DiVecchia Camillo DiVecchio Lucia diGiovine Patsy DiVecchio Frazzini Site Home

diNardo Family

 

This Page last updated on .

In January of 2002, Tony diNardo left an entry in my Guestbook and we traded a few emails:

From:    "Anthony DiNardo" <roguepawncomcast.net>
Date:    Mon, 4 Mar 2002 15:09:34 -0500

I assume you know that there were (although I don't know for sure if they still exist) Mancini's and DiGiovines in West Aliquippa, and Mckees Rocks, PA. For years I lived in Pittsburgh, and we used to visit both those towns on the Ohio River, and meet with our Italian "relatives." Hope you have luck in your search.
Tony
Tony,

I know of most of the Mancinis in Aliquippa. My Dad grew up in West Aliquippa. I didn't know about the ones in McKees Rocks.
Is your DiNardo family related to Mancinis or DiGiovines?

Mark
Date:            Mon, 11 Mar 2002 21:28:25 -0500
From:          "Anthony DiNardo" <roguepawncomcast.net>
To:              "Mark C. DiVecchio"

Hi, Mark--
Glad you dropped me a line. I was born in S. Eufemia a Maiella, in Abruzzo, Italy 'way back in 1924.. I am not directly related to the DiGiovines of West Aliquippa, but we were "compares" and very close to them. They lived on Main St., and had a son John (who would have been 85 years old but passed away some years back in Washington, D.C. They also had two daughters, now probably in their late sixties, named Angeline and Elda. As a kid, before WWII, I remember visiting W. Aliquippa many times, and the names of DiNardo, Mancini, etc. were very common. I seem to recall a family with your last name (I'm hazy on this), with a son who was very bright and I believe went on into mathematics. Many of the folks I met were from the same Italian village, or near there.

I was "surfing" (if that's the right word) around the words Abruzzo Region and saw your name and message. Sorry I don't have the exact spot (I'm not a whiz at the PC) but refuse to sit around like a couch potato, so I attack it once in a while.

Incidentally, in Pittsburgh I lived in Hazelwood, where I worked in the Jones & Laughlin rolling mill both before and after WWII (I was in the Air Force and always resented the fact that I was sent to the Pacific instead of Italy where I might've been a "Mayor" of some town with my knowledge of Italian. But I was fortunate in that I was a bombardier on B-24s and wouldn't have liked bombing my "birthland. I  went to Pitt and Duquesne and left Pittsburgh in 1960, but visited regularly until my folks died. Have lived and worked in New England until I retired in 1987. Now living in New Hampshire. Have one son (named Mark!) who's in NJ, three daughters in Denver, NH, and Mass., and nine grandkids

Didn't mean to go on and on, but if you can relate to anything I touched on, would be happy to hear from you.
Buona fortuna,
Tony
Tony,

My father grew up in West Aliquippa after immigrating from S'Eufemia about 1930. He was about 13 at the time. He worked at J&L in Aliquippa for almost 40 years, retiring in the early 80's. My mother was born in San Pietro Avellana and immigrated also in the late 20's. She grew up in Beaver Falls until she married my dad and moved to Aliquippa.

My grandmother and grandfather lived in West until their deaths as did my uncle Tony. He passed away in the early 90's.

My dad tells stories of knowing Henry Mancini as a child in West.

Mark
Our email conversation got interrupted for a few years....... and then resumed......
Date:    Wed, 05 Jan 2005 17:22:22 -0500
From:    Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>
Subject:    You won't believe this!

Mark--I am Tony DiNardo, and was born in Sant'Eufemia a Maiella in 1924. I came to Pittsburgh, Pa, with my mom, when I was 5. I had relatives with the names Pantalone, DiGiovine and Timperio. I have cousins in Argentina and Australia. AND, health willing, my wife and I and some of our kids will visit our village this spring. (We stopped there briefly in 1970.)
When I saw the picture you showed of the 1942 soldier--IT LOOKED JUST LIKE I DID IN WWII IN MY UNIFORM. The resemblance of me at 19 and Anthony DiVecchio (if I have the correct name) was uncanny.
If you get this, I'd love to hear from you. I quickly read the history you posted of my village, and it is awesome.
Let me know if you get this, and we'll pick it up from there.
Hoping you and yours have a Buon Anno 2005! (my Italian is "there" but very rusty).
Tony
Tony,

Good to hear from you.

The soldier in the photo is my uncle Tony DiVecchio. He lived in West Aliquippa, PA until his death about 10 years ago. We had many diNardo's in Aliquippa. I've found a lot of Timperio's and diGiovine's in the Boston area.

The nearest diNardo that I have in my direct family line is Maria Raffaela diNardo, my great-greatgrandmother.

Since we are from such a small town, we all have all these family names in our ancestry. I'm distantly related to Ada diNardo, she and her husband own the hotel in Sant'Eufemia. If you look at the "D" page of my family tree, you can see all the diNardo's in my data base.

If you can tell me some names of parents, grandparents or great-grandparents, I will look though my data to see what I can find. I have copies of records from Sant'Eufemia which cover the period 1809 to 1865. So I can lookup births/marriages/deaths during that period. The Archivo di
Stato di Pescara has all the records from 1865 on.

My wife and I were in Italy last summer, trip report at:  http://www.silogic.com/Italy2004/Italy2004.html

Ciao,
Mark

PS: Your Italian will be perfect in a few days after you arrive in Italy. When we were in Sant'Eufemia, we stayed with cousins from Boston so we spoke mostly English.
Date:            Fri, 07 Jan 2005 20:53:16 -0500
From:            Anthony DiNardo
Subject:         Hi again

Mark--
Thanks for the note. Your uncle Tony must certainly have known my godfather, Raphael DiGiovine, who lived on Main Street, West Aliquippa--and Carmine DiNardo, another "compare" who lived down the same street. I was taken there many, many times in the 1930's. I remember the tunnel under the railroad tracks to reach the town, and the "awful" odor of the drinking water (drawn from the Ohio with its putrid discharges from all the J&L mills. Henry Mancini, as you probably know, was from West Aliquippa, and played the flute in the local Italian band that marched in all parades before he went to Carnegie Tech and then on to Hollywood.

