Dino James DiGiacomo, Hot Springs, South Dakota, was born in Dearborn, Michigan, January 20, 1947, the son of Italian immigrants.
Dino was a man of passion, living every day to the fullest and inspiring others. As a teen, to the consternation of his mother, he hitchhiked to the Black Hills, drawn by his love of Crazy Horse and western gunfighters. Although a teenage gangster of sorts, he graduated from Wayne State University as a high school history teacher and tried to keep other boys from gang life. He taught more from personal experience and knowledge than from textbooks. As an Army Private, Dino served as an Administrative Specialist in Germany.
Boxing was an early passion; he fought as an amateur (1960-65) and a professional (1965-67), unbeaten in 51 fights! He sparred with greats like Mohammed Ali, Roberto Duran and Joe Lewis, recalling late-night chats with all. After a hiking fall while in his twenties, doctors discovered an arteriovenous malformation (AVM) in Dino's brain. Trips to major hospitals proved surgery was not an option. Heartbroken, he left the ring - one blow could have burst the AVM. Knowing he could die at any moment, Dino lived as if he had no tomorrows, embracing the 60s hippy culture with abandon.
Dino jumped from one career to another; movie producer, western historian, writer and businessman. He gave talks on Crazy Horse and the gunfighters, produced film documentaries and was working on a movie script shortly before he passed. He published articles and poetry, receiving Editor's Choice Award from the International Library of Poetry, and participated in local writers' groups. He volunteered for causes he was passionate about: Democratic Party Builder, Area Coordinator for Suncatcher Therapeutic Riding Academy, Horizons Community Development Project, Battle Mountain Humane Society and Cat's Meow Feline Rescue.
Dino was a protector of all creatures great and small. He walked the streets of Los Angeles with Kola the German Shepherd at his side, proud that Kola never once wore collar or leash. His favorite wild animal was the tiger, a kindred wild and free spirit. Dino must have had at least nine tiger' lives to fit his adventures into seven decades. Surely, he lives his ninth life now, in a place beyond our ken.
For better or worse, Dino seldom approached anything halfway. A loss by his beloved Chicago Bears could put him in a week-long funk; a win sent him over the moon. He deep-dived into friendships and often said heaven would be a place with all his loved ones in close proximity. His passion often led to deep rifts, but he found his way back to those he loved, friendship renewed. If Dino loved you, he loved you even when he was mad at you.
In the 70s and 80s, Dino made many dear friends at Elysium Sun Club in Topanga, California, a clothing optional resort where he also worked as groundskeeper; many remain friends today. He married Renee Winett in 1980, and was married for 10 years. Today Renee and husband Ron Mascitelli are dear friends and frequent visitors to Dino and Delores' Sheps Canyon home.
In the 90s Dino followed Steve Brent, an Elysium friend, to the beautiful Black Hills of South Dakota, settling at Evans Hotel. An AVM-induced stroke had damaged the right side of his body and Hot Springs, with its' VA facility, was a refuge for a simpler life. In July 2003, Dino met Delores Aul at a concert on the Evans porch. They fell in love and stayed together until the day he passed. They shared a passion for animals and provided refuge for cats and dogs. The furry family became an endless source of love and comfort.
One of Dino's great joys was teaching boxing at Hot Springs' gyms for ten years, an opportunity provided by Kim Moir, most recently at Bodies in Motion. In spite of physical limitations, he taught kids and adults with patience and passion.
In November Dino suffered another severe stroke, limiting communication and mobility and forcing him to leave the home and lifestyle he loved. His family and friends are deeply grateful for the fine care provided by the committed and caring staff at the State Veterans Home. Dino and Delores shared supper daily. He watched the television programs he loved and enjoyed visitors, including furry ones. Staff provided a punching bag for an occasional jab and arranged visits to the gym so Dino could spend time with friends.
Dino James DiGiacomo, 71, passed away in his sleep, September 23, 2018 at the State Veterans Home.
Dino leaves behind his partner in life, Delores Aul, Hot Springs; stepdaughter, Jetaime (Tanner Massee) Aul, Winfield, IL; stepson, Brandon (Danielle) Aul, Hoboken, NJ; brother-in-law, Ron Barry, Southfield, MI; niece, Jennifer (Alec) McCandless and family, Hartford CT; and nephew, Gregg Barry, Royal Oak, MI; and more dear friends than can be listed here.
He was preceded in death by parents, Beatrice and Giacomo DiGiacomo and recently by sister, Norma (Ron) Barry.
The Celebration of the Life of Dino DiGiacomo will be 5:30 p.m. on Thursday, October 18,2018, at the American Legion in Hot Springs, led by Pastor Aaron Hughes. Friends are encouraged to share memories. A main dish will be provided; bring a dish to share if you can. Tiger tee shirts, Chicago Bears jerseys, sweat pants and gym shorts are welcome attire.

AN EPITAPH FOR DINO JAMES DiGIACOMO

Of all of the many things that we will miss on Dino's passing, perhaps the most irreplaceable is his passion for life, and his ability to share that passion through friendship. Being a friend to Dino is to be swept up in his energy, his compassion, his opinions, and his quirks as well. His personality was so warm, so all-encompassing, that once you were exposed to it, becoming his friend was a foregone conclusion. You just couldn't help yourself.
Being Dino's friend was never boring; you were regaled with stories from boxing lore, educated in the true history of the old West, drawn into caring about every living thing, and surprised daily by his ability to laugh or cry about almost anything. It was the extremes of his personality that defined him: a tough ex-fighter who would melt at the sight of a kitten in distress, a disabled person who refused to be disabled, a man for whom food was a delight, and always made better with a mound of Romano cheese on top. We will miss all of it: the passion, the laughter, the love, as will the many others who had the great fortune to call Dino their friend.

Ron and Renee Mascitelli, Northridge, California

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