09/09/2023
STORIE MIGRANTI
Nicola Perrone, (uncle Nick) nacque a Ginosa il 7 settembre 1913. Suo padre si chiamava Francesco, detto Ciccio Perrone. Sua madre, anche lei di Ginosa, si chiamava Maria Mele. Nick era il secondo di tre figli. La più grande, Rosa, detta Sisina, era nata nel 1911. Poi c'era Adelina, la piccola di casa, venuta al mondo nel 1915, proprio nei mesi di guerra, quasi fosse un dono di speranza.
La coppia visse bene, anche se con sacrificio, gli anni di matrimonio, Ma poi Maria si ammalò e morì di un brutto male. Erano gli anni del primo dopoguerra, l'Italia faceva la fame e nel meridione si soffriva ancora di più. Francesco non sapeva come ti**re su da solo i tre bambini piccoli. Il fratello di sua moglie, Pasqualino Mele, con i suoi anziani genitori, era emigrato negli Stati Uniti, come altri milioni di Italiani. L'America era il sogno di tutti per un futuro migliore. Anche Francesco si decise a fare il grande passo.
I suoi figli sarebbero cresciuti con i nonni. E lui avrebbe lavorato per tutti. Ormai l'unica cosa che contasse per lui erano i figli.
La famiglia Perrone, Francesco, Rosa di 10 anni, Nick di otto e Adelina di cinque, partirono da Napoli nel dicembre del 1921. Salirono sulla nave Taormina, come attestano i documenti dell'anagrafe dell'immigrazione italiana in America, che si puó ritrovare negli archivi di Ellis Island: www.ellisisland.org.
Nick aveva ancora i calzoni corti. Ricacciò le lacrime salate in gola e seguì suo padre sulla scala di imbarco. Aveva paura e forse non capiva neanche cosa significasse realmente attraversare il mare. Sulla nave c'era vento, la gente vomitava, qualcuno piangeva o pregava. In agguato era l'incubo del mal di mare e dello scorbuto. Immagino che Adelina fosse sempre attaccata alla mano del padre e Rosa cercava di fare la donna per quello che poteva e per i pochi anni che aveva.
Arrivarono a Ellis Island, il centro di smistamento dei migranti sull'isola di Manhattan, nel gennaio del 1922, la data è sempre nei documenti della fondazione per l'immigrazione.
Furono considerati idonei ad entrare negli Stati Uniti e presero il treno per Buffalo, dove li aspettavano lo zio Pasqualino e i nonni.
Ma dov'era Buffalo, alla fine del mondo?
Mi risulta che viaggiassero da soli, ma forse era andato a prenderli da New York Manhattan, proprio zio Pasqualino. Mi pare che Rosa, me lo abbia raccontato una volta.
Era inverno e faceva freddo a Buffalo. C'era tanta neve; e Nick non l'aveva mai vista, la neve.
I nonni erano molto affettuosi, Ma presto i tre ragazzi dovettero separarsi dal papà, che lavorava lontano, faceva il giardiniere a Yokers e tornava a Buffalo dopo mesi, quando andava bene veniva dopo tre settimane. Ed era una piccola festa.
I ragazzi dovettero diventare grandi sentendo la sua mancanza.
Appena arrivato a Buffalo, Nick fu mandato a scuola. Lo misero in prima elementare, Ma si accorsero subito che era un ragazzo molto dotato, intelligente, riflessivo e pacato, che non parlava mai a sproposito. Lo spostarono in terza classe. Appena entrato in aula, Nick cacciò un urlo e scappò fuori a gambe levate. Non era colpa sua, la maestra gli sorrideva. Ma lui, bambino italiano di 9 anni, non aveva mai visto una maestra nera e quel donnone dai denti bianchissimi, lo spaventava a morte.
Poi si fece coraggio e rientrò, sedendosi nei banchi.
In quegli anni Buffalo era grande e accogliente, ma anche spietata. Nick imparó la dura legge della strada: non gli piaceva fare a botte, ma se voleva sopravvivere doveva difendersi. Gli immigrati irlandesi erano appena un po' meno poveri degli italiani e se la prendevano con loro per qualsiasi cosa.
Molti italiani vendevano i gelati col carrettino e gli irlandesi, come mi raccontavano i vecchi immigrati, mettevano lo sterco di cavallo nella macchinetta dei gelati.
Nick imparò a battersi bene, a schivare i colpi. Ma non era quasi mai lui ad iniziare, rispondeva solo alle provocazioni.