I grew up in Hazelwood, about 4 miles up the Monongahela River from the Golden Triangle. I went to Squirrel Hill's Taylor Allderdice High, and worked in J&L's local rolling mill before volunteering for the (then) Army Air Force. I was a bombardier on B-24 Liberator Bombers and flew 39 missions over Pacific targets  from N. Australia to New Guinea, the Philippines, Formosa, Hong Kong and finally Okinawa (I was always thankful that I didn't have to bomb Italy). .After the war, I went to Pitt, and then grad law school at Duquesne. I went into the then-new field of "personnel" (now Human Resources) in the steel, then chemical, and finally the East Coast retail industry. (Often got to California to visit the Von's company). Ended up as Sr. VP with Stop & Shop, and retired in '87. I am a dedicated photo-hobbyist and my wife Elly and I have traveled a lot, giving me the opportunity to take lots of pictures and work with them in my B/W darkroom.

My mother's side of the family were Pantalones, and often talked about the Man of Iron. My father's were DiNardo's, but I have less info about them (that grandfather died when my dad was very young). My mother's dad was Fiorinto (or Fiorindo), and had a house near the then-piazza near the church, with a large oven on the first floor to bake bread for the village, I was told.

If Elly and I make it to Sant' Eufemia this spring, I intend to dig into our family tree with my cousin, Maria Timperio, who is the village's postmistress (as her father Antonio had been before her). I will also talk with Piero DiNardo, who has a "cafe" in town, and who I'm told his interested in genealogy. I will have Maria check the Church records with me--I know my baptismal record is there.
 
When in the village, I went to the cemetery (very nice photos you got of everything) and was startled to see a grave-stone foot of Vincent (Jimmy) DiNardo, a "cugino"of my dad's. The reason for my reaction is that in the 30's it was customary to take in house boarders and Jimmy, as we called him, had boarded with us--and he and I had shared the same bed!

Here's the data I have thus far, from my cousin Maria:
Grandparents on Pantalone side: Fiorindo Pantalone and wife Anna Gioconda D'Amico. They had 5 children: Daughter Maria Camilla who married Rocco DiNardo (my father). Son Pietro who married Antonietta Pallone. Daughter Mariuccia who married Camillo DiNardo. Daughter Annina who married Nicola DiNardo. Daughter Antonietta who married Antonio Timperio.

These children ended up in: the first two in America, Mariuccia in Australia; Annina in Argentina. And Antonietta stayed in Sant' Eufemia. In all, they had 21 children (if my data is correct).

Many thanks for the data on your family tree. I'll bring it with me when (and if) I make the trip. If I do, that might be the best time for me to send you a much more complete idea of what I then know. The above is just a "skimming" of what may turn out to be a most fascinating search. (I am an amateur writer, and wish I had the time to write a novel about a character  who, via the Internet, starts to unravel his/her family tree only to find that...........(you can fill in your own blanks). It would be intriguing, and I got the idea from a very old (at least 65 year-old) Zebra-striped- oval-framed picture of my mom and dad soon after their wedding. Because I wanted to copy it in Black and White, I carefully removed it from the frame (the glass wasn't flat, but bowed outward--I'm sure you know what I mean) and--lo and behold--behind their print was another one, of some man and woman, "complete strangers to me!" Who can they be....I think about that often (but that's because I'm Italian!).
Sincerely hope I haven't bored you.
Tony
Cousin Tony,

When I got your email listing your grandparents, the names sure sounded familiar. I quickly checked my database and there was Fiorindo Pantalone with his son Pietro Pantalone and his son's wife Antonetta Pallone.  I didn't have your mother, though.

With some help from a cousin in Canada, I have that Pantalone line traced back to 1665.

Look at the attached file.

Fiorindo's parents were Raffaele Pantalone and Clarice diPietrantonio. They had 6 children that I've found. I'm related to that whole family through my 4G Grandparents, Pietro Pantalone and Giovanna Finadamo - who were Fiorindo's grandparents.

I didn't have anything on your grandmother, Anna Gioconda D'Amico.

So, after I entered your branch of the family,  my computer tells me:
"Anthony "Tony" DiNardo and Mark Camillo DiVecchio are 4th cousins 1 time removed.  Their common ancestors are Pietro Pantalone and Giovanna Finadamo."

I learned about Pietro and Antonetta and their two children, Jenny and Nick, from my cousin Lucy Pantalone Ricchio who lives now in Revere, MA, previously in Watertown. (it was her sister we stayed with in Sant'Eufemia last summer.)

It sounds like you led an interesting life. From bombardier to lawyer to photographer.  You retired about the same time as my father (he from J&L).

The tunnel into West Aliquippa was closed many years ago. My uncle and my father must have known both Raphael DiGiovine and Carmine DiNardo. I will ask my father when I talk to him. He lived in West from 1930 to 1949 when he moved into the main part of Aliquippa where he and my mother still live.

Ciao,  Marco
Date:    Sat, 08 Jan 2005 15:48:13 -0500
From:    Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>
Subject:    Thanks

Cugino Mark--I was much relieved to get your mail--my computer kept telling me I had the wrong address (partly because my eyesight is "fine" but I confused the "rr" in your address with "it."
We have lots of snow today, and I have go do some erronds for my daughter (shes 50 but still my "child") who lives a mile or so away, but I wanted you to know that I got the massage, along with the fantastic, long list of the Pantalones.  What you've done is nothing more than a labor of LOVE, and, I believe, clearly displays what it is about we Italians that is different than some other nationalities. Many thanks and I will be back to you when I've had time to look at it in depth.
P.S. I forgot to mention something that you may already know--Madonna's genitori came from Pacentro, and I really enjoyed the great photos you's sent me.
Ciao e auguri por la vostra moglia,
Tony
I can't tell you how great it feels to have made this connection.
Tony,

Have fun reading that family tree. Most of the Pantalone line work was done by Monika Baltistone from Canada.

Mark

PS: I had heard that Madonna's family was from Pacentro. We drove past that town on our way to Sulmona.
Date:            Sat, 15 Jan 2005 12:26:54 -0500
From:            Anthony DiNardo
Subject:         Family Tree

Mark -- My wife Elly and I have both come down with something (flu?) and our doctors tell us that it will take some time to get out of our systems (all New England has "it" because the temperatures have been see-sawing up and down).

I wanted to let you know that I was able to do some "reading" of the data you sent, and it is fascinating because I've never reviewed this kind of info before. For instance, I have no clue as to what the term "1(or once) removed" means in genealogy.

Another item I noticed is that my Uncle Peter Pantalone also had a son, Fiore, is not noted in the record. Fiore was (I'm guessing) born about 1925--28 or so. I was a couple of years older and remember that he volunteered in WWII as a Marine in the Pacific Theater. After the war, he suffered a heart problem and was one of the first patients in the region to receive open heart surgery and bypasses (my memory is clear on this because I was living in Massachusetts then and attended an affair where his parents were afraid that Fiore might harm himself because he insisted on dancing during his recovery period. I lost touch with them after Uncle died and I'd moved away.

