Westport rejoices with Nava Zeevi and her family on the birth of her grandson.
The boy — weighing 6 pounds, 14 ounces — was born at 6 this morning to Neer Zeevi and his wife Liora, of New London.
Kuti Zeevi — Neer’s father, Nava’s husband, and the infant’s grandfather — was killed Thursday night in a robbery at Kuti’s jewelry business above Compo Shopping Center.
He was buried Sunday afternoon, less than 48 hours before what would have been his first grandchild was born.
In the hard-hitting world of criminal defense lawyers, Joe Tacopina hits harder than almost anyone.
His website pulls no punches.
“Mr. Tacopina is to the defense bar what Donald Trump is to real estate,” reads a what-the-hell-does-that-mean? quote from the New York Times.
“That guy works magic. He is the real deal. He’s not to be messed with,” burbles Imus.
And this, from GQ:
Suspected of murdering that blond girl in Aruba? Having some problems with your appointment as homeland-security chief? Made the mistake of having sex with Christie Brinkley’s husband? Call Joe Tacopina, the best-dressed, smoothest-talking, hardest-working criminal-defense attorney going…
Joe Tacopina (Photo/Nancy Siesel for the New York Times)
Last June Tacopina — a Westporter and the father of 5 children, including a soon-to-be Staples graduate — gave the parent speech at baccalaureate. He described his rags-to-riches life, including an anecdote about working so hard for so little money early in his career that he took on a 2nd job: checking coats at Longshore. (The worst part: seeing other attorneys there — or clients.)
Now Tacopina is following the lead of the latest trend: what the Times calls “American moneymen” buying world-famous soccer teams. The list includes Malcolm Glazer (Manchester United) and Randy Lerner (Aston Villa).
Tacopina is part of a group that in August bought 60% of legendary Italian club A.S. Roma. The club is valued at $400 million.
According to a story in yesterday’s Times, Tacopina has a “life-long obsession” with Roma. Seven years ago, watching a match, he had an epiphany.
The scoreboard didn’t work; I wanted to buy my children some jerseys, but there were none on sale; and it was dirty,” he said. “I started writing notes to myself on a napkin that had been around a flatbread sandwich. Why not find a group to buy it?
Tacopina is now vice president of the club. He’s helped overhaul the team, adding youthful players to the mix of veterans that includes big names like Francesco Totti.
According to the Times,
the club’s new owners believe Roma is well positioned to emerge as the next big global brand in soccer. It is a club located at a unique intersection of global culture. The ownership’s idea is to increase revenue by investing in players who deliver results on the field that further increase revenue.
Part of the plan is a proposal for a new stadium, tied to Italy’s intention to bid for the 2020 Summer Olympics, to replace the crumbling, fan-unfriendly Estadio Olimpico, where a running track keeps the fans far from the action and another team, Lazio, shares the facility.
Tacopina is well positioned to help bring back Roma’s glory years. His father — who died last week at 94 — emigrated to the US from Rome. The club’s fans have displayed a banner that says: “Tacopina Uno di Noi, Grazie Joe“– Thanks, Joe. You’re one of us!
As a Westporter, I’m excited that one of us has taken a big step onto the international soccer stage.
As the Staples soccer coach, I’d be even more excited if he brings a 17-year-old player from Roma’s youth team to spend next fall in the Tacopinas’ Westport home.
“Little Toot” artist Hardie Gramatky is a Westport legend.
His wife — Dorothea Cooke Gramatky — was also an artist, though less known.
His daughter, Linda Gramatky Smith, and her husband Ken have kept her parents’ work alive, both internationally and here in their home town.
"Green's Farms Station," 1948.
Now the Gramatkys’ work is benefiting the Westport Historical Society too.
For a limited time before the holidays, giclée prints by Hardie and Dorothea ordered at the Historical Society or through www.californiawatercolor.com will generate 30% back to the WHS.
(NOTE: If you’re like me, here’s the answer: A giclée is a high-tech, high-quality process that exactly replicates the color and texture of original watercolor artwork. Examples — printed on heavy Provence watercolor paper — are on display in the WHS gift shop.)
Though Hardie is best known for his children’s books, he painted stunning watercolors of Westport landscapes. (Andrew Wyeth called him one of America’s 20 greatest watercolorists.)
"Schlaet Point," 1948.
38 local scenes are available. So are hundreds of other subjects by Hardie, Dorothea and other leading artists. All generate the 30% donation to the Historical Society.
(To order online, click here; at checkout, enter the code “WHS” — oh yeah, you also get a 10% discount. You can also order at the Westport Historical Society, 25 Avery Place.)
