Regina slowly placed her withered hand over Claire’s heart.
Claire put her head down and thought about her Aunt’s words, eventually looking up to meet her gaze, “Yes, I think what’s in your heart matters the most.”
“Good girl, stay true to what you believe and know I share your secret.”
Claire was surprisingly satisfied with the conversation. She wanted to tell Regina about her dreams and visions of what they had shared together, but it was suddenly less important. Regina knew and that was good enough for Claire. She decided to move on with the seemingly more pressing part of the conversation.
“Zia, will you love me if I’m not Catholic?”
“Oh, my dear Claire, I will always adore you. You have been born into a family with many options… many freedoms to choose your religion, your spiritual path and your life’s philosophy. I’m not surprised, really. But choose, don’t live a life without faith.”
Claire looked into her aunt’s eyes and said, “Always know how much I love you and everything you have done for me has truly been a gift… it has shaped a part of who I am and who I’ll ever be.”
The women hugged and Regina whispered into her ear, “You are a beautiful young woman, now go and find yourself… happy, happy birthday, mia cara.”
They sat for a few minutes before they heard Sarah calling out to everyone, “Claire? Where are you? We’re all waiting for the birthday girl!”
“I’ll be right there, mom! Just helping Zia off the couch.”
Sarah looked at Earl and whispered, “I’m sure Aunt Regina gave her another bible.”
Earl smiled back at his wife and wrapped his arm around her waist, “I’m sure she did because if she didn’t, the sky would surely fall.”
He smacked Sarah on the butt before heading outside to check the grill.
Chapter Two
Claire loved to hear the story of how Zia Regina and her brother Giorgio had come to America when they were teenagers after World War Two. She loved to hear how they each found love in the New World and started lives for themselves in the land of opportunity, but as she got older she noticed some of her questions about her Italian heritage would go conspicuously unanswered. Zia and Papa Giorgio never talked about why they left Italy. They didn’t speak of their parents or the friends they left behind. No one but Claire seemed intrigued about the potentiality of family secrets.
Claire’s version of the story, based upon what she’d heard over the years, went something like this—Papa Giorgio and Zia Regina left Italy sometime after World War II and moved to Brooklyn together. Giorgio, who had just turned eighteen, enrolled Zia in a local public school and found a job at a shipping yard. He worked his way up to being a supervisor during the time Regina was in high school. The hours were long and the physical demands, even for a young man, were grueling. Giorgio found a local Catholic Church for Regina to attend. They soon offered her a scholarship to complete her last two years in Catholic High School, which was nothing short of a miracle for Regina. Each time she spoke of those early days in America, tears would come to her eyes whenever she mentioned the generosity of the nuns and the church community who made transitioning into a new and foreign culture possible. She would tell Claire she was certain Mother Mary had answered her prayers.
It wasn’t long after graduation that Regina attended a church social event where she met and fell in love with a Catholic-Italian immigrant, Stefano Lucarelli, who had fought for America during the war. They shared similar beliefs, were staunchly Catholic and equally Italian, but were thrilled to be in America. Stefano had made the right connections with politicians before and after the war and was able to secure both Regina and Giorgio status as American citizens. This gesture was something Regina didn’t take lightly—she learned all about the government, the Constitution, America’s history and its laws. Giorgio didn’t quite share in Regina’s childlike excitement; he was ready to be American and appreciated the efforts of his almost-new brother-in-law facilitating the process, but he wanted to start his life in New York. He worked hard to be both a mother and father to Regina and was grateful in knowing his baby sister was healthy, happy and in good hands. But Giorgio was ready to be a young, single Italian man in New York and hurriedly moved to Manhattan just after the Regina’s wedding.
Regina and Stefano Lucarelli were married in St. Thomas Aquinas Church in the fall of 1952. They bought a modest ranch-style home in the suburbs where they planted a garden and joined a local Italian-American Association. The organization helped them connect with like-minded friends, a great local bar and ristorante, and most importantly, the right Catholic Church. She was happy to be out of the city and in the suburbs—she could spread herself out in a home that shared walls with no one and the Lucarelli residence soon became a shrine to all things Catholic.