Take care, and we will try to do so also.
Tony
Tony,

I hope you and wife are doing better. Sally got a cold/flu(?) also and it took her two weeks to get over it. Somehow, I managed to not get it.

We just got back from a trip to visit her daughter (and new grandson) in Ogden, UT. Many relatives from my mother's side of the family (Frazzini) lived there. Here is my trip report: http://www.silogic.com/genealogy/Ogden,%20UT.html

I talked to my Mom yesterday in Aliquippa and she said it had turned very, very cold.

I can tell you about cousins...  Cousins are always of the same generation - that is children of siblings are "first cousins" and grandchildren of siblings are "second cousins" and so on.

Cousins become 'removed' when they are NOT of the same generation. So, for example, a first cousin of my mother would be my "first cousin, once removed". A first cousin of my grandfather would be my "first cousin, twice removed" and so on.

I do have a Fiorindo Pantalone my notes but didn't know who he was. I found him in the Social Security Death Index:
FIORINDO PANTALONE
born:    18 Feb 1928
died:    Jan 1984
location:    02172 (Watertown, Middlesex, MA)    02172
SSAN:     023-20-8570

So this must be him, as you mentioned, the son of Pietro Pantalone.

Get well!

Mark
Tony,

I just got off the phone with Lucy Pantalone Ricchio. Lucy is my first cousin who lives in Belmont, MA. Lucy's mother, Eufemia, and my father were siblings.

She remembers your family. She told me that my father took her and her mother to Pittsburgh to visit your parents. She said you were not there at the time. She does remember meeting you, possibility at the funeral for your mother.

I told her what you wrote in your emails and she was excited to hear about you. She thinks the last word she heard about you was when you
retired from Shop n Save.

Small world - and we are all cousins.

I have two questions (so far) for you:

1. You mentioned Maria Timperio, your cousin. Is she the daughter of your aunt Antonietta who married Antonio Timperio?
2. The last that Lucy heard, you lived in Maine. Are you still there?

Mark
Date:            Mon, 24 Jan 2005 16:15:59 -0500
From:            Anthony DiNardo
Subject:         Re: Lucy Pantalone

Thanks for your note, Mark. Elly and I are still ailing, but will get through this New England winter eventually.

About Lucy Pantalone Ricchio:  I don't recall her personally, but I could well have met her at the funeral of my Uncle Peter Pantalone some 25 or more years ago in Watertown, Mass.  I attended with my cousin Louie (Luigi) DiNardo, the son of Uncle Antonio DiNardo, my father's brother. My mother (and father) died in the late 80's, in Rhode Island where her funeral took place, so I might have met her there..

On Lucy's Pittsburgh visit--After WWII I got married in 1947 and worked and lived in Western Pennsylvania until 1960 when I moved to work in Boston with Stop & Shop. I retired in 1987. Thus Lucy must have visited my parents after 1960, when I visited Pittsburgh only during summer vacation to see my parents and my wife's.

After retiring, I moved twice--first to Maine, and about eight years ago to New Hampshire, were I now live in Bedford, just outside of Manchester.

As to my cousin Maria Timperio, she is the daughter of my aunt Antonietta who married Antonio Timperio. She has one brother, Bernardino (Dino) who spent his career in the Consular Services of Italy, and has quite a history. I correspond constantly with Isa, Maria's daughter (she also has a son, Lucio) who took English in college and is quite proficient in it (Dino isn't, so I have fun using the computer Italian translation services (and then trying to correct the more obvious errors). I'd like to add that I have been working on some memoirs (my 9 grandkids keep "pushing" me to do this). If you wish, I'd be happy to send you a copy, but be patient--I started in 1924 and am just now around 1942. I don't know when I'll finish, because life's day-to-day chores keep interrupting. (In this same vein, I wrote a novel while living in Maine (no competition for Tom Clancy!). Let me know if you'd like to have a copy. I'm not so hot with computers, though I'm learning, so I'll try to send you a few pages of  memories I've written so far--perhaps the Sant'Eufemia part (which I may re-do with the much greater info you were good enough to send me).

I hope you're not tired of reading, but one more thing: I've been a photo hobbiest for over half a century and will try to get down to my darkroom (black and white) and make you a copy of a shot I took in Venice. (If I get to Sant'Eufemia this summer, I'll try for local images also.) Keep your fingers crossed on my efforts, and remember, it is definitely an "early" copy. Any critique (I'm a tough Italian) .would be welcomed
Tony
Tony,

Thank you very much for the LOOOONG email. Those are the kind I love.

I've been trying to get my parents to do what you are doing but I can't seem to convince them. What I am doing is that everytime I get to Aliquippa, I get them talking and I try to write down what they say. It's still a battle.

Next time I talk with Lucy, I will tell her what you remember.

I expect you are having quite a spell of cold weather in New Hampshire this week.

I will be re-reading your email several times over the next few days.

Mark
Caro Antonio,

Its been quite a while since I wrote.

I hope you and your wife got through the winter ok. Now with springtime at hand, I imagine that everything is turning green and beautiful.

Even here in San Diego, were we usually get about 7 inches of rain a year, we got over 15 inches this winter. For us that is really a lot. So even here, everything is green - but, as usual, by July or so, things will start to turn brown again.

I read through your long email about your childhood and emmigration to the US. I wish I could get my father to write such a history. He was about 12 years when he, his brother, and his mother left Sant'Eufemia.

I have some comments about the history:

You probably did not enter the US via Ellis Island. According to the Ellis Island web site, starting in 1924, "The main function of Ellis Island changed from that of an immigrant processing station, to a center for the assembly, detention, and deportation  of aliens who had entered the U.S. illegally or had violated the terms of admittance. The buildings at Ellis Island began to fall into disuse and disrepair."

When I look at the Ellis Island records, I have never seen any from Italy after 1923.

Since Sant'Eufemia is in the Maiella National Park, the town is filled to capacity on holiday weekends. In other words, at certain times way toooo many people turn off the the Autostrada and drive up into the mountains.

We were there on 15 Agosto and, that being a national holiday, the town was packed. Cars were parked everywhere. The main street through town, which was usually a narrow two lane road, was a narrow one-line road because of cars parked in the roadway. Right outside of town is a giant picnic area.  Apparently a lot of people come up into the mountains from the towns of Pescara and Chieti. When we drove to Pescara, it only took about an hour.

