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If he wasn't smiling he looked
like he could be at any moment. His sponteneity was
such that he would say something on the spur of the
moment and throw the ball into your court, well aware
that what he said was both funny and illuminating. His
sole granddaughter Gina could match wits with him not
too long after she was old enough to talk. He had tape
recordings of their skits to prove it. "Do you have
any pictures?" she'd asked. Frequently in their skits
she was the shopkeeper and Fitz was the clerk. "We have
a picture of a boat, a picture of a boat sailing, a
picture of the boat sinking and just a picture of the
water. The boat sinking is our special. That picture
comes with a hole in it's side and that's the only reason
it sinks." "Do you have any fish?" "We have six silver
fish, they're a little cheaper than the gold fish. But
if you come back tommorrow I think we can give you a
special. We're going to have a goldfish with a silver
head and a copper tail and it's only going to be six
cents." The next day: "Today the same fish is nine dollars
because the price of silver went up but copper went
down and gold stayed where it was. Now the fish has
a headache and if you want to fix him up and give him
a couple of asprin, he'll be fine!" "I don't think I'll
want one of those today. Do you have any hats?" asked
little Gina. "Do we have hats! We have the small, which
sits way way up on top of your head like a penny on
a fencepost, the medium sits down, kind of rests on
your ears and pushes them out a bit like Alfalfa and
large comes right down and covers your whole head so
we have to cut two holes in it so you can look through.
But it's great on rainy days because your whole head
is nice and dry." At eight years old she sparred beautifully
with him in this match of wits. But Fitzie had matched
wits with kids since he was little, and then had taken
his wit aboard a Navy ship when he was old enough to
join. The Navy put him into his natural element, a close-knit
community of sailors crowded into close quarters. When
you grew up in the row houses of Jamaica, Queens, you
got used to a lot of people coming and going. There
were so many different kinds of people there who "wore
their hearts on their sleeves." Growing up Irish and
Catholic where he did, he had a lot of stories, most
of which were better saved for the confessional, but
which were the stuff of folklore for family and friends.
There was always a punchline to be had, so Fitzie naturally
got listeners for his tales.
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