Papap Costello – by Doug Greco

(Thanks to my mom, Candace Greco, for supplying much of the background for this story)

My great-grandfather was a boxer named “Kid Costello”.  His real name was Pastula, but since Irish boxers ruled at the time, he took an Irish name in the family, Costello.   Kid Costello was killed in a mine explosion while his wife was pregnant with their 10^th child.

He named one of his sons, my maternal grandfather, Joe Costello.    Though my grandfather died when he was 43 and I never knew him, I call him Papap Costello.

Papap Costello fought in the South Pacific in World War II.   Before he left, he and my grandmother eloped, each aged 17.     After his tours were done, he just showed up at my grandmother’s house without notice.   I’m told she went berserk and jumped in his arms. They had a girl and two boys together.

Papap Costello, like his father and most men of his generation in the Anthracite Coal Region, worked in the mines at a very young age.  Though work and service prevented him from continuing school, he was very smart, especially in math.  My mom remembers him helping her with homework.   Eventually he ran above-ground mine equipment for my paternal grandfather who owned a coal mine with his brothers.

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My mom shared this recollection by email, with a proud flourish at the end:

“My memories at very early age were of him leaving way before daylight every day and coming home covered with black soot late afternoon!  Actually in morning you could hear the signal from the house like a horn or something signaling miners to head to work and I think later again when it would time to quit for day.  Customary for them to stop at nearby beer garden after work to wet their whistle before coming home!  He worked for Papap Greco (my paternal grandfather) at his mines later as heavy equipment operator until mines closed!  Later on Nana was able to receive black lung benefits from government. I can still remember seeing the black tin lunch bucket he used every day and thermos of coffee!! Hard times…I am a coal miner’s daughter!!!”

Even today, the average life expectancy of a coal miner today is about 53 years old, and I once heard that an Anthracite Coal Miner had the lowest life expectance of any profession, except for an Alaskan fisherman.   Using heavy equipment, Papap Costello also dug out Oscars Pond, a backyard pond we used to fish at when we were little. 

My grandfather became a leader in local institutions: Grand Knight in the Knights of Columbus, member of St. Paul’s Catholic Church, the Atlas Legion, the Atlas Fire Company, and eventually a member of the School Board.  My grandmother once told me a local columnist had it out for him while he was on the school board.    He was well respected, not due to money, but because of a large network of relationships through the civic organizations he belonged to.  

Papap Costello developed Rheumatoid Arthritis in his early 30’s.    RA causes your immune system to attack your joints and organs, causing excruciating pain and tissue damage.   The only treatment in those days were Cortisone and gold salts.  He eventually developed diabetes and died of congestive heart failure in his early 40’s.   My Papap Greco, a doctor, treated him and said that most men would not have let themselves endure the pain he did.  He did get to see my mom marry and his first grandchild born, before he passed away though.

The best story I ever heard about Papap Costello was when he pulled my mom out of Catholic High.  After school one day, she told him a nun locked her in a closet, my mom suspects for talking to boys (she maintains that the nuns would look out the classroom windows to see which girls got the attention of guys, and then once in class find another reason to punish them).  Hearing of the incident, the next day Papap Costello went to Catholic High, pulled her out of class, and walked her down the street to enroll her in the public high school.  

Within a year she had made cheerleader.   One day she stood outside the school when my dad pulled up in his convertible with his best friend Alfie in the passenger’s seat.  Alfie yelled to my mom, “Hey, would you go out with Greco if he asked you?”  She gave a cautious “yeah”.  The rest is history.