My cousin, Domenico, told me that the number of tourists has been declining for the past 5 years. He blames it on the fiscal policy of the government which has caused large price rises of everything - we definitely noticed that when we were there.

Have you every searched the Ellis Island or US Census records for information about your genitori and zii? I took a quick look yesterday and found a few things.

If you haven't seen that information, I will be happy to send it to you.

Do you know names of the wives of your zii, Antonio, Alfonso and Lorenzo? Do you know when they were born? Do you know the
names of their parents (your grandparents on your father's side)?

This information will help me confirm that I am looking at the right people in the Ellis Island records.

Did you, or are you, going to Sant'Eufemia this year?

My best to you and your wife,

Marco
Date:    Mon, 25 Jul 2005 21:03:55 -0400
From:    Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>

Caro Marco--
I, too, took a long time before responding. We in New England also have had more than our share of rain--and the heat which is everywhere in the US, apparently.
Thanks for your comments about the memoirs I want to leave my kids and grandkids. I especially appreciate the data on  Ellis Island. I have no remembrances at all of that portion of my Mom's and my entry into America (so I used my imagination). I'm glad, in retrospect, that I didn't ask them to put my name on their "wall" as having gone through as an immigrant--now that I know that I undoubtedly didn't.
As to the visitors to Sant'Eufemia--I visited there for three weeks with my wife and three of my kids just over a month ago. Two of my first cousins have homes there, and we had a ball both there and in Pescara where my second cousin lives. While there, I talked by phone to several other cousins in Argentina. I was also given a list of 22 cousins in all, with me heading the list as the oldest--they are in Italy, Argentina and Australia.
My relatives told me that while (as you pointed out) many visitors come to the village on holidays, the flow of "tourists" as I think of them is pretty much limited to relatives of the inhabitants. The disadvantage of the dollar against the Euro is also involved, as you pointed out.
One of my kids and her husband are considering buying a house in either Sant'Eufemia or Caramanica so that all my nine grandkids may have a root-place. We'll see.
I took over 300 film photos and got enough copies for the families there--the views (as I'm sure you saw it yourself) of our village from both Rocco Caramanica across the valley, and from the road high up the side of the Maiella, were breathtaking.
We also travelled to many of the towns in the mountains, including L'Aquilla at the Gran Sasso, Chieti, etc. The view of the Gran Sasso from the village of Citta San Angelo is spectacular.
I did get from Washington D.C. a copy of the ship's manifest showing both my and my mom's names as passengers. The ship was Conte Biancomano--in 1929--and coincidentally, a friend of mine in Pittsburgh took the same ship to Rome to study medicine in 1949!
I know some of my aunts' names--Alfonso's was Maria (maiden--Mazzocca). Lorenzo's was Yolando (maiden--Mariano). But, all my relatives only father's side are a mystery to me. I tried to talk with some DiNardo's, but there were many families in the village with that name. Two of my aunts, one in Australia and one in Argentina, both married DiNardos but were not related to one another.
On my next trip, I'll check the Church and Municipal records
Take care and buona salute to you and your wife.
Antonio
Antonio,

It sounds like you had a good trip to Sant'Eufemia.

You got around much more than I did. We saw a little of Sulmona, Pescara and just drove through a few small towns.

I don't speak Italian so we were somewhat limited.

Interestingly, my mother arrived in the US on the Conte Biancomano in 1926. I have their original 3rd class ticket for her and her parents. They arrived in New York but since my grandfather was a citizen, they just arrived as "normal" people.

In my last email, I mentioned that I found a lot of information about your diNardo uncles on the Ellis Island site. If you haven't seen
that, I can email you what I found.

Ciao.
Marco
Date:    Mon, 24 Oct 2005 21:55:38 -0400
From:    Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>

I'm sorry, Marco, that I didn't answer sooner. My wife and I have been wrestling with some health issues but we have come out of them OK.
I was really thrilled to learn about your mother coming to the U.S. on the Conte Biancomano just three years before I did! It really is a small world.
I appreciate your offer to send me information about my uncles and Ellis. I would like to get it if I can. Many thanks.
I've learned that my second cousin's father, who owned the Hotel Italia in Sant'Eufemia, died and she and her brother are thinking of taking it over. They will have a lot of refurbishing etc. to do, but seem eager to try (the job situation is not very good in at least their part of Italy).
Trust that all's well with you. California has forest fires and we have floods (though, fortunately, not in our area of NH). Mother Nature is a potent powerful force to be reckoned with.
Ciao,
Antonio
Caro Antonio,

I am happy to hear that your are overcoming the health problems.

I will forward the information that I have about your uncles and Ellis Island is the next emails.

What is the name of the second cousin and father? I want to try to keep my data base uptodate.

Sally and I are well. No big fires yet this year.

Ciao.
Marco
Date:            Sat, 29 Oct 2005 19:20:04 -0400
From:            Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>
Subject:         Re: Ellis Island Manifests

Caro Marco--

Many thanks, but Vincenzo couldn't have been my uncle.My dad, Rocco, was the youngest of four brothers: Antonio, Lawrence, Alfonso and him (he was born in 1900).

All but my dad fought in WWI; he was in the army later in Lybia. All of them came to America after 1919, exactly when I don't know, with Antonio coming first to Boston, and then Lawrence and Alfonso (not together, I think) to Pittsburgh, and my dad came in 1923. As to my second cousin, she is Isa Veri, the daughter of my first cousin Maria Timperio. Maria's dad, Antonio Timperio, married Antoniella Pantalone, my aunt and mom's sister. Antonio Timperio was Postmaster of Sant'Eufemia for many years, followed for some 30 years by his daughter Maria. Coincidentally, I telelphoned Maria today and we chatted awhile though my Italian is weak.

Hope this helps. I'll go online to search myself re my uncles.

Many thanks again.

Antonio
Caro Antonio,

I think my brain was turned off when I sent you that Ellis Island manifest.

The CORRECT ones will follow in the next emails.

Here is a summary:

Antonio born about 1893
Ellis Island, 14 Mar 1910, single, 17y, mother Maria diNardo in Italy, going to uncle Pasquale Mantenuto, Boston, MA, never
before in US. Arrived on the same boat as my grandfather, Camillo DiVecchia.
Ellis Island, 31 Jan 1920, 25y, married, wife Anna in Italy, going to brother Lorenzo, 5 North Square, Boston, MA, previously in
the US 1910-13.

Lorenzo born about 1895
Ellis Island, 17 Dec 1912, 17y, single, mother Maria Rosa diNardo in Italy, going to brother Antonio, Mechanicsville, NY.

