Lewis B, Flinn, M.D.Wilton A. Doane,MD Henry Cadbury
Martin Orne, MD, PhDGeorge W. Gowen, MD Kenneth Gordon, MD
Mary Stuart Fisher, MDOrville P. Horwitz,MD Lewis Harlow van Dusen, Jr.
Hobart Reiman, MD. Lindley B. Reagan, M.D.
Allan v. Heely Frederick Mason Jones, Jr.
Russell Roth,MD George Willoughby
Earle B. Twitchell Jonathan Evans Rhoads, Sr.
Garfield G. Duncan,MD
Joseph P. Nicholson
Howard LewisAl DriscollHenry Bockus, MD
William H. Taylor
One of the features of aging past ninety is accumulating many stories to tell. Perhaps fewer are left alive to challenge insignificant details.
There are people who deny that Philadelphia has any organized crime; and it certainly doesn't have a Mafia. That may be their view of it, but still, the rumors do persist. They say in the street that someone named Angelo was once the head of the mob, and that may not be true either. However, it is true that one day he had his head blown off sitting in his car, and it is definitely true that the sidewalks were swept and completely safe for several blocks around his South Philadelphia house. If there was an empty parking space along that block, no one took it.
One day before he met his untimely end, he was a patient on the seventh floor of the Pennsylvania Hospital, and the patient in the next room was a ninety-six-year-old starchy matron, whose faculties were a little impaired, and who had a daughter named Mary Stuart. As commonly happens with old ladies at sundown, one evening the matriarch became a little confused, and shouted out, "Mary Stuart!" After a brief pause, she repeated, "Mary Stuart, Mary Stuart!" This continued for an hour, and finally, Angelo put on his bathrobe and came around to see what was going on next door.
When he appeared at the door, the old lady sat bolt upright and said, "Young man, just who do you think you are?"
Angelo smiled broadly and replied, "Why, I'm Mary Stuart."
Originally published: Thursday, October 11, 2018; most-recently modified: Monday, May 20, 2019