TOUGH GUY...

Augie - about 2 years old

Leavitt Street House in 2022

My Uncle Augie's name on his birth certificate was Agostino, named after a paternal uncle. However, that was likely the last time he was ever called that. He was the youngest child of Isidoro and Teresa Poppa. He was born on April 7, 1922, at 821 South Leavitt Street, a row house in the Little Italy neighborhood of Chicago, Illinois. Agostino opted for the given name of August. He was, however, most affectionately known as Augie or Gus by family and friends. He was one year and four months old when his father died from tuberculosis. 

The Poppa family moved to Bridgeport, Connecticut, between Augie's birth and his father's death. The move was made so that Isidoro would be close to his parents and siblings when the end came. My grandfather would enter Bridgeport's Englewood Isolation Hospital shortly after the family arrived in Connecticut for the last time. According to his death certificate, Isidoro suffered from tuberculosis for 1-2 years before his death. Sadly, various forms of lung disease of one kind or another would affect most of his children throughout their lives. My Grandmother Teresa, pregnant with her last child Mary, would give birth on July 9, 1923; a month later, on August 18, Isidoro passed away.

Sadly, 1924 did not turn out to be much better than the year prior. Augie's infant sister Mary died. Although I have not been able to validate her cause of death or the month and day of her passing, I suspect she succumbed to the same fate as her father based on the timing of events.  

My Grandmother's family, the DiFoggios, made their homes in and around the Chicagoland area. So, whether it was late 1923 or early 1924, Teresa and her children returned to Chicago permanently after Grandpa's death to be closer to her parents and siblings. Time and money permitting, occasional visits and or family events would bring Isidoro's family back to the designated Poppa homestead in Bridgeport, Connecticut.

Once back in Chicago, my Grandmother Teresa and her six surviving children, Freddie, Ann, Rocky, Lenny, Beth, and of course, Augie, lived in the 3rd-floor apartment at 2160 West DeKalb Street (n/k/a Bowler Street). According to the 1930 Federal Census, Teresa was charged a monthly rent of $22.00 for that apartment. In the 1930s, the average annual income was $1,970, and the average cost of rent was about $18.00 a month. Teresa was a lampshade maker for a lampshade factory. I don't know how much she was paid in that line of work, but it was likely, not much. There were seven mouths to feed and only one paycheck coming in. Grandma paid the rent with limited resources, and the family lived barebones. Long after the Poppas left the neighborhood, the three-story apartment building on DeKalb Street was demolished and rebuilt as a three-story single-family home in 1997. 

In 1930, Augie was eight years old and attending school. I am still looking for the school's name. But since the Poppas lived directly across the street from St. Calistus Catholic Church which had a grade school attached, I don't think it would be unreasonable to assume that Augie and his siblings got their early education there.

By 1940, the Poppas had moved to 1553 S. Drake Avenue in Chicago. However, the census report for that year listed several discrepancies making the information collected suspect. For example, Augie was recorded as 28 years old. However, he was only 18 years old in 1940. In addition, his place of birth was Illinois, and he was a U.S. citizen, not born in Italy or naturalized. 

Drake Avenue House in 2022

According to the census, Augie's highest level of education reached was 8th grade. While this fact has yet to be verified, it is possible that Augie's education was limited, as were many individuals in the 1930s and 40s. A high school diploma was not as important then as now, and college was a luxury few could afford. As a result, many young people quit school as soon as possible and entered the workforce. In addition, WWII was on the horizon, and many young men left school, if not to work, then to join the military. 

The Poppa brothers were all tough in their way, but Uncle Augie was probably the toughest, more out of necessity than his natural temperament. He was, after all, the baby of the family and the only one that never really had a chance to get to know his father. As a result, his survival skills undoubtedly kicked in early. Whatever the reason, Augie enjoyed the sport of boxing in his downtime from his job at the Maremont Automotive Company on South Ashland Avenue in Chicago. 