Alfonso born about 1898
Ellis Island, 13 Dec 1920, 22y, single, mother Maria Rosa diNardo in Italy, going to brother Lorenzo Jaccagni (probably
Zaccaginni), Watertown, MA.

Rocco born about 1900
Ellis Island, 5 Sep 1923, 23y, married, wife Camilla in Italy. Going to brother Lorenzo diNardo, Watertown, MA.

Ciao.
Marco
Date:    Thu, 03 Nov 2005 20:53:26 -0500
From:    Anthony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>

Caro Marco--Many thanks for all the data on my dad and his 3 brothers. I was amazed to see how many of the gaps in my memory and knowledge were filled. I appreciate it very much and will add it to my files so my kids and their kids will have it.
State bene,
Antonio
Then another break in our emails.... and they resumed....
Date:    Wed, 19 Sep 2007 11:33:36 +1000
From:    Enzo Pantalone <epantaloneau1.ibm.com>
Subject:    Pantalone's from Sant'Eufemia
To:    roguepawnttbi.com

Hi Anthony,

I read your emails to Mark DiVecchio and noticed a reference to the following:

Grandparents on Pantalone side: Fiorindo Pantalone and wife Anna Gioconda  D'Amico. They had 5 children: Daughter Maria Camilla who married Rocco  DiNardo (my father). Son Pietro who married Antonietta Pallone. Daughter Mariuccia who married Camillo DiNardo. Daughter Annina who married Nicola DiNardo. Daughter Antonietta who married Antonio Timperio.

Now here is my line (http://www.silogic.com/genealogy/Pantalone.html):

Enzo Pantalone    (Me)

Father                  Luca Pantalone (dec)
Brothers                Mario (My Uncle)
                        Donato (dec)
                        Palmino/Nino (Still lives in Sant'Eufemia)

Grandparents            Domenico Pantalone      Anna Di Pietrantonio

Great Grandparents      Michele Pantalone       Giaconda Di Giovine
        Brothers        Vitantonio Pantalone
                        Alfonso Pantalone
                        Fiorindo Pantalone
        Sister          Anna

So Fiorindo Pantalone was my Great Grandfathers Brother.

I knew both Mariuccia Pantalone and Camillo Di Nardo when they were alive and they are buried near my Mother & Father in a town called Lilydale, State of Victoria, Australia. Their Son Pasquale Di Nardo and his wife Maria live about 200 Metres from my house in a town called Mooroolbark, Victoria, Australia.

Regards,
Enzo Pantalone
Date:            Sun, 23 Sep 2007 15:59:22 -0400
From:            Tony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>
Subject:         Paisani di Sant'Eufemia
To:              Mark DiVecchio, Enzo Pantalone <epantaloneau1.ibm.com>

Mark and Enzo--I got your e mail and was immediately flooded with memories. I am now almost 84 and due to some health issues in the family, have not kept up with my computer mailing as I used to.

However, I will try to do better . Incidentally, the work "Paisano" is not listed in my huge Italian dictionary, but my folks used it all the time. I like it. Enzo--I am not sure how many of my emails to Mark you have seen. I came with my mother to the USA in 1929, at age five. An interesting thing for you is that, in World War II, I served in Darwin with the US  Army Air Corps. We were attached to the RAAF and flew bombing missions all over New Guinea, Timor, and Borneo. Darwin was abandoned because the Japanese had pretty much leveled it, and they threatened to invade Australia. I only saw two other parts of Australia--Adelaide and Alice Springs, when our crew came south for a week of R&R (Rest and Relaxation) after 12 missions. Then we went on up to the Philippines for the rest of the war.

I'd appreciate if if you can help with one detail. My brother, Albert, got a sympathy note when our parents died in Rhode Island some 25 years ago. It was from Anna DiPietro, with an address in Wandin, Victoria. Unfortunately, that was the only contact we had with Australian "cousins". I wonder if you know her and she is still alive?

Also, are you by any chance related to the Pantalone who was called the Man of Iron?

I did send Mark some pages of my Memoirs. I'm sad to say that I have had to put them aside, since my wife needs more of my help. Mark was a great help by pointing out some errors of fact in the memoirs--such as that Ellis Island (the  New York center for receiving European 
immigrants) was closed down a few years before I arrived in America. 

The memoirs-writing "ended" with the start of World War II, so I'll get back to the remainder when I can.

Please write and I promise to respond.
Take care, both of you, and the best to your families.
Tony DiNardo
A couple of more years passed.... and then....
From:            Mark DiVecchio <markd@silogic.com>
To:              roguepawncomcast.net
Subject:         Sant'Eufemia
Date:            Fri, 10 Jul 2009 11:47:57 -0700

Tony,

Its been a few years since we communcated. I really enjoyed your emails and especially enjoyed your story of growing up in Sant'Eufemia a Maiella.

Over those years, I was very involved with my parents. My mother's health declined in 2007 and she died at the age of 95 in October. My father's health got worse over the following year and he died in April of this year at the age of 91.

Hoping to hear from you.

ciao.
Mark
From:            Tony DiNardo <roguepawncomcast.net>
Subject:         Re: Sant'Eufemia
Date:            Sat, 11 Jul 2009 12:23:31 -0400

Marco--

Thanks for the "wake up" message. My sincere condolences about the passing of your mother and father. My wife and I are not getting any younger and have had to slow down (not easy for a "type A" like me). We visited Sant'Eufemia 4 years ago with some of our kids and grandkids and had a ball. I am in constant touch via PC with them, but it doesn't appear that we'll get back again. Between there, Australia and Argentina, I have 23 cousins, including myself as the most aged. The parents of the 21 that couldn't get on the quota for the U.S. often comes to my mind--so you can imagine how I feel about the illegal aliens. That problem triggered the radical change in American culture--I am still trying to write my memoirs and intend to include my thinking about why America is sliding down the slope of leadership (which is very much like the demise of both Greek and Roman empires.). It's not a political phenomenon (both parties are to blame) so much as a shift from a discretionary philosophy to one where more and more people come to believe in Government-supplied "entitilements" which ultimately forces internal collapse. Don't mean to "preach" in any way, Mark. But at age 85 and having studied and observed the past 3 quarters of a century, I am very concerned about the lives my 9 grandkids and our 2-year old grandkid will have with the exploding debt. But---every generation has to learn for itself, if they are inclined to, and the future ones are in for a rude awakening.

Trust all is well with you and yours.
ciao
tony
Tony,

I'm glad to hear that you are doing well. We all slow down - just don't stop!

