‘Big-hearted boss of the midway’

Venerable patriarch of Coleman Bros. carnival family dies at 91

MIDDLETOWN — Like clockwork, from April to October, for 101 years, the Coleman Bros. Carnival has made its merry rounds in Connecticut as the family carries on the tradition, unfolding, unfurling and unloading trucks and trailers full of booths, rides, games and not-so-healthy fair fare that has satisfied generations of people.

The patriarch of the veritable carnival dynasty, Robert E. Coleman, who died at 91 on Oct. 3 at home in Port Saint Lucie, Fla., leaves a legacy of joy in his wake, his family said.

Coleman’s brother, eight children and grandchildren carry on the tradition of the carnival that their grandfather began in Middletown in 1916.

The show’s uncanny ability to herald April showers every late March earned the carnival the prescient nickname of The Rainmaker throughout the region.

“We were notorious for it raining every time we opened,” his daughter Melissa Coleman, 47, said Tuesday from her home in Florida, where the family keeps its winter home. “They generally anticipated there was going to be a lot of rain that week. The carnival has been named that for years. Dad always wanted to open by Easter,” she said. “He was very nostalgic.”

“We had 91 years, which is more than most people get, but it’s still hard.” Mary Oakes, Robert E. Coleman’s daughter

Only Coleman’s family meant more to him, his daughter said.

“One of the most important things for him was to follow tradition and to honor his father and the way his father did things,” Coleman said. “That something we hope to do. It wasn’t just a business because it was a family business that was passed on.”

Coleman lived with his wife of 68 years, Rachael Ann (Bump) Coleman, 90, at their Old Mill Road home, nearby the giant lot where Coleman Bros. stores its cranes and attractions in the off season.

Many may not know that Coleman, a tall, thin and handsome man, his wife said, was a professional athlete who played center field for the New York Giants from 1948 to 1949.

“Of course, he got old, and you’re not as good looking when you’re 90,” Rachael Coleman said. “You’re just lucky to be breathing.”

Rachael Coleman met her husband while an operating room nurse at Middlesex Hospital. A friend, who thought she’d be the perfect fit for Robert Coleman, invited him to visit her one night at work.

“I was working long hours and I had a cap on and pincurls,” his wife said. I was up all night because of an accident, so I was sleeping in my scrubs.”

In the morning, he came by and they talked. Then, just like that, “He said he wanted to date me.

“He was going to Florida in six months with his brother, and in those days, if you weren’t married, you didn’t go anywhere,” Rachael Coleman said, “and my mother had a fit about me leaving and going there.”

So, her husband said, “‘Let’s get married.’ ”

When Robert Coleman got older, he switched his favorite baseball team to the New York Yankees, his wife said. “He used to stay up every night and watch them on the TV. He was really a sportsman and he loved it till the day he died,” she said of her husband, who also played football on the local team.

With a chuckle, she remembered one time they were at a dinner with friends. “‘I never fought with my wife,’ ” one man boasted to the couple. “He said, ‘Mister, you never had the fun of making up.’ That was his quote back then and the old man shut up,” Rachael Coleman said.

The couple returned every year to their home in Middletown for the fair season, where Robert Coleman will be buried Friday. “That’s where he wanted to be,” his wife said.

“We know my dad was older but his mind was so sharp,” said Mary Oakes. “His body was failing, but if you talk to him on the phone, you’d never even know he was feeble,” she said.

Rachael Coleman, who still lives at home, is proud her family never sent her husband to a nursing home, even when it was clear he was not going to recover. “My little daughter Missy, she and I were with him when he drew his last breaths,” she said.

The last day of his life, “He said to me, ‘Hand me my phone,’ Melissa Coleman said. “He sounded so weak, but as soon as he got on the phone with my sister, talking about his carnival, he brightened up. His voice got strong and his whole demeanor changed.”

The family will carry on the carnival tradition. “He wanted it to go forever. Not a lot of businesses have been around for 100 years,” Melissa Coleman said.

Everywhere the family traveled over the years, people knew Coleman Bros., a Connecticut mainstay. “My father knew people for 50 years,” Mary Oakes said. “We’d play the same fairs. We knew everybody in Middletown because it’s a small town. It’s kind of like you have family everywhere,” she said.

Ironically, she never enjoyed the midway rides. “I would get dizzy on the merry-go-round, which is ridiculous,” she said. “I love roller coasters. I would take my kids on the merry-goround and have to look at a certain point or I’d get dizzy,” Mary Oakes said.

Robert Coleman had a steady habit his whole life — speaking on the phone every day with a family friend, Mary Oakes said.

“I recall the last day that dad was up. He was up and out every day of his life. The last day, he didn’t get out of bed and it was the only day he didn’t get up,” Mary Oakes said. “He still said to me, ‘Hand me my phone.’

“He sounded so weak but as soon as he got on the phone with my sister and talked about the carnival, he brightened up,” Mary Oakes said about her father, who died at the end of the season. “His voice was strong. His whole demeanor changed whenever talked about his carnival.

“We know my dad was older, but his mind was so sharp. His body was failing, but if you talked to him, you’d never even know he was feeble,” she said.

“We had 91 years, which is more than most people get, but it’s still hard. I think the longer they’re here, the harder it is,” Mary Oakes said.

Courtesy Coleman family Robert E. Coleman died Oct. 3 at home in Florida. Coleman, who took over Middletown’s Coleman Bros. Carnival in 1916 from his father Richard, came home every carnival season to help his father and brother with the family business.

Family — and the carnival — were important to Robert E. Coleman. The last day of his life, his daughter Mary Oakes said, “He said to me, ‘Hand me my phone.’ He sounded so weak, but as soon as he got on the phone with my sister, talking about his...