Aging & Wisdom Quote by Anthony Weiner

“New York lost a classic” is eulogy as brand management: it turns a death into a civic event, and a person into a type. Weiner’s word choice does two things at once. “Classic” isn’t just praise; it’s a bid to fold Carmine into the city’s self-mythology, the New York that sells itself as grit, speed, and blunt candor. It’s the language of sports talk and street-level reverence, meant to feel earned, not curated.

“Old school New Yorker” is even more loaded. On its face, it’s nostalgia: a compliment for someone who embodied a fading social code - loyalty, toughness, maybe a certain rough charm. Underneath, it’s a selective memory. “Old school” can sanitize as much as it honors, smoothing over whatever made Carmine complicated, politically inconvenient, or simply out of step with contemporary norms. It signals authenticity while avoiding specifics that might invite scrutiny.

Weiner, as a politician, is also speaking to an audience that hears identity as legitimacy. He’s positioning himself close to a particular New York archetype, a move that reads like tribute and affiliation simultaneously. The name “Carmine” itself conjures a familiar ethnic-cityscape shorthand - the corner-store uncle, the union guy, the neighborhood fixer - letting listeners fill in the story without Weiner having to write it.

The intent is condolence, but the subtext is cultural preservation: mourning not just a man, but a version of New York that feels increasingly like a souvenir.