Daniel D. Fountaine

Daniel Donald Fountaine – our beloved “Uncle Danny” – passed away Nov. 27 at age 88 after a brief illness. The seventh of eight children born to George and Kathleen Fountaine, and a lifelong resident of Brooklyn, Danny was the last man standing among a band of brothers and a sister that included Buddy, Wally, Jack, Edmund, Bobby, Dickie and Kathleen (Siddie). Devout Catholics, and as close knit as a family could be, they bonded through the Depression, World War II and their father’s tragic early death, continuing to celebrate one another’s lives through their marriages, the births of their children (Danny had 27 nieces and nephews!), their many family reunions, their wakes and their funerals.

Danny’s passing marked the end of an era.

Born in Brooklyn on May 15, 1936, Danny was by contemporary accounts a feisty youngster. He was listed as the founder, assistant editor, star reporter and weatherman of The Fountaine Newspaper, which published its first edition as the war was winding down in early 1945. The front page noted, “Daniel says he is just not the athletic type; but Grandma, who saw him beating hell out of a kid twice his size in the street the other day, claims that he is the toughest (and dirtiest) fighter in the borough.”

On page 2 there was this account of young Danny’s encounter with old family friend Charley Crowley: “Daniel tried to interview him the other day, but ended up by stealing his watch. It seems that our star reporter is interested in collecting jewelry, and he’s not fussy about whose jewelry it is.”

After attending Erasmus Hall High School (where, contrary to Fountaine legend, he did NOT date Barbra Streisand) and Fordham University, Danny became a star businessman, working his way up to chief tax accountant for NL (National Lead) Industries, which manufactured Dutch Boy paint.

A loyal parishioner of St. Francis Xavier since moving to Park Slope in the mid-1980s, Danny was by nature and practice a rock-ribbed conservative. He led an ascetic, health-oriented lifestyle, often extolling the benefits of a high-fiber diet. But as much as anyone, he also enjoyed a well-cooked meal, especially when accompanied by a well-poured cocktail. (In one of his last conversations, he asked a fellow patient at the rehab if she’d ever had a really good martini.) A member of the Mensa Society, and proud owner of a bulldog named Bonnie, Danny was renowned for his quick wit, sardonic sense of humor, and eagerness to engage in a spirited, intellectual debate. But more than anything else, Danny was a family man.

Through three decades, from their family flat on E. 26th St. in Flatbush, to the grand house with the big porch on tree-lined E. 17th near Newkirk Plaza, to his co-op overlooking Grand Army Plaza, Danny was the devoted chief caretaker for his mother, our “Nanny.” Yet he always found the time to engage in the larger family’s activities. “He always tried to get to everything he possibly could,” remembers his niece Eileen. “Every wedding, holiday, celebration. He was so dedicated to his family, more than anyone else that I know.” Danny served as custodian of the family history, and he was also the clearinghouse for information on the comings and goings among the far-flung Fountaine-Johnston clan (which today numbers 23 cousins, their spouses, children, and children’s children).

If one of us got married, got a new job or moved, or was sick, or died, Danny shouldered the task of spreading the word.

“He was so supportive,” said Eileen. “He was incredible, funny and crazy smart, and always had an interest in what everyone was up to. He just really cared.