Vincent Pastore died Saturday at his home in the Bronx. He was 80 and had a story that almost never got told.
He was born in that same Bronx in 1946. He went to Vietnam. He came back. He studied theater at Pace University and then disappeared into real life: nightclubs, the nightlife industry, behind the wheel of a limousine.
He was 42 when he landed his first film role.
He was not a prodigy. He was not a discovered child. He was a man who kept waiting when most people had already put the dream away in some drawer. One day, the Dillon brothers got into his limousine. They went to see him perform in a community play. Kevin Dillon opened the door for him.
Then came Goodfellas, Carlito’s Way. Small, almost invisible roles. Until in 1999 David Chase gave him Salvatore “Big Pussy” Bonpensiero: Tony Soprano’s best friend, the one who betrays him, the one who ends up at the bottom of the sea.
One of the most memorable deaths in television history.
His representative Robert Attermann put it precisely: “To the world, he will always be the unforgettable Big Pussy, but to those of us who knew him, he was so much more.”
Bob McGown, his manager, summed it up this way: he was generous, he helped anyone, and that, he said, is rare in this business.
There is an irony that Pastore’s life made a point of underscoring: he spent years playing the man who betrayed his friends, and turned out to be exactly the kind of person who never would have done it.
He leaves behind a daughter, Renee. And a character television will not forget.
Rest in peace, Vinnie. 🕊️