ACCE
The Magazine with an Italian Accent
Table of Contents
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Issue 20. Fall 2010
From the Editor
5   To Write or Not to Write
by Licia Canton
6 Despatches
Special Feature
8   Italian Canadian "Enemy Aliens"
Coming to Terms with Canada's Wartime Legacy
by Pasquale L. lacobacci Feature
14 Forgotten Jews of Southern Italy
by Giancario La Giorgia
18 La Traversata
Italian Immigrant Accounts of Ocean Crossings by Michele Campanini
26 The Quadriga
War Booty in Venice's Piazza San Marco
by Liana Mellon
Nonfiction
22 Confession
by Sigal Samuel
Capturing an Italian Moment
30 Window Shopping
by Robert Norton
Cover photo The IklV . \Jifi~ hi I'cttiutma. painting
in (.i.imp.H ili i Sassano.
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Issue 20, Fall 2010
Publisher - Domenic Cusmano Editor-in-Chief - Licia Canton
Associate Editors - Michael Mirolla. Carolyne Van Der Meer
Creative Director - Corrado Cusmano Editorial Intern - Melanie Tutino
Contributing Writers
Liana Bellon. Michele Campanini, Licia Canton, Pasquale L. lacobacci, Giancarlo La Giorgia, Robert Norton, Sigal Samuel
Advertising Sales
Domenic Cusmano (514) 329-3254 (101) or dcusmano@accenti.ca
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Editorial Office and Correspondence
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Feature
La Traversata
Italian Immigrant Accounts of Ocean Crossings
by Michele Campanini
Much has been written on the topic of Italian emigration to America in the 19"' and 20,h centuries. But despite the vast amount of research on the topic, the ocean crossing itself, perhaps the biggest single event in the immigrant experience, is also one of the least studied.
And though it permanently marked their lives, once they arrived in the New World, immigrants, for their part, seemed to have left the memories of the journey onboard the ship.
During my many trips to Canada, I met many Italian immigrants who left Italy in the 1950s and 1960s. They
were all happy to tell me about their presenl lives, the beautiful houses they had bought, and the brilliant careers of their children. But nobody seemed to want to discuss the ocean crossing - the days they spent inside that "immense steel vessel," as author Pascal D'Angelo called it.
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It was for this reason that I always thing about Canada, except for what pictured the crossing experience to he had heard in his tiny village, lost in be an ordeal - one that every immi- Sicily's inland mountains: "In Canada grant wanted to remove from his or ci stavano tante bellegherle e i money" her mind. It appears, however, that I (In Canada, there were many beautiful was wrong, and for this I have to girls and money). Warily, for he had thank Antonio, a Sicilian immigrant, been widowed many years, he told me Antonio let me about love affairs that had taken place understand that the on the journey across the waters. Con-picture I had formed trary to my expectations, he seemed to - nourished by the remember every detail from that cruise books I had read on - dates, sounds, scents, the topic and my After that particular journey to own bias - was mis- Canada with Antonio, I realized that leading. I met Anto- it was worth trying to investigate nio on a flight from other stories like his - to reconstruct Rome to Toronto; the crossings, the daily life on board, he was sitting next and the immigrants' memories and to me. He seemed feelings - the kinds of stories which quite old, perhaps had never really been heard, in his eighties, but I set out to interview elderly Ital-still strong. Dark ian-Canadians, mostly around the eyes, olive skin, big Greater Toronto Area, about their hands. He was born crossings into the country. It usually in Sicily and immi- took some time to gain the individu-grated to Canada in als' trust and get them to remember, the 1950s when he But as they began to feel comfortable, was a young man. they inevitably began to recount their Antonio didn't memories. The stories were unex-seem comfortable pected and at times astonishing, on the plane, nor was I. I had some At the same time I started looking trouble, as the plane ran into an air for more stories through other pri-pocket. He saw that I was nervous, mary sources such as diaries, letters, looked at me and smiled. He spoke and autobiographies. I did so both in to me in Italian: "Lucky you, travel- Italy, thanks to institutions like the ling by plane! The first time I came to Paolo Cresci Foundation in Lucca, Canada, I had to board an old rusty and in Canada, through institutions ship in Naples. These air pockets are like Canada's Immigration Museum at nothing compared to the rough Pier 21 in Halifax, water! We went through building-size I also searched through literature waves!" Prompted by the air turbu- that was based on real events and lence, Antonio began to tell me the memories. I discovered how helpful story of his ocean crossing. cinema could be for my research by Through his recollections, I began watching movies like Nuovomondo to understand what that voyage repre- by Emanuele Crialese and La sented for him and the hundreds of Leggenda del Pianista sull'Oceano by other Italians with whom he was trav- Giuseppe Tornatore. I also viewed elling. I understood that in those days, The immigrant by Charlie Chaplin sailing through the middle of nowhere, and Titanic by James Cameron, made him feel like he was almost These diverse research materials hanging in time, balanced between a were the key that allowed me to hastily abandoned past and a suddenly enter the immigrant's world, precarious future. He didn't know any- Through first-person accounts, I was
introduced to immigrants from the late 19th century. Francesco Sartori of Veneto, for example, wrote a letter in 1877 to his relatives, reporting that he and the ship's other passengers lived compressed as in a beehive (as quoted by Emilio Franzina). Rosa Cavallieri, from Lombardia, who crossed the ocean in 1884, wrote in her autobiography about the pitiful accommodations: "All us poor people had to go down through a hole to the bottom of the ship. And in that time the third class on the boat was not like now. The girls and women and men had to sleep all together in the same room. The men and girls even had to sleep in the same bed with only those little half-boards in between to keep us from rolling together. But I was lucky. I had two girls sleeping next to me."
