Richard C. "Dick" Marra

of Allen Park, December 2, 2012; Age 84. Proud WWII veteran. Beloved husband of Elizabeth for 61 years. Loving father of Linda (John) Rahie, Carol (the late Gerald) Gawecki, Michael, Mary Beth (William) Krzisnik, and Laurie (Jeffrey) Makarewicz. Loving grandfather of Geoffrey, Kevin, Amanda, James, the late Gerald Jr., Elizabeth, Andrew, Lauren, Michael, Megan, and Molly. Devoted brother of Donald (Paulette) and was preceded in death by sister June (Eugene) Galica, and twin sister Claire (Lt. Col. Lee USMC) Blanchard. Uncle to numerous nieces and nephews. Dick retired from Efficient Engineering as an engineer after more than 40 years of service. He was a longtime member of St. Frances Cabrini Parish and its Dads’ Club, coaching both basketball and baseball, and member of the Father Saylor Knights of Columbus Council. He was an avid fan of both the Boston Red Sox and the University of Notre Dame. A memorial mass will take place at 10 a.m. (Gathering at 9:30 a.m.) Friday at St. Frances Cabrini Church, 9000 Laurence Ave., Allen Park. Memorials may be made to the Capuchin Soup Kitchen in Detroit.

People and Passions of Dick Marra’s Life

Elizabeth Simco… Claire, June and Donny…the University of Notre Dame…the Boston Red Sox…Leo Kelly… Cabrini Dad’s Club… engineering a new die design after mulling it over in his head for days…being Irish…family…faith

Some on this list, like Notre Dame and the Red Sox, may even be called obsessions. I don’t think I even needed to write them all down. You, who knew Dad, already know all about them. When you hear the name, “Dick Marra” I bet a bunch on that list already popped into your head. Or was it the strong personality with the strong opinions? Stubborn as a mule, it was always Dad’s way or the highway. Dad was never shy about speaking his mind. But one thing is for sure, Dad was fiercely loyal to his family and friends, and would “drop anything” for a friend. His heart was in the right place.

Cabrini Dad’s Club Era 70s .

How many phone calls did Dad make while selling those Monarch 52 raffle tickets? People picked their raffle number and renewed it each year. Dad would call everyone on his list to make sure they would not miss their renewal and would be eligible to win the cash prize. His efforts helped to fund the sports programs at Cabrini. His Dads’ Club friends included Mr. Mizzi, Mr. Kelly, Mr. Alessandro, Mr. Dean, Mr. Korzecki, Mr. LeFaive, Mr. Case, Mr. Sugo, Mr. Tuccini, Mr. Vileo, Mr. Wright, Mr. Meyer, Mr. Obrycki, Mr. Carey, Mr. Cosgrove, Mr. Donnelly, and Mr. Hamel to name a few. Dad pushed at Dad’s Clubs’ meetings until he got his way for grass infields on the baseball diamonds. He reasoned, “It wasn’t truly a diamond without grass infields.”

When my brother graduated from the elementary school, my Dad thought about sending him to Aquinas High School to play baseball. Cabrini High was still in its infancy and didn’t have a baseball team. My Dad pushed for funding from the Dads’ Club. They stepped up their efforts and by sophomore year, a team was created where Michael played center field and also was a catcher just like Dad had been as a youth. My sister, Mary reminded me that Dad always commented how Michael had “an arm like a rocket.”

Dad didn’t favor the boys, he stood up for the girls, too. He made sure the cheerleading squad received its funding from the Dads’ Club, standing up for the girls before Title IX was even made into law. He also pushed for the creation of the Cabrini girls’ 7 ^th and 8 ^th grade softball team, a team that won the CYO title the very first year it existed. I followed in the family tradition, becoming a catcher on that team. He beamed when our team presented the Dads’ Club with our winning trophy.

Dad was always proud that the game of basketball was invented in his own hometown of Springfield and I think he made sure to tell that fact to everyone he ever met. He would begin conversations with complete strangers with the question, “Do you know where basketball was invented?” He was sure to inform them if they didn’t answer the question correctly. If someone answered Indiana, he would be annoyed and set them straight.

At Cabrini, Dad built the batting cage in the old church’s choir loft, of all places, and he started the youth basketball program. When a rather “big” boy in the program ran dead on into one of the support beams in the elementary gym, dad took it upon himself to pad each support with carpeting so no other kid would get hurt.

Likewise, many do not know he fashioned the football goal posts at Cabrini with his own hands. Dad somehow built them by piecing and welding metal together. He made them in sections at home and then tied them on top of the station wagon, driving down side streets all the way to the field behind Cabrini. My husband, who played football at Cabrini and at the time was my then boyfriend, once commented to me in high school that the goal posts were placed a bit crooked. He had no idea my Dad had built and sunk them. Nothing is ever perfect. But Dad’s heart was in the right place. Every night until close to the day he died, Dad prayed for each of his Dads’ Club buddies who preceded him in death. He was loyal to the end.

