E. Peter Marcionetti

Peter was a believer.

He believed in honesty. In standing up for what and who you believe in. Peter believed in the big idea. His and yours. He believed in the big cookies at Nobody’s Deli.

He believed in you.

Peter believed in the local hero. The teller in the bank down the road, the men who climbed the electrical poles during a storm, the owner of the local hardware store who, rather than try to sell him something he didn’t really need, would lend him some weird, esoteric tool under one condition: “Just bring it back when you’re done with it.”

Peter believed in loyalty, in the importance of art and music, kindness and courage, possibility and potential. And peace.

He believed in his son, Oliver.

Peter cared.

He cared about people. About doing the right thing. And not bullshitting you.

He volunteered at Meeting Street School and gave generously to Amnesty International and PBS.

Peter cared about reading, coming up with his own weird and wonderful stories, and he cared a whole lot about his boat, spending many a weekend, “cleaning his bottom.”

Peter didn’t care much for puns or about what shirt he was going to wear that day or how to correctly pronounce movie stars’ names (“Gwyneth Plowchrow”).

But he sure cared about being a dad.

And Peter loved.

He loved being on the water. He loved standing up in one of those stuffy rooms with oil paintings on the walls and making everyone fall in love with his idea. (And him.)

And he loved telling those stories. Stories from a childhood filled with genuine characters like Billy Feeney and Mrs. Friggineasy. Stories of colleagues and crazy bastards and best friends like Al and Tony and so many more of you. And those stories from his imagination – Kim from Arctic and her best friend Renee, former exotic dancers now waiting tables at Mohegan Sun.

Peter loved Sunday at the Masters. Blondie, Bob Dylan and The Boss. And Beethoven’s 6th and 7th symphonies. He loved the jazz of Ahmad Jamal, Thelonious Monk, and Coltrain’s “A Love Supreme.”

Peter loved Francois Truffaut’s “Jules et Jim,” and he pronounced it flawlessly. As he did “blueberry pancakes” in the style of Fabienne from Pulp Fiction.

He loved his family and friends. Peter loved Cinny.

And Peter loved being a dad.

Emile Peter Marcionetti died on October 6th, 2023, in his beloved Saunderstown home, with his son Oliver and Oliver’s mom, Cinny, by his side.

He liked to say he was born in the shadow of the George Washington Bridge, so we’ll give him that one.

Born to John P. Marcionetti and Elizabeth Marcionetti (nee Hardy) of Saddlebrook, New Jersey in 1949, Peter is survived by his son and soulmate, John Oliver Marcionetti of Wakefield, Oliver’s mother, Cynthia Brown, of Wakefield, his brother, John Richard Marcionetti (wife Doreen, children Aimee and Ainslee) of Landenberg, Pennsylvania, and his sister Michele Davidson of Las Vegas (Daughter, Kelly).

A graphic designer, art director, creative director and fine artist, Peter attended Syracuse University and Parsons School of Design, and began his long and decorated career in New York City working for, among others, the design giant Milton Glaser.

Eventually, Peter would navigate his way up the coast to Rhode Island where he partnered with so many talented people at places like Potter Hazelhurst and, eventually, Duffy & Shanley. And not long after joining the Providence PR firm to help build its advertising and design discipline, he would leave his mark, quite literally, on the wall of his windowless basement office, sketching a window with a lovely view of the trees outside.

The shy, quiet kid from New Jersey would work his way up to Executive Creative Director and Partner at D&S and, along the way, he’d create countless smart, honest and original advertising campaigns. Peter earned many accolades, from Clio awards to a national magazine article where the author referred to him as “dreamy.” But he took the most pride in the accomplishments of the artists, writers, strategists and big thinkers who would do some of their very best work both for and with him, many moving on to wonderful new opportunities.

A true and humble leader, Peter could inspire anyone to follow him anywhere.

He was the heart of the agency.

In the Spring of 2015, Peter retired to live his best life on the water. And he did.

An avid sailor of a 15.5 foot Lawley for many years at Saunderstown Yacht Club, Peter served as commodore from 1994 to 1995. His boat, the Blue Blazer is a 29-foot 1957 Dyer 29 Kingfisher kept at Dutch Harbor boat yard where he met his true and great friend, Phil Allen, when Phil put a new diesel engine in the Blazer. The two often enjoyed going out for a spin around Beavertail then having a cold beer at the “Ganny”.

Peter really lived.

There will be a celebration of life to honor Peter this Spring, his very favorite time of year. In the meantime – and in lieu of flowers – Peter would love it if you spent some time out on a boat, went for a swim, and just enjoyed the water.

Also, Peter would’ve found this whole thing to be way too long and much too big a fuss.