'Johnny T'

By JASON BUSTO Special to The Tampa Tribune
Published: Mar 20, 2006

Last October, some time after learning about his terminal condition, Johnny T suggested that my dad and I go with him to Barcelona and the French Riviera to live the good life the way Johnny liked to do. After decades of saying we would go on an adventure together, we finally did. It was his last trip abroad.

By that time the barrel-chested, Cheshire-grinning force of a man had lost his hair to cancer treatments, but he remained true to character. One evening after dinner in Barcelona, we walked down an avenue called Gran de Gracia. Johnny put his giant arm around me and said in his heavy Boston accent, "Jason, my maaan! You are a great kid, but you can be too uptight sometimes! You gotta loosen up, my son. Otherwise, it goes bad."

I write today to celebrate the history and contributions of a heroic Tampa soul, so people will know such a big man once thrived here. His name was John E. Tranquillo (a k a Johnny T and John E. T), and he proved optimism could generate a phenomenal lifetime.

Johnny T came to Tampa in 1956. At first, all anybody here knew about the enigmatic 22-year-old was that he had grown up in Boston's Italian North End, then a rough-and-tumble neighborhood. He maintained a wise guy demeanor and was even missing two fingertips.

Friends learned fast that this streetwise and fun-loving Sicilian-American left Boston because he wanted to see what he could do with his life. He applied his strong work ethic to real estate investments and business ventures, including bars and hair salons. Along the way he became like a loyal brother and father to hundreds in Tampa. He served as mentor, partner, guide and protector.

"Widout friends, you got nuttin'," Johnny often opined. He could electrify a crowd, making everyone he talked to feel like the most important person in the world.

Beneath his tough-guy exterior, friends found a gentle spirit who would send little notes and cards to the people he cared for, just because. He got along with nearly everyone, regardless of race, economic status or cultural background. A Republican loyal to Ronald Reagan, Johnny liked most Democrats just as much. He was a bar of steel wrapped in velvet.

Gorgeous, sophisticated women surrounded him. Wonderful women loved him.

Probably because of his neighborhood experiences, he was especially attentive to Tampa's poor and sick children. From volunteering and raising funds for the Shriners' Hospital to spending afternoons teaching kids from the Children's Home how to swim in the pool at the International Inn, Johnny always loved doing a "little something" for others.

Johnny loved to ride his Harley, ski and travel with his friends, and while doing these activities, he would make still more friends. He traversed four continents, and no matter where he was in the world, he could use his own pidgin dialect of Sicilian, accompanied by lots of gestures, to get his point across. Strangely enough, people usually understood because Johnny wanted to be understood.

He ate with gusto. Legend has it that one evening at a Detroit hotel, Johnny ate 16 lobsters in one sitting. Remembering the many meals they shared on Sunday afternoons, his friend Lou Caggiano calculated that Johnny had to have eaten over 5,000 meatballs in his lifetime. He also never missed a chance to toast at dinner parties.

Johnny T always had a "can do" attitude, which left many to wonder how much energy it must have taken simply to be him. Johnny knew how to say yes to life, even when it dealt harsh blows his way. He never surrendered to pessimism and remained in the limelight for five decades, well after the sun set on the Rat Pack era in America.

Johnny was one of my father's best friends for 40 years. When my dad was not yet 21, Johnny would let my dad into the Chez Louis - the hippest nightclub in 1960s Tampa, where Johnny worked as maitre d'. When I was born, Johnny told my dad that he wanted to be my "godfather and bodyguard."

During our European trip with Johnny, we had an unforgettable lunch on the terrace of Hotel Maeterlinck atop Nice's jagged sea cliffs. As we overlooked the sparkling turquoise Mediterranean, Johnny T glowed. The food, the wine, the scenery, the company, the beauty of it all overwhelmed him.

He sat there imbibing the experience like it was his favorite Chianti, breathing in the sea breeze. He conducted a symphony with his hands while saying, "This is what it's all about." Several times he simply said, "Wow!"

My father says Johnny never wanted anyone to see him hurting. Even toward the very end of his battle with cancer, when people asked Johnny how he was doing, he would reply, "On a scale from 1 to 10, I would be about an 8."

When I visited him at Moffitt Cancer Center, I expressed my gratitude and admiration to him for being himself. I asked him whether he realized what a tremendous positive force he had been in the lives of so many people here.

He smiled at me and, barely able to talk, responded softly under his breath, "Who knew I was such a big man?"

On March 8, Johnny T passed away. His legacy is the lesson that optimism is a choice, not chance. If you do not see it that way, as Johnny would say, "What's the matter with youz?"

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