"Turkey Hill Sleigh Ride," 1955.
Posted in Arts, Looking back, Organizations, People
Westport friends made a special trip yesterday to Goodwill. With both kids in college, they had an extra TV. It worked fine — the perfect donation, they thought, for the holidays.
Goodwill said no.
The only TVs they accept, they said, are flat screens.
My friends took the rejection in stride. Though they did wonder what’s next. Will the Salvation Army accept only $20 bills?
Posted in Local business, Organizations, People, Totally random
Tagged flat screen TVs, Goodwill
Every year since 1940, the Staples High School music department has offered the Candlelight Concert to the town.
This weekend, several hundred teenagers — and instructors Adele Cutrali-Valovich, Nick Mariconda and Justin Miller — provided the gift of music to 3 wildly appreciative audiences.
The program included solemn hymns, classical music, a rousing African number, whimsical tunes — and of course, a production number.
In everyone’s thoughts were Nava Zeevi, the longtime accompanist whose husband Kuti was killed in a robbery Thursday night. Todd Simmons, assistant director of the Westport School of Music, stepped in to take her place.
Solomon Sloat (top) and Will Bitsky in the traditional "Sing We Noel" processional. (Photos by Lynn U. Miller)
Senior Mike Ljungberg provides the beat for the lovely African song "Ogo ni fun Oluwa!" (Photo by Lynn U. Miller)
Sophomore chorale member Rick Daily gives it his all. (Photo by Lynn U. Miller)
Mrs. Claus and her dancers (top), and her husband Santa Claus and the Staples choir, in the traditional production number. (Photo by Lynn U. Miller)
(From bottom left) Michael Sixsmith, Mikell Washington and Santa Claus singing the rousing finale, the Hallelujah Chorus. (Photo by Lynn U. Miller)
If you’re like me, you pass the vacant lot almost every day and wonder: How can such valuable property just sit there?
The answer is: not much longer.
What may be the last undeveloped Post Road parcel in town — across Roseville Road from McDonald’s, directly across the street from Cumberland Farms — may soon be developed.
Tuesday night (December 13, 7:30, Town Hall), the Zoning Board of Appeals will review a request for variances. Property owner William Taylor hopes to construct a 2-story office building on the small piece of land, which ever since I can remember has been a weed- and brush-filled occasional parking lot for trucks.
The office building would include Taylor’s law office, and other tenants.
The bad news: Parking will include a deck — accessible through a new entrance off Roseville Road. That means even more cars will soon fly through the least-observed red light in town.
The good news: It’s not a bank.
Fred Cantor was a long-time friend of Kuti Zeevi, the Westport jeweler killed during a robbery last night. For many years Fred and Kuti played soccer with the Late Knights, a group of local men who enjoyed both the game, and socializing together afterward.
Fred remembers the Israeli-born business owner, soccer player and Westporter:
Many years ago someone told me you can learn a lot about a person by how willing he is to pass the ball and share it with teammates.
Kuti was always looking to pass to an open teammate, and it was indeed just one indication of his great generosity — both on and off the field.
Kuti Zeevi (Photo courtesy of WestportNow.com)
Kuti was part of the mini-UN weekend soccer group that has been a fixture in Westport for decades. His passion for soccer was second to none, and it was exceeded only by his passion for his family. He was a loving husband, father and son who epitomized “family values” before that term ever became part of our landscape.
Several years ago Kuti and his loving wife, Nava, suffered the loss of their daughter Tali to leukemia. While nothing could possibly make up for that tragic loss, Kuti’s soccer teammates tried to offer some level of comfort by staging a soccer tournament to raise money for leukemia research in Tali’s memory.
Kuti, in his selfless fashion, expressed how grateful he was to all of us for organizing the event.
Even though he had some major injuries in his later years, they never dampened his enthusiasm for playing soccer and for competing. Even when he could no longer run much, he loved to play goalie and wouldn’t hesitate to throw his body on the ground, outstretched, in an attempt to make a save.
There was still a boyish spirit that remained inside him — one that I thought would never succumb to old age — and that was only snuffed out by a murderer’s bullet.
We will all miss Kuti’s smile, and his laugh, and his joy for the game.
And our hearts and thoughts are with Nava.
(A funeral service will be held this Sunday, Dec. 11, 1:30 p.m. at Temple Israel.)
Kuti Zeevi, on a trip to England with the Late Knights soccer team in 1999. He's in the middle of the back row.
A recent “0688o” post — about the evolution of the vest-pocket park on the corner of Post Road and Main Street, from wooden benches and trees to concrete plaza — drew the usual slew of comments.
What a shame! some wailed.
You can’t stop progress! others countered. (I’m paraphrasing here.)
And there, smack in the middle, was this:
Now is about the time someone laments the passing of the Remarkable Book Store.
Well, yeah.
It’s always a good time to lament the passing of “Remarkable.”
For the increasing number of Westporters who never knew it, Remarkable was a homey shop in a former 1700s home at the corner of Main Street and Parker Harder Plaza (the exact end of the block that starts with the new concrete “park,” come to think of it).
The Remarkable Book Shop.
The 2011 way to describe it: It’s now Talbots.
“Remarkable” — the name, uber-cleverly, referred not just to its books, maps and knick-knacks but to the backward spelling of owner Esther Kramer’s last name — was painted a distinctive pink.
Even more remarkable was what was inside. Books on every topic imaginable — including cutting-edge topics like women’s rights — filled uneven shelves. Overstuffed chairs invited browsers to sit, read and linger, long before Barnes & Noble turned that concept into corporate policy.
A cat curled in the corner.
The floor was wooden, and uneven — something Esther and her staff never were. They knew every customer — from Paul Newman and hotshot writers down to 3rd graders — by name. Esther and her staff knew everyone’s tastes, and never hesitated to recommend a good read.
They knew what a local bookstore could — and should — be: A community gathering place. Warm, friendly, funky. Something remarkable, which no one seemed to remark upon until it was gone.
If some of those words sound familiar, it’s because I wrote them last April, shortly after Esther Kramer’s death.
I lamented the passing of the owner. And I lamented the bookstore’s passing too.
So sue me.
Barnes & Noble
I’m not naive. Having written 16 books myself, I know the economics of bookstores. The bulk of my royalties came from Barnes & Noble and Amazon, not Giovanni’s Room (just hanging on in Philadelphia) or A Different Light (its 3 locations — New York, San Francisco and Los Angeles — are all closed).
Where do I buy my books? Barnes & Noble. Amazon. The iPad store.
But being a realist doesn’t mean I can’t lament the loss of a mom-and-pop (pop was Sidney Kramer, a noted New York publisher) store that was funky, familiar and fun.
A store that added a bit of life to downtown, at a time when other locally owned shops sold African clothing, records, used blue jeans and pizza. (Okay, Westport Pizzeria‘s still there.)
I know we won’t see a return of those shops to Main Street. Nor will we see small bookstores with knowledgeable clerks and a cat curled in the corner cropping up like, um, Gaps in airport terminals.
Santayana said (basically), those who forget the past are doomed to repeat it.
I say, those who diss our past are doomed to spend their lives in soulless corporate boxes, not knowing what they missed.
Though the parking, prices and pastries at Barnes & Noble are all pretty good.
Posted in Downtown, Local business, Looking back, People
Tagged Esther Kramer, Needle Park, Remarkable Book Shop, Sidney Kramer
This Wednesday (December 14, 8 p.m.), Temple Israel hosts a forum on the challenges of “the holiday season” for Jewish and interfaith families.
Oy.
The event comes a few days after Staples’ Candlelight Concert. A tradition for over 70 years, the event opens — as it always has — with the haunting hymn “Sing We Noel.” It ends — as always — with the “Hallelujah Chorus,” as ebullient and glorious a paean to “the Lord God omnipotent” as you’ll find anywhere.
But traditions change. The Candlelight Concert now includes Hanukkah and African songs, plus other evocative music. (There’s also a production number filled with schmaltzy Christmas tunes, Santa Claus, reindeer, and the occasional dreidel.)
Georg Friedrich Handel wrote the "Hallelujah Chorus" -- not Hanukkah music.
In fact, for over 2 decades Staples’ choral director was Alice Lipson — whose husband and daughter are rabbis and cantors. Alice conducted the “Hallelujah Chorus” as lustily as anyone — and made certain that, while her students knew they were singing pieces rich in history and beauty, they could opt out if they so chose. None did.
Back at Burr Farms Elementary School in the 1960s, it was all-Christmas, all the time. In music class, we sang only Christmas songs. There was “Frosty the Snowman” and “Rudolph,” sure — but also heavy-duty carols: “Adeste Fidelis.” “Away in a Manger.” “The First Noel.”
I had no idea what I was singing, but no matter. It was beautiful music.
And I got more than a music education at Burr Farms. Our classrooms had Advent calendars. Every kid — Catholics, Christians, Jews and Muslims (just kidding) — thrust hands in the air, begging to be the one to open the window that day.
