Whatever Happened To Butch Kattanick?

By JIM KEVLIN

Butch Kattanick and his oldest daughter, Mary Ann (Helmer), in 1971 in Oneonta, top, and last May in Tullahoma, Tenn., after 30 years apart.

Whatever happened to Butch Kattanick?
Mary Ann Helmer has been hearing that question a lot lately, since her dad’s name was included in the mayoral proclamation honoring Diz Lamonica on his 100th birthday.
“Is he still alive?” she reported people asking her.
And how, is her reply, and it’s quite a story. 
Christened Vincent Kattanick, the red-headed Oneonta middleweight fought 10 bouts in 1948 at Bingham-ton’s Kalurah Temple, winning five by knockouts.  He was knocked out three times, and lost two decisions.
 After an adventure that included tilting with Hurricane Katrina, he’s endedup in Tullahoma, Tenn., where – now 90, but still a big, strong, now-white-haired man with a bushy beard – he has reprised his role as Santa Claus and been embraced by his adopted hometown.
In Mayor Miller’s proclamation designating Jan. 9 Frank “Diz” Lamonica Day in Oneonta, Kattanick was teamed with such names as Kid Cuyle, Brad Blasetti and Dom Mastro. Lamonica and the legendary Dutch Damaschke promoted amateur boxing for the Oneonta Recreation Commission.
In an interview with Mary Ann and her girlhood pal, Diane Alcott, in Davenport Center, Mary Ann Helmer displayed family photos going back to the late ‘40s, one with her dad, mom Inez, brother Joseph and sister Eileen (now deceased) in front of Royal Amusement Co., the phonograph store on Broad Street.
“I remember him coming home with black eyes,” the daughter said.  After boxing, Kattanick applied his broad shoulders and big hands to a career in construction.
When Mary Ann, now 69, was a teenager, her mother died.  He stayed in the area for a while, giving away his daughter when she married on Jan. 6, 1967, at Annunciata Roman Catholic Church, Ilion.
But her dad “always liked the women,” and didn’t want to be alone.  And they liked him too.  Soon, he married Madeline, from New York City, and moved down there, where he worked on high-steel.  When she passed away, he met Wilma, and moved to New Orleans, her hometown.
When Wilma died, he took up with Miss Ruby, and the two were living on Canal Street in the French Quarter on that fateful day, Aug. 29, 2005, when Hurricane Katrina struck “The Big Easy.”
Miss Ruby, who got around with the help of a walker, had fallen, and Kattanick had taken her to a hospital.  By the time he got back to Canal Street, the levees had broken and their home was underwater.
“When it hit, if they’d been there, they both would have drowned,” said Mary Ann, a 30-year employee of Burt Rigid Box, Oneonta, now retired.  The mother of two – Michael Helmer, Fly Creek, and Robert Helmer, Oneonta; plus six grandkids – she and her father hadn’t seen each other for three decades.
So sitting at home in Davenport, Mary Ann worried about her father, and stayed glued to the TV:  “It was the worst night of my life. I knew if he was out there and there was a camera, he’d say, ‘Hi Mary Ann, I’m OK’.” 
For three weeks, nothing.  Then, checking Internet sites, a friend of Mary Ann’s found Vincent Kattanick on a list of Katrina survivors.
Butch spent some weeks in shelters for hurricane victims, then was airlifted to Tullahoma, Tenn., where he found a home in Autumn Manor, a senior citizen complex. 
He had played Santa Claus in New Orleans, and soon was doing so in his new adopted hometown.  He rides in Tullahoma’s annual Christmas parade.  He’s been written up in the local paper, The Tullahoma News & Guardian, and his Santa photo hangs prominently in the local Waffle House, which he frequents.
He’s taken up with a new lady, Jean, a fellow resident of Autumn Manor, and she plays Mrs. Claus to his Santa.
While her dad was settling in to his new locale, Mary Ann was plotting that long-awaited reunion.  She started making phone calls to Tullahoma – few people knew Vincent Kattanick, but everybody knew Santa.
When her pal, Diane, drove down to the Carolinas last spring to visit her grandson, Mary Ann rode along.
The two then took the additional seven-hour drive to Rock Island, Tenn., where a friend from work, Pam Hubbard of Sidney, had moved the year before.  The next day, Pam drove Mary Ann to Tullahoma, 40 minutes away.  Diane brought along her new video camera, and obtained a poignant record of that day’s events.
There’s Mary Ann standing outside a door.  It’s May, but the door is still decorated for Christmas.  She knocks.  No answer.  She knocks again.  She waits.  The door slowly opens and man emerges, white hair, bushy beard, still big and strong.
“Dad,” the daughter cries, and the two embrace.
She went back and forth every day while staying in Rock Island.
There’s one video sequence, Mary Ann sitting on her dad’s lap.  Joshing him about his Santa role, she told him, “You never let me sit on your lap and ask for things.”
As it happens, he had a surprise for her:  A teddy bear with boxing gloves and a red heart sewn on his chest.  And a bigger teddy bear, bigger, in fact, then the daughter. 
Secret revealed:  He’d been telling her he had a present to send her in Oneonta, as soon as he found a box big enough.
After all these years, he asked about Diz, and about Johnny Power, a fellow boxer, also 90, who is one of Mary Ann’s neighbors outside Davenport Center.
“He has a big heart,” Mary Ann said, tearing up.  “He’s been a good dad.”