If newspaper articles are to be believed, he began a promising career as a boxer at 17. By 19, his toughness and skills in the boxing ring were on full display when Augie, now a Golden Glove bantamweight winner, would take on the more experienced, two-time fly-weight champion, Harold Dade, on February 12, 1942. Unfortunately, Uncle Augie didn't win the fight. Still, he was a formidable opponent. When asked about his upcoming fight with Dade, the Chicago Tribune quoted my uncle as saying, "They tell me he's pretty good." When the reporter went on to ask if he thought he could stand up against the more seasoned fighter, Augie responded, "He'll know he's been in a fight."   

                

I cannot say whether his boxing career was entirely behind him after the matchup with Dade, but on June 26, 1942, at age 20, Augie registered for the draft. According to his draft card, Augie completed his registration as Gus Pope. He was unemployed and living at home on Drake Avenue then and listed his next of kin as his mother, Mrs. Teresa Pope. The draft registrar described Augie as 5'3 ⅟2" tall, 129 pounds, with black hair, brown eyes, a dark complexion, and 'no other obvious physical characteristics that will aid in identification.' I am still determining the exact date he was called into the Army and the camp where he was subsequently stationed; those details still need to be researched. However, his military discharge date was September 25, 1943, according to the notation at the top of his draft card.  

Augie - age 22

Augie had no trouble attracting women; he was a handsome guy. However, holding on to them may be another matter. He was married three times during his lifetime. His first marriage in 1946 was to Marion Akison. Augie's marriage to Marion, or Mary as she was known, produced two sons, Robert (Bobby) and Richard (Ricky). The marriage ended in divorce sometime in mid-to-late 1948. Within the next two years, Augie would marry for the second time. On April 19, 1950, Kathryn DeBartolo became Kathryn (Kay) Poppa. Two more children would be born during this union, a girl named Linda and a boy named August, or Gus, as he preferred. Sadly, this marriage would also end in divorce by the mid-to-late 50s. Around 1964 give or take a year, Augie made his final trip down the aisle when he married Elaine Mozer-Mustari. Elaine had four adult children from a previous marriage, Arlene, Arthur, MaryAnn, and Frank. Between his four children and four stepchildren, Augie became a grandfather to 17. At the time of his death, he was great-grandfather to 16.

Augie - July 1948

Sometime in the late 40s or early 50s, Augie began work as a pipe fitter and was a loyal member of Local 17 Heat and Frost Insulators Union. Regrettably, his many years in this line of work exposed him to high levels of asbestos. Subsequently, he suffered from the effects of that exposure. Unfortunately, I have not seen his death certificate. So I cannot confidently say which of the two killers, Asbestosis or Mesothelioma, led to his death over 50 years later. 

Uncle Augie was a good man. Like most of us, I'm sure there were things in his life he would have changed if he could, but as they say, hindsight is 20-20. My uncle was there for my sisters and me after my dad's stroke in 1991. At the hospital, he took no guff from the doctor at the suggestion that perhaps my father would need to go to a nursing home. Fortunately, that never came to pass, and my dad moved in with me. Augie visited often and kept Dad company, bringing him scratch-off lottery tickets, which he knew my father liked playing. I couldn't relate to you any conversation I overheard between the two brothers; neither was very longwinded. They would sit and watch television and sometimes try to play pinochle like before Dad's stroke. Uncle Augie attempted to teach me how to play, too …unfortunately, it didn't work so well, but I gave him props for trying.  

August Isidoro Pope died on July 19, 2004—one of my favorite tough guys. Rest in Peace, Uncle Augie. You are missed.

Photo Credits:

From Author's private photo collection:

1. 'Augie about 2 years old'
2. 'Leavitt Street House in 2022' 
3. 'Drake Avenue House in 2022'
4. 'Augie - July 1948'
5. 'Augie - age 22'

Newspaper Clippings:

• Newspapers.com - Chicago Tribune - 5 Feb 1942 - Page 23
• Newspapers.com - Chicago Tribune - 5 Feb 1942 - Page 24
• Newspapers.com - Chicago Tribune - 13 Feb 1942 - Page 27

WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT GREAT GRANDPA?

