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Michael J. Toglia of Shawnee, Kansas passed away on January 23, 2011 at home. He was 68 years old. Born and raised in Montclair, NJ, he lived in West Caldwell as well as Spring Valley NY before moving to Kansas seven years ago. He was a veteran of the US Army, serving in Viet Nam for 13 months. Michael was a self-employed businessman who owned and operated an Arnold Bread route, an Archway Cookie route and MaryAnn's Luncheonette in Montclair before retiring to Kansas. He was the beloved father of Gail Le Fevre of Chicago, IL and Michael A. Toglia of Roseland, NJ; dear brother of Mary Jo Caggiano of Montclair, NJ and Robert Toglia of Saugus, MA. Funeral services were held in Shawnee, Kansas.
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David Appleton
My Memories of Mike Toglia
I’m proud to claim Mike Toglia as a friend of mine through school from 2nd grade or so in Watchung School on through George Inness and Montclair High School, 1949 through 1960. I lobbied hard with phone calls and emails to convince Mike to come to our last reunion, MHS ’60 turns 60, eight years ago. He came and I fondly recall the joy I felt when I greeted him in Warren Ross’s front yard during Warren’s generous traditional Friday reunion get together. Mike smiled shyly, as he always had a way of doing, as we hugged and enjoyed a mutual, I think or hope, rush of happy memories of our time together over those magically stressful formative 10 pre and teen years in Montclair.
I remember Mike as an extraordinarily calm fellow with a wry sense of humor who tried at one point to make me into a fisherman like himself. Once I helped, probably just watched, Mike clean freshly caught pike in the basement sink of his home on Grove Street. He also liked to joke cleverly about mussels/muscles, both of which I lacked. I never became a fisherman worthy of his example.
Mike also pitched a mean fast ball, rivaling those of Joe Trovato and Ken Waltman. I know since in 5th through 8th grade I mistakenly fancied myself a catcher (Brooklyn’s Roy Campanella being my hero) and caught (poorly) for all these guys at one time or another… Mike could smoke it in on target. I miscaught several of his pitches in the crotch instead of the glove, which forcefully and painfully impressed me with Mike’s pitching power.
And Mike could play the piano with remarkable skill at an early age. I vividly remember one day when we were in 5th or 6th grade at Watchung when after school Mike and I found ourselves in the gym where an upright piano was in place on the north side of the gym floor (I’ve a photo-like image of this in my mind), left there after one of the Miss Peel (?) improvisational “dance classes” for the lower grades or those tortuous “Ballroom Dancing School” evening classes for the upper grades we suffered through in those years, which we attended groomed by our parents into the appearance of cotillion bound civility. Mike and I were in the gym that afternoon to shoot some baskets, but the piano was enticing. I, fancying myself a fledgling piano virtuoso, sat down to play “Do Ya Ken John Peale” from my 2nd year Thompson piano lesson book with whatever meager competence I could muster. Then Mike joyfully tickled the ivories playing a ragtime piece with extraordinary skill, dexterity and expression. I was blown away. I never knew he could play at all to say nothing of this dazzling performance, and looked on him in a wholly different light.
This moment was an epiphany for me. I saw how wrong we can be about our friends and acquaintances, blinded by superficial impressions to miss the many facets and depths of their personalities. This was a valuable life lesson for me as I began to understand the truth at the core of the cliché maxim, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” Mike, my shy classmate, avid fisherman, dutiful cub scout, respectful student and skilled pitcher was also a talented burgeoning musical artist. Wow! And what else? And what do I not know about the rest of my classmates and neighbors? The truth lives on.
After MHS I did not have much contact with Mike, regrettably. He went on to college, military service and Viet Nam as did I (no Nam), a life in business, and our paths did not cross again until that moment in Warren’s front yard. I have another fantasy, that Mike, who attended Rider College, had my wife’s father, Dr. Harry Sprowles also a keyboard enthusiast, for his English professor. If so, ….serves them both right, and must have served them both well!
And I regret not being in touch with Mike and many, probably hundreds, of other classmates about whom I have similar shards of memories that shaped my growth, such as it is. These memories are undoubtedly filtered by time’s prism into…. perhaps fantasies. None the less they are there…. And “ in my life, I’ve loved them all!” Mike will be remembered and missed.
David Appleton, MHS ‘60