Sparky Cordardo, grew up in the Lucchese section of Newark in the 1950s. Schooled in the fine arts of tomato ladders, the Taccetta brothers, picking wild mushrooms from the sidewalk cracks of Stuyvesant Avenue and making homemade wine from Dandelions, Sparky was a sort-of quasi early feminist. Not that Sparky thought women should have the same rights as men. Rather, Sparky simply was a smoldering caldron of willfulness. Born before the era of Prozac, tranquilizers and mania diagnoses, Sparky was a young bull elephant in the body of a tiny Italian immigrant girl.