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July 01, 2005
Marie La Pinta: Her First Night at a Night Club
Long Island Press
July 1, 2005
Her First Night In A Club
Ed Lowe 06/30/2005
One of the cardinal rules, or warnings, pursuant to attending the annual, riotous, one-of-a-kind, all-Long Island, rock 'n' roll musical insurrection known (far and wide, and yet, not so) as "The Paper Bag" is the admonition on every ticket, brochure and song list: "We strongly urge you to take the next day off."
I would have, and probably should have, but here, on the afternoon following the 10 a.m. to 4 a.m. event at Mulcahy's in Wantagh, I feel incapable of any useful efforts, save possibly to share such joy as The Bag's madness inspires.
It was the 28th annual Paper Bag, where the world's only band with 60-plus rock 'n' rollers plays virtually unrehearsed music for six hours at a time, and my 15th visit as a guest of Michael Guido, its sire, its symbol, its heart and soul, and its despotic leader (when he is not standing otherwise unnoticed in the midst of a local band for whom he might be playing either flute, piccolo, oboe, bassoon, clarinet, saxophone, trumpet, French horn, baritone horn, trombone, tuba, drums, bass or bass guitar, or serving as the sound engineer).
I was standing in the foyer Tuesday night, chatting with Guido siblings and members of the security staff, when a "Whoop" erupted at the doorway. I looked to my left, and there appeared the broadly smiling face of saxophonist/clarinetist/music teacher Lenny La Pinta, of Sayville. He was holding hands with both the source of and the template for his wider-than-ever smile, his mother, Marie La Pinta.
The crowd went berserk wherever they appeared. All night.
Back story: In 1999, Lenny La Pinta revealed to me that during the mid- to late 1980s, when I saw and heard him jamming weekly with the Jim Small Band at the long-gone Dakota Rose in Amityville, he was using music to stave off what anger, disappointment and sadness so constantly had pursued him since his mother was sentenced in 1984 to 25 years to life for her participation in the murder of his father, Michael.
I was rocked. Lenny did not want me to write the story‹not yet. Following family tradition, Lenny had not talked about it for several years, until he finally confided in two members of the Jim Small Band. He and his brother, Anthony, who was attending law school with the intent of one day rescuing their mother, still disagreed on taking "family business" public, but Lenny was beginning to think that public support might be the only way.
He told me about years of beatings that took place in front of the boys, and fits of rage that even extended out into the front yard. He said his father made it clear that there would be "hell to pay" if he or Anthony were to talk about it to anyone.
The arranged marriage collapsing fast by 1984, and Michael La Pinta already planning to move to Florida, Lenny invited Marie's brother, Leonardo Crociata, the only member of her family in this country, to West Islip to "settle a few debts." Michael La Pinta had forbidden Marie to talk to or see any member of her family. Crociata arrived. A fight ensued. Michael at some point brandished his gun, the weapon that killed him during the struggle. Marie and her brother subsequently were seen trying to dispose of the body at a local landfill. Both were convicted of second-degree murder and sentenced to 25 years to life.
In 2002, Lenny and Anthony went public with the story, through me, a new web page (mercyformom.org), and a deftly produced videotape. They soon had garnered support from thousands, worldwide, who pleaded repeatedly, officially and unsuccessfully, for executive clemency from Gov. George Pataki.
Finally, last month, Anthony's efforts in court drew a victory for Marie from Justice Robert W. Doyle, who overturned the 1984 conviction on the grounds that Marie and her brother had been represented by the same lawyer. Her battered spouse status had never made it into the courtroom. She pleaded to a lesser charge and was freed.
In the meantime, during those years, Lenny had badgered his friend Guido, encouraging and finally persuading him to go for his bachelor's and then master's degree in music education and become a middle school music teacher. With all that was on his mind at the time, Lenny convinced Guido that he would be one of the best music teachers and would love the work. Guido, an 11-year veteran middle school music teacher now working in the Island Trees School District, is one of the best music teachers and loves the work.
In his Paper Bag brochure, Guido wrote, "...I have never been happier about an event in my life as I was the day I saw Marie's kind, smiling face on the cover of the newspaper with the headline indicating that my friend's mom was coming home."
I gave Marie La Pinta two extra earplugs I had in my pocket, saying, "You're going to remember me for days for this; trust me."
Lenny took me aside and said, "My mother is in another dimension. This is her first night, ever, in a club, and there's 70 musicians on stage and 1,400 people in the audience. You should see her at the house. She stays at my house during the week and at the West Islip house with my brother on weekends. She has to walk slowly down the stairs, because she hasn't walked on carpeting for 22 years, and she's afraid she's going to trip on it.
"I took her out to Tanger Mall," Lenny said. "I spent about $1,000 on clothes. It's the most clothes she's ever had in her life."
At the band member meeting in a restricted area outside the club, just before the 10 p.m. opening of the show, a clownishly tuxedoed Guido mounted a makeshift stage and introduced a "rookie" Bag member. The crowd roared.
On the back of her official Bag Band Member T-shirt was her official Bag Member nickname: "Free at Last."
Contact Ed Lowe at Edlowe@longislandpress.com
http://www.longislandpress.com/?cp=154&show=article&a_id=4616
Posted by lois at July 1, 2005 01:41 PM