Maybe you could tell me about your cousins all over the world. It would be interesting to learn about them because they are probably all related to me as well.

ciao.
Mark


Tony sent me his history. I present it here so you can read about what it was like to grow up Sant'Eufemia and emigrate to the United States.
 

MY LIFE

(Perhaps use "Moving Above the Tracks" as title, and--- "One immigrant's life story" as add-on?)

Prologue
To my family:

            When you read this, bear in mind that memoirs are at the mercy of every author's  "selective memory."  Invariably, the human brain sifts and filters, and the words written are the end result of that subjective process. I have not concerned myself about that, for two reasons: first, I can only do my best to report what I do remember; but, beyond that, while thinking about and recording the scenes and events of my life from the perspective of an immigrant, I found myself more and more plagued by the questions about immigration that have nagged all Americans since the 9/11/01 attack on the World Trade Center.

            The media have been filled with questions. In order to help thwart terrorist efforts to harm America, should all immigration be stopped --at least until some effective control and order can be brought to our borders? Or, alternatively, should we abolish quotas and allow anyone who wishes to enter the country, and thus at least remove the quota handicap for those desiring to enter legally? And, if so, what would that mean for our safety? Or, is there some possible middle-ground approach to our dilemma? As I wrote, the upcoming election of 2004 added fuel to this public debate. So much so that the more I wrote about my past 75 years in this country, the more memory dredged up deeper questions about the process of my transformation from immigrant to American. Questions such as--what part, if any, does immigration play in preserving and perpetuating the totality of qualities that marks us as unique among all the nations on Earth? And-beyond that--if the constant process of churning the melting pot that is America was to break down and disappear, could the potency of our core beliefs be inevitably adulterated to the point where she would suffer the same fate as earlier empires?

            That led me to an even deeper question: what is there about mankind's makeup that impels us to put aside individual wants and desires, and band together for the common good in order to create a nation. And yet, once that nation grows and prospers, and we are free to  "relax and enjoy" a well-earned existence, what causes us to inexorably chip away at the very core values that nurtured and sustained us during our troubling beginnings? I don't know the answers to these questions, but they were much on my mind as I wrote. My hope was to touch on them when I got to the end of this recording, to give one immigrant's--one transformed American's--views on a subject I believe deserves to be close to the heart of everyone who loves our country.

1924-1929

            It was very hot weather when I started typing these memoirs, and the news in America was filled with reports of the worst electrical blackout in United States history. Millions of people in the Northeast, Midwest and neighboring Canada suffered from heat and total blackness for most of 2 days. Stifling weather was also an ongoing problem for our Armed Forces in Iraq, struggling to eradicate the last vestiges of Saddam Hussein's tyranny. But my thoughts were also with my second cousin, Isa in Abruzzo, Italy, which was having the hottest summer in recorded European history. Her e-mails told me she was seeking refuge with her babies Alessia and Stefano in the cooler air high up in the tiny Apennine village of Sant'Eufemia a Maiella.

            I was born in that village, in what is now the Maiella National Park, on the Adriatic Sea side of the Italian peninsula, almost directly across from Rome. The Maiella, or Mother Mountain, as it is called by the people of the Abruzzo Region, is not a single mountain, but a massif-a wild, huge section of the 600-mile Apennine chain that runs the full length of Italian Peninsula. The Park covers 35,000 acres in three provinces, Chieti, Pescara and L'Aquila, and includes 60 peaks, 30 of which are over 6000 feet in altitude. Its eastern slopes descend steeply to the nearby Adriatic, while the western slopes devolve into a plain stretching almost 100 miles to the Mediterranean where most of Italy's historic cities are located. At an altitude of 2700 feet, the village of Sant'Eufemia is one of the highest on the massif, near the point where a sister mountain, Morrone, angles in from the west to join the Maiella and form the Passo San Leonardo. The recorded history of the village goes back to ancient times: in 1064 it was the property of Count Berardo until he gave it to the Abbey of San Clemente a Casuris; in 1145 it belonged to Boamondo, Count of Manoppella; in 1301 it went first to the Ughelly family, then on to Giacomo Arcucci, Count of Minervino; upon his death in 1389, it became the property of the D'Aquino family. Over the last one thousand years it underwent several name changes: first as Santa Femi, then in 1300 as Sant Fumia.  After the 1861 unification of Italy by Giuseppe Garibaldi, it was granted its present name in 1863 by special decree of King Victor Emanuele II.

            I have always stood in awe of the courage it took for the very first pioneers who emigrated from Sant'Eufemia to America. They  probably were part of the mass exodus of people from eastern and southern Europe recruited to work in America's expanding steel mills, railroads and mines between 1840 and 1914. Because of the remoteness of my village, my supposition is that the first hardy villagers to leave did so sometime between late 1900 and World War I. It was during that "war to end wars" that many of the youngest and healthiest males were ordered down the mountain to the city of Sulmona and boarded trains to take them off to military service. Those who made it home from battle, having seen for themselves that another world existed beyond their remote hamlet, and hearing tales about the "gold-paved streets" in America from letters written home by earlier pioneers, chose to strike out on their own. Each may have had his personal reasons, but they all shared the belief that they had no choice but to break the chain of family ties, a bond close to the heart of Italians. (I have met many immigrants over the years, from different countries, and the single common thread in all their thinking was the hopeless feeling that they could not earn a decent livelihood in their place of birth and--since most had not gotten beyond the third grade in school--a clear recognition of the responsibility to provide their children with sufficient education to give them a better chance in life.)

            The 20th century history of the village includes a low point. Being strategically located near peaks like 8000-foot high Mt. Amaro, which on a clear day provided unobstructed views from Pescara on the Adriatic coast eastward across the entire peninsula to Rome, it was Sant'Eufemia's misfortune to be designated as an observation post by the German Army during World War II. The years of occupation were difficult, and older residents still recount tales handed down from their parents of much suffering and military atrocities. One was the shooting of Nicola Mancini and the young woman who had sheltered him, and the subsequent dragging of their bodies, tied to a cart, through the narrow streets. Many of the townspeople were conscripted to work in German military hospitals in other towns, or used as forced labor to install a cableway for war materials on Mt. Amaro, or to work on the fortress at Mt. Cassino. The times were such that, contrary to their basic natures and customs, people always kept their doors and windows barred at night. (Years later, when I first went to visit her, my aunt Antonetta, Isa's grandmother, told me of the abiding fears that drunken soldiers might force their way into homes with female inhabitants.) In September, 1943, with the increased pressure from the American 5th Army and British troops that had invaded Italy, the Germans ordered the town evacuated, and many of the townspeople had to take refuge throughout the harsh winter in old, long-abandoned farmhouses and natural caves up in the massif.

