Mary Ann Pavone and Vincent T. Viafore both lived in the Bronx and worked in Manhattan. Vincent had just gotten out of the army when he met Mary Ann at a Saturday night dance in 1962. “We were just two crazy teenagers who eloped,” Mary said of their whirlwind romance. They had a proper wedding in a church afterwards to keep her parents happy.
A year later, their first child was born: a daughter they named Laura. Vincent Alexander Viafore was the second child born to the couple in Bronxville, New York, on August 22, 1968. Laura was almost in kindergarten when Vince stole away her only-child status. In 1970, the family moved to Dutchess County and settled in Wappingers Falls, a village that had experienced explosive growth in the preceding decade. Wappingers Creek ran through the 1.2-acre community and continued flowing for about two miles before its convergence with the Hudson River.
The family moved into a new development in a home on Granger Place, in a quiet middle-class neighborhood of rolling hills, cookie-cutter homes, and big yards for play. Their small ranch house had green aluminum siding and a large aboveground pool in the backyard enclosed by a chain-link fence. After only knowing city life, when Vince first arrived at his new home he was intimidated by the yard. He was afraid to walk on the grass. Their property abutted a nice stretch of woods that scared him, too, at first, but when he grew a little older he’d spent hours playing with friends there.
Every Sunday, the family went to church and brought home bagels. During football season, they’d all gather in front of the television to watch the games. Each member of the family had their own team: Dad was a Pittsburgh Steelers fan, Mom rooted for the Miami Dolphins, Laura loved the New York Jets, and Vince’s team was the Dallas Cowboys.
Vince’s maternal relatives were of Italian or Sicilian ancestry, and his paternal ancestry was a mix—his grandmother was Polish and his grandfather Italian. With that background, pasta was a big part of the family menu. It was served every Sunday with sauce that in the Italian tradition was called gravy. Vince’s maternal grandmother, who lived in Yonkers, looked after him whenever his mother was working. He spent Christmases with his paternal grandmother, who lived in Lakeville, Connecticut.
In October of 1976, Vinny’s parents started a business called Construction Layout Men. Two years later, they got a DBA and started operating under the name Ridgewood Construction.
Childhood friend Stacy Speirs met Vinny when they were both three years old and attended story time at a local day care. The two of them hit it off right away, and the friendship would be formative for both of them throughout adolescence. “Vinny was always a very mischievous boy,” Stacy remembered. She said that he was “hell on wheels” riding his Big Wheel, always ready to go down steeper ramps at higher speeds and often ending up with cuts, scrapes, and bruises for his recklessness.
They lived less than two blocks apart in the neighborhood of Rockingham Farms. Vinny and Stacy went back and forth from each other’s homes constantly. As it was a new neighborhood, the trees hadn’t had enough time to grow and block the view between houses. When Stacy headed to Vince’s, her mother would call Vince’s mom and let her know her daughter was on the way. Mrs. Viafore would watch out the window for her arrival. She did the same when Vince went to the Speirs home.
For a decade, Stacy and Vinny would attend each other’s birthday parties. Because Stacy’s birthday was near Halloween, her mother hosted a costume party for her each year. When Stacy was eight years old, she chose a vampire costume for the celebration. When Vinny arrived, he was dressed in the same costume. Stacy burst into tears. She wanted to be the only vampire at the party. Vinny, seeing her distress, immediately took off his costume and said, “You be the vampire, I’ll just be me.”
Growing up, Vince was an altar boy and an avid participant in Boy Scouts, in part because of his dad. Vince’s father came with him on overnight camp-outs and helped build the small cars to race on the little tracks. He met lifelong friend Kevin Beisswinger at Scouts. They also played on the same neighborhood Pop Warner football team, went to the same schools, and were part of the same bowling league.
Stacy fondly recalled growing up in a neighborhood where all the kids could ride bicycles without worry and everybody knew everyone. She said that most of the residents were transplants from New York City and had created the “Norman Rockwell” environment they’d sought out when they fled to the suburbs. Gena Vanzillota, who also grew up in the community with Vince, told the New York Times: “Half the neighborhood was Italian, the other half was Irish. It was almost like a little Bronx or Yonkers.” In warm weather, the neighborhood kids staged “World Series” wiffle-ball tournaments and went hunting for crawfish in the stream. In the fall, they held “Halloween Wars”—a battle between the Rockingham Farms community and the development next to theirs called Angel Brook. Vince lived on the street that connected the two neighborhoods. As a result, he had friends on both sides of the playful conflict. For the most part, he took the side of the neighborhood where he lived, but he couldn’t resist joining his Angel Brook friends for some egg, shaving cream, and toilet paper attacks on Rockingham Farms homes from time to time.
Winter drove the kids inside for Monopoly and other board games in the basement. As Vince and Stacy grew up, their feelings for each other evolved. Vince was Stacy’s first crush, she admitted. One night down in the cellar, Vince kept trying to get up the nerve to kiss Stacy, but he was so shy that he kept backing down. Stacy took matters into her own hands and initiated the kiss. It was her first real kiss.
After eighth grade, Vince followed his sister, Laura, to Roy C. Ketcham High School, while Stacy stayed in the Catholic school system. His high school friends described him as gregarious, a popular member of the wrestling team who would flit from table to table in the cafeteria like a “social butterfly.”
Even though their paths no longer crossed very often, Vince was still there for Stacy in times of need. Ugly rumors began to spread through the gossip mill at Stacy’s parochial high school. Stacey was labeled a “slut” and shunned by many people who she had thought were friends. Stacy’s world was crushed, and she felt humiliated.
When the stories eventually reached the public high school, Vince didn’t believe a word of the vicious tales. He sought out Stacy to tell her, “I don’t believe what they’re saying about you.” That simple statement healed a lot of Stacy’s pain, letting her know she was not alone. Vince took it even further, defending his old friend and her reputation to everyone who spoke a harsh word against her.
Vince graduated in 1986. In the yearbook, next to his photo, his personal message read: “When the summer is gone, and school is almost on, pass the brew around, and you’ll get through safe and sound.” He had no idea of what he wanted to do with his life after college. He attended Dutchess County Community College for a year before leaving. He held a couple of jobs for a short time until his father connected him to a job with engineering and design firm Parsons Brinckerhoff, which contracted with the New York State Office of General Services Design and Construction Department. He continued his education while he worked, taking classes that helped him advance in his career. Vince worked as a Certified Code Enforcement Official, inspecting fire alarm systems and elevators, and later as a Project Manager. He would work at Parsons Brinckerhoff until his death.