A scuola andava bene. Era diventato un giovanotto promettente e fece anche due anni di college. Poi la famiglia gli chiese di lavorare.
Arrivò il proibizionismo Nick conosceva tutti i boss di Buffalo, ma a lui non importava. Studiava, lavoravo onestamente e tirava dritto.
Nessuno gli dava noia. La famiglia Perrone aveva trovato un nuovo focolare nella chiesa, forse in una delle tante parrocchie Italiane dove i padri scalabriniani aiutavano chiunque avesse bisogno. Il Signore li aveva protetti fin dal viaggio sulla nave e non li avrebbe mai più abbandonati. Nick ne era profondamente convinto, lo vedeva nei fatti. Non era bigotto, la sua fede era intima e forte, come chi affronta una vita dura.
Quando l'America entrò nel secondo conflitto mondiale, Nick fu arruolato. Fece lo sbarco in Normandia. Toccò la spiaggia insanguinata di Omaha beach, ma non parlò mai di quando la morte lo aveva guardato negli occhi.
Ricordava un po' di italiano, i nonni non avevano mai imparato bene l'inglese.
Lui sperava di essere destinato in Sicilia con il generale Patton, ma fu spedito in Belgio. Lì avrebbe trovato, l'unico suo grande amore, una ragazza di cui con me non fece mai il nome, come fa un vero gentiluomo.
Per me zio Nick, cugino di mia nonna, che si chiamava Rosa, come sua sorella maggiore, ha sempre rappresentato l'America che più ho amato: forte, semplice e schietta. Solida.
Nel 1957, Nick e sua sorella Rosa vennero in Italia, per il matrimonio di zia Maria, la sorella più piccola di mia nonna.
Al treno li andò a prendere mio zio, che si chiamava proprio come Nick, Nicolino Perrone. Non si conoscevano. Mio zio disse solo:«You, Nicola Perrone?»
«Yes!» - " rispose l'altro emozionato.
«Pure io, abbracciamoci!».
Quando andai in America, nel 1977, fui operato alle gambe e mi insegnarono a camminare, zio Nick e zia Rosa furono molto vicini a me e alla mia famiglia. Vennero da Buffalo a New York e mi prestarono anche mille dollari per pagare il dottore, mentre mio padre era in Italia a lavorare e mia madre non sapeva come fare.
Ho sempre voluto bene a zio Nick, fu lui ad insegnarmi le prime parole in inglese che non ho mai più dimenticato.
Quando è morto, zia Rose è venuta in Italia. Aveva una scatola per me. «È un regalo, disse estraendo con cura un bellissimo orologio a corda, era un Omega del 1944 - per Nick era un pegno d'amore, glielo aveva regalato l'unica donna che abbia veramente amato. Dopo la guerra le fece l'atto di richiamo. Ma lei non volle ve**re dal Belgio. Lui non si è mai più risposato. Portava sempre quell'orologio al polso.
Credo, disse zia Rose, che Nick avrebbe voluto che lo tenessi tu».
Ora quell'orologio è nel mio cassetto, pegno di un grande affetto.
Questo era zio Nick.
Nicola Perrone, (uncle Nick) was born in Ginosa on 7 September 1913. His father was called Francesco, known as Ciccio Perrone. His mother, also from Ginosa, was called Maria Mele. Nick was the second of three children. The eldest, Rosa, known as Sisina, was born in 1911. Then there was Adelina, the little one of the house, who came into the world in 1915, right in the months of war, as if it were a gift of hope.
The couple lived their years of marriage well, albeit with sacrifice. But then Maria fell ill and died of a terrible illness. These were the post-war years, Italy was starving and in the south people were suffering even more. Francesco didn't know how to raise his three small children on his own. His wife's brother, Pasqualino Mele, with his elderly parents, had emigrated to the United States, like millions of other Italians. America was everyone's dream for a better future. Francesco also decided to take the big step.
His children would grow up with their grandparents. And he would work for everyone. Now the only thing that mattered to him were his children.
The Perrone family, Francesco, 10-year-old Rosa, eight-year-old Nick and five-year-old Adelina, left Naples in December 1921. They boarded the ship Taormina, as attested by the documents from the registry of Italian immigration to America, which can be found in the Ellis Island archives: www.ellisisland.org.