Stefano adored Regina. He appreciated her taste in décor, including the see-through plastic covers on the damask furniture in the living room and the assorted religious statues that flanked the driveway, the front entryway and the foyer. Regina had meticulously fashioned a garden in the backyard with roses, assorted wildflowers, vegetables and fruit trees. She placed several birdbaths and hummingbird feeders in the yard and a large sculpture of St. Francis on a small pedestal so he could overlook the growing ecosystem.
Claire loved visiting her Great Aunt and Uncle during the summers, she felt as though she was visiting a museum, hotel and botanic gardens in one place. And she loved watching them interact with one another. During the warm summer evenings, Zio Stefano would pour a small glass of wine and fill it halfway with water and give it to Claire. He then turned up the piped-in music in the gardens to play some Nat King Cole or Frank Sinatra. Claire watched them dance under the stars, sipped her wine and imagined that someday, too, she would experience love and romance like Regina and Stefano. If she listened closely, she could hear him softly singing into Regina’s ear. Claire would giggle in reaction and Stefano would sweep her off her feet and sing to her as he whirled her around.
Everything they did, Claire did, too, during her visits—this included listening to period music from before and after the war, watching reruns of the Andy Griffith Show, Bewitched and anything else black and white, dancing at the Italian Club with the locals, and attending church at least once each week. This, of course, depended entirely upon Zia’s volunteer schedule and her need to go to confession, so visits to church were often more frequent. As far as Claire was concerned, she was certain she had reincarnated into the wrong era.
Stefano was a hard-working businessman who went to college after the war on a GI Bill. He earned a degree in business and opened a car wash on Long Island. The economy exploded shortly after the war and Americans were in need of many goods and services. Stefano then opened a chain of car washes throughout Queens, Long Island and eventually Westchester. His hard work and good fortune paved the way for Regina to have ample time to organize charity events for the church and the Italian Club as a 1950’s housewife.
Sarah had instructed Claire on her visits with Zia and Stefano to be polite and not ask too many questions when she went to her Aunt’s house. Regina had desperately wanted children, but was unable to get pregnant as a young woman with Stefano. The last thing she needed to hear from Claire were precocious questions from a child about why they didn’t have children. The circumstances surrounding Zia’s infertility were never discussed, but when Sarah married Earl, Zia Regina asked if she could be an integral part of the children’s lives, with a promise of not interfering. When Sarah first announced she was pregnant, Zia put a ‘for sale’ sign on her front lawn and informed Stefano they would be moving upstate. When Stefano asked why, Regina informed him it was to be near the children they never got to have.
Stefano had long since retired and was willing to move if Regina wanted to be close to her niece and new family. He never had to remind her to behave and not cross any boundaries set up by Sarah. Zia Regina kept her word and tried her best to dote on the girls as mu
ch as possible without having an opinion or interfering in such a way that would upset Sarah. They bought a modest, retirement sized home, but one that was large enough to accommodate Regina’s ever-growing collection of religious statues and art. Sarah gave birth to Claire weeks after Zia and Giorgio moved in, just one town over from Sarah and Earl.
~~~~
Giorgio met an important man shortly after his arrival to Manhattan in 1952. He moved into a small studio apartment in Little Italy off Canal Street with the money he had made from the shipyards in Brooklyn. He had saved enough money to pay rent for three months, but had no interest in wasting time or his hard-earned money before getting a job. The energy of the city and particularly the energy downtown had him reeling and he was ready to experience it all.
He popped into a diner the first morning of his arrival and ordered bacon and eggs and a cup of black coffee, grabbed a newspaper and sat down at the bar. He perused the want-ads and shoveled his food down enthusiastically, periodically sipping the hot coffee in between mouthfuls. He nodded to the man who sat down next to him.
