Samuel J. Turco

Samuel J. Turco

October 4, 1933 – January 24, 2025

Sam was born to Joseph and Concetta (Grasso) Turco on October 4, 1933, in Omaha, Nebraska.  He is survived by his wife of 63 years, Mary C. (Albers) Turco; his six children and their children: Joe (Sally), Kathleen (Jose Ramos), Megan (Zack Howe), Samuel (Sarah), Joe, Eliza & Lucy; great-grandsons, Camilo Ramos, Michael & Christopher Howe, Joseph & Gabriel Turco, John (Stefani), Lauren (Steve Brannan), Mathew (Nicole), Johnny (Kayla), great-grandson, Luke Brannan, Sam (Kathy), Samantha, Anthony & Michael, Mary K (Sean Lynch) Katherine, Sean, Sarah, Claire, James & Grace, Kristina (Chris Hall), Jim (Lara) Sebastian, Eli, Josh & Leah, Two sisters-in-law, Jean Circo and Louise Fester; many nieces and nephews & good neighbors.

He was preceded in death by his parents, brothers, Joe and Tony DeLuca and Sebastian Turco.

A Few Memories of Sam

Sam’s interests in life included faith, family, food and friends.  His ultimate joy was celebrating a sacrament or birthday with his homemade Italian sausage. He kept current of beef and pork prices and awaited a good deal before lugging home up to 100 lbs of meat to process. The more people he could get to watch him make it, the better and faster he worked and the happier he became. He was also a master gardener, harvesting from over 40 tomato plants each year, lovingly nurtured by his compost, leaving them to Mary to process and can. Sam was also a lifelong learner.  He loved to discuss many topics such as the Immigration Act of 1924, the Spanish monarchy of the 1500s, and he just completed his continuing education credits for his Nebraska Bar membership. At 91, he was still a practicing attorney, to whom many family, neighbors and fellow parishioners turned to for estate planning. He would tell you the secret to longevity was to never retire.

Sam cherished his family and frequently commented how grateful he was to have all his children and most of his grandchildren nearby. He befriended many of his neighbors and pretty much enjoyed engaging with anyone at any time. He had many opinions to share and would impart them on whomever would listen.  He will be greatly missed.

Sam Turco was the epitome of a “people person” and took great joy in meeting and talking to others—whether he was in a courtroom, strolling through his neighborhood, or blocking an entire hallway with a friendly chat. His genuine warmth made him a friendly face in every room he entered. If you ever talked to him, there’s a good chance he remembered the details of your life story better than you did. Even at 90, he could recount the career paths and life trajectories of all his law school classmates.

In high school, he was voted Mr. Congeniality, a title he likely earned by finding common ground and charming everyone within earshot. If there had been an award for Most-Likely-To-Befriend-Strangers-At-A-Bus-Stop, he would have won that too. It’s safe to say that if you couldn’t find a way to get along with Sam Turco, the problem was probably you.

His warm, engaging spirit made him a natural fit for the practice of law. In his later years, he frequently lamented the rise of attorneys filing their cases online, claiming it deprived young attorneys of the camaraderie forged by filing cases in person at the courthouse. How would they get together for a cup of coffee with colleagues across the street if they weren’t leaving their offices? He missed these interactions with colleagues and courthouse staff so much that in his later years, he’d sometimes visit the courthouse just to bump into familiar faces.

He also had a gift for humor and storytelling—though his comedic timing wasn’t exactly subtle. He often cracked a smile and scanned the room to see who’d caught his dad joke, ready to repeat it louder if necessary. His comedic timing, while occasionally questionable, was compensated for by his undeniable charm and ability to lighten the mood. His humor often appeared when those around him were stressed or upset in an attempt to cheer them up or diffuse a tense situation. Once, while enduring a long layover due to a delayed flight, he (continually) quipped, “I guess they don’t know I only have 17 more years of social security!” (followed by a smile and quick scan of the group’s reactions).

His sense of humor often went hand in hand with his pragmatism. He was a son of the great depression and couldn’t fathom throwing out anything if he could avoid it. (Broken car window? That can be fixed with duct tape!) But even when he was being thrifty, he was the kind of man whose complaints about wastefulness would quickly become a family catchphrase (“It’s too lean!”—a common complaint he’d make to convince everyone else to stop throwing out perfectly good pork fat from homemade sausage recipes). And he could elevate a hunk of bread and Romano cheese to a gourmet meal (“That’s a meal to me!”). He was practical to a fault—except when it came to the people he loved.

He had a deep sense of responsibility to his family and those around him and would lend a helping hand whenever someone needed it. He cherished time with family and family traditions, from Sunday pasta dinners with his parents to holiday celebrations with his extended family. If there was laughter to be had and food to be shared, he was there, reveling in the company of those he loved.

Nanu had many sayings, but my favorite was one that he once explained was something of a great Sicilian indictment: “Nun vuoijunu sabidi”, “They don’t wanna know!” Whenever he took exception to something he heard about, as he would tell me the details while we drank endless coffee at the dining table, I would almost ritualistically ask, “But don’t they know that… ?” It was then that he would pronounce his most serious critique: They don’t want to know.

Once I suggested to him, and he agreed, that a fitting motto for the Turco family would be something like the opposite: “Vuoiju sapidi”, “I want to know”. This characteristic of Nanu perhaps more than anything else describes how he set the tone for the whole family: his intense desire for the truth. In humbler words, he always wanted to know what was really going on; and he imparted his lust for life to his descendants, who now, like him, are people who are interested in everything.

But this silly dictum, “they don’t wanna know”, like many of Nanu’s, contains profound truth. First, it offers us a critique and a warning: it is a mistake to lack desire for true things, in fact it may truly be the only real mistake in life. Secondly, it offers us a way of seeing life in which there is a great reality out there to be sought after no matter what it takes. A treasure hidden in a field for which you must sell all that you have to purchase. Nanu lived as a witness to this way of living by taking an interest in just about everything, lofty and earthy things. Part of his genius was seeing the loftiness of small earthy things. Once, reminiscing about his own father, he said to me, “My dad really loved his family… he used to make sausage with a hand grinder.” I had to laugh thinking it was funny that for Nanu, these two statements were really just two sides of the same coin. But in fact, they are. Nanu knew that having a passion for the truth applied to absolutely everything: loving your family, loving how to make sausage; knowing God and how he must be served, knowing how to take care of your zucchini and Swiss chard; caring about the culture of the nation and the whole world, caring about the Turco’s’ culture. In sum, Nanu taught the Turco’s that the truth about life is amazing, and the only appropriate way to respond is with the full measure of my devotion. Vuoiju sapidi.

Family will receive friends Tuesday, January 28^th, from 4-7pm at West Center Chapel with a Vigil Service at 5:30pm.

Mass of Christian Burial: Wednesday, January 29^th, 10am at Assumption Catholic Church (5438 S. 22^nd Street).

Interment: Holy Sepulchre Cemetery.

The family suggests memorials to Assumption Catholic Church.

Heafey-Hoffmann-Dworak-Cutler, West Center Chapel, 7805 West Center Road, Omaha, Ne 68124. (402)-391-3900. www.heafeyheafey.com