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“Hold on, sir!� he says. Adamo guards the umpires’ locker room area at Busch stadium. No one without a badge or authorization gets by him.

Adamo redirected the man to where he needed to go. He waved and smiled at the regulars who look for him at every home game.

Even at 91 years old, Adamo exudes energy, warmth and an unshakable work ethic. He’s become an unofficial mayor at the stadium, a steadfast guardian of the MLB umpires and a familiar face for players and frequent visitors.

On this particular Sunday, Adamo arrived at the stadium at 3:45 p.m. to work the Cardinals night game against the Chicago Cubs. A rain delay meant he would be getting back to his home in Weldon Spring later than usual.

“Hoping to leave by midnight if everything goes all right,� he says, strolling the maze of hallways through the restaurant and media room, past security and back to his station.

“You weren’t at your normal perch,� a co-worker says, as he walked by. “I missed you.�

Even when he’s gone for a few moments, people notice.

Adamo thought working as an usher at the stadium would be a fun retirement gig. Now, he’s been a fixture at the Cardinals home games for 27 seasons. He takes the responsibility of his position very seriously.

“I watch the door. I have the key,� he says. “I have to keep my eye on this sensitive area.�

This may be his final season. It’s getting harder for him to wake up for Mass at 8 a.m. after getting home at midnight or later the day before.

His goal this season was to make it to every single game, but a recent fall has landed him on the injured list.

Still, he’s not willing to call it quits just yet.

Finding a way back to downtown

Adamo was born in St. Louis at Missouri Baptist Hospital and grew up in a tight-knit Sicilian community near what is now the Dome at America’s Center. His parents emigrated from Sicily. ÁñÁ«ÊÓƵ worshiped at Our Lady, Help of Christians, where priests spoke Italian and the nuns came from Italy.

He attended CBC High School in Clayton, then St. Louis University, and he joined the ROTC program. He earned a bachelor’s degree in business administration and later a graduate degree in management and finance from SLU. He also served in the U.S. Air Force for three years.

Adamo joined McDonnell Aircraft in 1959 and stayed for 40 years, eventually working under Boeing after the merger. He met Kathleen, an Irish young woman, through work and reconnected with her on a flight. She had left McDonnell to become a flight attendant for Eastern Airlines.

“We got reacquainted,� he says. They married in 1977. When Adamo retired from McDonnell in 1999, he and Kathleen bought season tickets for their beloved hometown team.

One of his friends mentioned that they were hiring at the ballpark.

“I was always at the games, and he knew I needed something to do,� Adamo said.

He was offered a job in guest services. The first year Adamo worked all positions as an usher, but he soon found his spot with the umpires. There are 81 home games a year, and he tries not to miss a single one.

He and his wife were married for 43 years before she died in 2020.

Connecting with the umps

After he retired, the Adamos had bought a place in Florida, where they spent the winters. Vito would head down there as soon as the season ended. In 2011, the Cardinals were 10 and a half games out of a playoff spot in late August. Adamo packed up and headed to Florida to join his wife.

The team defied the odds and through a dramatic last-day wild-card clinch, they made the playoffs. Adamo flew back to St. Louis to work the games.

Rich Rieker, an MLB umpire for 10 years and now senior director of umpire development, never let Adamo forget that early departure. He’s teased him about it for the past 15 years.

“He was always there with a smile,� Rieker says. Several umpires described Adamo as a welcome sight since they travel six to seven months out of the year. Being greeted by him outside their locker room was a familiar and friendly way to start the night.

“We knew Vito would be there,â€� Rieker says.Ìý

Ron Kulpa, an MLB umpire originally from St. Louis, says he enjoys seeing the love Adamo brings to his job. When Kulpa meets former umpires in other cities, they tell him to give their regards to Vito.

“That’s how special he is to all of us,� Kulpa says. He makes sure to take care of the umpires’ families when they come to games and he ensures the umpires get to the locker room safely. Then, he tells them when it’s time to get on the field, and he’s there to walk them off the field.

