Remembering September 23, 1923

Today marks the 88th anniversary of the gathering of “Tutti i Giusvallini” on the grounds of what is now the Hagley Museum. Those who still remember this gathering, and others like it, all share many of the same sentiments …. wonderful memories of family and friends during a time when their little community took care of itself and neighbors watched out for each other. We hope that some of these values continue through the generations yet to come. We the younger generations have a lot to live up to, and we are fortunate to call these strong people our family.

For those of us whose families were a part of this iconic image (and event) from 88 years ago, we are happy to take a moment to honor them today. Not only are they remembered for being a part of the historic photo, but for all that they endured while coming to this Country from their homeland. Many left the last of their family behind, never to be seen again, while others lost family members who had survived the trip, but died after arriving here. The banner photo you see above perhaps symbolizes the bravery and determination of our ancestors to make a better life for themselves and their children. We would like to believe that we and our own children are an extension of those peoples' dreams realized.

The July 4th Tomato Challenge.

When I was a boy, my grandfather had an extensive garden. My sister and I saw it so regularly that we eventually became desensitized by it. We figured everyone must have a garden so extravagant, with such a variety of fruits and vegetables, since Grandpop Salvo made it all look so easy.

It wasn't until I was much older that I learned about one of the little challenges my grandfather would have running "behind the scenes" of his lavish garden. My father told me one day that Grandpop Salvo and his gardening cronies had a yearly challenge running amongst them. The challenge was simple in nature, yet a pretty involved task: have a red tomato either on the vine, or picked, by 4th of July..

At face value, it doesn't sound like much of a challenge. But anyone who has ever grown a tomato plant knows there's more to it than meets the eye. Yeah, tomato plants are pretty self-sufficient and all, however they require a great deal of watering, monitoring, and even protection from the local wildlife! Therefore, anyone who thinks this challenge is for the faint of heart is definitely missing some facts.

This is my second year of growing tomatoes myself, and last week I put word out to my gardening family members that the 4th of July was right around the corner, and I reminded all of them about Grandpop Salvo's tomato challenge. This year, my Aunt Alma seems to be the one in the target audience to have the first red tomato. It's a CHERRY tomato, but hey- we can't get picky now, can we?

I hope that this article sparks some fond memories for our readers. If your family follows the same tradition, we'd love to hear about it!

Bertù ‘d Tzunìn: ur cowboy ‘d Prati Proia

Though the Giusvallini that settled in the Wilmington, Delaware area around the turn of the 20th century represent the largest group of immigrants from Giusvalla to settle in one place in the United States, there were certainly others who sought their fortunes in other places throughout the country. The Pizzorno family settled in the Buffalo, New York area, there were a handful of Baccino, Perrone and Rabellino immigrants who went to San Francisco, the descendants of Silvio Baccino went to the southwestern corner of Pennsylvania .... just to name a few. The experiences of these Giusvallini immigrants surely differed greatly from our gang of ancestors who worked for the DuPont family in the powder mills or went into the mushroom business.

Perhaps no experience could have been more different than that of Bartolomeo “Bertù” Carlo Zunino. Bertù first came to the United States in 1907. Like most of his friends from back home, he arrived through Ellis Island. However where most went directly to “Henry Clay Factory, Wilmington, Delaware,” Bertù “went west.” In those days, the desert towns in White Pine County, Nevada offered two means of livelihood: ranching or copper mining. What attracted Bertù to the Wild West remains a mystery, but local records reveal the names of several Italians, so perhaps word of opportunity in that part of the U.S. had come to the Giusvalla area and the romantic notion of the cowboy lifestyle appealed to young Bertù? Certainly many a young giusvallino had gone to South America in pursuit of a similar lifestyle as a gaucho. What is known for a fact is that Bertù went to Nevada and worked for a local rancher named William N. McGill on the Cleveland Ranch in Spring Valley, which at the time was the largest and most successful cattle ranch in the area. Bertù became a real life cowboy, tending the cattle on the vast Cleveland Ranch on horseback. In 1915, he became a naturalized U.S. citizen and later that year returned to Italy for a few years to care for his aging father. When Bertù returned to the U.S. in 1920, he went back to Spring Valley and with the small inheritance he received from his father, he was able to invest as a partner in his own ranch.

