The Cradle Was Green

By William Franza

The scene is a street of New York City tenement buildings around 1900. The immigrant Bernardi family has crossed the Atlantic from Italy to live in a slum. They are appalled at the conditions they face. They have been lured to streets of gold and unlimited opportunity, but now begins their battle in an alien culture. Through misery, tragedy, struggle, and unyielding hope, the Bernardis inch their way upward with grit, determination, and love.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jan 20, 2015
• ISBN: 9781503531758

William Franza

This is William Franza's first and only book.

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Copyright © 2015 by William Franza.

Edited by August Franza

ISBN:      Softcover      978-1-5035-3176-5

                eBook           978-1-5035-3175-8

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Rev. date: 01/20/2015

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NOTE

My father wrote this memory book from 1960 to 1965. Born in Italy, he was raised in Greenwich Village, New York City. He was self-taught. With my mother, Polly, he raised his family in Brooklyn. He worked on the docks at Pier 68 New York City until retirement. He died in 1972; my mother, in 1986. I have edited his book lightly, trying not to interfere with its tragic, sad, and often delightful tone and feeling.

Grim Death had taken away the only native born Edward who was at this time two years old. Too weak to survive the demands made on the Bernardis by the paltry and austere existence and the consequent lack of proper medical attention, Edward was sacrificed on the altar of ‘Life’. Despite all the problems that beset the family in this new country, Amalia bore Edward with fortitude though fearfully apprehensive of the added responsibility this entailed. Poverty could not destroy that inviolate thing, ‘love’, despite the privation and suffering. He was to them like the wild flower that grows in the desert under the most trying conditions or the violet that seeded itself on a dangerous and ledged crevasse of a mountain side. The unseemly happened though it did bring joy even though short-lived. Edward was the symbolic product that bridged the old world and the new, and it was this pride that they were deprived of that made the loss more grievously hard to sustain.

Amid the sadness and the tears that were shed, the wailing cries and the staccato expressed sentiments and prayers that could be heard above the din of the city street, the undertaker arrived. The sordid procedure was almost enough to destroy one’s soul. After expressing his condolences as best he could, he set forth with the grim business at hand. After a little observation he realized he did not have the size casket to make comfortable the dead body of the child. With humiliation he asked that he be given whatever raiment that was available or the wish of the parents to dress the child, who was finally placed on the sheet- draped kitchen table for lack of other accommodations. Its head gently rested on a soft pillow, the body was covered so that a portion of the pretty dress was visible above the sheet, making him presentably decorous as possible. This sight wrenched the very hearts of the bereaved. There was no appeasement or surcease from the pain that was suffered. And there the dead child lay for what seemed an eternity till the undertaker returned the next day with the casket and the fine drapes to cover and hide the objectionable features such as stove, sink and dish closet. The drapes also covered the entrance of the tenement house, where a bouquet of flowers summoned to all to come and shed their tears for the departed and express their condolences on this unhappy event.

Embalming was not considered religious and in order to keep the body till burial time, a box of ice was placed under the casket for the purpose. Never will be forgotten the drip, drip, drip of the ice melting into the pan that had to be emptied every so often. The sound of the drip of water from the melting ice during the night vigil became augmented and pounded the brain with a tempo that seemed to increase as the sobs diminished from their exhaustion. The display of compassion and charity by the neighbors by bringing in to the bereaved a little coffee or broth to sustain them was a classic example of humanity at its best and it gave the Bernardis strength to carry on.

Every so often Amalia comforted by her Raffaele would approach the body of her dear son caressing it as she was wont to do when he was alive hoping to retain in her touch the feeling of his soft, smooth skin while exclaiming in resignation with a tear drenched face, Mio caro figlio e morto. How can I live without you? And then turning to her Raffaele asking, Where is this place, Brooklyn where the cemetery is? How can we get there to visit his grave? Raffaele who tried to contain his composure could not help breaking down at these soulful and heartrending words.

The undertaker was also an immigrant and tried to make it as easy as possible for them to defray the expenses in these trying times. Very often he would have to write off the cost as a bad debt. He would never deny any one the right to a proper burial under any circumstances for his life was just a little removed from the time he found himself in the same fix.