Early Life

Did you ever wonder how Dad could be so Irish when he had an Italian last name? The name Marra had been changed from O’Mara after members of our clan emigrated from Ireland. Somehow, we lost the “O” and added an “r.” Peter Marra was the first to set foot in America, sometime in the late 1830s just prior to Ireland’s Great Potato Famine. The clan was known for being poets and quarrymen. Peter continued the rock tradition, eventually owning a quarry. After his death, his wife, Anne, donated the “Brownstone” rock that was used to build Sacred Heart Church in Springfield, as well as Mercy Hospital located there. Those Brownstones came from the same quarry that the infamous Brownstones of New York were built. Dad was quite amazed by this fact as well. As a way to thank the Marra family, a special window was created for the church and in that window is the word “Marra” in stained glass. Anne lived to be 101 and held Dad as an infant.

Dad was born on April 12, 1928 in Springfield, MA and had a twin sister named Claire. He made sure everyone knew that he had been born first. They shared a special bond. Dad always said “they never snitched on each other” and they always had each other’s back.

When Claire passed in 1995, it left a huge hole in Dad’s heart. His best friend, Leo Kelly had also died, just days before Claire. It was almost too much for him to bear. Besides mom, his children and grandchildren, they were the two closest people in his life. Mary Beth and I were each expecting at that time. She had a girl and I had a boy soon thereafter. They say God provides. I like to think that their births helped Dad to heal. Dad loved his grandchildren and was proud of each and every one of them.

Dad loved his mother. Lorena was her name and he called her, “Ma.” She lived in Massachusetts so we would drive each summer and sometimes at Easter to see her. When Carol and Mike had a college break, but the rest of us children were still in school, Dad decided to drive the three of them to Massachusetts in his brown, Ford XL convertible. They drove 14 hours straight through with the top down the entire way. Carol always remarks when the story is brought up, “You should have seen my hair!” Dad’s Ma was a character so it’s easy to see where Dad got that from. When Dad was young, she complained to him that he had never brought home an all “A” report card like some of the other kids had in the neighborhood. So dad, who most likely was more interested in playing ball than showing off in the classroom, stepped up his academic efforts and produced that stellar report card. He handed an all “A” card to his mother and said, “Ma, this is for you.” He continued, “You will never see this again so enjoy it.”

Dad was also proud of his father, Martin, a Springfield firefighter. Dad always had a special place in his heart for firefighters and whenever he would meet one, he would thank them for their service and tell them about his father.

Although they were miles apart, Dad kept in touch with his siblings. His sisters, June and Claire preceded him in death. He always kept in touch with his brother, Donny, and never failed in calling him his “kid” brother. Distance could not break the bonds of family. Dad’s family grew when he married mom. Mom’s sister, named Helen, and her husband, Andy Kochis welcomed Dad into the family. The two couples raised their families down the street from each other where cousins could grow up and play together.

School/Military/Work

Dad went to elementary school at Sacred Heart in Springfield where he was taught by Notre Dame nuns. After graduating Springfield Technical High School, dad earned an associate’s degree from Colonial Engineering. He served his country as a sergeant in the U.S. Army during World War II and was stationed in Korea. After the war, he moved to Detroit and began working as an engineer at Efficient Engineering. He worked as a die designer for more than 40 years.

When most men bring their work home with them, Dad instead brought home a puppy. A coworker had brought two puppies into the office on Valentine’s Day and he was desperately trying to find homes for them. Dad was one of the last to leave work that night and one puppy had not yet been adopted. Dad called home, spoke to the kids first, who in turn unanimously decided they wanted the puppy before Mom even had a chance to get to the phone. The puppy, named Willie, stole our hearts.

Dad could be a big kid. During the winters, he would create a ½ size regulation hockey rink on two adjoining empty lots in the neighborhood. He put up lights for night skating and kids from all over came to the homemade rink to skate. I remember watching him and Mr. Petrovich working on the ice by adding layers of water from their garden hoses. As a kid, I didn’t realize how amazing the rink was since I thought every neighborhood had one. Dad put a picnic table around a bonfire where kids could stay warm and lace up their skates. He even scheduled ice time, hockey games had to be completed by 6 p.m. so kids could skate freely until 8 p.m. After 8, the garden hoses came out so they could resurface the ice. Two neighbors broke bones merely walking on it but that didn’t stop the rink each year until the lots were finally sold and houses built on them.

Dad loved to work on projects around the house, especially those he could do outside, and had just about every tool ever made. It wasn’t uncommon to see him walking along our roof, fixing something. Once grown, I didn’t dare tell him I was working on a project at my own home or he would be ringing my doorbell the next morning at 7 a.m., tools in hand, to help. He also enjoyed woodworking. When he designed and built the deck to his home, a contractor who saw it commented that, “You could land a plane on it” for it had been designed and built so well.

