Pisciotta, Salvatore 1-1 Transcription

In: CIC Pisciotta, Salvatore 1-1 - Final.pdf

Abstract

Part one of an interview with Salvatore "Sal" Pisciotta. Topics include: How Sal became a barber and eventually quit because he didn't like the work. How his parents immigrated to the United States from Italy. His parents lived in Ashburnham, MA and then moved to Fitchburg, where Sal was born. His parents were uneducated and the disadvantages they faced because of that. Stories Sal's parents told about Italy. How his family felt when World War II broke out. Sal's feelings about the events of September 11th and terrorism in general. His father's work as a laborer. The differences in how girls and boys were treated in his family. Education. What his mother was like and what a typical day was like for her. The garden his parents kept. Memories from his childhood. The food his mother used to prepare. His mother's experience working at a mill. What it was like to buy groceries and have ice delivered. Making wine and sausages. What Fitchburg was like when Sal was growing up. The boarders his parents housed. ; 1 LINDA: This is Linda [Rosenwan] on Friday, November 9. It's 9:50 a.m. We're with Sal Pisciotta, 208 Woodland Street in Fitchburg. And hello, Sal. SAL: Hi. Hi, Linda. LINDA: Okay. Here we go. So why don't you tell me -- you were just telling me a little bit -- I hate to ask you again, but tell me what happened after you graduated from Fitchburg High School in 1948. SAL: Oh. I went to barber school in Boston; that was for six months. Six months course, and then brother Joe and I, we opened up a barber shop down the street here, you know, in Fitchburg. And I always disliked being a barber, but I was forced into it. I always wanted to be civil engineer, but I mean, in those days if your father or brother was a barber you had to be a barber or a tailor or a cobbler or what the heck ever they were. LINDA: So he was an older brother. SAL: Oh, yeah. He was 17 years. I never grew up with him. I mean, I never grew up he and I being brothers. I mean, he was 17 years. He was… I was 3 years old when he got married, so we never grew up being close as brothers. And then the Korean War came along, I got drafted, and I went to Korea. I was there for, well, 15 months in the 24th Division. When I came back I wanted to go to school but then I got married, and one thing led into another. I went back into barbering, but then that was it. I couldn't take it anymore. I just had to get the heck out of there. LINDA: Did your brother know that you hated it? SAL: Oh, yeah. He knew it. He didn't want to see me leave, but hey, I quit. I told him I was leaving, then I had problems with my wife and I couldn't find a job. The country was in a recession back in '63, '62. So finally I landed this job in Leominster for the Doyle Estate, which was a wonderful thing, working for this lady. She's been very gracious and great to me and my three children. And that's it. I'm supposed to be retired here. LINDA: Okay, so we're going to stop the interview. Again. SAL: Okay. What we said is all gone, right? LINDA: All gone. We were just starting. See, it's at two minutes again.2 SAL: Okay. LINDA: Because we were just talking about -- so we won't talk about her personally. SAL: No, please, no. Don't say it. Nothing about her personally. LINDA: Okay. So then let me thing back what we should talk about. SAL: [Unintelligible – 00:02:55]? LINDA: Yes, we could start there. So your parents, Antonio… SAL: Antonio and Antoinette. LINDA: Now, did they come from Italy together? SAL: Yes. He came -- Dad was born in 1883. He went into the Italian Army. I think he was in the Italian Army a couple of years. Then he came to America, I think it was in 1906, or '07, whatever it is. And he worked in the Sumner Tunnel in Boston, I'd say. And then I guess he got laid off. He got laid off, and then he was going to go back to Italy. You know, the Italian government was calling these people, these immigrants, these Italian people that came over here. There was no work, and for $5 you could get on ship and go back to Italy. And my father had bought a ticket; he was going back to Italy. He was down on Hanover Street or one of the streets in the North End, and he met another Italian man, and they asked my father where he was going, where he was working. And my father says, I have no job here. I'm going back to Italy. So he said, tomorrow you meet at a certain place here in Boston, and we're going to go to Wellesley. In Wellesley there was a very, very wealthy man that has horses and stables and greenhouses, exactly what these Italians could do. So that's how my father went to work there, and he worked there for a few months. Then he did go back to Italy, and he was going to go marry this woman that he had left that he was in love with.3 Come to find out, she didn't wait for him. She had already gotten married to somebody else. So he struck up a relationship, which I think actually was a fixed marriage, with my mother. And anyway, he met somebody on the street, another -- I think Papa says once he was the mailman or something and says, Tony, get married and go back to America. Italy is about ready to go to war with Tripoli. LINDA: Oh, so wait a minute. So he did go back to Italy? SAL: Yes. Yeah. He went back to Italy to get married, but the woman that he was in love with, that he liked, she already got married. A letter carrier said to him, go back to America; that Italy is ready to go to war with Tripoli and that's when the 1912, I think it was, Dad came back with -- and she was 19 years old and my dad was 27, I guess. In 1912 they came and they landed in Boston. LINDA: So at this time he had been -- it was a married arranged for him, to a 19-year-old Antoinette. SAL: Yes. It was just, in those days, it was all arranged marriages. LINDA: Yeah. So they both came back here? SAL: Yeah. And I think they settled in South Ashburnham, a little jerk town up the street here, in South Ashburnham. And then he raised his family there. LINDA: Now, why do you think he ended up there? SAL: In those days, Linda, if Joe came, or Frank came to America, he would call him brother and his brother, he comes to America and didn't even know how to speak English, so