OBITUARY Philip di Belardino
Philip di Belardino, for many years a very large and beloved figure in the wine scene, died November 13 in New York City. Born in Rome and, as he liked to say, brought here in infancy without his consent, he was nurtured amid Italian wine and culture. His late father, Aldo, was one of the first American importers of quality Italian wines. His brother, Mario, and family operate the respected wine importer, Bedford International. Philip worked for the last fifteen years as vice president of Fine Wines at Banfi Vintners, where he enjoyed a mutually esteemed relationship with the proprietary Mariani family. His enormous contributions to recognition, education, quality, and sales – especially of Italian wines and culture – have been much honored, including by his induction into the Wines of Italy Hall of Fame.
One might think that’s enough, but not when we’re remembering Philip di Belardino. He was too faceted, too big a personage, not only physically, to ever be encapsulated. These are some of the facets that shined for me. Even the names by which his legions of loving friends called him were multiple. I can quickly call to mind “Philip”, “Filippo”, “Filipone”, “Pippo”, sometimes “Fyvush”. I know of no one with as many true friends. He was a gentle, kind, liberal, and loving man, and was loved in return. Philip had been a tummler, and was always lightening-fast in thought and quip. He appreciated wine, food, art, theater – especially musical theater – opera, and people. He was my go-to guy when I sought a restaurant in an unfamiliar town. He could recite the scripts and sing the songs of I-don’t-know-how-many shows. Now and then, I might come upon Philip informally holding forth, not knowing I was in the room; I would sneak up behind him, and, thus effectively hidden, would loudly whisper a favorite line from a favorite film, Mel Brooks’s The Producers: “We are not alone.” Philip would either break up, or more likely, without missing a beat declaim flawlessly the next lines.
Well, those of us who knew him feel that we are now alone.
A chasm, an abyss, a canyon has been left that will not be filled. Yet reliving moments with Philip will always evoke smiles, laughter. Wherever he is now, the other denizens are most fortunate.
-HARVEY FINKEL