---------------------

            Even now, in the 21st century, few tourists turn off the Rome-Pescara Autostrada to travel up the only paved state road (487) too Sant'Eufemia. In 1924, when I was born, it was a rough, unpaved path chopped out of the Maiella's side, twisting its way upward in tortuous convolutions, past other hamlets, until finally reaching the town of Caramanico. From there it kept on, though less steeply, winding for five more kilometers, until finally leveling off at my tiny village, and continuing beyond.

            Logic tells me that there must have been some horse or donkey-driven carts used in those days, and possibly even motor-driven vehicles of some sort, to deliver goods and mail to the town, but my parents never talked about any mode of transportation except walking to wherever they had to go. In the town itself, a few dozen houses lined the few streets. Meandering pathways, surfaced with hand-laid rough stones, surrounded the town piazza. While the road from Caramanico was almost level, any traveling out of town in the other direction was more difficult. The narrow road wound through the Passo San Leonardo, at the juncture of the Maiella with Mt. Morrone. Then it abruptly dropped  off the other side of the pass and zig-zagged back and forth for half a mile down Mt. Morrone's sheer side. At the lower valley floor, there was a long, several-kilometer stretch of rolling countryside leading to the city of Sulmona.  When I was very young, I must have been carried somehow down to Sulmona at least once, on a bright summer day, because I distinctly recall my mother describing how we gawked at the wide streets lined with stores, and what must have seemed like a thousand houses, each with long, flower-filled boxes under every window.

Sant'Eufemia had no industries and no jobs then. People's lives essentially revolved around meeting the essential needs for living. Home radios wouldn't arrive for ten years or so, there were no phones, or oil or gas for cooking and house-heating, no plumbing systems, no doctors and no stores. I doubt if there was electricity (and undoubtedly no money to pay for it), because I remember lanterns, and the constant smells and flickering of lighted candles, and fireplaces. Each household grew its own vegetables in odd-shaped garden plots, handed down from generation to generation and marked off with rambling, stone walls. Staples for eating, such as flour, coffee and olive oil, were bought on occasional trips to Caramanico's few stores. Each family had its own assortment of cows, sheep, goats, pigs and chickens--and few pets, unless they served some useful purpose, such as cats for catching mice.

Village men and boys did the heavier chores, using their backs or donkeys to gather firewood for daily cooking and house heat, as well as gardening, shearing, milking, making cheese and butchering. Wine played an important part in daily life, and most men made a barrel or two every year. Because of their rudimentary equipment, it was largely a matter of luck whether they ended up with wine or vinegar. I remember that one particular delicacy was wine vinegar sprinkled on freshly picked dandelion salads early in the springtime. Fall was also a time for canning and storing a supply of fruits and vegetables-especially tomatoes-and hand-grinding homemade sausage to be preserved in sealed, oil-filled jars. But all through each and every season, the women performed  their never-ending tasks of house-and-children-tending, somehow still finding time to sew clothing and knit thick woolen sweaters to help fight the chills of the long winters.

The stone church of San Bartolomeo Apostolo, with its distinctive campanella and 14-foot high wood and silver Tabernacle, has been the central focus of the town since its construction in 1280. (My mother undoubtedly made certain that I was Baptized and taken to Mass regularly. Like most Italian women, she served as the watchdog of the family's religion.) The church was built along one side of the small town piazza, near the vertical stone slab that was the village's fountain. A constant cold stream of water from the rains and melting snows of the massif poured out of a pipe embedded in the slab. In the summertime, after I had learned to walk, whoever took me with them to fill jugs and pans would let me stick my face under the pipe to drink. My Grandfather Fiorinto's two-story house stood on the corner across the piazza from the church. It had a huge brick oven that took up most of the ground floor, which he used to bake bread for the entire village.

====================

My mother's maiden name, Pantalone, means "pants" in English. Some Italian family names have English meanings, such as DiGiovine (Young) but, as far as I know, DiNardo has no English translation. At one point, I thought it was associated only with our specific area of Italy, perhaps as an abbreviation of the last word of the Passo San Leonardo. But when computers came into being I searched and found many DiNardos listed in telephone White Pages of towns all over Italy. I did run across one reference that said it may have been derived from Hapsburg tribe-invaders of Italy during the Middle Ages. The actual source and possible meaning, if any, remain a mystery for me. I never knew my grandfather on my father's side, who had died at the turn of the 20th century. He had four sons - Antonio, Lawrence, Alfonso and my father, Rocco, who was born in 1900. Between 1919 and 1922, shortly after being discharged from military service, the three older sons departed, one at a time, for America. Antonio stopped at Watertown, Massachusetts to take up work at the Hood Rubber Company plant, while Lawrence, Alfonso and my father each followed to settle in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, into jobs at the Jones & Laughlin Steel Corporation's By-Products Plant in Hazelwood. I was told that the selection of stopping points was dictated by the availability of work.. Over time, other immigrants from our village ended up in various places such as McKees Rocks and Aliquippa, Pennsylvania and further west, in Joliet, Illinois.

Quota restrictions caused even wider geographic dispersion. My grandfather Fiorinto and his wife Anna Giaconda, had five children, all of whom married. One by one, over the latter part of the 1920's and 30's, all but one departed from their roots. Peter, the only son, emigrated to Watertown. Two daughters went to other far-flung places around the globe: Mariuccia to Australia, and Annina to Argentina. My mother, Maria Camilla, was the third daughter and came to America with me. The youngest daughter, Antonietta, remained in Sant'Eufemia and married Antonio Timperio, the Postmaster of the village, and their two children, my cousins Berardino and Maria, have established ongoing e-mail contact with me through Maria's daughter Isa. My father departed for America in 1923, some six months before I was born on January 20, 1924. I am told that my birth was a long one, handled in the traditional fashion of the times by the village midwife. My mother's close-knit family took loving care of me until I was five, and I was terribly spoiled by doting aunts and adoring grandparents who devoted as much time with me and my mother as possible, painfully aware of the inevitability that we would be leaving them for good.

(In later years, particularly the half-century following World War II, I came to appreciate more and more the solid foundation of  "family" gifted to me during those first years of my life. But it wasn't until I became a parent myself that I came to comprehend the enormous depth of pure, unconditional love and giving that every member of my Sant'Eufemia family showered on me. The fact that I have no negative recollections of those years, I believe, indicates that I was blessed with a very safe, satisfied life, constantly attended to, every need anticipated and fulfilled, with no illness worth anyone ever telling me about later, and certainly no fearsome or stressful experience embedded in my memory.)