There was no money to pay for this service and the undertaker knew it. He accepted as little as 50 cents a week till the obligation was squared off.

Two neighbors, recognizing the state of shock the Bernardis found themselves in, rushed out and procured sufficient black cotton cloth and hastily cut and put together, the best way they knew how by hand sewing, mourning shrouds for Amalia and her daughter Marie to wear, not forgetting to make arm bands and ties for the men folks from the remaining portions of material. Thus a weight was removed from the already overburdened state of mind that was unable to recoup its thinking in terms of what was customary for appearance sake. The black cloth augmented the torment, the pall of which overhung the household like a black cloud adding depth of grief and misery of heart-gnawing sorrow.

The mourning customs of the Italian community required that families abide by the use of black garments for at least three years after which the discontinuation depended on the conscience and state of mind of the individuals. Very often the period was lengthened as the sorrow was revived and recalled. It called for extreme soul searching and any change was to be substituted gradually with apparel of slightly less somberness if not to offend the memory of the dead. For a period of at least a month Amalia and her daughter would not think of setting foot outside the home; and in order the austerity of mourning be not disturbed, they depended on neighbors to do their shopping, which they did with religious willingness.

From their meager funds five cents was found occasionally to have a candle prayerfully lit to the Blessed Virgin in the neighborhood church in memory of the deceased and no doubt many a week’s payment was skipped. It was considered a holy thing to give one as fine a burial as possible regardless of the financial risk involved to the undertaker.

It took years to take the sharp edge of this sadness from the Bernardis’ lives. Even in the children’s adult years past events were recounted. Healed wounds were reopened and tears once again streaked their faces. This for some reason occurred on a Sunday after dinner, making all feel the sense of compassion and thankfulness for their existence no matter how humble.

After the burial they returned to the squalor of their flat; a disquieting silence prevailed. The absence of the dear one created a vast vacuum although it was still a family of many members, each with his or her own thoughts. It was indeed in this silence that the thought arose whether having abandoned Italy with all its problems and uncertainties was a wise decision; and then to be faced ironically with problems of the same or even greater magnitude in a strange land. Amalia held her opinion with sentimental reservation. Inwardly, she felt she could have adjusted to a lower standard in Italy and not lose face for she had a greater understanding through daily contact with the tenant farmers and their problems. Of course, this was wishful thinking on her part for on further examination of her thoughts she realized the gap could not be bridged that easily. On the other hand, Raffaele, being a realist, was definite and wanted once and for all to unshackle himself from a rigid existence, the thought of which was draining his life’s blood, drop by drop, not knowing at what moment the avalanche would engulf them with fatal consequences. While they at times tried to assume the problem was not there, the dwindling resources was a constant reminder. One reverse after another was not only felt by them but uncannily sensed by those who vindictively wished it out of jealousy, and would have gloried at their downfall. Even, as one reads what is disclosed in the following pages, it is somewhat difficult to fully understand the need for their drastic action to leave their home. To have pride and prestige are wonderful assets one might say. However, Raffaele was willing to gamble all he held dear in the land of his birth for an unknown land, the United States of America. It was only after many years, and they were ‘grist for the mill’ in this country, that the vision and foresight bore fruit, not with grandeur nor riches, but with a future for his children in a nation of promising development.

*

The lemon and the orange trees abounded in the countryside, perfuming the air, and reaching to the top of the mountain, the olive groves waved in the wind. At times this was taken as a warning of a summer’s storm approach. Fruitful were the vineyards which garlanded the slope, and in the background, like green powder puffs stood the chestnut and the pine.

From the ramparts the Romans left for future generations to ponder upon, the city of Sarno could be seen nestling in the valley, situated on the river of the same name winding its course peacefully toward the Bay of Naples.

Sarno was now an industrial center, and the chimneys of the paper and textile mills dotted the summer sky. In the early morn you could see men and women from far and near making their way to the mill’s entrances to earn a pittance.

The farms that dotted the land were another means of procuring a subsistence. Most of these farms were cultivated by sharecroppers and only the tenant or non-tenant landowner reaped whatever benefits were derived, allowing very little to trickle down to those who made his life as Signore possible.

