Obituary of Jean Pelletier

Jean P. Pelletier, a Veteran of both WW II and Korea passed away, after a long illness, at the Cedar Glen Nursing Facility in Danvers on Monday morning, December 3, 2007. He was 89 years old. Jean was born, raised, and educated in Salem. He was the son of the late Odias and Delia Pelletier. In the beginning of WW II he supported the war effort by working at Bethlehem Steel Company in Quincy as a Marine Machinist. He was very proud to have worked on the construction of the Battleship USS Massachusetts. He joined the Army as a member of Company A of the 49th Armored Infantry Battalion spending 13 months in Germany, Holland and France. He returned to Salem and opened North Shore Market with his brother-in-law. He was called back to serve in the Army during the Korean War. He was the recipient of the Good Conduct Medal, American Campaign Medal, WW II Victory Medal, National Defense Medal, and the Korean War Medal. He was very proud of his service to his country. Jean owned North Shore Dredging from 1958 to 1978. He had extensive knowledge of the waters surrounding Salem. Dredging, hauling cargo, building piers were just some of the types of projects he worked on. Jean was a member of the Salem Knights of Columbus and was extremely active in Salem politics. He was a strong supporter of the Shaughnessy Hospital and served as the Chairman of the Board of Trustees. Family was a very important part of Jean’s life. He was always there to support or help anyone in his family and took great pride in their accomplishments. He was married to his wife Alma (Caron) Pelletier for 66 years. He was the proud father of Elaine & her husband Robert Zuccaro of Burlington, Jack Pelletier & his wife Jeannine of Rowley, formerly of Danvers, and Philip Pelletier & his wife Nancy of Salem. He was the brother of Emile of Peabody, Armand of Salem, the late Irene Higgins, Maurice, and Roger Pelletier. He was the devoted grandfather of Karen Sullivan of Burlington, Donna Buchmann of Nantucket, John Pelletier of Danvers, Kevin Pelletier of Topsfield, Leslie Tkaczek of Newburyport, Emily Korriku of Salem, Michael Pelletier of Swampscott, and Anna Pelletier of Salem. He was also survived by 12 great grandchildren. Funeral from the Levesque Funeral Home, 163 Lafayette St.,(Rt. 114/1A) Salem on Thursday, December 6 at 10 a.m. Followed a funeral mass in St. Anne’s Church, 292 Jefferson Ave, Salem at 11 a.m. Visiting hours Wednesday 4-8 p.m. Interment in St. Mary’s Cemetery, Salem. Memorials in Jean’s name may be made to the Salvation Army, 147 Berkeley St., Boston, MA 02116-5197. Former owner of North Shore Market and North Shore Dredging. Veteran of WW II and Korean War. For obituary and directions see www.levesquefunerals.com How would I describe my father,he was agentleman,entrepanuer,loving husband,father, and grandfather, but he had another side. He was a jokester a prankster,he was the guy at the wedding who would pull the rotor or the coil wire from under the hood of the wedded couples getaway car. My aunt Rita, at the wake last night, said when he walked into a roomfull of people, the mood would change. That’s how I remember my father. .I would like to open this remembrance of our Dad with recognizing my sister Elaine and the great distance and effort she took to be here with us today. She was traveling in Italy with her husband, Bob, when, she was called home. I must add Elaine; I believe Dad penuchie fudged you again. I will get back to the penuchie fudge story later in the eulogy. 1918 on 96 Congress Street Jean, Jean Paul, Dad, and Peppere was born. He was the second of five children -- Irene, Roger, Emile and Armand -- born to Odias and Delia who came down from Canada to work in the textile mills. The story begins at twelve years old when he decided he was old enough to drive, and his passion for automobiles began. So off he went in the family car with his Uncle Albert, riding shotgun, and drove right into a tree. In 1938 he bought his first car, a 37 Plymouth, with the money he made as a weaver at the Pequot Mills, a trade his mother taught him. That 37 Plymouth Jean had outfitted with a siren hidden somewhere between the cowl and the radiator with a switch under the clutch pedal. He came out of 96 Congress Street one morning and Officer Dancreau was sitting in the driver’s seat. My Dad asked what he was doing there, the cop replied that he was just checking out the nice car but my dad knew better. He was looking for the siren the police knew it was there but they never found it! He started dating Alma Caron, the women he would spend sixty-six years and tell anyone who would listen that she was quite a catch. He took my mother to Boston one night on a date with Clarence Marquis and his date following in Ford close behind. Well, the traffic was a little heavy that night in Lynn, before we go any further I need to mention that my mother was a shy young Lady who believed she was going on a quiet double date. Well, my father when he saw the traffic he switched the siren on the traffic parted and off to