Fred Luchesi Passes Away
Alfred Luchesi, Jr.
( March 28, 1930 – February 27, 2024 )
Alfred Luchesi, Jr. of Rhode Island, passed away at age 93, unexpectedly, of heart failure on February 27, 2024. He received the best of care from an attentive staff at Kent Hospital, during a thirty-hour period we hoped would change the outcome. Rob, his mate of 47 years, was with him, along with the many encouraging thoughts of those who knew Fred well.
The ICU may be a place where only the patient knows the significance of the hour. As his company rose to leave, after a night of constant staff activity, but little from Fred, he surprised everyone on February 26. We suspect it was achieved through his habit of having the final word.
As the room’s visitors rose, prepared to leave from a long night of fragile hope, and return the next morning, Fred quietly awoke, stirring slightly from the restless, perpetual sleep since being admitted Sunday. His eyes were weary yet focused, as a sealed smile -with no intention of rushing – spread across his face until there was no room left to expand. He was still too weak to speak; uncharacteristic of Fred’s nature. (Under usual circumstances we called Fred’s silence “a recess”.) The company, in anxious relief, leaned in to say good night, profoundly grateful for the reassuring moment- and to staff for an abundance of industrial tissue. While everyone absorbed the moment and wiped saturated faces, Fred, likely warmed by the caring display of slumped shoulders and red, crumpled faces, held steady a faint smile, before sinking back into his pillow, closing his eyes, and continuing on in dreams.
Tomorrow was another day.
While others wrote this, it was Fred’s undeniable force navigating our thoughts and hand through this journey of remembrance. In life, he was an excellent driver, anticipating the moves of a distracted driver ahead and getting his passengers out of harm’s way. But Fred was also a notorious backseat driver. One couldn’t leave the driveway- even your own- without a cautious word about reckless endangerment or ignoring the neighborhood’s traffic patterns. Fred’s critical observations as passenger sometimes enough for a frustrated driver to pull the vehicle over until the car’s occupants cooled down. If Fred’s opinion could be heard now, he would probably lament this tribute left out much. In Fred’s restless hands the text would be bigger, bolder- and before he was done- all the programmed alerts for producing a reasonable example of a document, would be beeping, flashing, or smoking.
In the early years of America’s direct participation in WWII, Fred chose patriotism over education. Fred’s explanation might vary, depending on who was listening, but we know in the middle of a school year, Fred left for Florida, hoping to enlist. But even without the threat of familial intervention nearby, he was refused for reasons of his young age. In Miami, two years later, he reapplied and was accepted, served, and received an honorable discharge from the Marine (Reserve) Corps in 1949. Before, during, and after that period, Fred worked odd jobs: Car salesman, door-to-door selling, and driving a bus for students attending the Hebrew Academy in Miami. The middle-school kids taught him the lyrics to Dayenu- a song for the holiday of Passover- and Fred, to their screaming encouragement, commandeered the bus with thrilling accelerations, thus demonstrating the similarities of an amusement park ride to a racing school bus when driving gears are skillfully manipulated.
By the end of the decade, Fred had considerable success in stock car racing. Known on the tracks as “Lead Foot” Luchesi, he received the title of United States Stock Car Champion and New England Stock Car Champion three years straight, along with many other championships, competing from the late 1940s until his retirement from racing in the 1960s. During that career, he drove coupes, modifieds, midgets, and late models. In 2008, Fred was inducted into the New England Antique Racers Hall of Fame.
An enthusiast of other sport activities, Fred was a member of the Canadian Ski Instructors Alliance, skiing and teaching both regionally and in Quebec, Canada at Mont Tremblant, while around the same time teaching ballroom dancing in Providence. His dance talent was never more evident than at one fundraising event at Rhodes on the Pawtuxet when he swept dance partner, Gabrielle, off her feet along with a couple dancing too close. Everyone laughed, except the couple trying to pick themselves off the floor.
In the summer months, sailing was Fred’s new hobby. He owned several wooden sailboats over time, starting with a 23’ foot sloop he restored, eventually graduating to a 47’ schooner he enjoyed sailing alone or with friends. Some of his best boat stories were about the spontaneous excursions to Block Island from the Copper Galley in Providence, leaving the dock at some time halfway through the Happy Hour. There was no shortage of happy passengers for those invitations, just a shortage of anyone who knew the stern from the bow, or the futility of pushing the freight ship bearing down, away from skimming the port side of the smaller vessel.
In the ’60s decade, Fred discovered an interest and talent for restoring historical homes in Rhode Island communities, including Cumberland, Barrington, Attleboro, and Providence. This ignited an interest in antiques and soon he was a collector, and later, shop owner of the PreAmble Inc. The name was curious to some, until it was explained its name was decided by its approximation to Amble Street, and not the Constitution. The store opened on Hope Street on the East Side of Providence, and many years later, a new location in Warwick then East Greenwich, during the time he was developing residential properties, both building and remodeling, in the town of Jackson, New Hampshire. Fred’s proudest restoration was 60 Manning Street, a 15,000 square foot mansion on the East Side of Providence where he hosted many parties, notably a fundraiser to elect political newcomer Vincent “Buddy” Cianci as Mayor of Providence, and another for the Ocean State Performing Arts Center, a black-tie gala featuring opera star Anna Moffo, who would later that week perform there in La Traviata. Fred was offered a small walk-on part as a singing butler- which included billing in the promotional posters- as a favor from the production company for his hosting contribution. Fred respectfully declined, much to the relief of 20th-century opera singers everywhere. But the framed poster still hangs.
In the early 90s, his interests turned to motor yachts. His first purchase was a 34-foot Main Ship, with several boats of incrementally larger sizes following, before he settled down with a 55-foot Chris Craft Roamer. To ensure there was always a dock available in Newport he bought a 100-foot dockominium, guaranteeing his 4 night weekends of socializing continued without interruption. The boat rarely left the dock and Fred considered building a foundation under it.
At some time in the following decade, Fred became bored with boating and sold both vessel and slip. But he never lost interest in the water- every house he owned after that had a swimming pool, one of them inside the house.
During a period in his youth that challenged him- as many are in young adulthood- Fred was troubled by some matter and sought the advice of a priest. The priest offered this: Whatever you do in life, do it honorably.
As told the story by Fred, he thanked the priest very much, and before leaving the church, did something uncharacteristic; left money in the collection basket instead of leaving with it; so an impression had been made. Fred could still be short on patience and long on profanities, but he reserved such language for some friends…and father. Alfred Sr. was a kind, dapper gentleman, and successful realtor. You could hear his dad at the other end of a phone (from the other end of the room, too) howling with laughter in response to the salty language his son, Fred, would use describing…well, just about anything. Anyone arguing his good intentions might hear from him, too. Still, Fred embraced the priest’s earlier advice as the starting point of his life’s journey, keeping true course to the very end.
Fred came into this world on March 28, 1930. Along with Rob, he leaves behind his sister, Gloria, and a brother, John. Fred loved animals, especially dogs, and a nameless plush toy with wild hair (we think was a hedgehog), that took up space on the coffee table. Every morning after rising Fred would walk over, pick the stuffed animal up, and without any forethought, shake it furiously- like he was mixing a cocktail shaker- until its fur stood up on end, lending it a look of surprised reaction. Satisfied with the effect, Fred would place it down and go on with his day.
If his friends want to do anything in remembrance of Fred, do something benefiting an animal. Just don’t do that.
At Fred’s wishes, there will be no funeral service. A memorial service is not immediately planned but the family will notify loved ones in the future when a service is scheduled.
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Sources: Hill Funeral Home