Steven H Paul

Born on August 26, 1947, at Chelsea Naval Hospital to Josephine (Marie) Paul (Mangin) and Nathan Paul, Steve grew up in East Boston before moving to Saugus, where he graduated from Saugus High School.

After proudly serving in the Air Force Reserve, Steve built a life marked by hard work, devotion to family, and a gift for connecting with others. He managed multiple Boston shoe stores, including Tom McCan, where he met the love of his life, Carol. Together, they built a home filled with love, laughter, and generosity—hosting holiday parties, providing a place to go for those who had nowhere else, and giving a family to those who had none. Steve and Carol lived by a simple rule: judge people only by how they treated others. Steve also pursued side ventures selling sports memorabilia and Champion sweatshirts at stands in the Mystic Mall, Salisbury, and Hampton Beach—always finding joy in meeting people and sharing stories.

Later, Steve began working with McDonald’s, where he managed numerous locations over the years. To his employees, he was not just a manager but a mentor and father figure—someone who guided with honesty, fairness, and compassion.

Steve loved vacationing in the White Mountains at Indian Head Resort with his wife, Carol, and his granddaughter, Katelyn, cherishing the time spent together. He also enjoyed soaking in the jacuzzi and relaxing in the sauna.

A gifted storyteller, Steve delighted in sharing memories of his life. He often recounted taking the bus to Chelsea with a 90-year-old rabbi to attend Hebrew school. He also told of the unforgettable day that his grandmother passed away—she told him that she was going to die that day, and he drove her to her butcher shop and to visit all her friends, as she requested. That night, after saying goodnight to him, she passed away—exactly as she had predicted.

Steve also shared lighter, humorous stories, like the time his sister Tiney took him to a Red Sox game where he met Mickey Mantle and had his baseball signed by the entire Yankees team—only to lose it while playing ball with his friends. He would always say, “We could have been rich right now.” And of course his stories about his friendship with Tony Conigliaro.

His stories, humor, and warmth made him a man who never met a stranger, only new friends.

Steve was preceded in death by his beloved wife and best friend, Carol Paul, and his daughter, Michelle Paul. He leaves behind his son, Mark Paul and his wife Patricia Paul. His granddaughter, Katelyn Alston, whom he and Carol lovingly raised and Mary Correia, his daughter-in-law and kindred spirit. He is also survived by his grandchildren Jonnathan, Mackenzie, Jordayn, Cheryl, Zackary, Laci, and Marques, as well as his great-grandchildren Charlotte, Julian, Greison, Elliot, Sherry and Kailoa.

Steve’s extended family includes his older sister, Marie (Tiney) Lehne, his niece and nephew, and his cousin and friend, Tippy.

Steve’s circle of love extended far beyond his family. He is remembered with gratitude and affection by close friends who became family, including Anne Marie, Bob, Brian, and Barry, who were always by his side. He also leaves behind his loyal companion and best friend, Mookie.

Steve was a loved and dedicated dad who, despite being separated from his children, was always just a call away. He would help anyone with anything—even when he had nothing to give. He was always there to listen, to offer advice from his own life experiences, and to share stories from the wild and remarkable life he lived.

There are no words to truly express the immense loss of Steve, or the impact it will have on all the lives he touched. There are not enough words that can be said about Steven; to know him was to love him. He was deeply loved by his family, his friends, and anyone lucky enough to cross his path. Everyone will remember Steve.

We take comfort in having faith that he is now reunited with and embracing his loving wife Carol, whom he missed dearly, and is probably lecturing him about something at this very moment. May that thought be enough to give us here on Earth some measure of peace with this tremendous loss.

He did it his way. And as he always said, “It’s only a movie.”