and very, very happy. He conducted a symphony with his hands while saying “this is what its all about”. Several times he simply said, “Wow!” He did not want it to end.

My father says Johnny “never wanted anyone to see that side of him in pain or hurting”. Even toward the very end of his battle with cancer, when people asked Johnny how he was doing, immobilized by physical pain, he would reply, “On a scale from 1-10, I would be about an eight”.

When I visited him at Moffitt Cancer Center, I expressed my gratitude and admiration to him for being himself. I had asked him whether he realized what a tremendous positive difference he had made in the lives of so many people here. He smiled at me, and barely able to talk, responded softly under his breath, “Who knew I was such a big man?”

On March 8, 2006, Johnny T. passed away. His legacy teaches us that optimism is a choice, not chance. If you do not see it that way, as Johnny would say, “what’s the matter with youz?”