where do you go? You go with your brother, or you go with somebody that you knew that called you. Then when you get here, you call your father-in-law or your sister-in-law, whatever it is, and you all get together. Because in those days, they all came here to Fitchburg. There was quite a population there was here, they call it the patch down on Water Street, and there was a lot of Italian people.4 But had there been work here in Fitchburg, today the Italian population would have been greater than it is in the North End of Boston, because what had happened was the work stopped. There was no more work, they weren't building any more factories, and then they started building the State House in New York, and all the Italians -- not all the Italians, but a lot of Italians, picked up their roots here from Fitchburg and Leominster, and they went to Albany, New York to live. LINDA: So who did you father follow then to Ashburnham? Do you know who was living there? SAL: Oh, yeah. His brother. LINDA: His brother. SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Now, what kind of work was he doing there? SAL: Laborers. That's all they ever do. Laborers. In those days they were building the paper mills, and that's it. A pick and shovel. There was no call up the cement truck and the cement truck come over with some cement. Everything was made by hand. It was laborers. And they were getting maybe $5 or $6 a week, and that was it. A week. Not a day or an hour, a week. LINDA: Now, where were they living, do you know? Were they living in a boarding house? SAL: No. It was a regular house. In fact, my daughter, Cynthia, lives up the street but the house is demolished now. The house isn't there anymore. Then from there they moved from South Ashburnham, they came down here on Orchard Street here in Fitchburg. They lived there for a few years, then they moved to [Edlee] Street and that's where I was born 72 years ago. LINDA: So what made them come to Fitchburg? SAL: Because one of his brothers was here, and there was work. LINDA: So he had a brother in Ashburnham and then Fitchburg?5 SAL: Then they came to Fitchburg because there was work here. They were building the paper mills, there was work. That's what they would do. They would just follow wherever work was, and then these Italians, the woman, would take in their brothers as boarders, so maybe about 65, or 70, a dollar a week they would cook for these guys, they would wash their clothes, iron, for a dollar a week. Cook their meals, make their lunch. That was America. They were the ones that built this country, those immigrants. Not only the Italians, I'm talking about the Swedes, the French and all that. Of course, and then the Italians. And then you get the Englishmen that came to this country and those -- is this being…? LINDA: Go ahead. That's fine. That's what history's about. SAL: So we got all these people that came over from Ireland, those guys ended up with the good jobs because they knew how to speak English. You get the Italians, the French, the Polocks, what do they know? They don't even know English. And that's how all the Kennedys and the rest of those rich families survived. Or got started. LINDA: That's what was so interesting about my interview yesterday. I think I told you, the Italian Citizens Club, with the [unintelligible - 00:10:20], was that they formed so that the Italians, they could teach them English and get them to become citizens and then show them the way to get better jobs. So they had to do that because there was a language barrier. SAL: Yeah. A language barrier. Like my father. My father and mother never went to school a day in their life. LINDA: Did they ever learn English? SAL: Yeah, they learned English. Very, very broken English, but they never went to school. I mean, we spoke in the house; it was all Italian as we grew up. I mean, with my mother and father usually would speak Italian, but amongst us kids it was English. But amongst Mom and Dad it was always Italian. LINDA: So they never became citizens?6 SAL: Oh, they did. Yeah. LINDA: Oh, they did? SAL: Yeah, during the Second World War, and then I can still remember before the Second World War my father became an American citizen. He was the happiest guy in the world. Then my mother, she became a citizen because she had a son that was in the Navy and he was in the war, and automatically she became an American citizen. LINDA: Wait, how did that work? SAL: What's that? LINDA: She automatically became a citizen? SAL: Her son was in the service, and I guess contributed to his country, and she just went to city hall one day and they had the ceremony and she became a citizen. But she never went to school. She never even knew how to sign her name. LINDA: I have my grandmother's passport where she has just an "x" where it says, sign your name. SAL: Dad could sign his name but it was… anyway. LINDA: It's amazing, though, isn't it? That they could come here and… SAL: They're the ones that built this county, right? LINDA: So you said your dad was the happiest man in the world. SAL: Oh, yeah. He was so proud. He became an American citizen, and he never had any desire to go back to Italy. He says, America's my home now. I want to stay in America. I don't want to go to Italy anymore. LINDA: Isn't that amazing? I mean, can you imagine yourself going to another country and…? SAL: And not even speaking a word of English? LINDA: And not becoming a citizen? SAL: And then becoming a citizen. Yeah. LINDA: So where were they from in Italy? SAL: Salemi. LINDA: Is this in Sicily?7 SAL: Yes, it's in Salemi. S-A-L-E-M-I. Salemi. Province of Trepani. T-R-E-P-A-N-I, Sicily. LINDA: Spell the Salemi again? SAL: S-A-L-E-M-I. LINDA: All right. So both your parents were from there? SAL: Yes. LINDA: Okay. So do you ever remember them talking about the old country? SAL: Oh, yeah. My father told me -- he would tell me that when he was courting my mother—because where they came from was all hills and mountains and there was no flashlights in those days and they used to have like a lamp and the lantern and my mother lived in the hills—and at nighttime he would slip, he would fall 200 or 300 feet down the cliff running. She came from the hills, poor thing. Nineteen years