Hi folks. Were you wondering if I was going to write again? So was I, but I made it - with some effort.
Whenever I happen to go out, someone will usually come up to me and tell me how much they enjoy reading my column, and my day is made. Since I have faithful readers who look forward to my literary contribution, I'm going to persevere as long as I can.
In my last column, I took you back to the days of my childhood when our family lived in an apartment in the Hulbert Street area. As our family grew in number, an apartment was no longer adequate. So when I was 7 years of age and had three younger siblings, my parents purchased a home on Jefferson Street. This was more of an Italian immigrant area than the previous one, and I would estimate that it was at least 90 percent Italian. Nearly all of the residents married in this country so their children were born here and were American citizens. The immigrant adults, of course, had to become naturalized to attain citizenship, which most of them did.
This Italian neighborhood primarily included Jefferson Street from Madison Avenue to Clark Street and a couple of blocks of Orchard Street.
In those days, there were many family-owned Italian grocery stores in the western part of town. The following were within a block of Jefferson Street: Papalia, Casa, Dello Stritto, Cutromano, Milillo, Daddatto, Palermiti and De Palma. There were also other business places such as barber shops, meat markets, tailor shops and restaurants.
One popular place was the Italian pastry shop of John Fumia on the corner of Orchard and Washington streets, which made and sold the most delicious pastries, cookies and lemon ice. As a youngster, I would buy lemon ice quite often and go down the street enjoying it out of a paper cup. I just loved that lemon ice.
Every weekend a new batch of freshly made Italian pastries was put on display in the shop window, about a half dozen varieties and all very delicious. I would frequently buy one at a cost of 10 cents. If you were lucky enough to find such pastries today, which I doubt, they would probably cost at least $2.
The proprietor of the shop, John Fumia, was referred to as Don Giovanni. Giovanni is Italian for John, but I'm not sure about Don, and I haven't been able to find it in an Italian dictionary. Quite possibly it means sir or master. If any of you know what it means, I would appreciate your letting me know.
The recent publicity on the 100th anniversary of St. Francis Church brought to mind the festivals that used to be celebrated by the various societies of the church. Each society would have an annual festival in honor of the patron saint of the part of Italy that they had emigrated from. Two that I recall were St. Michael and St. Rocco.
Festivals were held on weekends, and during festival days, the Italian band would march through the streets in the western part of the city. The festival itself was held in the lot across the street from the old church. There was a bandstand on which the band would give a concert each evening and also refreshment stands. My father had been a member of the band during his younger days and enjoyed going to the festivals to hear the concerts. When I was a youngster, he would take me along and buy me some treats. Each festival closed with an impressive fireworks display on Sunday evening.
Occasionally our entire family would enjoy going on a picnic at Fair Haven Beach State Park. A cousin of mine, John Carnicelli, owned and drove a large truck, and on picnic day, all of the relatives on my mother's side would pile into the truck for the ride to Fair Haven. My mother had four sisters, so there were five families in the truck. Today, this would be considered an unsafe practice and probably not even be allowed. However, in those days, we didn't give safety a thought and just thoroughly enjoyed the ride to the park and the picnic.
We young boys used to have fun with pea shooters, which we purchased at a store on Clark Street near St. Mary's School. On one occasion, I aimed my shooter at a passing car just for the fun of it and without any intention of shooting any peas. The driver immediately stopped his car, got out, grabbed my pea shooter and bent it in half, making it worthless. I guess I was taught a good lesson.
When our family moved to Jefferson Street, I continued going to James Street School even though the walk was a little longer. I could have gone to Madison Avenue School, which was closer, but it only went as far as the fourth grade, and for the fifth and sixth grades, I would have had to return to James Street School. Rather than bounce back and forth between the two, I decided to stick with James Street School. Besides, I felt at home there.
As a younger teenager, I would mow the lawn at the Cayuga Museum to earn a little money. I used an old type push mower, which was provided by the museum. I'm sure you seniors remember those mowers as just about every home had one. Whenever I mowed the museum lawn, I did the entire lawn for which I was paid 20 cents.
Well this about does it for this time. Looking forward to more reminiscing next time and your continued readership. If anyone would like to share an interesting personal story from the past, just let me know and I'll see that it appears in one of my columns.