Elizabeth “Betty” Simco

Dad was new to Detroit in 1950 and lived at the “Y.” He would walk to Briggs stadium at lunchtime, where he would buy two coneys, a coke, and a newspaper, all for a buck, and would sit through batting practice, picking a seat behind home plate. He said that was the only place to see a game-from the catcher’s perspective. You wouldn’t see him root for the Tigers, though. He just loved to watch baseball. My brother, Michael, told me this week that Dad “loved baseball more than anybody he has ever known.”

As for coneys, Lafayette Coney Island was the only place to buy them. My family has never stepped foot in the competing coney shop located also on Lafayette because it just wouldn’t be right according to Dad. The family surprised him a couple of years back on Father’s Day, throwing him a party at Lafayette which he loved.

Mom met Dad at a “Hard Luck” dance in Detroit in 1950 and he asked her out. She said, “No thank you.” A couple of days later, a telephone message mixup occurred and somehow mom ended up having a date with dad. They saw the play Oklahoma at the Masonic Temple. As Dad drove her home, and they neared the Belle Isle Bridge, he asked her why she had wanted him to call her since she had not seemed interested in him at the dance at all. She asked him what he was talking about and told him she never told anyone to tell him that. They later found out the telephone message had been intended for Vic, not Dick, who was supposed to call a different Betty. From there it began. Again, God provides.

They were married on August 25, 1951. They raised five children in Allen Park and are the proud grandparents of eleven. Dad and mom were active members of St. Frances Cabrini Church. Dad shared his love of baseball with kids through coaching at Cabrini. Michael recalls Dad would run batting practice with a cigar in his mouth. When Dad was running late from work and had to go straight to the game to coach, Mom would be there already, giving the umpire the starting lineup.

Family Camping

With five kids, you camped. We towed our trailer to Somerset in the Irish Hills or Camp Dearborn. We used beer cases as suitcases. Each child was allowed only one to put clothes in. We all felt like we were in the Army. Dad saw it as a practical and efficient system. Mary remembers her case was Black Label. I’m thinking mine was Stroh’s. When we traveled out of state, we camped as well, stopping at places that had names like “Big Bone Lick,” for the night.

One Easter vacation, we drove to Florida and Dad got it in his head that we were going to drive on the beach. Imagine a carload of kids in a station wagon attempting to drive on the sand that had signs posted warning of dangerous sea oats (that didn’t seem to stop him). There were boards nearby to help us dig the station wagon out when we got stuck. God provides.

Notre Dame/ Red Sox

Notre Dame was the ONLY team that mattered.

He hated the University of Michigan.

He hated Michigan State unless they were playing Michigan.

Dad loved the stadium located in the “sacred city” of South Bend. He loved the school, the grotto, the Basilica of the Sacred Heart, Touchdown Jesus, the priests, the campus, and the essence of Notre Dame. Was there ever a bigger fan? Not in our neck of the woods.

My sister, Mary Beth, met a boy at an Allen Park dance back in the 70s. He asked her where she lived and she replied, Midway, behind Bethesda Baptist Church. The boy then asked her if she lived “by the nut who flies the Notre Dame flag every day?” She answered, “That nut is my father.”

God forbid if Notre Dame lost. We walked on egg shells in the Marra household the following week. Heck, yes, I even prayed Notre Dame would beat Michigan (where I’m an alum), just so Dad would be happy these final years and yes, I know you aren’t supposed to pray for stuff like that. Dad and Mom traveled all the way to Hawaii and Ireland to watch their beloved team play.

Same could be said about the Red Sox. I think I visited Fenway Park in Boston more often than I did Tiger Stadium growing up. Dad loved to take in a game whenever we traveled out East at the stadium that houses the “Green Monster.”

I thanked God when they finally won the World Series in 2004. Dad was ecstatic. He had waited an entire lifetime for it. I can imagine him as a little boy in Springfield, MA, listening to Bosox games on the radio. There was no other player in the world for Dad but Ted Williams. During the 84-year losing streak, Dad would say, “The Red Sox killed my father, and they are killing me.” He told my sister Mary, the night the Red Sox won the pennant, “I can now die happy.” When Carol gave Dad a Red Sox World Series Championship jacket for Christmas, Dad cried, and so did the rest of us.

I know when the Notre Dame Football team takes to the field Jan. 7 to compete for the national title, Dad will have the best seat in the house. He will be looking from heaven, a cigar sticking out of the corner of his mouth, at his beloved team, and he will be rooting the Fighting Irish on.

Thank you for reading this lengthy tribute. I sincerely welcome you to share your thoughts and stories here. I know Dad was a character and there are so many more tales that can be told. Please take a moment, travel down memory lane, and add them. My family would be grateful. Thank you for being part of his celebration of life.

God Bless,

Laurie Marra Makarewicz