Sam P. Chieffalo

SAM P. CHIEFFALO, age 92, of Hudson, entered peacefully into eternal rest on Friday, February 28, 2025 under the comforting care of hospice. Beloved husband of 62 years to Candida C. “Candy” (nee Lamatrice); loving father to Caroline Scerbin (Dean), Becky Susany (John), Teresa Desmond (Chris), and Sam (Michele); cherished grandfather to Michael (Taylor), Kira, Connor, Julia, Johnny, Madison, Vincent, Adam, and Chloe; dear brother of Marie Klenowski (the late John) and all of the following deceased siblings, John (Helen), Herman (Annette), Albert (Virginia), Phyllis Bonsignor, Anthony (Betty), and James.  Sam was born September 5, 1932 in Benwood, WV, the son of the late John B. and Teresa Chieffalo (nee Cantalice). He was drafted into the United States Army and served his country abroad during the Korean War. For his service to his country he was awarded the Korean Service Medal, United Nations Service Medal, National Defense Service Medal, and the Good Conduct Medal and received an honorable discharge on February 4, 1955. Sam was a distinguished college administrator at Ursuline College in Cleveland and retired from Franciscan University in Steubenville, OH. 

Dad might have hob-knobbed with the movers and shakers of Cleveland in the 70s and 80s because of his work at Ursuline College, and perhaps was caught, occasionally, with his feet up on the desk of his corner office reading the Wall Street Journal, but there wasn’t a pretentious bone in his body. 

A child of the depression, he loved to tell us his toys were clothespins, but we know he really played a lot of ball with his brothers. He shared with us his love of baseball: pitching the wiffle ball in the street or the back yard, watching his beloved Cardinals, sitting in bleacher seats at Muni Stadium, or on the sidelines at our school and rec league games. He relentlessly told us “keep your eye on the ball.” Some of us understood that better than others - even if baseball is in the Chieffalo genes.

This love translated into some of his favorite movies, like when he would tell his grandkids to make sure to tell their parents, “Daddy, we don’t have to sell the farm. People will come,” or “I always wanted to be a farmer.” There are too many movies to name, too many inside jokes, quoted lines, Saturday afternoons watching the same film for the fourth or fifth time. Dad loved the movies. 

He also loved music. There were Strauss waltzes Sunday afternoons on the old console stereo, Pavarotti on the boombox on the deck, or who knows what on the radio in the car. Sometimes, out of the blue, dad would just belt out, “Try to remember the kind of September,” or “Don’t cry for me Argentina.” This would happen over, and over, and over. Only the tunes changed through the years, at first followed by reactions of groans or rolled eyes, and later just smiles.

He was a project man. There was always something to be done at home, and later at our homes, something to fix, adjust, put up, or take down. Years ago you would’ve found him at Builder’s Square on a Saturday, dressed in his after-work/weekend uniform: gray plaid pants, which we became so sick of over the years that we slid them into a trash bag without his knowledge on garbage day, and black mesh shoes. Dad was always thinking, planning, some way to make our homes better, like when he leaned over to Sam at Mass on Sunday after Communion of course, and whispered, “We’re going to build a deck today.” He went on to build, and build, and build many decks in many yards in different homes. Though we moved a LOT, Dad put his special touch on every home: a new swing set, an above ground pool, new trees dug up on hill then carried down and replanted in our yard, moving rocks and tilling a giant garden, finishing basements, and the dreaded wallpaper with mom.

Dad was always busy, but not the most meticulous handy-man. Whether stating, “ground wires are overrated,” while renovating his kitchen, or deciding, “that’s good enough," while attempting to mitre cut baseboards, and memorably proclaiming that “primer is unnecessary,” he had a tendency to cut corners that were never apparent in the finished results.

The clink of ice, the scents of Canadian Club, and Skin Bracer, were tell-tale signs of an evening out with mom or a party planned at the house. For a pretty shy guy, Dad loved a good party, many resulted in legends in family lore, always with plenty of food. Early on we rolled dried beef with horseradish and cream cheese, later Dad’s homemade sausage (yes, he went through a phase) or his special meatballs might’ve been served. Food was important- even if he needed his Rolaids afterwards.  

When we were kids it was a small vanilla DQ, just ten cents, but for his grandkids, he took them out for Wendy burgers. Afterwards, he might’ve taught them how to catch fish using pepperoni as bait, showed them how to ride waves in the ocean, build sandcastles on the beach, play wiffle ball (of course) with the big red bat, sock basketball, or ping-pong in the basement.

We all have our own cherished memories, a place, a visit, a moment, a laugh, a look, a word, that are printed on our hearts. For sixty-one plus years Dad loved Mom, and Mom loved Dad, and they both have loved us all, unconditionally.

All are asked to gather at St. Mary Catholic Church, 340 N. Main St., Hudson, Ohio 44236, where a Funeral Mass will take place on Saturday, March 15, 2025 at 10:00 a.m.  Entombment with full military honors will follow in Nativity Mausoleum at All Saints Cemetery.  In lieu of flowers, family suggests memorials in Sam’s name to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital.

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