Episcopia was a hillside residential section of Sarno where those of means had their villas to enjoy the salubrious effects of its atmosphere, attributable to its high and dry location. The Episcopians were not backward in making their position as Signori known to the Sarnesi, whether they were of the lower or higher category. Class distinction of a pronounced character was the order of the day. This was also manifest in the youth world activities, and very often feuds would break out between them in the form of verbal or physical combat.

It was in this setting of lordlike respectability, the sprawling home surrounded with rich verdure of flowers and fruit trees, that Signore Raffaele Bernardi and his wife Amalia raised a family of five children. Alfredo, 12 years of age, Maria 10, Alessandro 8, Enrico 6, and Guglielmo 1.

Raffaele, with jet black hair, soldierly in appearance, having served as an officer in the Italian cavalry for five years, made many references to this with pride, and in his talkative moments made known his regrets for not having made the Army his career. While he inherited his estate of vineyards, olive groves and wooded land, he also held a position of tax collector (Procuratore) for the city as he was very adept in the accounting field. Possessed of the gift of a beautiful handwriting that was indeed engraving, made him envied. His greyish blue eyes and Roman nose to enhance his countenance made him very attractive. His manners, distinctly gentlemanly, added to his fine appearance. If there was a petition or document to be drawn, who could better embellish it than Signore Raffaele Bernardi.

Amalia, devoted to her family, with a kind of submissive respect, held her husband in high esteem. She idolized him as her prince charming. She had the unusual characteristic of being as sanctimonious as a nun, but on the other hand, when aroused, devilishly spilled her venom in curse words that were classical indeed. Her jet black wavy hair crowned a face with eyes that were often referred to as being magnetic. Her charitable heart often spilled over and she was only too eager to help those in need, or cry with them in their moments of misfortune. Her voice, while soft and tender in song, was convincingly compelling in disciplining her children. Her Boccaccian humor was heightened when colored with mimicry.

Many a summer night, the starry sky was guest to Amalia singing an old romanza accompanied by her Raffaele on the guitar. And many were the compliments paid them by their neighbors the next morning.

Their happiness was marred only by the brawls their son Alfred would get himself into with other boys, and his refusal to accept schooling gracefully, due to the fact that his grandfather had inculcated in him a love of the rustic life. Alfredo went hunting, using a small rifle given to him by his grandfather, and quite proficiently, for a child. The wild tales his grandfather told him as they walked towards the hunting grounds made Alfred tough and hardy and rebellious toward the normal discipline that most children respond to. One of the tales was about the bandits that would occasionally let it be known to the Bernardis, in a very respectful manner, that they would request the use of the Bernardi’s cantina for the night, preparatory to the business at hand, which was ransom. The Bernardis would consent, having found that it was better to accept them as guests, serving them their best wine, cheese and salami, rather than depend on the wholly inadequate gendarmerie to correct these impositions. The profession these bandits had adopted, while not exactly respectful, was a way in which they provided themselves with the necessities of life for themselves and their families and friends, in a country where the means of even a meager livelihood was restricted indeed. After being rested and refreshed, they would resume their business. They would leave, with hat in hand, bowing and scraping and thanking their hosts for their gentlemanly hospitality, and promising that if at any time the Bernardis needed their service, they would be only too glad to reciprocate. You may imagine the fear the household was thrown in when this occurred. The women folks would lock themselves in their room, praying on their knees to their God that no harm would come to them or their menfolk. And sighs of relief mingled with their thanks to the Almighty for the safe release from this temporary occupation of their home by men who lived dangerously against the law.

Grandpa would relate the story that he had a horse called Cicco who was trained to alertness and aroused to fearful speed when he heard the word ‘Briganti’.

Maria, raised in a family of four boys, became a tomboy. She climbed trees to help herself to choice ripened fruit and fought her associates with the manners that would have been more in keeping with boys. She possessed a temper that commanded their respect, and she had more in common with the boys than with her girlfriends whom she found a little too coquettish and not as exciting, since she enjoyed boys’ games, and also met them in combat when it occurred that they overstepped their bounds, and quite successfully pinned their ears back.