A big part of my elementary school education.
The big event was a nighttime Christmas concert. Parents, students, younger and older siblings stood outside, in the cold air — around an evergreen tree, decorated with ornaments and topped with an angel — singing carols. I even remember someone pointing out where the Star of Bethlehem might have been, though perhaps that is pushing it.
When the Christmas carols were over we all went into the “cafetorium” for hot chocolate, the only secular part of the night.
I didn’t think twice about any of that. For one thing, I was in 1st or 2nd grade.
For another, we started every day with the Lord’s Prayer.
Over the loudspeaker.
That ended in 1963, when the Supreme Court outlawed prayer in school. I have no idea if there was any discussion about that in Westport — if, in fact, parents knew it was going on, or thought anything about it.
The Westport of my childhood was a multi-religious place. Temple Israel was built in 1959, with a membership of 250 families. We were certainly not Darien, and even at a young age I recall my parents being proud of our town’s pluralism.
But you’d be hard pressed to find any evidence at Burr Farms Elementary School, back in the early ’60s.
Not that anyone noticed. We were too busy exchanging Christmas cards and presents in class.
(For more information on Wednesday’s Temple Israel “celebrating the holidays” event, email amendelson@tiwestport.org, or call 203-227-1293. “Drinks and a nosh” will be provided.)
Posted in Children, Looking back, religion
Tagged " Hanukkah, Burr Farms Elementary School, Christmas, Christmas carols, Temple Israel
I haven’t seen them in a few years — the 2 small, elderly women who always dressed alike. They probably lived in Canal Park; that’s where I saw them the most.
They must have been twins, I thought. They always dressed alike — from their hats to their shoes.
I wasn’t the only one who noticed. Over the years, people suggested I write about them.
Or they asked me who they were, and why they always dressed the same. As if I — a longtime Westporter and journalist — knew.
Apparently, someone did. Their story drew the attention of Hillary Frank, a Staples graduate who is now an independent radio producer.
In 2000 she interviewed the 2 women for a story on “This American Life,” Ira Glass’s quirky weekly public radio show, which explores the many hidden nooks and crannies of our country and its people.
The show — whose theme was “what happens if our relationship with our loved ones never changes?” — was rebroadcast last month.
The women’s chapter is called “Matching Outfits Not Included.”
In it, listeners — and curious Westporters — learn the women’s names: Dusty and Honey.
We hear — surprisingly — that they are not twins. They’re sisters born 3 years apart; the 2 youngest in a family of 6.
Raised during the Depression, their father died when they were young. From an early age, they depended on each other.
Later, after their siblings married, Dusty and Honey cared for their ailing mother.
One day when they were both in their early 20s, they picked the same outfit.
They dressed alike ever since.
They wore the same wigs, glasses and jewelry. They carried the same purses.
They lived together, in rooms with matching chairs. Their twin beds — in the same room — had the same stuffed animals. Over each bad was a crucifix. In between was a photo of Frank Sinatra.
Dusty and Honey ate the same food — and in the same portions.
Dusty and Honey shared a fondness for Frank Sinatra and Ricky Martin.
They loved soap operas together — when they were younger, listening together on radio. As they got older, they watched soaps together on TV.
When Hillary interviewed them in 2000 for the show, they were enjoying a Ricky Martin special.
The women worked together all their lives: first in sweatshops, then in a home for the elderly, finally as housekeepers for a priest.
Dressing differently, they told Hillary, would mean “betraying each other.”
They said of their lives, “this is what was meant to be.”
The sisters seemed to acknowledge that their lives — lived so similarly, together, for so long — was considered odd.
“As long as we don’t hurt anyone, or break a commandment, it’s fine,” they said.
“This American Life” ended with Hillary’s description of the sisters lying in their beds each night. They would make plans for the next day. Always, they talked about what they would wear.
Dusty and Honey had a special relationship. They were, Hillary said, “like best friends on a sleepover that never ends.”
Except it must have.
I have not seen Dusty and Honey for several years.
I hope — wherever they are — they are together still.
(To hear Dusty and Honey’s “This American Life” story, click here.)
Posted in Looking back, Places, Totally random
Tagged " Ira Glass, "This American Life, Hillary Frank
Click here to help support “06880” via credit card or PayPal. Any amount is welcome, appreciated — and tax-deductible! Reader contributions keep this blog going. (Alternate methods: Please send a check to “06880”: PO Box 744, Westport, CT 06881. Or use Venmo: @blog06880. Or Zelle: dwoog@optonline.net. Thanks!)