old she came to this country. Never went back, never saw her mother or father anymore, but anyway. LINDA: Did she used to have anyone write letters? Well, they probably couldn't read them. SAL: No, they could. My sister could speak Italian, and they would call [unintelligible - 00:14:11], but then naturally when the Second World War broke out, they were, you know, we were against the war on Italy, against Italy, so there was no communication then. LINDA: How did your parents feel about that when the United States was at war with Italy? Do you remember anything? SAL: That was terrible because they figured they were Americans, and they thought it was stupid that he got -- Mussolini in those days, got involved with Hitler. They thought it was a disgrace. The Italians, you know, if you look at history, they were the ones that turned against Hitler and the Italian army gave up. Every time they would see the American army coming they would always wave their hands and give up. They didn't want to fight. LINDA: So did your father have any brothers or sisters that stayed in Italy?8 SAL: Oh, yeah. Yeah. There were two of them, I think, that stayed in Italy. Sisters, no he didn't have. He had brothers. One of them was here in American, and two of them, I think, stayed in Italy. But he never saw the ones in Italy anymore. LINDA: He didn't try to get them over here? SAL: No. LINDA: No? What about your mother's family? SAL: She tried to get her brother over here. I can still remember going to city hall, and she tried to get her brother, whose name was Salvatore also, and the girl at the city hall says there was a quota in those days of foreigners coming into this country, and we asked how long it would take before her brother came to America, and they told me seven years. In those days. Today, what the hell happened to this quota? Right? So I guess he got disgusted or discouraged and he moved to Venezuela. And he did come here. He was here to visit my mother. He was here for about four or five weeks and then went back to Venezuela. But what happened to the quota in this country where you had to wait to come in here? Now the doors are open and every [screwball] can come in and out as they please. Right, Linda? LINDA: Do you think we'll go back to a quota system? SAL: No. LINDA: No? SAL: Of course not. Hey, you've got Bush, who just says what? Mexicans, a couple of months ago he says there's three million of them and we're going to go make them all American citizens. LINDA: How did people of your generation -- I mean, do you talk to your friends about what happened on September 11th? SAL: No, it's a tragedy it happened. And like everybody else we haven't seen nothing here. What the hell? Everybody that's -- not everybody, but that's the consensus… anybody doesn't have to be a brain surgeon to 9 figure that out. That war's going to be worse. [Unintelligible - 00:17:32] watching the bridges, they're watching the water supplies, airports. It's too bad. LINDA: I just always wonder how veterans of the war feel, because at least you knew who the enemy was, and you knew the country to attack. SAL: Right. And we would attack the enemy. These people, September 11, they attack these poor civilians, which was terrible. I mean, if they want to attack an army base or a Navy base or a ship, okay, that's war, like Pearl Harbor was war. But these people… again, it's their faith in Allah and the Mohammed and the wacky people that they are. But they're never going to erase terrorism. You're not going to wipe it out in this world. Never. [Unintelligible – 00:18:37] Mohammed and [unintelligible - 00:18:38] what the hell. You know it. There's another hundred guys right behind him that are worse than him. Am I right, Linda? LINDA: I'm afraid you might be. I know. That's a bad situation. SAL: Yes is it. It's terrible. LINDA: You think back to how your parents were. Their concern was putting a roof over their children's heads and putting food on the table, and now… SAL: Now we -- right. That's terrible. Like you say, you've got to worry about your grandchildren and your children, and that's… we've seen the better days of America. Let's put it that way, Linda. LINDA: I think of how heartbroken my grandparents would be to see something like this. SAL: Oh, God. They wouldn't believe it. When you see two big buildings like that just crumbling down, it's unbelievable. LINDA: Well, so getting back to… SAL: Do you want a cup of coffee? LINDA: No, do you? SAL: No. LINDA: I'm all set. SAL: You're all set?10 LINDA: Thanks. Every time I talk about it I get a little… SAL: Well, naturally, of course. It's a terrible thing that's happening in this country, and in the whole world. Even Italians, in Italy they're having their problems, too. [Unintelligible - 00:20:10] a few more, they had explosives in their car, they don't know where they were going. Anyway. LINDA: Back in your father's day, or even when you were younger, people just loved America. They even liked to be here. Now there's such an anti-American sentiment. Just, you know, in a relatively few short years things have really changed. SAL: Well, you know, America is the greatest country in the world, there's no question about it, okay. But the trouble with this country, I mean, is we try to force democracy down the throats of a lot of these small countries. Hey, let them live the way they want to live. If they want to live in communism, let them live in communism. Why do we have to spread democracy all the time? Am I right? It's a good forum, it's like a lecture. They want the communist rule, I mean, there's no more communism out there, I guess, and there's more crime. But anyway. LINDA: So your father must have been somewhat old when you were born, not old but what, like 40 years old? SAL: Oh yeah, he was. I think he was 42 or 43. LINDA: So he was still working as a laborer. SAL: Yeah. No, he worked in Simon's, it was a steel -- it was near Fitchburg, it was where they fabricated saws and paper knives and stuff like that, [unintelligible - 00:21:53] Steel. He worked there for 32 years, then he retired when he was 65. LINDA: So what did he do for them? SAL: Labor. Just hard work, just a hard laborer. LINDA: But it must have seemed like kind of a cushy job