 

Fedele Poppa

Frederick, Fred, or Alfred. I've seen my great-grandfathers' name in many different forms. But the truth is, his name was Fedele. Fedele Poppa, to be exact, and his grandfathers' namesake. He was born in Orsara di Puglia, Foggia, Italy, on April 11, 1856, to Lorenzo Poppa and Antonia Melchiorre. I have found one sibling for Fedele. A brother named Lorenzo was born about 1853 in Orsara and named after his father, in keeping with an old Italian custom.

 In September 1882, Fedele married Elisabetta Branca in his hometown of Orsara. During their marriage, the couple raised five children, three boys, Leonardo, Isidoro, Augustino, and two girls, Marietta and Maria Grazia. My grandfather Isidoro was the second in line in the family hierarchy. Now that Fedele's’ family was complete, the time to secure a better future for the Poppas was upon him. 

Citta di Genova - 1906

On Tuesday, March 26, 1906, Fedele and Isidoro would set sail from Naples for America for the first time on the passenger ship SS Citta di Genova. Father and son listed the occupations they were leaving behind as a baker and a tailor, respectively. As third-class passengers traveling in steerage, the trip would be long and arduous. The voyage lasted three weeks to the day ending with their arrival at New York's Ellis Island. 

Ellis Island - early 1900s 

Millions of immigrants passed through Ellis Island in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. But before admission, they had to show they were fit to work and had money (or relatives who would take them in). Unfortunately, for many future family historians, immigrants needed no passports or visas to enter the United States through Ellis Island. Moreover, papers were optional at the beginning of the immigration boom. As a result, so much information about these early immigrants was lost.

The Poppas arrived on Tuesday, April 17, 1906; Fedele had twenty dollars in his pocket to stave off starvation and shelter for himself and his 15-year-old son. According to the ships' manifest, Fedele and Isidoro would stay with his brother-in-law, Vincenzo Fiore, in a crowded tenement at 114 Mulberry Street in New York's Little Italy. Unfortunately, depending on your perspective, the original building was razed and not preserved as an immigrant museum. Nevertheless, it would be interesting to see what awaited my ancestors on arriving at where they placed all their hopes.

Mulberry Street ca the 1900s

In Italy, many rural families might have slept in tiny cramped houses, but work, socializing, and outdoor eating occupied most of their waking hours. Tenement life for the newly minted immigrants came as quite a shock; some of their greatest dangers concerned their housing. In New York, most immigrants, Fedele and Isidoro included, lived in narrow, low-rise apartment buildings that were generally grossly overcrowded by their landlords. Cramped, poorly lit, under-ventilated, and usually without indoor plumbing, these tenements were hotbeds of vermin and disease. Frequently swept by cholera, typhus, and tuberculosis, a condition young Isidoro would fall victim to in the years to come. Ironically, as of 2019, 114 Mulberry Street now holds a new mixed-use building with 23 luxury residential units currently occupying the space.

Early twentieth-century working conditions for immigrants were often as dangerous as their living conditions. For example, many that came to America from southern Italy had only worked as farmers and were only qualified to work unskilled and more dangerous urban labor. So instead, many went to work in the city's municipal works projects, digging canals, laying paving and gas lines, building bridges, and tunneling out the New York subway system. As a result, by the end of the nineteenth century, 90% of the labor force in New York's Department of Public Works were Italian immigrants.