During the 1920s, Bertù and his friend Antonio Persico operated a small cattle ranch just outside of Spring Valley. Bertù must have been a solitary man, he never married and spent the remainder of his years quietly tending cattle on his patch of desert among the vast Nevada wilderness. The cowboy from località Prati Proia died on his little ranch during the 1940s and was laid to rest in the dusty ground that was once roamed by the native Shoshone, old cowpokes, Mormon settlers and stagecoach drivers ....

The Matteo Letters.

This article is for all of our readers out there who not only share in our Giusvallin background, but in our pack-rat-type tendencies as well…

In January of this year, I needed to go out to our shed in the back yard for some necessary cleanup and reorganization. This shed came to our home around 1999-2000, and over the years it has amassed quite a variety of different, shall I say, “inventory”.

A couple of years back, my mother provided me with a large stack of old family photos, many of which at the time did not have corresponding names to go with the faces. With the help of Frank Rosaio and his family, almost every single photo was miraculously identified. Some of those photos even exist in the archives of this website today. The reason I am making reference to this event is because at the same time those photos were forwarded to me, it was also explained to me that there were other family relics still stored “somewhere” (and in my family, ‘somewhere’ is a pretty big place). Among those relics were supposed letters that my Aunt Theresa (Tortarolo) Angelone had received from friends and family over the years, all of the way up until her death in 1983.

Returning back to my shed-cleaning experience, the event prompted me to have to move quite a few items around, and also throw some things away. The necessity of having to do these various tasks forced me to have to move some things around which had not been touched in quite some time. Some of the items in that shed were most likely even brought in around the timeframe of 1999-2000, put down in what was to be a “temporary” location at that particular moment, and now here, 11-12 years later, they are just being touched once again..

As I moved the various boxes, tools, and other miscellany around, a box made of white cardboard managed to fall, which I had not remembered touching or even bumping to make it do so. As I approached the box, I noticed that the side that was facing me was the bottom of the box, and its contents had spilled onto the floor behind an old sewing machine. I was somewhat frustrated when it happened, as my job at that point in the shed was to be cleaning up, and this box spilling over just added to the “cleaning up” part of my work out there. I sighed and leaned over the sewing machine to see just how much extra work I was in for. When I looked down, I noticed what appeared to be a small stack of envelopes, white with red and blue borders all of the way around them. They were basically all face-down, and although I could see some writing on them, it wasn’t clear enough for me to see the details of the writing. It only took me a second, however, to realize that the stack of letters, lying on the floor of this dirty old shed, were no doubt letters sent to someone in my family from Europe. As I bent down and picked them up, I immediately started to see names on the backs of them like BAGNUS, GIORDANO, BROCCOLI, and one that really jumped out at me: TORTAROLO. The names I was seeing corresponded to the return addresses on the back, and as I flipped over the envelopes, they all read: “Theresa Angelone”, “Mrs. Theresa Angelone”, “Arthur and Theresa Angelone”. I just stood there, speechless. The missing letters my mother had told me about had just surfaced.
I began opening the letters right there in the shed, and was so astonished by what I was seeing. There were so many different types of formats: handwritten on regular paper, handwritten on decorative letter paper, handwritten on tissue-like paper, typed on regular paper, there were so many different features to all of them. Some had the same type of handwriting from the start of a letter to its end, some had different types of handwriting all found within the same letter, it was such an incredible moment. As I looked over all of the letters and started to put them in some type of organized fashion (even if they’d been organized in the box, they certainly didn’t stay that way once they’d hit the floor), one name really started to jump out at me. One letter, after another, after another, the backs read TORTAROLO, MATTEO e ENRICHETTA.