“The eggs are good here, sir, you should try them,” Giorgio said to the man, smiling.
William Goldman could discern an accent in the young man’s voice, but couldn’t pinpoint it. He assumed he must have been in the country long enough that his English speaking abilities had become better refined.
“Well, young man,” William said, “I appreciate the advice. I’ve been eating at this diner the first Monday of every month for the last twenty years. I know the eggs are good. So’s the coffee.”
The waitress handed William a cup of coffee just in time for him to hold up his mug as a friendly gesture to Giorgio.
“Salute!” Giorgio exclaimed, smiling at the thought of meeting his first friend.
“Oh, Italian, I couldn’t place the accent for a moment. Nowwww I can hear it. William Goldman, young man, salute to you, too!”
“Nice to meet you, Mr.Goldman, I’m Giorgio Alessi, Italian-American, I proudly can say. I moved here about four years ago from Italy. Well, to Brooklyn to put my sister through school. Now she’s off and married and I came to live here just yesterday.”
Giorgio laughed at himself as he told the older man his story. He felt so alive and invigorated. He was unable to hide it.
“Where have you been working, boy?”
“Down at the shipyards. I saved enough money to pay my rent while I look for a job.”
“Well, good for you, you seem like an industrious young fellow, making the most of what this great country is all about”
William couldn’t help but notice the boy’s weathered hands.
Giorgio looked at William inquisitively.
“Working hard and making money, son. You know, you’re taking responsibility for yourself and capitalizing on it. And it sounds like you’ve been doing just that.”
Giorgio smiled, “Thank you, sir. It’s what America is all about.”
“Tell you what,” William pulled a card out of his wallet, “Today breakfast is on me. Come by my office in the morning. I’m sure I can find something for you to do there. Why don’t you show up around nine? My address is on the card.”
Giorgio was beside himself. His heart was beating fast.
“Sir, Mr. Goldman, thank you for your offer to buy me breakfast, but I think it should be the other way around.”
Giorgio laid his money on the counter and smiled, “Thank you, sir, I’ll see you tomorrow at nine sharp.”
Giorgio held out his hand and shook Mr. Goldman’s hand with the perfect grip. William would never forget the kid’s gesture to pay for his breakfast or his handshake. Giorgio already had a job before he walked out the door of the diner that morning.
Giorgio was ashamed to ask Mr. Goldman what kind of job he had in mind for him, because if it wasn’t something involving manual labor, there was nothing Giorgio could wear to a job interview that was appropriate. He liked Mister Goldman immediately and he was ready to work hard for the opportunity laid before him. Giorgio opened his wallet and quickly recounted the assorted bills as he walked hurriedly toward the subway on Canal Street. Just as he grabbed the banister to head down the stairs, he quickly changed his mind and headed north on foot. He didn’t want to waste a penny of his money on a subway fare and instead pushed through the crowded sidewalks on foot. He wasn’t sure where he was going exactly, but he knew the best place to buy a new suit to impress Mr. Goldman would be finding a classy store on Madison Avenue.
His cleanest work clothes were slightly damp with sweat after his fast-paced, almost hour long walk, to find a clothing store. Giorgio had moved straight from Brooklyn to lower Manhattan, only hearing about Madison Avenue from a couple of guys who worked at the shipyard. They had never been, but they knew people who had as though the association warranted bragging rights.
He was astonished by the crowds, the men and women in fancy clothes and the store window displays as he made his way closer to mid-town. He felt out of place and wondered if someone rich might mistake him for a beggar. The thought vanished as he walked up to St. Patrick’s Cathedral. He didn’t think of himself as ultra-religious, certainly nothing like his sister, but Giorgio was awestruck. Amid the concrete and austere-looking skyscrapers stood an architectural masterpiece that was more fitting of some of the bigger churches in Italy. He took off his hat and surreptitiously made the sign of the cross. He was overcome not only with emotion, but the notion that everything was a possibility in New York City. He spent forty-five of his entire fifty dollar savings on a Brook’s Brothers suit, hoping Mr. Goldman would take notice of his sincerity of wanting a job.