Boston Alma and Jean in the 34 Plymouth went followed closely behind with Clarence and Rita in the Ford. Now a betting man would have laid odds that that would have been his last date with my mother. They were married in February, 1941. His draft number came up in March. He sold his auto repair garage that he owned on Foster St in Peabody. In September my mother, who was pregnant with my sister Elaine, wrote a letter to the Draft Board explaining the situation. As a result Jean received a deferment from the war for two years. He began his third career as a machinist at the Fore River shipyard in Quincy in support of the War. He was particularly proud of his job at the shipyard and was quickly promoted to foreman in charge of the 16 inch gun turrets on the battleship Massachusetts. My sister Elaine was born New Years Day 1942. My brother Jack followed in March of 1944. Now here is the penuche fudge story. Apparently Elaine now, 2 years old, had a particular fondness for fudge. I hope everyone is familiar with fellsnapter soap; well it is rectangular and light blonde and resembles penuche fudge. My sister pointed to the soap on the sink and she said Daddy fudge? So my father accommodated her and carefully cutting her a piece. Now the question comes up every time this story is told, did he actually let her take a bite? Jack and I always thought he did but of course Mom says no. Well, Elaine did he? By now the deferment had run out and it was September of 44 and he was off to basic training. In December he was shipped out Holland. Now since Jean was fluent in French his Colonial wanted to keep him close at hand. As a mechanic he was put in charge of the motor pool. This was when my father began his next career, in the garment industry. I don’t know how he got into it but he did quite well selling nylons and corsets while he was in Europe and was accumulating some money. Now the story goes like this, my mother’s brother Wally was in the Battle of the Bulge and was scheduled to come home. My father loaded a duffel bag and commandeered an Indian motorcycle from the motor pool and took off to find Wally. Now it is winter and I don’t know how far my father was from Wally. Wally got the duffel bag home to Mom. After Dad returned home from the war he was to change careers yet again. In 1948 he built Salem’s first Supermarket with his brother-in-law Mike. It was called North Shore Market and it was located on Congress Street. By 1958 he decided to change professions again and partnered with Harvey Levesque and formed North Shore Dredging and Marine Construction. Within two years he went from a grocer to diving under the ice in a hardhat dive suit on a damn in Brattleboro Vermont without any formal trading. Quite a career change. In 1968 or 69 I remember an incident, when we, I say we, because I was working with him that summer and we were moving the barge up the south river to the yard which at the time was on the other side of the congress street bridge. We had put the clamshell bucket on the crane and I didn’t think it was strange because once in a while we would use it to remove shopping carts that the kids had thrown off the bridge into the channel. As we approached the bridge Jean pops up into the seat, swings the crane over with the bucket and proceeds to pull a piling out of the congress st. marina setting the floats and boats adrift. Immediately the owner of the marina came out and asked my father what he was doing, my father informed him we were just there to take back the pilings he had neglected to pay for. Now we are on the barge with our mouths open thinking holy smokes. The next thing we new, the marina owner sent his nephew and son out to sit on top of the remaining pilings so my father would not pull any more out. Now we had a stand off, the police are on the bridge not quite knowing what to do and by now a crowd of spectators had gathered, well I don’t remember how long it lasted, I do know those two boys had there lunch on top of the pilings. My dad was paid, he put the pilings back and my father and the marina owner Mr. Femi no became friendly again. I think the years he was in the Marine business were his favorite. He enjoyed being outside and the work was far from monotonous. Quite a few people had the opportunity to work for Jean and whenever I meet these men they all remember the time fondly with a story or two with many smiles and laughs. He was always willing to give someone a chance. He had this angle to keep vandalism down where he would seek out the leader of the gang in the neighborhood he was working in to watch the equipment. He was working on the seawall at the end of Kosciusko Street and hired this kid named Eddie to watch the equipment for the weekend. My parents took a ride down there after church to check on things and there was Eddie standing there with the cement mixer running. My father jumps out of the car to see what was going on and there is a kid inside the mixer going round and round. Apparently enterprising Eddie was charging .25cents a ride. But Jean, you told me to watch it