REMARKS BY ANNE SCIGLIANO, DAUGHTER OF JUDGE MARIO UMANA, AT THE REDEDICATION OF THE MARIO UMANA MIDDLE SCHOOL ACADEMY ON OCTOBER 19, 2007. 

Mayor Menino, Former Senate President Robert Travaglini, Senator Petrucelli, Representative-Elect Basil, Councilor Sal La Mattina, Dr. Jose Salgado, Members of the School Committee, Faculty, Staff of the Mario Umana Middle School Academy, family and friends,

I’m uncertain whether my earliest memories of my father are real or acquired through family mythology at the dinner table. What I do know is that from a very early age, perhaps three or four, I accompanied my father to the movies. Aloft his shoulders, I would return home singing, “I’m Popeye the Sailorman.” When my mother, a concert pianist, had to perform, Dad cared for my sister and me. In my mother’s absence, my father would dress me up in my mother’s jewelry and I would pretend to be a Queen and order everyone about. Entombed in an old leather case was a 1950’s reel to reel tape recorder with an accompanying tape of me at four years old, telling the story of “Goldilocks and the Three Bears.” My father acted the part of Papa Bear. I was Mama Bear, and my sister, too young to talk, had no choice but to be Baby Bear. My father encouraged me to direct our play, spontaneously create dialogue for all three of us and of course, assume the starring role. My father never told me a bedtime story. He had me tell him one. I credit my father with encouraging my sense of imagination and creativity from an early age. There is no question in my mind that these early years with Dad had a direct bearing on my future decision to teach music and drama to elementary school children.

My father’s life in politics was one of service to others, service to his constituents in the communities of East Boston, Charlestown, the North End, The West End, Beacon Hill, Winthrop, The Back Bay, Cambridge and Chinatown. It is not surprising to me that my sister and I chose public service for our careers, she teaching at the University of California Santa Barbara, and I teaching in the Boston and Newton Public Schools. A modest man, my father’s accomplishments in the Senate were never fodder for family discussion. Most of the time my sister and I would learn about his legislative feats by reading about them in the newspaper, hearing about them on T.V., or listening to his live interviews with Jerry Williams on WMEX radio.

My father did his utmost to shield my sister and me from the political arena because he wanted us to experience a normal upbringing. Nonetheless, my mother, sister and I paid the ultimate sacrifice, the lack of his presence. A political rally, a political dinner, or late night sessions at the State House took precedence over his home life. Despite my father’s attempts to protect our family from the more unseemly side of politics, his Senatorial life became a family career. During campaigns, my mother skillfully held numerous coffee gatherings in our home, creating a forum for my father to speak to female voters about critical issues in the upcoming election. My sister and I would hand out bumper stickers, stuff mailboxes with campaign literature and lick envelopes and stamps with our mother at campaign headquarters.

If my father was continually in the glare of the spotlight, it was my Uncle Guy who dictated the location of the lighting. Uncle Guy was my father’s best friend, confidant, political manager and the wind beneath his wings. My father and his brother spoke every day and their lives were so intertwined that it was as if they shared the same one. My father’s twenty-five year successful legislative career was a direct reflection of the massive campaign efforts of my Mom, my Grandmother, my Uncle Guy, my cousins, Ann, Mario and Donna, my Dad’s cousin, Dolly Umana, and the loyal voters of East Boston, many who became life long friends like Ernie Ratto.

My father always said that when he left office it would be with dignity and an impeccable record, one that reflected complete honesty. He accomplished this task in 1973 and embarked upon a new career as a Justice in the Boston Municipal Court. Upon his appointment, Governor Sargent said that finally this was the position that he felt was worthy of Mario.

It was only when he became a judge that my father was able to affect change unfettered by political pressures. He spent the next 31 years of his life compensating for his earlier home absence. He was available to my sister and me 24/7 for every crisis, difficult decision, heartbreak and celebration. One of his greatest joys was having two grandsons. Having always wanted a son, he found a surrogate in my cousin, Mario. When I gave birth to two boys, he was thrilled.

My children, now grown, were masterful manipulators. My father knew full well he was being conned by his grandchildren and deliberately overlooked it, like the time they convinced him to take them to an R rated movie, “The Terminator,” before they were teenagers, or how they persuaded him to purchase countless t-shirts, baseballs and other Red Sox paraphernalia at every Sox game. He adored his grandsons and was a soft touch. A die-hard Sox fan, my Dad was a season ticket holder who frequented games with my Mom, my husband, Ned, and my children. He lived long enough to realize two major life-altering events, the Millennium and the Sox winning the World Series.

Despite my father’s intellectual brilliance, he was mechanically challenged. He couldn’t hammer a nail, carve a roast properly, handle a remote, operate a DVD player or computer, drive a car acceptably (his lack of driving skills was legendary), or make a cup of espresso with his beloved espresso maker. After countless mishaps with espresso grounds skyrocketing to the ceiling, my Dad was forced to permanently relinquish the espresso maker to my husband, Ned. If he wanted to drink espresso, he had to come to my house. Yet, at the age of 86, he forced himself to learn how to operate the feeding tube that was inserted in my mother after her stomach cancer operation. He knew her life was dependent on his mechanical agility.

As a Justice my father was renowned for his humanity, sense of balance and fairness. He always kept foremost in his mind that he held the fate of human lives in his hands and had an uncanny ability to put criminal matters into their proper perspective.

Dad frequently told the story of the star Red Sox baseball pitcher whose team had to go on to play in another city without him because he had to face court charges for disorderly conduct. Aware of my Dad’s devotion to the Sox, the pitcher’s lawyer made sure that my father heard his client’s case. At his court appearance, my Dad asked the pitcher if he dismissed the charges and released him, would he assure him of winning? The pitcher eagerly agreed and my Dad told him to leave the courtroom, catch up with his teammates and win one for him.

After mandatory retirement at age seventy, my father was immediately re-hired as a recall judge because of his excellent reputation and his ability to dispense with cases quickly by encouraging both parties to negotiate. He continued to grace the bench for eight more years and was then hired as an arbitrator until the age of 88.

My father was a philosopher at heart. He frequently told my sister and me that each life was a small microcosm in the span of eternity. We exist on this earth for such a brief period of time that it is our obligation to contribute to the sum total of humanity. Unfortunately, upon his death, my Dad didn’t have the perspective to appreciate his countless achievements and accomplishments. If, as he said, a life is measured by how much one person adds to other human lives, then the sum total of my father’s life was monumental. Because of this honor originally bestowed upon him and recommitted today, his name will remain permanently etched upon granite as well as in the minds and hearts of those who had the privilege of knowing him and of those future generations who will have the unique opportunity of educating themselves about his life.

See also

Remarks from Daughter Jeanne Umana