after working outside with a shovel. SAL: Oh yeah, I'm sure it must have been. But I mean, the way he was talking I guess they had this kind of a stones of a brace of [unintelligible -11 00:22:23] and they'd grind them down. I'm sure it must have been hard work for the poor guy. Then he used to walk back and forth to work to save a nickel or a cop there in those days. LINDA: How far is that? SAL: It used to be on North Street, right on Main Street. Right here at [unintelligible - 00:22:40] College, North Street. LINDA: Okay. He would walk from here? SAL: He would walk, yeah just to save a nickel on the bus. LINDA: He probably didn't have a very -- he didn't have [unintelligible - 00:22:55] back then, right? SAL: Oh God, no. Just a hardworking man, that's all he was. Poor guy, I feel so sorry. What a life he lived. But anyway. LINDA: Why do you say that? Because he worked so hard? SAL: Oh, he worked so hard and didn't have all the conveniences that we have today. We didn't have a telephone in the house. I think we had to go to the fire station to use the telephone. There was no telephones back when I was growing up. I think I was about five years old before I ever sat in an automobile. LINDA: So tell me about making a phone call. You'd walk down to the fire station? SAL: Yeah, there was a fire station. So you'd make a telephone call to somebody. We didn't have a phone. LINDA: Did they charge you? SAL: I don't remember, that I don't remember. But the first one we got was a four-party telephone. The phone used to ring three or four, that's not ours, that's not ours. LINDA: I vaguely remember my grandmother having that, yeah. SAL: We had a four-party telephone. LINDA: So tell me what your mother was like. SAL: Very strict. She was a strict woman, yeah. She brought up five daughters, and not one of them ever crossed the line. Real proud girls.12 LINDA: Were girls and boys treated differently? SAL: Oh yeah. To an Italian woman the sons were always the favorite. Yeah, I was the favorite. Especially the oldest one, he was always the favorite one. LINDA: Now, was that Joe? SAL: Joe, yeah. LINDA: So he decided to be a barber. That was a good decision that you would have to follow? SAL: Well. LINDA: A good decision for him. SAL: Good for him I guess. And in those days we didn't have the opportunity to go to high school anyway. At 16 years old everybody had to quit and go to work. LINDA: Did you quit high school? SAL: No, I graduated in '48. Out of seven, my sister Millie and I were the only ones that graduated. LINDA: You were the youngest? SAL: I was the youngest, yeah. LINDA: And she must have been a young… SAL: Millie right now I think is 78, I think, 79. LINDA: So did your parents think that education was important? SAL: Yes, they did, but food on the table was more important, yeah. LINDA: So were the children expected to go out and get jobs and contribute? SAL: Yeah, we all had to pay board in those days. Yeah, whatever the pay was that you brought into the house, a certain percentage had to go to the household, to my mother. She was a strict woman, very strict. But she was a good lady. Poor thing, she spent eight years of her life, eight years was in a nursing home after Alzheimer's I guess, after the sclerosis. Poor thing, didn't know who the hell she was, she didn't know who we were either. LINDA: Did she die after your father?13 SAL: Yeah. LINDA: So what was her day like every day? SAL: Well, when she was younger [unintelligible - 00:26:50] with her kids. She even worked in one of the yarn mills here in Fitchburg; she even had a job. I mean, she was a hardworking woman. And I used to remember her doing the canning; she'd can tomatoes and beans and dad had a little garden a couple miles away from here, a little piece of land. And he used to make his own grape, his own wine, rather. And it was great. All the Italians around here were living the -- I mean a lot of [unintelligible - 00:27:22] and the trucks used to go by this time of the year loaded with grape from California, and we would go down south, he would buy the grape, and we'd go down in the cellar and we would make two or three barrels of wine. All the Italians used to make barrels of wine. It was interesting, it was very interesting. But it's all gone now. I've got fond memories of that. LINDA: So it seems like maybe it didn't seem like work. But it was the way of life. SAL: No, it wasn't. The way of life, right. LINDA: So was it typical for a family to buy a little piece of land to garden? SAL: Oh yeah. They all had to have their grape arbor, had their grape arbor and land. They all had to have their piece of land. They had to grow their squash and their tomatoes. Well, most of them anyway. LINDA: So who would take care of the garden? SAL: My dad and I would. Come home from school, my father, he would come home, and there was no cars in those days, we used to have a big wagon. We'd pull the wagon, the garden was maybe a quarter of a mile away, half a mile away from here, and we would go up there. After school there was no going to play football with the kids or going swimming; it was work, work, work. That's how it was. And I would help my father. He would plant this and plant that. The poor guy didn't know how to read how to 14 plant this and what you should do, and I used to read and explain everything to him. LINDA: So who owned the land? I mean, did one person own the land and they kind of subdivided it? SAL: No, he bought the piece of land from the seller, the man who owned a lot of pieces of land. Of course, they're all houses now, but in those days it was all woods and stones, and he would, one of my uncles with a horse, they cleared all the land, chopped down all the trees, piled up all the stones. They cleared the land themselves. There was no bulldozers in those days; everything was done by hand. LINDA: Where was that? Do you know the street? SAL: Yeah, it was off between Herd and Exeter Street. LINDA: Now, did he continue doing that all the way? SAL: Until he passed away, yeah. LINDA: And what happened to it? SAL: The land? His dream was always having a house on this land, but my mother, in those days, again, five daughters, she figured if he built a house there was no men or boys that was still