you didn’t say I couldn’t use it. You know Eddie and my father stayed in touch through the years. I remember visiting at Raymond Road and my .father showing me the new stereo system he had acquired. Apparently Eddie was a little short and needed a loan. So my father took the stereo as collateral well Eddie never came back for the stereo and I think Eddie borrowed the stereo from someone else. Jean retired in 1979 and he was 61, his back was bothering him, just in time to help raise the grandchildren and how he loved those grandchildren. He was very proud of each and everyone of them. He would compare the girls and the boys. Karen and Donna were his little girls. He would make sure that John and Kevin my brothers oldest would know just how well the girls were doing in school. Rides on the tractor teaching them how to play cribbage and how to shoot play pool were part of Pepere’s school. These were also his farming years. You knew it was spring for the smell of cow manure in and around 54 Raymond Road. John and Kevin would come and help Pepere on Thursday’s. They would drive the tractor, cut the lawn, and help fix the car, rotate the tires and change the oil and fix the plow, what ever needed to be done they were right into it. As a reward, after Memere would feed them, they would go down cellar for target practice with the BB guns. Mike and Emily followed John and Kevin and got dropped off at 54 Raymond Avenue by the bus. Memere would make them a snack while they did their homework. After, they could go help Pepere. Mike was ten and was excited to take over the tractor from John and Kevin, but. when Pepere put him on the tractor his feet didn’t reach the pedals. Not a problem! They went into the garage and built blocks for the pedals and off Mike went! Music was very important to my father. Donna took piano lessons which made Pepere very proud. But Leslie, my brothers youngest, took up the violin which my father claimed he played when he was young. That made her very special to Pepere. It was about this time my father entered his seventh career, exterminator. Emily recalls Pepere giving her driving lessons and route included a drive down the Willows to drop off the latest varmint he had captured. Now that I think about it Emily’s driving skills may be directly related to driving with a live animal in a have-a-heart trap jumping around in the back of a beat up ford escort with a one eyed seventy-nine year old. Then the last grandchild came along little Anna. Anna was attending the Federal Street School a two-way English-Spanish school. Now mind you it was September and Anna had spent the summer at the beach and she had acquired quite a tan. On hairdressing days when Memere couldn’t pick her up after school, Pepere would show up in his little beat up ford escort. When they were back at 54 Raymond Road and Anna was eating her chicken noodle soup ,that he bought by the case just for her , he said to Alma “I had a hard time picking Anna out of the school yard today, why doesn’t Nancy send her to a white school.” My mother turned and told my father to” be quiet she’ll tell Nancy.” Well Anna did tell her mother. Nancy made every effort to explain, my dad never did quite get the concept of the Federal Street School. But it was ok because it was Jean. It was always August and it was always hot when he arrived at the yard with his chainsaw and splitting tools in the back of the little ford escort. He would go to work cutting, splitting and stacking. My brother-in-law Jere was working for us at the time and we happened to be working in the yard. Jere was watching Jean work away on the wood pile and felt bad and ask if he could give him a hand. My father never refused help but you were expected to keep up. Two hours later Jere took a break and Jean kept on going. I think Jere realized after that that my father was fine on his own. You are all familiar with the size of a ford escort well after four or five pieces of firewood the car is no longer riding on the springs. If he strategically placed each piece and left the hatch open he could load a half cord of wood in that little car. We would watch Jean leave the yard and think of that poor car trying to get over the Beverly Bridge. As my Dad got on in years the most difficult thing to do was to relieve him of his license to drive. My brother Jack and my wife Nancy got the brunt of it. Dad accused Jack of talking the doctor into telling him that he had to stop driving. . He said Nancy was mean and that she reminded him of a nun he had in grade school. I think you realize by now that it was very difficult to say no to Jean. He talked my mother into taking the Cadillac to Wall-Mart. “I know where Wall-Mart is” he said, and she let him go. The next day my mother came by to see my brother and me at the yard with a tear in her eye and the side of the Caddy stove in with pieces of wood stuck in it. “Your father told me he was hit by a truck”. I said,” Ma they haven’t made a truck out of wood in seventy five years.” His first drive ended with a tree and fittingly so did his last!