Remembering Carlo Imelio, 88.

Carlo Imelio, right, listens to Patriots' PR chief Stacey James during a 2014 meeting.

This has been a very painful year, given the number of beloved individuals that have left this mortal coil. And today, I just learned of another passing that leaves a void in my heart.

Carlo Imelio had been a sportswriter covering the Patriots for the Springfield Newspapers for a long time before I covered my first day of training camp in the summer of 1977 for The Sun Chronicle. But given his gregarious nature, it didn't take long for him to become a friend and mentor.

Former Patriots' writer Carlo Imelio

Carlo graduated from Agawam High School in 1954 (the year I was born), and served in the U.S. Navy for two years after graduation. In 1966, he joined the staff as a sportswriter for the Springfield Union, the Springfield Daily News and the Springfield Sunday Republican, which all eventually came under the banner of The Republican in 2003. Not long after he joined the staff, he became the beat writer covering the Boston Patriots.

The Patriots trained during their early days at the University of Massachusetts in Amherst, which was ideal for a writer based in western Massachusetts. But Carlo had to make the long trek from "Springy," as he called it, to Boston -- and then to Foxboro from 1971 on -- every day once the regular season began.

By the time I joined the beat in 1977, the Patriots were enjoying widespread media interest -- even without the benefit of being any good. Reporters covered the team from not just the Boston papers, but from Bangor and Portland from the far north, Concord, Manchester and Nashua from New Hampshire; Lawrence, Lowell, Salem and Lynn from the near north; Quincy, Brockton, New Bedford, Fall River, Hyannis, Milford, Framingham, Worcester and Attleboro on this side of Massachusetts; Providence, Pawtucket, Woonsocket and Newport from Little Rhody; and Norwich, Springfield and Hartford from the western hinterlands. And all were here on a regular basis. 

But by far, respect was afforded to the beat reporters that had covered the team the longest. It wasn't easy for a cocky young pup from Attleboro to crack that clique at first, but one of the first to extend his hand in friendship was Carlo. And that circle of friendship grew once The Sun Chronicle offered me a higher level of commitment by sending me on the road to cover the team.

Carlo was a solid journalist and fully versed in the day-to-day demands of covering a pro team, but above all else, he was a funny guy. He could tell jokes with the best of them -- and regardless of how bad the joke might be, he could find a way to get a few chuckles out of you from it.

Carlo could make Parcells laugh.

Carlo brought those moments of humor to the press conferences with the coaches of the Patriots over the years he was on the beat. Even Bill Parcells, who preferred his reporters to be serious in their questions to him, could be disarmed by Carlo's self-effacing quips. There were times when the Tuna would get a little testy when the electronic-media reporters would ask questions that he thought were too simplistic or seeking the "gotcha" sound bite, but Carlo always seemed to know when he could drop in something guaranteed to lighten the mood and get the press conference back on a less-contentious tack.

Carlo left the beat at about the time when Bill Belichick came on board, and I often wondered during the worst of Belichick's stonewalling of the media if even his cold heart could be warmed by a perfectly-timed Carlo malaprop. I suppose I'll never know the answer, but I'd like to think that even Belichick's formidable defenses could be breached.

It was on the road where the veteran beat writers had the most fun. We went to the best restaurants and visited the best attractions -- as long as the expense accounts held out -- and that left us with many stories to be told and re-told and embellished over the years.

One particular story was of the night at the Amherst Marriott on the outskirts of Buffalo, where most of the media stayed before a game against the Bills. It was on one of those Saturday nights, early in Robert Kraft's ownership of the Patriots, when his wife, Myra, joined several of us in the hotel lounge for an impromptu getting-to-know-you bull session. Carlo, Ron Hobson of The Patriot Ledger, the late Dick Cerasuolo of the Worcester Telegram, myself and a few others pounded down the adult beverages as Myra proved herself quite capable of holding court with the boys.

There's another story -- or "starry" as Carlo would pronounce it -- that I'll have to clean up a little.

We were all in Chicago early in the 1985 season (yes, the season of Super Bowl XX), and most of the media arrived at the downtown hotel at the same time. So once we got our keys, and with me having spent a lot of time in that area of Chicago during my college days at Northwestern, I asked a young woman reporter from one of the Boston TV stations to join me for a walking tour of Michigan Avenue.

We spent quite a bit of time together that day, and had a terrific time. We even ran into the former TV and radio voice of the Chicago Cubs, Jack Brickhouse, as he sat with his wife and enjoyed afternoon drinks at the Drake Hotel's sidewalk cafe. But somewhere along the way, Carlo and the guys noticed that I wasn't around for thje usual evening festivities.

The next morning, I joined the others for something that was a tradition during the Billy Sullivan ownership. Sullivan would reserve a meeting room for a pre-game breakfast with the regular beat writers, and he would usually invite leading Catholic clergy from the city to join us. I was a little late to the gathering on that particular morning, and all my fellow reporters were already seated, although Sullivan and his other guests had yet to arrive.

As I took my seat, and knowing that I was out with the young lady from Channel 7, Carlo had his opportunity. He shouted out something that I can't quote here -- basically, a somewhat shocking inquiry into whether I had found a way to spend the night with the woman (I didn't, by the way). It got a huge laugh -- but for reasons neither Carlo nor I could anticipate.

I don't think Billy got the joke.

You see, Carlo was seated with his back to the door that led to the hallway. What he didn't know as he blurted out the somewhat inappropriate query was that in that very moment, Billy Sullivan and his guest -- Joseph Cardinal Bernardin, archbishop of Chicago -- entered the room.

Nothing was said. It probably wasn't fully understood by either of the new arrivals, as Carlo didn't use graphic language in his query. But for years thereafter, that moment became the stuff of legend on the Patriots' beat.

Readers of The Sun Chronicle owe Carlo a debt of gratitude for something they enjoyed for more than three decades. In the late 1970s, Carlo created the "Beat Carlo" contest where readers of the Springfield Newspapers could make their own picks for the weekend's NFL games and compare them with Carlo's picks, winning prizes if they bettered his results. Seeing how wildly successful that game was in Western Mass., other beat writers asked if we could borrow (or steal) the format for contests of their own. Neither Carlo nor his newspaper objected, so similar contests popped up all over New England -- including The Sun Chronicle's "Beat Fearless," which became a staple of our pro football coverage for decades.

For many years after his retirement, Carlo remained active on the Patriots' scene as a member of the Patriots Hall of Fame Nomination Committee. His perspective as one of the true veterans dating back to the pre-Foxboro days was invaluable, and his humor was much appreciated. But a few years ago, he stopped making the ride from the other side of the Connecticut River. 

There aren't many of us ink-stained wretches left from the days when the Patriots were the chaotic frontier of Boston sports instead of the gold standard, and we are now poorer for having lost another one.

Carlo joins his beloved wife Midge, who had passed on April 12, in the afterlife. He is survived by his son Nicholas and his daughter Joanne, their families and a legion of friends. 

Mark Farinella covered the Patriots for The Sun Chronicle, The Patriot Ledger of Quincy, and the Associated Press, from 1977 through 2019. Respond to his commentaries here or via email at theownersbox2020@gmail.com