bringing in the pay. In other words a girl gets married, she's out of the house, there's no more money coming in. So my father went to one of the lumberyards in those days, I think it was $4,000. It would have cleared the land, built them a six-room house, and turned over the keys for $4,000. And my mother says no. She says we've got five daughters, there will be no money coming in. So that broke my father's heart. He never seen a house on that piece of land that he had. So he passed away, and the funeral parlor up the street here -- next to the funeral parlor there was a house, and it belonged to, I guess, his aunt or something, and he bought the land from him, my brother Joe, and they moved the house to the land over there, and somebody else is on our place now. The land is gone. LINDA: So why is it that your generation didn't keep the garden still?15 SAL: Number one it was a lot of work. And then my sisters all got married, and they would have a little garden behind their house. But I mean, as far as that big piece of land that my father had, nobody was interested in it anymore. Then I went into the service, the land just got lost. My brother Joe sold it to this undertaker over here and he moved the house. The house is on the land now. LINDA: So do you think your father had that garden to feed his family mostly? SAL: Oh yeah. Oh yeah, definitely that's what it was for. And they used to have a little -- everybody had a shack, my father had a shack, [oceandino] they'd call it, a shack on there. And he had a little stove in there. I can still see my mother with the tomatoes cooking her tomatoes on the wood burning stove. And there was a little bed in the corner where my father would get tired during the day working, he'd lay on the bed and take a nap. That's one thing about him, every afternoon he used to take a nap. Even if it was for 20 minutes, Dad would always take a nap. LINDA: It's the Italian way, right? They still do that now. SAL: Yeah, he used to take his nap. And Mom used to do all the canning. We used to go up there, we were kids, we used to go up there and had a big table underneath the grapevine and there was a well. We used to pump water out of the well. It was fun. I mean, you don't see that anymore. LINDA: They used to have a shack right on the land? SAL: Oh yeah, there was a shack. LINDA: And what was it called? SAL: Well, in Italian oceandino. But yeah, there was a wood burning stove in there, a nice wood burning stove. And there was a bed. And Msom had a table in there and chairs, and when it would rain we would eat inside. If not we would go outside to eat under the -- it had a grape arbor with a well, the well, and then there was a grape arbor all around. LINDA: Was this on weekends mostly? SAL: Weekends, or even after school. Get out of school at 2:00 and we used to walk up there, and Mom was there doing the canning. There was no cars 16 in those days. We used to have a big wagon, put everything in the wagon, and come down through the streets with the wagon. LINDA: So can you still smell that sauce cooking? SAL: Sure can. Boy, she could make it wonderful. And pizza, she used to make that pizza, not that stuff you buy in the stores today, that little thin stuff. She used to make the regular Sicilian pizza with about a good inch thick, yeah. LINDA: What other kinds of things did she make? SAL: She wasn't a fancy cook. Like I said, she left Italy when she was 18, 19 years old. But no, not to knock my mother, but she used to make a tremendous sauce. She used to do a lot of cooking with ricotta, you know that cottage cheese, ricotta. And a lot of fried stuff in those days, like fried peppers and fried squash. But real fancy dishes, no, poor thing, she didn't know anything about that. LINDA: Did she make her own cheese? SAL: No, no. LINDA: Did she use a lot of fish? Did she… SAL: Not too much. Mom didn't go for fish so much. And the fact that she didn't… she really didn't cook with garlic. LINDA: No? SAL: You know why? The poor thing, she was in the mill down at [unintelligible - 00:35:25] yard, and all the Italian women, the bosses and those ladies, they used to call them hey, you garlic eaters, you garlic eaters. My mother got offended because they would call her a garlic eater, and she never would cook with garlic. That's something, huh? LINDA: So do you think she was afraid that she'd smell like it? SAL: Yeah, she'd smell the aroma. LINDA: So when did she work at the mill? SAL: Oh geez, it was when I was born. After I was born, actually. It could have been in the early '30s, had to be. LINDA: So who was taking care of you?17 SAL: My sisters. LINDA: What else can you tell me about her experiences at the mill? SAL: Well, other than they were known as garlic-eating Italians, women were known as garlic-eaters; that's about all I can remember. I know there were long hours. She used to leave here about half past five in the morning and start to work at six. She used to work from six to twelve I think it was, or six to one. Then come home, wash clothes. And really, there was no fancy washing machine like they have today. I still remember her with an old scrub board. LINDA: Did she ever get the washing machine with the rollers? SAL: Yeah, yeah. Old Maytag, I remember that with the rollers in the back and you feed the -- she got that… and had a wood-burning stove. And that thing used to shine, God you could see your reflection on that black [unintelligible - 00:37:20]. And that thing used to shine, and gosh it was clean. She was immaculate, my mom. She used to have a big couch, not a couch but a piece of furniture over there. The telephone would ring and she would be there. While she was on the phone she would have the rag and she was wiping it, and my father would say [unintelligible - 00:37:47] when you're dead in your box you're still going to have that rag, you're still going to be wiping and wiping. She was crazy clean. Oh God, clean. God, was she clean! LINDA: Did she expect all her kids to be clean? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Were all the [unintelligible - 00:38:11] immaculate too? SAL: No, it's not. LINDA: Looks like it. SAL: No, never, far from it. Messy. Messy, messy, I've got to get that damn counter cleaned. LINDA: So what was life like for your sisters when they got home from school?18 SAL: They helped Mama do the cooking, wash the clothes, do the shopping. But like I said one of my sisters was the only one that had the opportunity to graduate high school. But the rest of them at 16, they all had to quit and they had to go to work. And they all did their share when they came home as far as working and housework. There was no fancy supermarkets like they are today. LINDA: So tell me, what was it like to buy groceries? SAL: There used to be a little First National store down here, First National store, okay. And then the bottom of the hill there used to be another [Gigopies] market. And you just used to buy groceries for the day, whatever you needed. The bread, they used to make their own bread. I can remember coming home and my mother having that big wooden shovel making the bread and making the dough rise. There used to be a big pan and she used to put that on there, that dough would rise up, and then the dough that was left over, she used to make pizza with it. Yeah, they used to make their own bread. LINDA: So would they make the bread for the week? In one day? SAL: Oh, yeah. Yeah. LINDA: So whose job was it to knead all the bread? SAL: She would do all that. LINDA: She would? SAL: And my sisters, too, would help her. But mostly she would do it with her flour. She used to buy flour by 50-pound sacks. LINDA: Now, did someone used to come around on a truck and sell the flour? SAL: Yeah. Then there used to be trucks that used to come around, and they used to -- I can still remember, they used to come around, they used to sell -- maybe even was -- oh, geez. There used to be -- next street over there used to be a guy that used to go around with a horse and the meat in the back, he had a covered thing and he used to sell meat. Imagine that? Unrefrigerated. With a horse. A horse-drawn cart and go around, and then maybe about once a week or twice a week there used to be trucks that 19 used to come in from Boston, and they had all kinds of Italian cheese and Italian food in these trucks, and the mother or the people would go down and go around the truck, and they'd have all these goodies that they would be selling. Cookies, Italian cookies, cheeses, olive oil. LINDA: So did they go up and down all the streets? SAL: Yeah, they would go down the street, but they would go mostly to where Italian families were. They knew where the Italian families were. There used to be a lot of Italian families here in Fitchburg at one time. Even in this area here. A lot of them. But now they've all passed away now and they're married and they're gone. LINDA: Did they used to ring a bell? How did you know they were coming? SAL: Sometimes, if they had selling dishes they used to [hit] the dishes together and you'd know they were coming, or they would lay out in the street and yell out [foreign language – 00:41:56], which meant, "chickens, chickens, chickens." They would sell chickens, too. And in those days, too, they used to sell the chickens. They weren't like going to the [unintelligible - 00:42:05] market or buy them all packaged. You had to buy them, and I remember my father on the shed, he used to take the chicken by the neck and pull it, and the poor bird would bop-bop-bop, and he'd have the hot water going, stick it in hot water right away. You had to pull all feathers off before the water got cold. That's the way they used to do it. LINDA: Did you ever learn how to do that? SAL: No, but I didn't want to learn how to do that. Put the place together while he went, and then I clean all the innards. Thank God for [unintelligible – 00:42:45]. LINDA: Did your family eat meat much? SAL: No. No. What we ate was mostly chicken, but she would cook a lot of Italian dishes. Peasant dishes. Like lentils. LINDA: Thank you. Thanks for understanding. So we were talking about cooking. What do you think about what we were talking about?20 SAL: She would make the peasant dishes. Ricotta with cheese, [unintelligible – 00:43:26] escargot, ricotta with [unintelligible - 00:43:29]. LINDA: What's that with the [unintelligible - 00:43:32]? SAL: The lentils. LINDA: Oh, lentils. SAL: Come on, Linda. Don't you understand? LINDA: I guess not. Now who made the decision to buy groceries? Who decided how much money to spend? SAL: Oh, no. Mama would do that. Mom would do that, yeah. On Friday night in Fitchburg there used to be -- on Main Street there used to be an old A&P store years ago. And Millie, who is the only one that knew how to drive then, we had a 1938 Dodge that Papa had bought then. Of course, he couldn't drive. Naturally he didn't drive, and she was the driver and she was the chauffer. And Friday nights I could still remember them, Mama and Millie, would go down to A&P and do the grocery shopping. Let's see. What else can I tell you? LINDA: Well, what about the -- I like the stories about the trucks coming in from the North End. What about ice? Do you remember ice being delivered? SAL: Yeah. Ice. There used to be an ice truck that used to come around, and then what you would do, the ice truck would stop, and we used to have iceboxes in those days, naturally. And there used to be a card that you put at the window and it was either 25, 50, 10 cents, or a nickel. In other words, if you wanted the 25-cent piece you would put that standing up, 25. Do you follow me? If you wanted a 10-cent piece then you turn the card over. And the iceman would chop a piece, put it on his back, and bring it up and put it in the icebox. And he put that -- most of it, the iceboxes were in the sheds. They used to have sheds. Do you know what a shed is? Outside of the house there used to be up on the porch, there used to be like another little, a little but no heat in there, and we put the [unintelligible - 00:45:33] stuff like that and 21 put the icebox -- we used to call it the icebox, was in there, and then there was a pail underneath for the water to drip. And sometimes if you forget to empty the pail, you would hear downstairs, they were knocking on the ceiling that the water was running down through the house. You had to empty this pail. Yeah. LINDA: So they keep it out there even in the summer? SAL: Yeah. Oh, yeah. That was