Through Cavallieri I learned about terrible storms when "the sky grew black and the ocean came over the deck." I could imagine the hundreds of passengers trapped in the dark steerage like rats in a hole, without air and light. I spoke to many immigrants who recounted getting sick because of the storms and fearing that the ship would sink, and praying to God.
But when the sea was calm, the crossing could be an enjoyable experience. In fact, once the passengers had done the few daily chores required by life on board a ship, there was a lot of free time. The immigrants used to spend those leisurely hours playing cards, throwing dices, or just looking at the ocean from the upper deck, gazing down at the fish. One of the most common pastimes was to play music and dance.
Remembers Rosa Cavallieri: "One man had a concertina, and the ones who knew how to dance were dancing to entertain the others. Me, I was the best one. There was no one there to scold me and tell me what to do, so I danced with all my paesani who knew how. I even danced with some of the Polish and the French. We were like floating in a cloud in the
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middle of nowhere, and when I was dancing I forgot for a little while that I was the wife of Santino going to him in America."
The most common activity for men, both bachelors and married, seemed to be looking at women. When there was some good-looking girl on board, many tried to get her attention. In the words of Rosa Cavallieri: "We were in the middle on nowhere," far away from relatives, mothers-in-law and husbands-by-proxy. That was the point. Being away from the mainland made people feel free even if, in fact, they were not.
When it came to onboard love affairs, what happened during the crossings mostly remained locked in the immigrants' memories for years, maybe even for a lifetime. There was an unspoken agreement: once on land, everyone went his or her own way without looking back - New World, new beginning.
Osvaldo Zappa, who emigrated to Canada in 1956, writes in his autobiography, Giovanni's Journey, about the attraction he felt towards Anna, an Italian woman crossing the ocean to join her fiance: "I liked Anna more and more; I think she felt the same about me. We sought each other's company. When I thought about her going to get married to some other fellow in Ontario, it started to bother me somewhat. She seemed to be sincerely attracted to me. Very often we remained very late at the bar, sipping drinks and chatting. Occasionally, we would step outside on the wintry deck holding hands."
As the port of Halifax drew near, Zappa knew that his time with Anna was running out. He writes, "Anna would be on the train with me at least as far as Sudbury, the end of her journey. 'She will vanish as if she had never existed,' I thought."
An Italian immigrant from Molise who wanted to remain anonymous told me a story about a girl from his village who, in the 1950s, arrived in
Canada engaged to an Italian-Canadian man. She supposedly had left Italy a virgin. She arrived in Halifax, her fiance and family there to welcome her. On her wedding night, however, her husband discovered that she was not a virgin! She was roughed up and sent back to Italy on the first available ship, dishonoured for the rest of her life. It seems something had happened during the crossing...
Conditions on ships between the
The ocean crossing also represented for many immigrants the opportunity for freedom: sailing on the calm sea, allowed them to sing, dance, share dreams and desires, make new friends, start over, and sometimes, even find new loves.
end of the 19th century and fifty years later improved a lot for the third-class passengers. In his diary, Tommaso Bor-donaro describes life on the ship in 1947. He was especially enthusiastic about the food that was served onboard, in terms of both quality and quantity. There was pasta, various kinds of meat, coffee, butter (which in Italy, he says was extremely rare), sugar, honey, and fruit. In the Italy of the times, this variety of food could
only be had by the rich: "II caffe ed il latte si usava come si usava l'acqua in Italia quando si era in campagna. E questa vita per tutto il viaggio" (We drank coffee and milk the way people drink water in the Italian countryside. This was true for the entire journey.) Bordonaro reports that many passengers had brought their own food for the crossing: cheese, biscuits, almonds, liquor, lemons, and oranges. When they finally got around to opening the food bags, the food had rotted.
Many unpleasant aspects of life onboard, such as fears of the ocean and storms at sea, were common among travellers in both centuries, as was the recurring theme of the sorrow for what was being left behind and the uncertainties for the future. But the enjoyable side of the journey, however short lived, cannot be understated.
Indeed, by the 1960s the price of intercontinental flights became affordable, and the unique world of the immigrant ships began to disappear. Hundreds of ships fell into disuse or were turned into cruise liners. By the 1970s, Italian immigration had ebbed considerably. Emigration as a mass event all but ceased, or was turned into a solitary process. In a flight that lasts a few hours, there is no time to socialize with other immigrants, to make friends, to share feelings, fears, and regrets.
The ocean crossing was not just an ordeal, as is commonly thought, but also represented for many immigrants the opportunity for freedom: sailing on the calm sea, allowed them to sing, dance, share dreams and desires, make new friends, start over, and sometimes, even find new loves. *
Michele Campanini teaches at the University of Siena. His most recent bookie Traversata: Racconto e rapp-resentazione del viaggio di emi-grazione oltreoceano: Storie, memo-rie, voci, was published in 2010.
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