![]() He was twenty-two from Little Italy she was twenty and from Bensonhurst, in Brooklyn. My parents met in 1947 at Webster Hall, a dance place in Manhattan. They were headed for the psych ward at Syosset Hospital. So did my aunt Maryann, who had come over to watch us that afternoon.When my mom let go of me she stood up, smoothed down her dress, picked up her bag, and followed my dad, Sal, out the front door. I thought she was physically sick and going to a hospital to get better.My older brothers, Anthony, who was thirteen, and Steven, who was eleven, stood next to her. ![]() And I knew people didn't do those things unless something was wrong. I have to go away for a couple of days."I knew she cried a lot. She hugged me and said, "Mommy isn't feeling very well. I was five years old and she wanted to tell me something face-to-face. She always cared about how she looked, no matter where she was going. Our house was a one-story ranch, and I watched her as she inched down the hall toward the living room.She stopped just a few steps from me and bent down, practically kneeling on the carpet in her dress. My mom, Ellen, walked out of her bedroom, carrying an overnight bag she had just packed. ![]() I stood on the avocado green carpet of my living room in Uniondale, Long Island. In his new memoir “They Call Me Baba Booey,” Gary Dell’Abate - executive producer of “The Howard Stern Show” - explains how his childhood prepared him for the chaos of showbiz.
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