For our readers who are not already aware, it is the lineage of the Tortarolo family that makes Frank and I part of the same family. When Theresa’s parents, Valentino and Luigia, both died from the flu of 1918, Theresa came to live with my Salvo family, and her 2 siblings, Egidio and Josephine, went to live with Frank’s family. Theresa went on to marry Arthur Angelone, and to be honest, it wasn’t until I was much older that I’d learn more about her Tortarolo lineage, and, more specifically, its connection to my own family history.

The “Matteo letters” (as Frank and I came to call them while translating them) highlight events and family information from the period of 1962 to 1970 (the image that accompanies this post is from a letter that came from Matteo in 1976; however, only the envelope remains). They not only contain general correspondence between Theresa and her family back in Italy, but they also provide amazing details regarding ‘known’ family members, as well as relatives yet to be identified in the family tree as well! The letters were truly an invaluable find.

So, for those of you who find yourself saving various pieces of documentation without being able to justify to yourself why you are doing it: maybe it’s because God is asking you to put them aside for someone else….

La Strega di Natale

Maria Fiorenzano was one of the little trovatelli of Giusvalla .... born to a young unwed mother among i brichi ed i boschi, Maria was given the surname “Fiorenzano.” The floral reference was typical of almost all the little trovatelli of Giusvalla, however the name carries another connotation which was most certainly intended by Maria’s mother to impart a blessing of hope and good wishes upon her unfortunate baby girl. Maria was born on Christmas Eve in the year 1832, a time when the villagers of Giusvalla still held tightly to the old beliefs and folklore. A baby girl born on Christmas Eve was said to be destined to become a witch. This old superstition would not have been lost on the townfolk of Giusvalla. And so perhaps Maria’s sanguine surname was intended by her mother to counteract a curse.

The details of Maria’s childhood have been lost to time, and there is no reason to believe that the old Italian superstition came true and she became a witch. If anything, the good fortune that her mother hoped for her seemed to follow her through life. Maria married young to a well-to-do merchant from Piemonte and moved with him to his hometown in the province of Cuneo where they raised a large family. When Maria died on December 31, 1894, she was said to be “possidente” (wealthy).

Bun Natòl a tùcci vuiocci!

The Dowry of a Giusvalla Bride

In the days of our Giusvallini great-grandparents, the selection of a spouse was most often something along the lines of a financial transaction between two families. The process began with an agreement between two local families, the motivation was not necessarily one borne out of love or mutual affection between two young people. We are all familiar with the old stories of arranged marriages, perhaps some of these family stories have even made their way down through the generations .... sad stories of a great-grandmother who was in love with the boy from a neighboring farm, but was forced to marry another because the decision of who she was to marry was left in the hands of her parents. Such was life in the days of our forefathers, families did whatever was necessary to ensure their survival and this meant that sacrifices and difficult decisions sometimes had to be made. Sometimes our great-grandparents grew to love one another, other times they managed to learn to live with each other. Ultimately, divorce was not a possibility and the only sustainable option was to accept one’s fate and find a way to get through life.

The more traditional aspects of the arranged marriage varied from town to town and depended on what was locally considered valuable. The process was simple enough; the father of the girl would offer a dote (dowry) to the father of a local boy who he felt would make a good husband and provide well for his daughter. If the father of the boy accepted the offer, the girl and boy would accompany their parents to the local notary, where the financial aspects of the agreement would be formally recorded, as well as the intention and promise of the two young people to marry. Once the dote was witnessed and signed, it became a legal and binding contract. A breach of the contract meant financial loss to the family of the girl and the shame of rejection brought upon the boy and his family - it was understandably a rare occurrence.

Within a few weeks of the dote (and the subsequent payment to the family of the boy), the marriage ceremony would take place at the local parish church, or if the bride was from a neighboring town, the marriage would be celebrated at the parish in her hometown. Sometimes a family could not afford to make a lump payment of the dote, and in those cases a sort of “payment plan” would be made .... the dote might be 500 lire, paid in increments of 100 lire over a five year period. At the end of the five years and after the final payment (or in the event that the family of the groom for some reason decided to release the family of the bride from the balance of the original dote), a quittanza dote would be made between the two families. Again the notary would draw up the document stating that the debt had been satisfied and the family of the bride was released from its obligation.

