For those of you who may recall, over the years I would end all of my motivational talks and lectures with the "Nicky Melito Story." With so many of you encouraging that I put it into a short story/essay form, I finally created, "Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City." Well, it was just named "Honorable Mention" in the 2014 Essex County Legacy Writing Contest. THERE WILL NEVER BE ANOTHER NICKY MELITO.
BTW, Nick is fictionalized in both the novel and screenplay adaptation of "Bad News On The Doorstep."
Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City
It was the fall of 1961, the heart of rock ‘n’ roll and doo wop. Our parents were heroes of World War II and Korea. We had yet to hear of Vietnam. It seemed the sun was always shining, … and did we not enjoy an Indian summer every autumn?
That year at BellevilleHigh School in Essex County, New Jersey, each day was more exciting than the next, as we sped through the hallways between classes, hoping to get a glimpse of a pretty girl, or the school’s best athlete. Life could not have been better. But, there was a distraction to this idyllic, pastoral chapter in our formative pulsating teenage years, … and his name was Nicholas Melito.
Let out of classes early so he could lug his oversized brief case of books, Nicky would limp down the vacant corridors until the bells would ring, surrounding him with his classmates as he’d enter his next class. On many occasions their arrival would be God-sent, because he had slipped on the polished floor, books sometimes strewn about. The stronger guys would help him up, … but he preferred the young ladies as his flailing arms would reach for their support. His smiling response to the rescue was always the same as he’d stand to make the motion signaling: “Safe!”
Nicholas Melito was a victim of extreme cerebral palsy, the result of a birth delivery mishap. His gallant and faithful parents, Frank and Grace Melito, learned later that Nicky’s motor skills and coordination would be a problem. With his care and elementary education at the Belleville Cerebral Palsy Center having been nothing less than extraordinary, we “healthy” kids wondered, What’s he doing at Belleville High with all of us? He should be getting special attention somewhere else.
The years sped by as our high school careers unfolded. While the stresses of puberty and peer pressures mounted, our fulfillment seemed euphoric. Our new coaches were leading us to winning seasons; our singing idols included Belleville graduate Connie Francis and an Essex County-dominated group known as The Four Seasons. Each afternoon the girls skipped off to cheerleading or twirling practice; the band rehearsed in the music room; and the guys trudged to the gymnasium or athletic fields. But not Nicky Melito. Rather, our ever-smiling, yet challenged classmate with the long neck dipped to his left would drag that brief case out the Holmes Street exit door at dismissal and labor down across busy Washington Avenue, … to catch the number Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City… every single day!
There were times when I would stare at him, as he waited patiently at that corner. But then I would smile, as a bevy of coeds helped him onto that exhaust-spewing transit machine. Then he’d vanish into its protective domain. Before leaving for my destination, the thought would haunt me—Where’s he going in the City? Who’s to help him there? He barely made it on to the bus. How’s he to get off? Then the query would vanish. I had my own life to lead, and athletics and academics were paramount for me. But, when I glanced back at the departing bus, … Is that Nicky waving to me?
The first day of Advanced Physics my junior year changed my life forever. Sitting in the first seat in the fourth row of the Chemistry room that reeked with the pungent smell of sulfur and recently extinguished burners, my anxiety for day one was interrupted by a tap on my right shoulder. Much to my dismay and irritation, it was… Nicky Melito! He said something to me, but with my encounters with him over the years having been few and many times reluctant, I wasn’t sure what his jovial greeting was. Perhaps, “Ciao, Giuseppe Chervasio (Cervasio)”, just the way my name should be recited by the best Italian-speaking students in the school … or in Rome.
Oh, no, I thought. I have to hear Nicky Melito for the rest of the year? God, what a distraction this is going to be.
It was my mother who expected straight A’s from me, so I had to give her the perfect excuse for my imminent Physics grade challenge: “Ma,” I lamented. “Nicky Melito’s always talking to me, and I can’t understand what he’s saying.
Her advice was transformative: “His parents are dedicated to him. He has a healthy little sister. Don’t hear what he has to say. Listen to him.”
What advice! His unique voice is still alive: “Hey, Joe, you had a pretty good game Saturday.” Then he’d slur, “… but, ya know what? If you stayed to the outside, you would have scored that touchdown”; perhaps … “Yea, the twirling captains drove me to the East Orange game”; and … “You sure you should be playing basketball being so short, Joe babe?”
What? I asked myself. He’s got to be kidding. What’s he know? With friends like Nicky, who needs enemies? … But, maybe he’s right.
We became friends that year as I learned my fellow student was so intelligent, so worldly … and so funny—sometimes even R-rated. He knows more than I do about everything … and hanging out with the twirling captains? Certainly there was no self-pity to be found in Nick.
Graduation in June of 1965 arrived too quickly, signaling we had to leave this cocoon nestled in the folds of Jersey. The early evening of our procession was unforgettable—sun-drenched, soft warm breezes, flags flapping gently, a packed stadium, … and the honor group of top students with gold cords being led by class leaders, … including one Nicholas Melito. He, too, had been tapped for National Honor Society. Yes, I was the President of the Senior Class on my way to Cornell, but who enjoyed the loudest response upon receiving his diploma? … You guessed it—Nicky Melito. As he crossed the platform dragging his legs and bobbing his neck, once he got his hands on that certificate, he stood erect, paused, and then waved it to heaven, as if signaling to his Creator—Mission accomplished! A standing ovation erupted.