Claire loved to hear Papa Giorgio tell his tale of his arrival to Manhattan and would sit and listen patiently as he described his shopping experience at Brook’s Brother in detail. He talked about how the salesman took care of him, despite his haggard look, and gave him the ‘gift of awareness’—helping him to see life through a different lens. She tried to wrap her mind around how much money things cost back then, but the lesson she learned, more than anything, was Papa laying his fortune on the line so he could have a better life. The lesson never left her. And the best part of the story was still to come.
Fortunately for Giorgio, the tailor was on staff that day and could make the small alterations while Giorgio waited. Both the salesman and tailor listened as Giorgio told them the story of his morning at the diner and how he met an important man who could give him a job. They were eager to help, not only because he seemed like a good kid, but they were both Italian-American and took a vested interest in helping Giorgio look his best. The salesman threw in the latest fashioned hat to complete the look of the deep grey, double-breasted wool suit. He waited patiently and to his surprise, the salesman brought him some water out of a real glass. When the tailor was finished, the salesman put his suit in an important-looking bag and wished Giorgio good luck.
“Signor Alessi,”the salesman said as Giorgio was leaving the store, “who is the man you met?”
“A nice man by the name of William Goldman.”
Giorgio thanked the men and headed outside. The men who had helped him knew exactly who William Goldman was and Giorgio was about to find out. He took the subway back to Canal Street, leaving him enough money for food for the next few days. He hung the suit in his small makeshift closet and went to sleep.
William Goldman came down to the lobby to greet Giorgio at exactly nine o’clock the following morning. He knew there was something special about the kid, but when he saw him, he couldn’t help but take notice.
“Well, well, Mr. Alessi, right on time. You surely clean up nicely,” William chuckled as he held out his hand, “let’s head up to my office.”
Giorgio wasn’t about to tell the man he arrived at eight and waited an hour, just to be sure he wasn’t late. As they walked to Mr. Goldman’s office, Giorgio was captivated by the number of workers in very large rooms all equipped with their own sewing machines. Clothing was everywhere—
hanging on racks ready to be wheeled onto the street to their various destinations throughout the city, stacks of half-sewn suits sitting on large tables waiting to be finished, and ladies’ undergarments in large bins getting inspected by some of the seamstresses. It was a massive operation, but Giorgio wasn’t certain how he could fit in. He didn’t know the first thing about clothing or sewing.
Mr. William’s office was large, but austere. An oversized desk sat in the middle and several degrees and awards hung on one wall. A telephone, desk blotter, calendar and two photographs, along with ‘in and out’ baskets, sat on the desk.
“Have a seat, young man,” William said as he shut the door.
“Yes, sir,” Giorgio said with waning enthusiasm.
“So, before we talk about specifics here, Giorgio, I thought I’d ask you about your suit.”
Giorgio was taken aback by the question and he wasn’t sure how to answer, afraid that Mr. Goldman was looking for something specific.
“Well, uh, I bought it yesterday, sir,” Giorgio replied.
“You have good taste, son, but I’m not sure how you could afford it.”
Giorgio was embarrassed by the line of questioning. He was an immigrant shipyard worker and he absolutely couldn’t afford it.
“Sir, I wanted to wear something to my first job interview and I couldn’t show up in my coveralls, so I went to Madison Avenue and spent my money on a good suit.”
William sat dumfounded pondering the sheer stupidity or utter brilliance of a young man spending all his money to make an impression on him. William could tell by the quality of the suit that it was Brooks’ Brothers.
“And the hat?” he asked.
“The salesman and the tailor said I could have the hat… once they heard I was coming to see you today.”
“I see… I betcha they were Italian.”
Twist of Fate Page 2