Ciao!
Carmelo Signorelli is an Auburn resident who enjoys reminiscing about the good ol' days
In my last column, I took you back to the days of my childhood when our family lived in an apartment in the Hulbert Street area. As our family grew in number, an apartment was no longer adequate. So when I was 7 years of age and had three younger siblings, my parents purchased a home on Jefferson Street. This was more of an Italian immigrant area than the previous one, and I would estimate that it was at least 90 percent Italian. Nearly all of the residents married in this country so their children were born here and were American citizens. The immigrant adults, of course, had to become naturalized to attain citizenship, which most of them did.
This Italian neighborhood primarily included Jefferson Street from Madison Avenue to Clark Street and a couple of blocks of Orchard Street.
In those days, there were many family-owned Italian grocery stores in the western part of town. The following were within a block of Jefferson Street: Papalia, Casa, Dello Stritto, Cutromano, Milillo, Daddatto, Palermiti and De Palma. There were also other business places such as barber shops, meat markets, tailor shops and restaurants.
One popular place was the Italian pastry shop of John Fumia on the corner of Orchard and Washington streets, which made and sold the most delicious pastries, cookies and lemon ice. As a youngster, I would buy lemon ice quite often and go down the street enjoying it out of a paper cup. I just loved that lemon ice.
Every weekend a new batch of freshly made Italian pastries was put on display in the shop window, about a half dozen varieties and all very delicious. I would frequently buy one at a cost of 10 cents. If you were lucky enough to find such pastries today, which I doubt, they would probably cost at least $2.
The proprietor of the shop, John Fumia, was referred to as Don Giovanni. Giovanni is Italian for John, but I'm not sure about Don, and I haven't been able to find it in an Italian dictionary. Quite possibly it means sir or master. If any of you know what it means, I would appreciate your letting me know.
The recent publicity on the 100th anniversary of St. Francis Church brought to mind the festivals that used to be celebrated by the various societies of the church. Each society would have an annual festival in honor of the patron saint of the part of Italy that they had emigrated from. Two that I recall were St. Michael and St. Rocco.
Festivals were held on weekends, and during festival days, the Italian band would march through the streets in the western part of the city. The festival itself was held in the lot across the street from the old church. There was a bandstand on which the band would give a concert each evening and also refreshment stands. My father had been a member of the band during his younger days and enjoyed going to the festivals to hear the concerts. When I was a youngster, he would take me along and buy me some treats. Each festival closed with an impressive fireworks display on Sunday evening.
Occasionally our entire family would enjoy going on a picnic at Fair Haven Beach State Park. A cousin of mine, John Carnicelli, owned and drove a large truck, and on picnic day, all of the relatives on my mother's side would pile into the truck for the ride to Fair Haven. My mother had four sisters, so there were five families in the truck. Today, this would be considered an unsafe practice and probably not even be allowed. However, in those days, we didn't give safety a thought and just thoroughly enjoyed the ride to the park and the picnic.
We young boys used to have fun with pea shooters, which we purchased at a store on Clark Street near St. Mary's School. On one occasion, I aimed my shooter at a passing car just for the fun of it and without any intention of shooting any peas. The driver immediately stopped his car, got out, grabbed my pea shooter and bent it in half, making it worthless. I guess I was taught a good lesson.
When our family moved to Jefferson Street, I continued going to James Street School even though the walk was a little longer. I could have gone to Madison Avenue School, which was closer, but it only went as far as the fourth grade, and for the fifth and sixth grades, I would have had to return to James Street School. Rather than bounce back and forth between the two, I decided to stick with James Street School. Besides, I felt at home there.
As a younger teenager, I would mow the lawn at the Cayuga Museum to earn a little money. I used an old type push mower, which was provided by the museum. I'm sure you seniors remember those mowers as just about every home had one. Whenever I mowed the museum lawn, I did the entire lawn for which I was paid 20 cents.
Well this about does it for this time. Looking forward to more reminiscing next time and your continued readership. If anyone would like to share an interesting personal story from the past, just let me know and I'll see that it appears in one of my columns.
Ciao!
Carmelo Signorelli is an Auburn resident who enjoys reminiscing about the good ol' days
