Joseph “Joe” Salvatore

There are a few people in this life who are gifted with the rare ability to make everyone laugh. They’re the nicknamers, the storytellers, and joke repeaters whose deadpan, occasionally cringey humor lifts us up. Joe Salvatore was one of those people.

Known for his “Joe-isms,” his big generous heart, and his love of family and fishing, Joe—aka Joey, Dadio, Pops, Poppa Joe, Joe Cool, Big Fish, Giuseppe, and The Italian Scallion—lives on in the memories and laughter of those who loved him. He died peacefully on October 18, 2025, in Eugene, Oregon, with his wife and daughters by his bedside. He was 84.

Born January 28, 1941, in Niagara Falls, New York, Joe was the second of five children in a hardscrabble Italian-Irish family. He grew up in rural Western New York, where swimming holes, bicycles, and the occasional shenanigans were part of life—think “Stand By Me”. One often-told story was about how Joe and his friends decided the town water tower was the perfect lookout for a bit of mischief. Armed with a crate of tomatoes, they climbed to the top and took aim at passing cars below. No one was hurt, but the story lived on for decades—told with Joe’s signature grin and a mischievous glint in his eye.

Joe met Patricia “Pat” Brolinski on New Year’s Eve, the start of what would become a sixty-two-year love story. Joe was James-Dean-handsome, funny, and charismatic; Pat was beautiful and grounded. Their courtship began that night. He was quickly enveloped into her large family with her parents and five siblings on their sprawling farm. They were married on June 29, 1963, at St. John’s Lutheran Church in Youngstown, with a reception in Niagara Falls.

Joe and Pat built a life rooted in family, faith, and perseverance. A baby girl, Kristen Anastasia, arrived in 1966; Elizabeth “Lisa” Catherine followed in 1967; and Jennifer Lee in 1970. Lisa passed in 1969, but remains forever their hearts.

After eleven years of night school while working full time and supporting his young family, Joe earned a bachelor’s degree in business from the University at Buffalo. He was the epitome of pull-yourself-up-by-your-bootstraps becoming  a computer analyst just as the world was discovering what computers could do. Intelligent, loyal, and personable, Joe was good at what he did, founding a consulting business that often sent him around the country. And while Joe could be described as a self-made man, he always gave credit to Pat for her steadfast support through every chapter.

Joe and Pat settled in Wilson, New York, raising their daughters in the idyllic countryside and later enjoying a lakeside apartment overlooking Lake Ontario. In the early years Joe helped to coach Little League softball. Church was central to Joe’s life. For over fifty years he was an active member of St. Paul’s Lutheran Church, serving as President of the Congregation, leading readings, and assisting with communion. Sundays often ended with dinner at Pat’s parents’ house, with heaping plates wrapped in tin foil shared with the neighbors.

When Joe said grace, the room paused for a moment of reverence—then filled with laughter. Dinner was his stage. He’d begin, “Did you hear the one about …?” followed by Pat’s mock-plea, “Please don’t answer him!” Of course everyone did, and soon the room would dissolve into laughter.

When he wasn’t traveling for work, Joe was on the water. He loved perch fishing almost as much as he loved his family and had a story for every lure in his tackle box. Over the years he bonded on the water with George, Paul, Bobby, Dennis, Jimmy, Tom, Terry, and any others that called on him to join them in a boat. They enjoyed time “drowning worms”, talking smack about “the one that got away”, and telling jokes—ever hear the one about “the one-armed fisherman”?

He met his friend Rick Larson on a business trip to Minnesota in 1985, and the two spent time on lakes and rivers in the US and Canada for the next forty years. Rick—known as “Little Minnow” or “Larsky” to Joe who was “Big Fish” to Rick—recalls countless adventures and jokes, some inappropriate to share here. One snowmobiling incident during an ice-fishing excursion in Minnesota left Joe buried in a snowdrift and coming out like Santa Claus. On another, they offered to sell a “miracle lure” for $541. (The offer was declined.) Once they were flipped off and yelled at in English and French when they maybe weren’t supposed to be fishing where they were docked. Joe always had a convenient one-liner to add levity to the situation.

On one of his last fishing trips, a deep-sea fishing charter in celebration of Jennifer’s wedding, Joe cleaned up while everyone else got skunked. Turns out he was dragging on the bottom, which was a no-no. When asked why he did that, he remarked “Cuz that’s where the fish are!”

Joe loved Elvis, Sudoku, funny T-shirts, and he could always be counted on to make goofy faces on his frequent FaceTime calls with Kris—they have a timeless bond and love to make each other laugh!

Joe never made a show of his generosity. He left big tips, paid for strangers’ meals, and helped family and neighbors without being asked. To him, kindness was something you did quietly because it was the right thing to do.

He built lasting bonds with friends and neighbors alike. He especially cherished his grandchildren, Stella and Jack, and found joy in time spent with his boisterous extended family of step-grandchildren Jeremy (Becca), Casey (Billy), Jake (Anna) and his step-great-grandchildren Blake, Maven and Wade—sharing visits, holidays, dinners, and cheering at Little League baseball games.

When Joe talked, people listened. He shared with his daughters great knowledge and support in their professional lives. In lighter moments, his favorite jokes never changed: the one about the trouble with spelling “banana”? (“You never know when to stop!”), the land of fah (if you know, you know), and his signature farewell—“Don’t fall down!”

Even near the end, Joe was still teaching by example—meeting pain and loss with humor, grace, and connection. His final gift was laughter, shared with nurses, family, and friends. For those who knew him, the world feels a little lighter, a little funnier, because Joe Salvatore was here.

Joe is survived by his wife, Pat; daughters Kristen (Tom) Mulloy and Jennifer (Birk Nelson) Salvatore; grandchildren Stella and Jack Wright-Hay; step-grandchildren Jeremy (Becca) Mulloy, Casey (Billy) Cuevas, and Jake (Anna) Mulloy; great-grandchildren Blake and Maven Cuevas and little Wade Mulloy; and his loving brother Rick (Betty) Salvatore. He was preceded in death by his beloved daughter, Elizabeth “Lisa” Catherine Salvatore.

When the time comes, his ashes will be scattered with Pat’s at the Three Sisters mountains in Oregon, in honor of their three daughters.

In lieu of flowers, please do something kind for a neighbor—and remember:

Don’t fall down!