A life that was all about the music

Wade Spees
The Post and Courier

Gus Cacioppo holds a favorite saxophone at his home in West Ashley in 2007.

By most accounts, Gus Cacioppo could outplay about anybody. His last name, the way he said it — Ka-shop-o — almost sounded like a melody.

He performed opening night in 1946 at the bygone Cavallaro Club on Savannah Highway, played New York nightclubs and countless weddings with his swing band and sat in with Charleston's community orchestra until last year.

Sunday morning, he died in his sleep at Roper Hospital. He was 94.

His family, friends and former band mates gathered Wednesday to say goodbye at Stuhr's Downtown Chapel. "If the length of days determines a preacher's remarks, we'd be here for a very long time," the Rev. Paul Gilbert said.

Cacioppo, a man of humor and generosity, had a rich life, his family emigrating from Sicily to settle in Mount Pleasant. His father worked as a barber on Broad Street and also played the mandolin, encouraging his son to try music.

Cacioppo picked up the violin, and later was taught by George Theodore Wichmann, the celebrated music teacher at the High School of Charleston. Wichmann needed a viola player, so he turned to Cacioppo.

"I just loved playing," Cacioppo said in an interview last year. "I didn't care if people listened or not. I just loved to play."

The saxophone was his favorite instrument, and he took to it quickly. Cacioppo went to Oglethorpe College in Atlanta on a music scholarship, but left school after two years.

He wanted to go to New York, and he spent three years in the city, playing with big bands — Tommy Dorsey, Larry Clinton and Vaughn Monroe — at venues like the Apollo Theater.

When his Navy Reserve unit was called to active duty, Cacioppo left for the South Pacific, taking part in nine amphibious attacks. He was on Iwo Jima when the flag was raised, and his alto saxophone bears the name of each campaign, Aletuian Islands to Okinawa.

Returning to Charleston, he formed the Cacioppo- Marino band, and at one party he met his future wife, Cornelia Dame.

They were married in 1947 at Grace Episcopal Church on Wentworth Street. Cacioppo took a job as an office manager at Charleston Supply Co., and they had a daughter, Connie.

He never stopped playing, joining Dr. Lloyd Mandel and a few others in a string chamber music group during the '80s. As Cacioppo got older, Mandel would pick him up and drive him home from practices. He did the same when Cacioppo joined the Southcoast Symphony, Charleston's community orchestra.

"He enjoyed being with musicians," Mandel said.

They also appreciated him.

"I think he's an inspiration because we had kids in there who were junior high age as well as people my age," said Southcoast conductor Manny Alvarez. "To see Gus, who at the time was 92 or 93, attending every rehearsal, sometimes when he wasn't feeling well, was special."

Sometimes he'd tell stories of the early days, the war, New York clubs, the Cavallaro, and Cornelia.

Cacioppo's wife died in 1984. He never remarried. He loved her so. "God, she was a gorgeous creature," Cacioppo said last year.

Cacioppo is survived by his daughter, Connie Cacioppo.

"He loved life more than anyone I've ever met," she said.

Last year Cacioppo talked about dying. He thought about it. He didn't dwell on it, but he wasn't scared.

"No it doesn't worry me. If I go, I go. I hope I get to see (Cornelia) up there. They say I will. We'll see. Nobody's been back to tell us," Cacioppo said and chuckled.

"I think the story of Jesus Christ is true. There must be a heaven. I think you don't have to eat anything. You just live along with Him. I think it would be a pleasant way of living. You never die again. You just keep on living."

Reach Rob Young at 937-5518 and ryoung@postandcourier.com.