“It’s a blessing to see him every time we come to a series in St. Louis,� Kulpa says.

Matt Gifford, vice president of stadium operations, has known Adamo for as long as he’s worked there.

“He has a passion for his responsibility,� Gifford says. “My guess is that most people don’t know how old he is because of how vibrant he is.�

Super aging

For much of the 20th century, aging implied cognitive and physical decline.

“There was a time in the early 1900s when we thought the only pathway to aging was to get old and get senile,� says Emily Rogalski, professor of neurology and director of the Healthy Aging & Alzheimer’s Research Center at the University of Chicago. Over time, researchers realized that dementia and changes in cognition were abnormal aging.

Rogalski studies super agers — people over 80 whose memory performance rivals that of someone 20 or 30 years younger.

These are people like Betty White, who defy expectations of aging. Twenty years ago, she began studying people who were living long and living well. ÁñÁ«ÊÓƵ wanted to see what factors super agers have in common. Super agers often show physical differences in their brains. Their cortex — the outer layer — looks more like that of a 50-year-old, she says. A certain type of neuron is more abundant in their brain.

Lifestyle factors are harder to study. But most super agers endorse better social connections and mental engagement than their peers.

“Social interaction is really great for our brain because it’s unpredictable,� she says.

For 27 years, Adamo has spent his days greeting players, chatting with umpires, exchanging friendly chatter with security staff and visitors. These thousands of small, spontaneous conversations are like thousands of mental workouts.

He attributes his longevity to his Italian heritage.

“Working down at the ballpark has been a great fun job,â€� Adamo says. He enjoys working with all the young people. They keep him in the loop and look after him in subtle ways.Ìý

Two of his coworkers walk him to his car every night.

“Like I’m the old man, and they have to make sure I am all set before I head home,� he says, with a laugh.

It’s rare to continue working (and living) into one’s 90s. A Business Insider analysis of U.S. Census data found that about 36,000 people ages 90 and older work at least part-time. The most recent Census population estimates show that there are 2,485,692 people in the country who are 90 years and older, so approximately 1.4 percent of this age group is still working.

Adamo is part of a small but mighty sliver of the workforce.

Back to rehab

For all his vitality, Adamo has experienced some health challenges. About six years ago, he noticed he was having difficulty walking from the parking lot to the stadium. He was getting so tired while walking. He was diagnosed with atrial fibrillation and needed a heart valve replacement.

“I’ve got this new valve, and I’ve been doing fine for the past five years or so,� he says.

He even works the concerts at the stadium and drives himself to and from work.

Last October, he moved into a senior living community, New Perspective in Weldon Spring. He looked for a place right off the highway to make his commute easier.

Kelly Gano, executive director at New Perspective, said when she met him, he was worried about getting to work.

“He was 90, and he was concerned about driving himself to and from the stadium at 1 a.m. after a game. That tells you everything about his sense of purpose.�

She said he’s pretty popular in the retirement community. Before one of his concert gigs, she asked him what he knew about Post Malone.

“I know some of his music,� he says.

He even signed up for physical therapy to work on his “bum knee,� so he could walk without a cane and work on his balance.

But recently, he suffered a frightening fall. On a Monday, he slipped getting out of his bed. He fell on the floor away from his phone and away from the cord that he could have pulled to alert the staff.

He lay on the floor for more than two days. By Thursday, the cleaning staff found him. He was taken to the hospital, where he stayed for five days until they transferred him to in-patient rehab.

“I’m OK. I didn’t break anything,� he says. He admits that he’s pretty bruised up but minimizes it. “I’m in no pain. I’m feeling fine.�

His plan is to regain his strength in rehab. He missed his first Cardinals game of the season after his fall.

When asked if he thinks he might recover quickly enough to come back to the stadium before the season ends, he hesitates for a second and says, “Maybe so. Hopefully.�

Then, he brushes his own doubts aside.

“Yes, yes,� he says.

He plans on making a comeback.

Ìý