Single men among the immigrants only stayed for a short time, returning to Italy within five years of their arrival. Those immigrants that chose to remain kept in close contact with their families back in the old country and worked hard to have enough money to send back home to help with their support. How long Fedele and Isidoro remained in New York has yet to be discovered. However, they both returned to Orsara sometime before 1910. I say this for several reasons:

1. Isidoro married Theresa DiFoggio in 1910, in Orsara.
2. Isidoro's Naturalization Declaration of Intention, filed in 1919, states that he arrived back in the United States in January 1911.
3. There doesn't appear to be any 1910 U.S. Federal Census Record for either Poppa.

Also, Fedele returned to the United States with his wife and three of his children in 1913. The Poppas were incredibly close-knit. Immigrating to the United States was a decision intended to make a better life for the family and keep everyone together. So I do not believe Fedele would have stayed away from his family for seven years. 

SS Venetia - 1913

Fedele's' two eldest sons, Leonardo (28) and Isidoro (22), were married and living in the United States by 1913. The next and final wave of Fedele's family to make their way to America were wife Elisabetta, daughters Marietta (17) and Grazia (14), and son Augustino (11). The family arrived at Ellis Island on the SS Venetia on March 21 of that year. Upon their arrival, they would stay with Isidoro and his family in New Rochelle, New York, according to Venetia's passenger list, leaving no one from this family line of Poppas behind in Italy.

Ives Court House in 2022

Homeownership is often seen as one of the paths toward achieving the American dream. Between 1913 and 1920, Fedele had a steady job in the sanitation industry and earned at least one of his dreams when he bought a house in Bridgeport, Connecticut. He and his family made a forever home at 73 Ives Court. The house was built in 1902 and still stands today. It was lived in by many of Fedele's family and extended family at one time or another. The house remained in the Poppa family for years after Fedele's death.  

No parent expects to outlive their child, but on August 18, 1923, that is precisely what happened. Fedele's son and traveling companion from the old country to America, Isidoro, died from pulmonary tuberculosis at 31. I have long thought my grandfather contracted the disease due to the unsanitary and crowded conditions endured during the three-week ocean sailing from Italy or living in the contamination-prone tenements upon their first arrival in New York.

St. Michael's Cemetery

Fedele died at the age of 69 on May 28, 1925. He was laid to rest at Saint Michael's Cemetery in Stratford, Connecticut, as are many of his family members. 

I've told Fedele's story as best I could. I hope I've answered the question, 'What's so great about great-grandpa?' If not, let me add the following:

1. Fedele exhibited extraordinary courage risking everything to try and make a better life for his family.
2. He was hard-working and gave his children a strong work ethic.
3. He overcame prejudices toward immigrants that were often cruel and unfair, such as language limitations or heavy accents, and what was perceived as looking different (dark eyes and olive skin), and;
4. Let's not forget those gosh darn names that are so hard to pronounce.
 

Fedele got his American dream through sacrifices, risk-taking, and hard work rather than by accident or riding on someone else's coattails. That's what's so great about my great-grandpa... in case you want to know.   

MY BROTHER, MY FRIEND...

 

Patrick Matthew Michael Pope. Hmm, what can I say about him? He had the most Irish-sounding name of any Italian American guy I have ever known.  Growing up, he was my big brother, my playmate, and my nemesis. As an adult, he was my protector, my confidant, and my best friend.  He was handsome, funny, creative, but most importantly… kind and thoughtful. He loved his family unconditionally.  

Patrick was born on March 30, 1949, in Chicago, Illinois to Rocco and Marilyn Pope. He was the second out of four children, as well as the only boy. While I wasn’t around for the first five years of his life, I can say without fear of contradiction that my brother was a much-loved member of the family.  

In September 1954, Patrick was starting kindergarten at Alfred Nobel Elementary School. My mother loved to tell the story of how on his first day of school, after about an hour or so, Paddy (as mom liked to call him back then) marched himself over to the principal’s office and announced to whoever would listen, “get yourself another boy, I’m outta here!” That was the first phone call from the principal’s office that mom received about my brother. It would not be the last.