Of course she was subjected to the fears, superstitions and prejudices of the women folk, who conveyed it in the stories they told each other. This was a form of entertainment for them.

They were expressively told, with all the drama they could command, and were very exciting to Maria. No matter how often the stories were repeated, she would listen with renewed interest as though they were first told. She would be conscious also of a grandparent’s love and attention that she relished. And when at times she found herself in trouble for some unruly act, she would find protection from severe punishment at their home. Such as the time when, fooling around the big casks of wine in the cantina, she accidently opened the spigot and a whole barrel of wine inundated the cantina. She ran frightened and found protection from this tragedy at the grandparents, and was saved from the penalty that was usually meted out for such a bad deed.

The saving grace of their words and excuses was very effective, and while she knew that what had happened was of no minor consequence, she suffered the whiplashes of the tongue which her mother and father were very effective in giving. Their words were like rapier slashes to her.

Alessandro was a stubborn, hard to convince young boy, who also found himself in trouble with his parents. As a child, very cranky and somewhat sickly, he found it difficult to fall in with the ways of somewhat domineering brother and older boyfriend, and did not fully cooperate in their games, usually finding himself displeasing others by his defiant attitude, spoiling their games, so to speak. He would join them at the start of a game, but would tire of it and leave them, thus ruining their fun. Alfred did not take this pleasantly, and very often would take matters in his own hands and physically punish him. Alfred would have to answer for this, later, at home.

Enrico was too small to participate, and was at the time at his mother’s apron strings.

Guglielmo was just a baby, and even though born in Italy, was not old enough to have any recollections, like the others, of this period.

The Bernardi family, while enjoying a good measure of happiness and satisfaction, were keenly aware of the misery of the less fortunate who worked on the land for mere subsistence. They pruned woodland trees, the vineyards and the olive groves, charcoaling the cuttings and keeping the land cultivated. Sheltered in crude stone huts with thatched roofs that were not at times completely rain proof, all they had in the way of comfort were straw beds and some broken down furniture. They were allowed a small portion of that which they produced, but barely enough to keep body and soul together. A little flour or corn meal, a few discarded portions of the sow or steer that was slaughtered, a little olive oil and salt and pepper, were given them. Sugar, considered a luxury, would be given them in small quantities as an act of mercy, but only around principal religious holidays. The only adornments in their huts were a crucifix and a crude statue of the Madonna. And despite their stark poverty and privations, they ate with gratitude and on Sunday went to church with dignity.

While it was not possible to provide fully for these people, Amalia was deeply pained at their condition and was as generous as possible to the less fortunate. The farmer’s wife, who carried a burden of wood cuttings twice her size balanced on her head, walked down the mountainside, her legs lacerated and bleeding from brushing up against undergrowth. She would be met by Amalia offering her a cool glass of wine to appease her thirst on a hot day. No end of blessings and gratitude for this little act of mercy was bestowed on her.

Amalia was very often brought to tears at the lot of these poor people and their obviously hard existence. She would be admiring her garden, and inhaling the perfume of the many flowers in it, when her attention would be stirred by the call of a shrill voice coming from a mountain path that skirted the garden. It was Marietta who, even though burdened by her gigantic bale of wood, had the pleasantness to greet Amalia and inquire with great respect as to her health and that of her family. Amalia could not help but notice the sweated and heated brow, and when the cordial exchanges were over, some nice big ripe fruit and the glass of cool wine was ever ready to lighten her burden. Marietta would proceed with her chores, a little stronger after the pleasant encounter, uttering no end of blessings for the act.

On festive occasions, Amalia, with her radiant personality, reigned. Among the guests at one time was a young priest from Naples, named Giovanni. His saintly appearance was attributable to the many privations he seriously accepted as part of his religious life. Mindful of his austere existence, the Bernardi family considered it an act of benevolence to have him present. Guitars and mandolins, spicy foods and wine abounded. Peasants were also assembled in the courtyard to lend a colorful aspect to the party. With castanets, tambourines and their dances, ‘tarantellas’, and gleeful voices, the party’s tempo stepped up.

Amalia, though swollen with