Man, how did he pull it off, … and what was he doing on that Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City… everyday?
The Belleville Class of 1965 left for college, work, or Vietnam. Nicky was on his way to prestigious TrinityCollege.
First semester at Cornell was a challenge for me academically and on the football field. With my being home-sick, I welcomed my mother’s letter-writing. However, a week before Thanksgiving she declared: “Bad news from Belleville: Nicky Melito has left college.”
Well, I thought, I was struggling at school, so who’d be crazy enough to think Nicky would be able to survive Trinity? I hope he doesn’t become homeless.
My college years passed quickly as did my Masters Program. The military didn’t want me for Vietnam, so I married my high school sweetheart, entered business, and found success quickly. On a few occasions on long-distant jogs through my old Belleville neighborhood along the Holmes Street-Washington Avenue crossing, I would reflect, Gee, this is where Nicky Melito would catch that Forty Four DeCamp Bus to New York City. God, I hope he’s OK.
In 1982 my wife and I were nestled in our home in Nutley, New Jersey. With our two young daughters asleep, we watched the Peoples’ Choice Awards, awaiting the Favorite New Comedy Program of the Year presentation. The winner was “Private Benjamin”. The handsome and beautiful writers slowly made it to the stage, but the Master of Ceremonies waited patiently at the podium for the lead writer to arrive. And to my infinite shock and amazement, there he was, climbing up the stage steps. It was the head of this creative comedic group—Nicky Arnold, the same Nicholas Arnold Melito from Belleville, New Jersey.
“Maria, can it be?”
“Yep,” my wife responded, “That’s Nicky Melito. There’s no other like him. Nicky Arnold must be his professional name.”
You see, every day when Nicky Melito was boarding that broken-down old Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City, he was on a mission—a quest to escape his physical prison of cerebral palsy to fully express his profound talent to make people laugh and think. Like my mother, there were others who understood that if you would listen to him, you would learn something, and you would probably be tickled by his God-given sense of humor as well.
The special listeners called the comic improvisation clubs and acting schools in the New York area their homes. Aspiring actors, comics, directors, and producers—one of them was Ron Carey from Newark who would go on to star on “Barney Miller”. He’d meet Nick in New York City during those high school days, as would Emmy Award-winning writer, comic, and producer, Chuck McCann. Richard Pryor, Robert Klein, David Letterman, and Dick Cavett could not resist Nick’s comic brilliance and his labor to express it. Joan Rivers gave him a job writing jokes for her while Nick was in college; and with that, he became the youngest writer ever hired by Johnny Carson for his iconic Tonight Show. It was because of his income from those jobs that he finally convinced his parents to allow him to leave prestigious Trinity College, … and the rest is history.
In the seventies he wrote for the Dean Martin and Sonny and Cher Shows. His writing and producing of “Welcome Back Kotter” established stardom roles for the likes of John Travolta and Gabe Kaplan, earning Nick Emmy nominations. He traveled the world as an Ambassador, having been named “Man of the Year” by United Cerebral Palsy of Philadelphia in 1978. In 1979 he married a beautiful woman, Andrea Bergman, their marriage ceremony held at the world famous Plaza in New York City. In the eighties he wrote and produced the aforementioned award-winning “Private Benjamin”, as well as HBO’s first full length comedy, “First and Ten”, starring OJ Simpson.
Nick and his wife birthed three healthy children. Joshua, who graduated UCLA and the Harvard Business School, became the youngest principal ever in Los Angeles; Andrew attended Columbia University, earning his PhD in artificial intelligence from Carnegie Mellon, successful today in finance in New York; and Diana is following in her father’s footsteps as an aspiring writer and actress. Nick’s devoted younger sister, Lucia Melito, became Dr. Melito, a psychologist dedicated to people with disabled family members.
Oh, he had such energy and a zest for life, but was it his suffering with his genius trapped in that challenged body that drove him to create and achieve? His storms must have been relentless, but he laughed and made us all laugh.
“In living his life,” his sister claims, “he showed us all how to live ours. In that he created a legacy and an example. His service on earth was difficult, … but perhaps he was on assignment to inspire us all.”
Nicholas Arnold Melito passed away after a short illness in 1999 at the age of 52. Working on a script, his laptop computer was still with him at the last moment.
I still walk through my beloved Belleville neighborhood of my youth. Once in a while I’ll catch a glimpse of the new, polished, and sleek number Forty-Four DeCamp Bus to New York City. But for me, my vision always seems to blur as I glance at it, trying hard not to stare my way into a melancholy refrain, yearning to speak with my old classmate, Nicky Melito. But, each time my spirit is quickened as the vision takes on a new life—ah, the bus is Fifties vintage now, soiled, tilted slightly to the left, struggling, spewing exhaust clouds all about, roaring like the old transit machine that once caressed my friend and gently escorted him into the bowels of New York City. And sometimes, if my glance has weakened and hardened deeper into that stare, I wonder, …. Is that Nicky waiving to me from the back seat… of that Forty Four DeCamp Bus to New York City?
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