I think it is safe to say, that most older brothers get a kick out of teasing (although at the time I might have referred to it as torturing) their younger sisters. My brother was no exception. The time that Pat wanted to go off to the neighborhood playground with his friends and I wanted to tag along comes to mind. Patrick was never going to let that happen. So, the compromise was that he would play hide-n-seek with me for a little while. Do I need to spell out that I did the hiding, but Patrick did not do any seeking? Then there were the snowball fights. By the time I finished making my first snowball, Pat had already pelted me with about five of his. I could go on, but the point is that I was a pest and Pat wasn't having any of it.

Patrick was not a saint. He could be a devil at times. For example, there was a time when he broke the neighborhood bully’s nose. As the family sat down to dinner, my mother was in the kitchen finishing up some last-minute touches to the meal when there was a knock at the back door. She opened it, and standing there was Butch Panzewski with his head tilted back, and his hand cupping his bloody nose. His father, a bigger version of Butch, stood next to his son… itching for a fight. Mr. P., with his finger, pointed and shouted directly at mom, “where’s your husband?!” Mom called out to my father to come into the kitchen. Dad took a deep breath, knowing this could not be good, and confronted Butch and his father. Mr. P., flailing his arms at dad, accused Patrick of breaking his son Butch’s nose. To say that my father was not pleased by this dastardly accusation is an understatement. He called out for my brother to join him in the kitchen and asked him, in front of his accusers if he had indeed, broken the younger Panzewski’s nose. Pat, looked my dad in the eyes and said, no.  Dad turned to Mr. P., and stated as a matter of fact, “my son says he didn’t do it,” and proceeded to close the door on junior and senior Panzewski. After a minute or two and, since no one on the other side of the door attempted to kick it in, my father put his hand on my brother’s shoulder and walked him back to the dining room, asking him along the way…” so, why did you break that kid’s nose?”  It seems that Butch was picking on one of the younger kids in the neighborhood. Pushing, kicking, and trying to trip the younger (and much smaller) boy was standard behavior for Butch. When attempts at reasoning with the bully fell on deaf ears, Pat put a stop to it by giving Butch a taste of his own medicine. Breaking someone’s nose was not in Patrick’s nature and something to my knowledge that was never repeated. I can attest to the fact that standing up for someone weaker than himself would be something that Pat would repeat time after time throughout his life.

By the time Patrick entered Rezin Orr High School, he was more interested in girls and dating, some school sports, woodshop, and art classes than the standard core curriculum. He was smart and his grades reflected it, but he was never going to be happy working in an office or a laboratory.

After graduation, Pat enrolled in Wright Junior College for a couple of semesters, and then in 1975, he went on to attend Washburne Trade School. He earned his diploma as a Carpenter’s Apprentice and by 1978, he was a Journeymen Millwright. Patrick’s skills as a carpenter would be a godsend to me when I moved into a rundown 1926 apartment. Among the many repairs that he made, Pat also built shelves, refinished woodwork, and laid carpeting for me. I also ended up with a lot of high-grade tools, which have come in handy over the years. It was a lot of work, and I am sure he thought I was crazy for investing so much time, energy, and money into a rental apartment, but if he had any complaints, he kept them to himself. All he ever asked in return for his sweat equity was lunch, and coffee…lots and lots of coffee.  

Pat always looked out for me and my two sisters. While I cannot speak for them, I can say unequivocally that I reaped the benefits of getting the inside track on several people we had in common that I considered dating. Thanks to my brother, I knew which ones were the liars and cheats. He also let me know where he stood on whether or not they were good enough for me to date.

On December 8, 1981, our mother passed away. It was a major blow to our entire family. The family was no longer whole and would never be quite the same. Patrick was a source of great comfort to me and for that, I will always be thankful.

Just when I thought the worst was behind us, Patrick was killed six years later in a construction accident on June 4, 1987, at the age of 38.  While none of us ever really got the chance to say goodbye, I hope he knows how much he was loved and is missed to this day. 