Nick was still wearing shorts. He fought back the salty tears from his throat and followed his father up the boarding ladder. He was afraid and perhaps he didn't even understand what crossing the sea really meant. It was windy on the ship, people were vomiting, some were crying or praying. Lurking was the nightmare of seasickness and scurvy. I imagine that Adelina was always attached to her father's hand and Rosa tried to be a woman for what she could and for the few years she had.
They arrived at Ellis Island, the migrant processing center on the island of Manhattan, in January 1922, the date is always in the immigration foundation documents.
They were deemed eligible to enter the United States and took the train to Buffalo, where their uncle Pasqualino and grandparents were waiting for them.
But where was Buffalo, at the end of the world?
I understand that they were traveling alone, but perhaps Uncle Pasqualino himself had gone to pick them up from New York Manhattan. I think Rosa told me this once.
It was winter and cold in Buffalo. There was a lot of snow; and Nick had never seen snow.
The grandparents were very affectionate, but soon the three boys had to separate from their father, who worked far away, was a gardener in Yorkers and returned to Buffalo after months, when things went well he came after three weeks. And it was a small party.
The boys had to grow up missing him.
As soon as he arrived in Buffalo, Nick was sent to school. They put him in first grade, but they immediately realized that he was a very gifted, intelligent, thoughtful and calm boy, who never spoke out of turn. They moved him to third class. As soon as he entered the classroom, Nick let out a scream and ran out as fast as he could. It wasn't his fault, the teacher smiled at him. But he, a 9-year-old Italian boy, had never seen a black teacher and that big woman with very white teeth scared him to death.
Then he gathered courage and went back in, sitting down on the benches.
In those years Buffalo was big and welcoming, but also ruthless. Nick learned the harsh law of the street: he didn't like getting into fights, but if he wanted to survive he had to defend himself. The Irish immigrants were just a little less poor than the Italians and they picked on them for everything.
Many Italians sold ice cream from a cart and the Irish, as old immigrants told me, put horse dung in the ice cream machine.
Nick learned to fight well, to dodge blows. But he was almost never the one to initiate it, he only responded to provocations.
He did well at school. He had become a promising young man and even went to two years of college. Then the family asked him to work.
Prohibition came Nick knew all the bosses in Buffalo, but he didn't care. He studied, I worked honestly and he went straight.
Nobody bothered him. The Perrone family had found a new hearth in the church, perhaps in one of the many Italian parishes where the Scalabrinian fathers helped anyone in need. The Lord had protected them since their journey on the ship and would never abandon them again. Nick was deeply convinced of this, he saw it in the facts. He was not bigoted, his faith was intimate and strong, like someone facing a hard life.
When America entered World War II, Nick was drafted. He landed in Normandy. He touched the bloody shore of Omaha beach, but he never spoke of the time death had looked him in the eyes.
He remembered some Italian, his grandparents had never learned English well.
He hoped to be sent to Sicily with General Patton, but was sent to Belgium. There he would find his one great love, a girl whose name he never mentioned to me, as a true gentleman does.
For me, Uncle Nick, my grandmother's cousin, who was called Rosa, like his older sister, has always represented the America that I loved most: strong, simple and sincere. Solid.
In 1957, Nick and his sister Rosa came to Italy, for the wedding of Aunt Maria, my grandmother's youngest sister.
My uncle, who was called just like Nick, Nicolino Perrone, went to pick up the train there. They didn't know each other. My uncle only said: «You, Nicola Perrone?»
«Yes!» - " replied the other excitedly.
«Me too, let's hug!».
When I went to America in 1977, I had leg surgery and was taught to walk, Uncle Nick and Aunt Rosa were very close to me and my family. They came from Buffalo to New York and even lent me a thousand dollars to pay for the doctor, while my father was in Italy working and my mother didn't know what to do.
I have always loved Uncle Nick, he was the one who taught me my first words in English which I have never forgotten.
When he died, Aunt Rose came to Italy. He had a box for me. «It's a gift, he said, carefully taking out a beautiful string watch, it was an Omega from 1944 - for Nick it was a token of love, it was given to him by the only woman he ever truly loved. After the war he issued a recall deed for her. But she didn't want to come from Belgium. He never remarried. He always wore that watch on his wrist.
I think, said Aunt Rose, that Nick would have wanted you to keep him.'
Now that watch is in my drawer, a token of great affection.
This was Uncle Nick.
American PassageThe History of Ellis Island Ellis Island may not appear large on a map, but it is an unparalleled destination in United States history. After welcoming more than 12 million immigrants to our shores, Ellis Island is now a poetic symbol of the American Dream. Explore the History
