Death
In December 1992, Gardenia was in Philadelphia to perform in the stage production of the Tom Dulack comedy “Breaking Legs”, beginning a three-week run in the off Broadway hit, at the famed Forrest Theatre on Walnut St. In the play, Gardenia had performed the role of restauranteur ‘Lou Garziano’, since the show’s New York opening in May 1991.
In the early morning hours of Dec. 9, 1992, just hours after the Philly preview of “Breaking Legs”, Gardenia had returned to his hotel about 1 a.m. after dining with stage director John Tillinger, producer Elliot Martin and the play’s cast after the show’s preview. According to Martin, Gardenia showed no signs of illness, adding, “It was just a jolly evening.”
According to authorities, when Gardenia failed to appear for a radio interview to promote the play’s run, press representative Irene Gandy and a fellow cast member Vince Viverito became alarmed. When they arrived at Gardenia’s hotel, and there was no answer from Gardenia, they entered his hotel room. It was there where they found him dead of a heart attack, in his room, dressed and clutching a telephone. He was 72. In true theatrical tradition of “the show must go on”, hours after the sad discovery, the play’s official opening went on that evening at the Forrest Theatre.
He is interred in Saint Charles Cemetery in Farmingdale, Long Island, New York, along with his parents Elisa (1901–1967) and Gennaro Gardenia Scognamiglio (1896–1965). A section of 16th Ave. in Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, New York, where he lived until his death, bears the secondary name of Vincent Gardenia Boulevard in his honor.
Read more about this topic: Vincent Gardenia
Famous quotes containing the word death:
“We all labour against our own cure, for death is the cure of all diseases.”
—Thomas Browne (1605–1682)
“A rat crept softly through the vegetation
Dragging its slimy belly on the bank
While I was fishing in the dull canal
On a winter evening round behind the gashouse
Musing upon the king my brother’s wreck
And on the king my father’s death before him.”
—T.S. (Thomas Stearns)
“But, when nothing subsists from a distant past, after the death of others, after the destruction of objects, only the senses of smell and taste, weaker but more enduring, more intangible, more persistent, more faithful, continue for a long time, like souls, to remember, to wait, to hope, on the ruins of all the rest, to bring without flinching, on their nearly impalpable droplet, the immense edifice of memory.”
—Marcel Proust (1871–1922)