the refrigeration was this icebox. LINDA: It probably wasn't very big? The icebox? SAL: Where we were living, I guess… is that too strong or what? LINDA: No, it's good. SAL: Okay. Because I make coffee too strong. LINDA: No, I like it. SAL: In the park, this man used to cut the ice. They used to cut the ice on Wayland Park, and then they used to bring it over and store it in the barn, and they used to put sawdust on it in the wintertime. That used to preserve it. In the summertime they would take the sawdust off the ice and ice was still there. It wouldn't melt. Did you know that? LINDA: No. I've heard it before. But where did they used to store it? SAL: They had a big, big shed, a big barn, and they used to store the ice in big, big cakes of ice. LINDA: Now, did the ragman come around? SAL: Yeah, the junk man would come around. The ragman. Yeah. Or the horse-drawn wagon. And if you had any rags they would sell it, pick it by weight and they used a scale, used to weigh it, and they used to give you maybe 10 or 15 cents for a bag of rags or whatever kind of junk you had. LINDA: What would they do with those rags? SAL: I have no idea. I don't know. And you would have the trucks that would come around at this time of year, all full of grape, and they would go to different places, the Italians, and the men would… I actually remember my father used to either 40-, 42-pound box of grape; maybe he'll sell it for 22 about a dollar, dollar 15 cents. Now, today, it would cost about 20, 21 dollars for the same sized box of grape. LINDA: So was that a family affair making wine? Or was it the boys? SAL: Mostly the boys. Dad and I would -- of course my brother had been… then I took over. We used to grind the grape by hand. And always my father, watch the fingers, watch the fingers, as you're grinding the grapes, all those spokes. You had the fingers stuck in there; your fingers would have been caught. But it was all done by hand. Now they have machines, a bunch of machines, dump a box in there, push the button, it's all done. LINDA: Did you keep that tradition? SAL: Yeah, I was making it up about three or four years ago, and then I had bad luck on a whole barrel of wine. I had to throw it down the sink. It went bad on me, and so I said, from now on if you want wine, go up to Kathy's Package Store. But I did. I was making my own wine, but anyway. I still make my own sausages. LINDA: Oh, you do? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Is that a seasonal? SAL: Mostly, it's pork, but you eat in the wintertime. I don't like to eat pork in the summertime. But sausages, it's more seasonal. Like Thanksgiving and Christmas. LINDA: Have you made it yet? SAL: No but I just bought a new machine. I don't know, one of those KitchenAid machines, I just bought one of those a couple of weeks ago. LINDA: So explain to me how you make it. SAL: What, sausage? Well, you buy either the pork butt or the shoulder. Okay. You debone it, and then you take all the meat out and cut it into small pieces, and you put it through the grinder. Once you put it through the grinder, then you lay it out on the table, then you put your seasoning on it. Your fennel, salt, pepper, whatever you want for seasoning, okay? Then you put it through the grinder again, okay? Then you mix this all up, and 23 you can put wine in it if you want, then you got your casings. You know what casings are? All right. Then there's an attachment, you put the casing on there, you put the meat and you grind it up and go through the casings, and you make the sausage. LINDA: So do you freeze a lot? SAL: No. By the time you give some to this daughter, that to this guy, then some to my nephew, 20, 25 pounds disappears fast. LINDA: Now, did your mother used to make that? SAL: Oh, yeah. LINDA: So how are things different now? I'm sure she didn't have a grinder. SAL: They had a hand grinder, and I can always remember every time Mom and Dad got together to make sausage, boy, there was a war. You could hear them. LINDA: Why? About the seasoning? SAL: Oh, you're doing this wrong. You're going too fast. Watch your fingers. You don't do it this way, you do it that way. It was hell. Yeah. LINDA: So what about filling the casings though? That may have been a little harder back then? SAL: Well, it's… you've got to coincide with the one that's holding the casing and the one that's grinding it by hand. Now it's all done by electricity. It's powered. But that's the only tricky thing. As the machine is feeding the meat in the casing, you've got to make sure that you don't put too much all at once in the casing or it'll crack or break. LINDA: So probably every family has their own recipe. Sort of like meatballs. SAL: Well, I don't think anybody makes it. Very few people make their own sausages now. I know my sister Marilyn still makes it. I make it. That's about it. LINDA: What other things do you make that your mother used to make? SAL: Oh, green olives. Yeah. She used to -- this time of year, with green olives used to smash those and cure them. And pizza, naturally. Everybody 24 makes pizza. But some of her peasant dishes, once in a great while, but I was never too fond of them anyway. LINDA: No. So what about Christmas Eve, do you know? SAL: Christmas Eve, not like the ones years ago. Christmas Eve years ago was my uncle and my mother and father and all the Italians used to all get together, and they used to cook on the stove some kind of a fancy dish of fried dough, dumplings like. No more. We don't get that closeness of families anymore. LINDA: Why not? SAL: I don't know why. I think number one, there're cars. Everybody goes here, everybody goes there. I would say cars. Anyway, we used to get together years ago on holidays and Christmas. We still get together, but it's not the way it was on Christmas Eve. It's different. I'm sure it must be the same with your family, right? LINDA: Yeah. When my grandmother was growing up and even after she got married, all of her sisters lived close by. But then when they started having children, everyone moved on. SAL: That's right. That's the way it goes. From generation to generation is always different, which is good, in a way. But it's good to keep up traditions though, I think. LINDA: So have any of your