Rest in Peace, Pat…

 

 

 

SWEET HOME CHICAGO...

The Windy City. The City of the Big Shoulders or City of Broad Shoulders. Hog Butcher for the World.[1] All nicknames for a sprawling metropolis that has bragging rights to an incredible skyline that overlooks Lake Michigan. A magnificent mile for shopping that lights up like the most beautiful Christmas trees you’ve ever seen. Theatres, restaurants, and sports for all seasons. There have been poems, plays, movies, and songs written about it, and of course, who could forget about that lovely cow that kicked over the lantern and burned it all down?

The Second City (or Third City depending on whose being quoted) is not without its share of problems. There are darker sides to this city that I wish didn’t exist, but given its sheer size and population, that’s to be expected. Chicago is definitely known for its weather, both good and bad, but that’s okay. It’ll change in a minute or two. Anyway, it’s where I was born, and will always be known to me as sweet home Chicago. It’s my kind of town.    

 

Springtime in Chicago

Chicago's Lake Shore Drive - In the Summertime

Autumn in Grant Park - Chicago

Winter Walks in the City

Christmastime at Chicago's Water Tower 

Elevated Train aka the "L" - Leaving the City

---

[1] Words and Their Stories: Nicknames for Chicago. https://learningenglish.voanews.com/a/a-23-2010-01-08-voa1-84659357/118644.html

 

MULBERRY or TAYLOR...WHAT'S in a STREET NAME?

Mulberry Street in New York City. Taylor Street in Chicago. Both streets were colorful and well-known and played an essential role in the early days of hundreds of immigrants. For many, these two thoroughfares were as close to their homes back in Italy as they would ever come again.

Undoubtedly, they were not the most significant or wealthiest Italian neighborhoods when first established and were probably considered the poorest. As a result, Mulberry Street and Taylor Street became known as the "Little Italy" within their cities' confines. The residents tended to stay insulated from the rest of the city through language, customs, financial and cultural institutions.

New York City was a major port of entry to the United States. To be exact, Castle Garden in the 19th century, followed by Ellis Island from its opening in 1892 until its closure in 1954. Once the newly arrived emigrants passed through the gates of the immigration receiving center, many found their way to Mulberry Street…

Mulberry Street…

Mulberry Street - New York City - circa 1900 1

Mulberry Street is historically associated with Italian-American culture and history. The late 19th and early 20th centuries were the heart of Manhattan's Little Italy. Countless immigrants, including many of my ancestors, began their lives in the United States on this street.

New York City's Little Italy on Mulberry Street used to extend as far south as Worth Street, as far north as Houston Street, as far west as Lafayette Street, and as far east as Bowery. Mulberry Street is now only three blocks long. My great-grandfather, grandfather, and great-uncles came to reside in a tenement at 118 Mulberry Street. The building is no longer there.   Ironically, a place where so many immigrants temporarily 'parked' while they settled into their new lives would be transformed into what appears in more recent photos as a parking lot. By 2019, the lot that once housed a tenement and subsequent parking lot transformed for a third time into a multi-purpose building, including luxury apartments.

New York's Little Italy originated as Mulberry Bend. Jacob Riis described Mulberry Bend as "the foul core of New York's slums." During this time, "Immigrants of the late 19th century usually settled in ethnic neighborhoods." Therefore, the "mass immigration from Italy during the 1880s" led to the large settlement of Italian immigrants in lower Manhattan. Such migration resulted in an "influx of Italian immigrants," which "led to the commercial gathering of their dwelling and business."

As more time went on and the community grew, particularly after World War II, many residents began moving to Brooklyn, Staten Island, and New Jersey. The dominance of Italians in the area was "relatively short-lived." Due mainly to the quick financial prosperity many Italians achieved, which allowed them to leave the cramped neighborhood for Brooklyn and Queens. Immigration restrictions were lifted in 1965, and Manhattan's Chinatown began to expand into what was once Little Italy. The area is currently referred to as Little Italy more out of nostalgia than a reflection of an actual ethnic population.

