Andy Pantano, Academy usher, 89

ANDY PANTANO had many stories about the celebrities he met as an usher at the Academy of Music for 39 years, and he loved to tell them to rapt audiences of family and friends.

Finding beer for Ella Fitzgerald on a Sunday when the old blue laws had all the bars closed; seeing that Luciano Pavarotti found a good restaurant; tending to the needs of prima donnas, presidents, popes and performers of every style and eccentricity. He was a master of the corny joke. Once during a Polish benefit concert as part of an Ecumenical Council session, a patron complained about being seated behind a pole.

"Everybody's behind a Pole," he cracked.

At that same concert, a Polish cardinal named Karol Jozef Wojtyla wanted to go backstage to meet the performers. "Sorry, nobody gets in, not even the pope," an usher told him. Wojtyla, of course, became Pope John Paul II a few years later.

Angelo Pantano, who became head usher at the Academy and who was once described by Daily News classical-music writer Tom DiNardo as "a gracious gentleman impossible to ruffle," died July 6. He was 89 and lived in Oak Valley, N.J.

Andy didn't retire until he was 80 because he loved the job so much. He would take the High-Speed Line to Philly from Camden every night and sometimes wouldn't get back home until after midnight.

"He had a good life," said one of his daughters, Rita Anne Pacheco. "He was happiest when he was working. It energized him."

Andy's love of good music, especially opera, began long before he got to see performances for free. He used to record Mario Lanza's weekly radio broadcast, using old vinyl records.

"I can still see the needle cutting a groove in that black record," Rita Anne said. "It left black fuzz on the floor."

Lanza was a neighbor when Andy was growing up in South Philadelphia, where he was born to Augustus and Marianna Pantano, Italian immigrants.

He studied printing at a vocational school and operated his own print shop, Pantano Press, in the cellar of his home, at 11th and McKean streets.

He gave up the printing business when his late brother, Joseph, a salesman for a paper company, became ill and Andy took over his customers. Andy sold men's clothing for Gimbel's for 40 years, even after he started at the Academy.

"He would go to the Academy during his lunch hour and sell tickets," his daughter said.

"He always had a story or a corny joke," said his other daughter, Lenora Dechant. "He would hold court with his stories. He was an entertainer himself.

"He was a guy who loved his family. He tried to give us what we needed when we needed it."

Tom DiNardo once described Andy as "the diplomatic, patrician head usher of the Academy of Music, as familiar as the famous chandelier.

"Patrons and friends always make a point to greet this gracious storyteller. Andy never met a person or a piece of music he didn't like."

Once when President Dwight Eisenhower arrived for a concert, Andy passed him five programs he wanted signed. The Secret Service said no, but wrote down his name and address. A few days later, a black limo pulled up at Andy's home and agents delivered the signed programs.

Andy was married for more than 60 years to the former Rita Umile. She died in 2004.

When Andy retired, he got a congratulatory letter from Ricardo Muti, director of the Philadelphia Orchestra from 1980 to 1992, now music director of the La Scala opera house in Milan.

In retirement, Andy enjoyed being with his family and taking bus trips to the Atlantic City casinos.

He also is survived by a son, Raymond; five grandchildren; 10 great-grandchildren, and three great-great-grandchildren.

Services were held July 11. *