daughters learned how to make the sausage? SAL: No. They wait for Daddy to call them up and say, okay, come and get your sausage. LINDA: Now, did your parents have chickens? SAL: Oh, God no. LINDA: No? Why do you say it like that? SAL: Because we lived in the neighborhood, and no, we didn't. But when we had that piece of land up there, my father used to raise pigs. I remember we had pigs, a couple of pigs, and he used to slaughter those. I remember that when I was a kid.25 LINDA: Now, what was that like? Was there a particular name of that day when people would slaughter their pigs? Would they call it anything? SAL: No. It was just at the end of the season, like at this time, winter was coming and people -- I can still remember that shed that he had with the water boiling and the poor pigs, shooting and killing the poor pigs. Thank God I don't have to go through all that anymore. LINDA: Did they use every piece of the pig? SAL: Oh, yeah. Even the squeal. Only the squeal is the only thing that you don't use on the pigs. LINDA: Oh yeah, I know. So was there a smokehouse in the area? Did anyone have one? SAL: No. Not that I remember. LINDA: What about buying groceries? Was that on credit? SAL: No, that was cash. Everything was cash. My folks, everything was cash. There was no plastic in those days. Even if there was, if they didn't have the money, the Italians, they didn't buy it. Everything was cash. LINDA: So what is this area of Fitchburg called? SAL: This section here? This is called Cleghorn. LINDA: This is? So this is really the French? SAL: It was the French district at one time, but now it's Puerto Rican and everything else. Fitchburg was in different sections. Like you had Cleghorn was the French. The patch was at 1st, 2nd, and 3rd Street. Okay. That was the Italians. Then you had Greektown. Naturally, that was the Greeks. They all stuck together. Then West Fitchburg was the English, then you have Southside, that was the Irish. LINDA: So when the Italians started moving in here, were your parents part of that group that started moving into Cleghorn? SAL: I don't know. When they left South Ashburnham, I don't know when it was, but then they moved on to Orchard Street. They lived here -- I guess a few of my sisters were born out here on Orchard Street. But I know I was the only one of the family that was born over here on Edward Street. 26 And then it was in '48, yeah, 1948 I guess it was that one of my sisters went back home. Of course, in those days the girls had boyfriends, and they wanted their boyfriends to pick them up at a nice house. So, one of my sisters saw this place over here that was for sale. And anyway, Dad would come over, and they finally looked at it and they bought it. The price that they paid for it, I just had the roof, and the roof cost me the same price. And they bought the whole house. LINDA: What was that about? Three thousand or something? SAL: They paid $11,000 for the house, and I just spent $11,000 for a new roof. LINDA: So they paid $11,000 for this, but your mother didn't want to pay $4,000 for the other house? SAL: Yeah. Because she had the money but she wasn't going to spend it. And she wouldn't spend $4,000 to have a brand new house up there. But a few years later she spent $11,000 and bought this house. LINDA: Oh, so this was bought after. SAL: Oh, yeah. After. LINDA: I see. So about the different sections in Fitchburg, was there any competition or rivalries or differences? SAL: No. No. Maybe this will be interesting. My father was here down on the bottom of the hill one day, and in those days, like the mafia, there was the Black Hand. And it was a society that was shaking down these immigrants, and they approached my father, and this guy from the Black Hand wanted $5 from my father, and my father told him, I got two kids at home, I haven't got no $5. The $5 I've got is a week's pay. I've got to feed my family. And he says, you have that money here tomorrow at a certain time, otherwise there's going to be harm that's going to come to you and your family. So in those days, my mother had boarders, and one of them was this fellow from Albany, New York. He was boardering in my father's and my mother's house, and so Papa came home and he told him. And he was 27 [unintelligible – 00:59:56]. So he told him what had happened, so this man said to my father, he says, yeah, you let me know where this guy is and what time you're supposed to meet him. And he says, I'll go to meet him. Anyway, he approached this guy and he never bothered my father anymore. LINDA: So who were these people? SAL: Black Hand. It's like a society that's like the mafia or something like that, but they were gangsters shaking down these fellow Italians. So this guy must've taken a knife and shoved it up to his throat and said you won't bother this man anymore. LINDA: Do you think it was a group living in Fitchburg? SAL: I think so. LINDA: You think so? SAL: Yeah. LINDA: Your parents would take in boarders? SAL: Yeah, she took in boarders for a while. Like men that she knew, like my father's -- like a cousin or something like that, they came to this county and they had no place to go, and where do you go? You go see your paisano, you go see your relative or brother until they get located or until they get situated, and they used to take care of these men. Cook for them, make their lunch. Mostly all the Italians would take in boarders. LINDA: So were there many paisanos living around? SAL: Oh, yeah. There was quite a few. Like I said, the work came to an end, and then a lot of them left. They went to Albany, New York. But yeah, my mother had one of her brothers living the next block over, and Dad had another brother that was a few blocks up the street [unintelligible - 01:01:50], and they grouped together. They stayed together. LINDA: Because even though there were a lot of Italians living here, some in different regions, they speak a different dialect. SAL: Oh, yeah. I was in Italy here about three years ago, I think there's about 150, 200 dialects in Italy. When I was growing up there used to be like 28 Beech Street over here that's a bunch of Italians not from Northern Italy, but once they start talking, I don't understand them. I really don't. /AT/pa/my/cy/es