In 2010, Little Italy and Chinatown were listed as historic districts on the National Register of Historic Places.

Taylor Street…

Around Taylor & Maxwell Streets - Chicago - circa 1901  2

While several Italian-American communities thrive within the Chicago metropolitan area, Taylor Street seemed to be the port of call for Chicago's Italian American immigrants. It inherited the title of Chicago's "Little Italy."

Taylor Street's Little Italy is part of a larger community — Chicago's Near West Side. Dominant among the immigrant communities that comprised the Near West Side during the mass migration of Europeans around the start of the 20th century were Italians, Greeks, and Jews. Other ethnic groups vacated the neighborhood in the early 1900s, and only the Italian-American enclave remained a vibrant community.

Other ethnicities have always been present in the area known as "Little Italy," however, the strong influence of Italians and Italian culture on the community throughout the 19th and 20th centuries dominated. The Italian population peaked during the 1950s and '60s. It began declining after the decision to build the University of Illinois in the area was finalized in 1963. However, several Italian restaurants and businesses remain in the formerly prominent Taylor Street corridor.

Italians began arriving in Chicago in the 1850s in small numbers. By 1880, there were 1,357 Italians in the city. By the 1920s, Italian cookery had become one of the most popular ethnic cuisines in America. Many successful bakeries and restaurants—some of which prospered for generations continue to influence the Chicago dining scene. By 1927, Italians owned 500 grocery stores, 257 restaurants, 240 pastry shops, and various other food-related businesses concentrated in Italian neighborhoods.

The immigration of Italians accelerated throughout the late 19th century and into the early 20th century. Chicago's foreign-born Italian population was 16,008 in 1900 and peaked at 73,960 in 1930. The largest area of settlement was the Taylor Street area.     

How do I answer the question, "What's in a street name?"

Technically I did not grow up on Taylor Street or any nearby streets that make up the Tri-Taylor, University Village/Maxwell Street, or Little Italy area of the city. However, my grandparents, parents, assorted aunts, uncles, and a few cousins did, so I claim that privilege by association. From the stories that I grew up hearing, times were tough. There was the Spanish Influenza, the Depression, few jobs, many mouths to feed, and two World Wars, not to mention Korea and Viet Nam. But, there were also many good times shared. A closeness amongst family and friends. Love and pride in the community and one's heritage still exist today in the recollections often repeated by those there. Not a bad thing.

RESOURCES:

¹Wikimedia Commons contributors, "File: Mulberry Street, New York City (LOC det.4a08193).jpg," Wikimedia Commons, the free media repository, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Mulberry_Street,_New_York_City_(LOC_det.4a08193).jpg&oldid=410554170 (accessed August 3, 2020).

²Wikipedia contributors, "Little Italy, Chicago," Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, https://en.wikipedia.org/w/index.php?title=Little_Italy,_Chicago&oldid=965385614 (accessed August 3, 2020).

WELL ISN'T THAT JUST PEACHY...

Just Peachy - March 1958

A perfect Sunday afternoon for a three-year-old might be playing with a new toy, wearing a new hat, or eating a favorite treat. For this little girl, it looks like she has all three!

An abject look of determination crosses the face of this adorable child (ahem, okay, it’s me). The giant spoon held perfectly in her little hand… she slowly guides it down into the tin can of heavy syrup, in search of the delicious canned peaches contained within. Here I am on a mission to scoop up the delicious fruit accompanied by the perfect amount of sticky, sweet nectar. 

Of course, one must always keep up with current fashion trends, and what better way than to have a hat made from the latest edition of the Sunday paper?

Newspaper hat couture was my dad’s specialty. No one could design a statement piece out of the classifieds better than him, and if he used the paper’s comic strip…the bright, colored ink could give the fanciest, British fascinator hat a run for its’ money!  

