Ellis Island was only the stop off in a long journey traveled by the hopeful Italian Immigrant
My Grandmother Maria Carmela came to this area from the little town of Tricarico, Italy. The young daughter of a tight knit Italian family, she and her siblings came to America as young orphans after their parents died of influenza.
Rather than face another year in the town orphanage they pooled their monies and boarded a ship for America. Now their long journey had brought them past the magnificent beauty and welcome arms of the Statue of Liberty and onward to a gloomy brick building in the midst of a murky New York fog.
The building's arched windows, high ceilings and ominous gables instilled a feeling of foreboding in the young travelers. Having no idea what lay beyond, my grandmother, Maria Carmela Mazzone, and her young siblings, walked bravely through those doors and toward the long hours of intense scrutiny ahead of them.
For Grandma, the processing interrogation went smoothly. She was given her papers and permitted to continue to California. But for her youngest sister, Rose, things didn't go so well. Rose had been born with a slight limp and the long, arduous journey had left her weak. The port authorities were leery of anyone with an illness or disability entering the country and firmly decided to turn her away.
For days, Grandma begged them to reconsider, and although they were touched by all this devotion, port authorities refused to rescind their decision and grandma’s little sister was ordered to return to Italy, and to the orphanage where she would stay until years later when she was finally allowed to return to America and join her family in San Jose.
In San Jose, more of their family awaited their arrival at the Southern Pacific depot. Jobs and arranged marriages were waiting for them. Although Maria and her intended husband, Antonio Curci, had never laid eyes on one another, when they finally met, it was love at first sight for the happy couple.
Unfamiliar with the language and customs of their new country, the newlyweds settled in a poorer section of town. Unskilled, they took jobs in industries that offered low wages and poor working conditions. Like most newcomers, they were viewed with some suspicion and hostility.
As a result, they gravitated to communities of people from their home country. Despite it all, Grandma and Grandpa Curci knew instinctively that America was the place for them. Obtaining their citizenship papers had become a shared goal. Every night, after work, they attended classes in U.S. history.
The young Italian immigrants came by the thousands, settling into neighborhoods in what was then San Jose's West Side. Others located in Almaden and other orchard lands of the Valley. In July of 1904, the conscientious immigrants began working together with one goal in mind: to construct a lavish church that would embody the spirit of their newly established Italian community.
It would be a church that represented century old traditions and beliefs; it would exemplify hope and prosperity. Architect Alberto Port would construct the church. It would be located in the heart of the community at River and San Fernando Streets. Its design would be a small duplicate of the great St. Peter’s Cathedral in Rome.
The donations for this monumental task came from the valley's prune orchards, fields, and the emerging fruit industry. Grandma Maria and Grandpa Antonio Curci were among the many young couples to marry in the Holy Family church. The day of her wedding, Grandma Maria's heart beat fast with excitement as the moment of the ceremony drew near. As a devout young catholic, she had taken communion earlier that day at the rail of the Holy Family Church.
Her impeccable spirit now as pure and white as the bibbed collars worn by the parish nuns. The year was 1910; the spectacular church was filled to capacity with community well wishers who had come to bestow their blessings upon the handsome young couple. Friends and onlookers crowded the church steps standing three-deep in doorways to witness the holy sacrament.
A wedding among the young immigrant community was a welcomed celebration. The event represented a continuity of their people. Adhering to their sacred beliefs and family traditions, Maria and Antonio recited their marriage vows in the sanctity of the Holy Family church. And there, for the next 60 years, their descendants would also attend Sunday mass and receive the holy Sacraments.
During the early years of their marriage, Grandpa Antonio went to work laying track for the city railroad lines. Work was scarce, and, like many immigrant workers, he was fearful of losing his job; refusing to miss even a day's work though he was suffering from influenza. His condition worsened and he developed double pneumonia.
At the young age of 32, just 6 years after his wedding day, Grandpa Antonio passed away leaving Grandma Maria a widow with two children and one on the way. It was during this time of her life that Grandma experienced her greatest comfort at the prayer rail of the Holy Family church. Unable to find work, her children sick with influenza and the bank about to foreclose on her home, she found courage and inspiration while praying to her patron Saint Mary.
With a prayer in her heart, and her rosary beads in her hand, Grandma Maria attempted one last time to find work on the cannery lines. That morning, through coincidence or divine intervention, a new foreman was on the job. He felt compassion for grandma’s plight, and gave her a spot on his cannery line.
After a few years on the job, a romance blossomed between Grandma and the cannery foreman, Tony Dinapoli. He was a widower with six children who greatly admired Grandma's dedication to her family. A romance blossomed between them and in time they were married in the Holy Family Church and together raised a total of 12 children.
I remember once asking my Grandma Maria why it was so important to her people that they construct such a lavish cathedral when many of them barely had enough food to eat. Grandma answered with an old Italian saying. Translated it means: "Out of our habits grows our character, on with our character we build our destiny".
My generation shares a deep and abiding love and respect for our immigrant grandparents, for our grandfathers who worked two jobs and sharecropped the local ranches and for our grandmothers who spent long hours on the cannery lines, earning 5 cents a bucket cutting apricots and tomatoes so the next generation could climb out of poverty and take their place in society.
10631 Vinedale Street, Sun Valley, CA 91352 - Phone (818) 767-3413 - Fax: (818) 767-1410
