There was no use arguing. I kicked her over, put her in gear and pointed her to South Philly. Fifteen minutes later we arrived on Federal Street, the home of the late Anthony "Doo-Wop" DeAngelo.

Parking was a bear, so I left the car down near the corner. I said, "Wait here" and headed towards the middle of the block.

These South Philly homes are tiny, maybe twelve foot wide and twenty-nine feet deep. Originally called Trinity homes, that is, three floors, the locals call them Father, Son and Holy Ghost. There's a strong Catholic presence in this part of the city.

Old Italian men and women were everywhere. Men standing on the sidewalk smoking and shooting the shit. Women dressed in black and carrying casserole dishes covered in foil through the front door. I nodded at the men and stepped inside.

Inside I first see Anthony Junior. He steps up, shakes my hand and pulls me into a bear hug. I tell him how sorry I am about the loss of his father.

"Tony, where are your brothers?"

There are five DeAngelo boys. There's a doctor, a lawyer, an actor that sings pretty well, a general contractor and the youngest one is still in college.

"Everyone's here except Bobby. He's driving back from Boston, be back tonight sometime."

"You boys will be around for a few days?"

"Sure…"

"And if I need you…"

"Not a problem. Pick, what are ya going to do?"

"I'm going to take care of it… I promise. Where’s your ma?"

"This way."

We step into the kitchen. There are containers with food on every surface. Sitting at the kitchen table are four women. One is Doo-Wop's wife, Millie.

I put my hand out and pull her up and into me. She's a short woman with dark hair going to gray. There's a strength present in her face that you don't see in young people anymore. I hug Millie and wait. She backs up and I ask her to show me.