In Giusvalla, the most prized and valuable dote was farmable land or property that included chestnut trees. Only the wealthiest families (and in Giusvalla there were few) could spare family land for the dowry of a daughter. The next most valuable dote came in the form of cash. Families that were better off could afford larger cash dowries, so when the wealthy father of Angela Maria Massa offered the family of Giuseppe Anselmi a dote of 700 lire, there was surely no question that it would be accepted. Poorer families were able to make far less lucrative offers, the young orphan Maddalena Angela Caterina Beltrame had been left a dowry of just 155 lire in the will of her father. It was hoped that it would be enough for the young girl to find a husband when the time came. Maddalena’s brother Giovanni Battista Beltrame was named the trustee of her dowry, and fortunately when Maddalena was old enough (maybe only 14 years old), a local widower named Gioanni Doglio accepted the offer.

Most of the families in Giusvalla were very poor, and the dowries of the poorest might consist only of a goat, or a bushel of chestnuts. The tradition of the dote continued virtually unchanged in Giusvalla (and throughout Italy) for hundreds of years. In the years between the World Wars, the custom fell out of practice and the young people of Giusvalla were free to choose their own spouses. Even so, for many years after, marriages outside of Giusvalla (or, at worst, a neighboring town) were still viewed with much disdain. When my cousin married a young man from Calabria in 1966, her parents did not approve, but ultimately the marriage took place and in time they came to accept the Calabrese boy with the strange customs and nearly unintelligible accent.

U temp u viagia … e lòchi u’na nent ritörn.

In the picture: Giuseppina Pesce & Giovanni Battista "Batistén" Perrone on their wedding day, October 5, 1911.

La chiesetta di Lalla Pina

Grandmom Rosaio was proud of her chiesetta, the little “church” she had built in the yard next to her house where she displayed statues of the Blessed Mother and her favorite saints. It was another tradition she brought with her from her hometown of Giusvalla, where le chiesette dot the countryside .... little “churches” that were erected by Giusvallini families to honor Our Lady or a saint to whom they had a particular devotion. Some of the chiesette were large enough to accommodate a small altar with a few pews. La Chiesetta della Madonna del Deserto (loc. Mulino), la Chiesetta della Madonna della Guardia (loc. Riondi) and la Chiesetta del Bambin di Praga (loc. Ciocchini) are the largest of the chiesette, each big enough on its own to resemble a small church. Others (loc. Caporali, Pimpiri, Zambon, etc.) were no bigger than a refrigerator box, with an opening where a statue and some candles could be placed and a stone at the base of the structure to kneel on.

Each chiesetta carries its own history, often intertwined with the history of a particular family in Giusvalla. The history of the chiesetta devoted to Our Lady of the Desert at località Mulino begins in the early 1910s with a man named Carlo Marenco who made a special promise to the Blessed Mother. Carlo’s son had been injured when a sharp piece of metal cut a deep gash into his leg. The leg became infected, and it appeared likely that the leg would have to be amputated. Carlo’s vow to the Blessed Mother was that if through her intercession his son’s leg healed and was spared amputation, he would build a chapel that he and all his descendants would maintain in her honor. And so when his son’s leg healed in spite of the doctor’s dire prediction, Carlo made good on his promise and the Chiesetta della Madonna del Deserto was built – and is maintained by Carlo’s descendants to this day.

Grandmom’s chiesetta was quite modest compared to Carlo Marenco’s grand chapel at Mulino. But we all knew her devotion to the little church in her yard, and the marvelous sight of the pious convocation of the Blessed Mother, the Infant of Prague and Grandmom’s favorite saints – St. Anthony of Padua, St. Joseph and St. Jude – is something we all remember with great fondness.