The mental images I retain of my first five years could not include anything about my father, but any need I may have had for male companionship, I'm certain, were adequately filled by my grandfather and other males in the village. I carry the proof of one memory to this day-that of my grandfather cutting my hair (which he always did in the most loving and careful way) and, after accidentally slicing a small chip out of the rim of my left ear, hugging and kissing me until I stopped crying. I carry that nick to this day.

Another memory is of being bundled on Aunt Antonietta's lap, on the floor in front of the big stone fireplace that heated our house. I recall watching her poke the burning logs, and billowing showers of sparks whirling up into the chimney. There she would roast chestnuts and break off tiny bits to push between my lips. I loved the warm, succulent flavor and, to this day, whenever I smell chestnuts roasting, the image of that scene flashes into my mind.

I've retained other images. One, seen through my young-boy eyes, is of the town water fountain in what I clearly remembered as a huge town piazza. (The first time I went back for a visit some forty years later, I was amazed at how small it actually was.)

I'm sure that my mother had me sleep with her during those early years, because I vividly remember the game she played with me night after night before I fell asleep. She would  slip one hand under the blanket and scratch her fingernails back and forth across the sheet to imitate the sound like currying mice. Even though I soon learned that the noise was nothing to be afraid of, I always cried out as if frightened, and she'd pull me tight and close, protecting me from all the world's harm.

I also remember well (both then and later in America) an uncommon thing she did. I'm sure that memory has stayed with me because of her secretive behavior each time she did it, as though afraid someone would catch her in the act. It only took place when a close relative, usually a family member, had been suffering with a painful, enduring headache and asked her to get "rid" of the "malocchio" or "evil eye" they felt someone may have  "put" on them. She was always careful to make the attempt only when all window shades were shut and no one else (except me) was present.  She'd pour water into a shallow dish, and some olive oil into a small cup. Then she'd recite some incantation over and over again as she rubbed her hand over the person's head. Finally, she'd dip her thumb into the cup, stroke it in the sign of the cross on the victim's forehead, and suspend her thumb above the dish so that drops of the oil fell into the water. Both of them would then stare intently at the oil droplets floating on the surface of the water. I never knew what they were seeing in the water--apparently a sign that was far beyond my understanding--but it happened enough times for me to remember it.

These recollections are what I have of my life in Sant'Eufemia from 1924 to the summer of 1929. For five years my father had been sending us money to pay for our journey to America. To this day I feel a sense of wonder and astonishment when I think of the courage it took for my mother to leave the safe haven of her tiny village, knowing she would never see her loving family again, take her first train and boat rides on a 2000-mile trip to a totally foreign world, surrounded all the way by strangers, unable to understand or speak a word of English-all the while looking out for and protecting a small son. What drove her had to have been the faith that, somehow, things would turn out better in an alien America where she and her Rocco could make a future for their family.

1929-1941

I have always been a little saddened because I don't remember my first train ride from Sulmona to Rome, or more about the ship, Conte Biancamano (Count Whitehand), that took us from Naples to New York. In later years my mother described it as being longer than our village church, with many levels, so that we had to go down several sets of stairs along with other immigrants into a big room with narrow sleeping places. Some of her recollections had faded, but not the ones about the crowded quarters and toilets

She said the voyage was not smooth at all, and that she was seasick all the time. But I don't remember feeling queasy. Among the other immigrants were Italian-speaking women also on the way to join husbands in America, and that provided a welcome relief for her.  The food was undoubtedly adequate to sustain life, but must not have been very tasty, because after a day or two we found our way up the stairs to a deck where we could buy small strips of grilled meat-on-a-stick. I grew to love that meat treat, which only cost one small coin and, once my mother came to believe there was no danger for me, she would give me a coin and let me go alone to buy a stick.

I have no idea how long the voyage took, but records I requested from Washington, D.C. say we landed in New York on July 15, 1929.  I also have no memory about passing through Ellis Island, but I can imagine how it must have been from movies and readings: a room more cavernous than any we'd ever been in before; hundreds of confused immigrants being shepherded in serpentine lines; clouds of fine dust from constantly shuffling shoes; dozens of uniformed people, shouting in a foreign tongue, directing traffic with waving hands and pointed fingers; a medical examination to search for contagious illnesses; officials bending close and squinting at soiled and wrinkled slips of paper tags pinned to our outer clothing--attempting to decipher scrawled names and places of ultimate destination. I have always considered it a stroke of fate that the name DiNardo didn't pose a problem for those customs officers-history records tales of immigrants suddenly acquiring "on the spot" new family names in official records because of translation difficulties at the entry stage of their introduction to America.

(I don't know if it's true, but one version of the derivation of the offensive term "WOP" is that Ellis Island officials applied it to immigrants who had somehow lost their passports-and thus were tagged with the initials WOP, meaning WITH OUT PASSPORTS.)

I can only assume that New York had worked out special arrangements to see that the continuous flood of immigrants got from Ellis Island to the next step of their journey. We certainly could not have found our own way in Manhattan and onto the train bound for Pittsburgh. I must have been, by then, one confused and tired youngster, but the ordeal was not over, and we took a clanking ride across New Jersey and all of Pennsylvania that lasted many hours, during which I remember only fits of dozing and waking during stops along the way. Finally, long after midnight, the train stopped and someone came to point the way for us to get off. The train was a long one and our car was far from the station, so we had to walk on a cinder track alongside the cars, and my mother picked me up after a while. As we got closer to the station, she put me down and held my hand tight so I wouldn't stumble. Finally, silhouetted against the bright lights in the building ahead, I saw the black silhouette of a man running toward us, waving and yelling. He got up to us, grabbed my mother and kissed her, then bent to snatch me up and hug me tight against his chest. Groggy from the past hectic days, bewildered by this stranger who crushed me close, frightened at seeing my mum in tears--that was my introduction to my father, Rocco.

Tony diNardo


diNardo in Australia

This section of the diNardo page started on 22 Oct 2009. It will be under construction for a while.


This site prepared and maintained by Mark DiVecchio

email :  markd@silogic.com
 
  DiVecchio HOME
Frazzini HOME
Site HOME 
  
Sign our Guestbook

Visit the group by clicking here: SantEufemiaaMaiella. .

Subscribe to the Sant'Eufemia a Maiella group
Powered by groups.yahoo.com

If you can help with the expenses to develop this web site: