They came to the Santa Clara (Silicon) Valley
Our Santa Clara Valley is known the world over nowadays as the site of the "Silicon Valley", where high-tech companies spring up over night and blossom and grow into unbelievable heights. But long before the commuter companies began to grow, the Santa Clara Valley was known for something else...Fruit. Thousands of acres of fruit trees flourished and the Santa Clara Valley was the nations' leading grower of prunes, apricots, walnuts and cherries. And it was in the shade of these trees that our family histories flourished.
Between 1901 and 1910, nearly 9 million immigrants, from all parts of the world, came to this country. Like my grandparents, many of these travelers came here from Italy and settled in the Santa Clara Valley.
Back in the old country, the young and naive immigrants had been told wondrous stories of how the streets of America were paved in gold. But when they got here, they discovered three important things: first, the streets weren't paved in gold; second, they weren't paved at all; and third, they were expected to pave them!
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 after her parents had both died of influenza. Rather than face another year in the town orpha- nage they pooled their monies and boarded a ship for America. Now their long journey had brought them to a gloomy brick building that peered bleakly out at them through the murk of New York's harbor fog. Its 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 Mazzoni, 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 Maria Carmela campaigned on her sister's behalf, begging the inspectors to please reconsider. Though they were touched by all this devotion, port authorities still refused to rescind their decision and grandma’s little sister, Rose, was ordered to return to Italy, and to the orphanage where she would reside until years later when she was finally allowed to return to America and join her family in San Jose.
With a heavy heart, and a promise that they would do everything they could do to assist their sister in returning to America, Grandma and her young siblings continued their journey to the Santa Clara Valley.
In San Jose, their sister, Antonia Caputo awaited their arrival at the Southern Pacific depot. Jobs and arranged marriages were waiting for them, as well.
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.
My Grandparents, Maria and Antonio Curci, like their fellow immigrants, worked long hard hours in the orchards and canneries of the valley, contributing much of their time and earnings toward the completion of this grand project. Their dream for a community church was realized on October 6th, 1905.
Grandma Maria and Grandpa Antonio were among the many young couples to marry in the Holy Family church.
The day of her wedding, Grandma Maria's heartbeat was fast with excitement as the moment of the ceremony drew near.
The year was 1910; the spectacular church was filled to capacity because 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 loosing 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 tender 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. They were later married in the Holy Family Church and together raised a total of 12 children.
What the 1906 San Francisco earthquake couldn’t do to the Holy Family Church, a bulldozer accomplished in 1960 when the grandious church was leveled to make way for the city's Guadalupe expressway.
But another church would soon take in its place and like its namesake, the new Holy Family Church, located on Pearl Avenue, arose like a phoenix out of an orchard of prune trees.
The original bell that rang for so many years from the old church belfry is now preserved in a revered spot at the new location.
Today, our once fruitful valley has become known for its microchip production. But I suspect there would be no Silicon Valley if not for the bounty given our economy by our early valley orhcardists.
Valley ranchers, along with the canneries, packing plants and immigrant labor, all worked in separate ways to achieve together what we all enjoy today—a valley rich in family traditions and agricultural history.