Hmmm, I knew Mom was a milliner by trade, but who knew that Dad dabbled in that field, too?! 

Lilly Daché¹ couldn't have done better, at least not in my mind's eye!






¹ Lilly Daché 1898-1989. A European-born American milliner and fashion designer. 

PHOTO CREDITS:

Photograph entitled 'Just Peachy - March 1958' from the author's private photo collection.
Raised Eyebrow Emoji by Unknown Author is licensed under CC BY 

STREET SCENES...

It isn't easy to imagine how my life might have turned out had my great-grandparents not decided to immigrate to the United States. I know why they did it, but sometimes I wonder if they regretted the decision? Leaving behind family, friends, and the only homes they had ever known must have been difficult.



As in most immigrant stories, the men emigrated first. Hopes were high that they might earn enough money to secure their family's future in the old country or establish a new life in America.



Three weeks at sea, what an arduous journey to undertake. Not an easy trek, especially for women. It couldn't have been easy to travel alone with young children to meet their husbands in a strange land with no one to lean on. Or imagine the young girl traveling to a foreign country to meet her future husband. A man that was selected for her by her parents and whom she had probably never laid eyes on before. Hoping that this person she was about to spend her life with was well-suited or kind, at the very least.

From August 1, 1855, through April 18, 1890, immigrants arriving in the state of New York came through Castle Garden. America's first official immigrant examining and processing center, Castle Garden welcomed approximately 8 million immigrants — most from Germany, Ireland, England, Scotland, Sweden, Italy, Russia, and Denmark. 

Castle Garden Immigration Center - about 1888

Castle Garden welcomed its last immigrant on April 18, 1890. After the closing of Castle Garden, immigrants were processed at an old barge office in Manhattan until the opening of the Ellis Island Immigration Center on  January 1.1892. [i]  

My maternal great-grandmother, Carmella DeLio, and her 8-year-old son Angelo, my future grandfather, set sail on the SS Bolivia from Naples, Italy, in December 1887. They arrived in New York through Castle Garden on Jan. 4, 1888. They would join my great-grandfather, Raffaele, and eventually settle in Chicago, Illinois.  

According to family lore, a young girl was also on the boat. Her name was Saveria Debiase. She was approximately 14 years old and was on her way to meet and marry her future husband, Michele Lufrano[1]. Carmella would take young Saveria under her wing during this long ocean crossing. The two became fast friends. A pact between them developed, determining that once Saveria and Michele married and started their family, their first daughter would be promised to marry Carmella's son, Angelo.

  

Chicago Street Scene 1888-1890

Downtown Chicago - 1890

Whether Saveria and Carmella met on the boat or through other means, an agreement was struck. Two years after that meeting, on Mar. 5, 1890, Saveria gave birth to her first child, a daughter named Maria or Mary, as she would be known. On Jan. 15, 1905, 14-year-old Mary and 24-year-old Angelo wed in Chicago, Illinois.

Bowler Avenue - 2017

The match between Mary and Angelo DeLio turned out to be a good one. The young couple would eventually raise six children in a house they purchased in 1917 in the Little Italy section of the city, which still stands today. The family lived in the house on Bowler Avenue (fka DeKalb Street) throughout the 1940s.  

My favorite memories growing up were of my parents, aunts, and uncles discussing the old days on DeKalb Street. They spoke about them with such relish that I felt like I was there. What great fun and adventures they shared. If ever there was a time to need a video camera or tape recorder, it was then. Oh, to be a fly on the wall!   

---

[1]  Most documentation lists Michele Lufrano as Michael Lufrano. However, a baptismal registry for one of Michael and Saveria's children refers to him as Guiseppe Lufrano. This information has yet to be verified.  

---

[i] ^{Powell, Kimberly. "Castle Garden: America's First Official Immigration Center." ThoughtCo, Feb. 11, 2020, thoughtco.com/castle-garden-americas-official-immigration-center-1422288.}