ELIZABETH STREET
ANGELINA SIENA ON HER FOURTH BIRTHDAY, SEPTEMBER 11, 1909.
ELIZABETH STREET
A NOVEL BASED ON TRUE EVENTS
LAURIE FABIANO
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Text copyright © 2006, 2010, Laurie Fabiano
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Published by AmazonEncore
P.O. Box 400818
Las Vegas, NV 89140
Produced by Melcher Media, Inc.
124 West 13th Street
New York, NY 10011
www.melcher.com
Library of Congress Control Number
2010904235
ISBN: 978-1-935597-02-5
This novel was originally published, in a slightly different form, by Fig Books, a division of Fab Tool, LLC, in 2006.
Cover design by Ben Gibson
Bottom cover photograph courtesy of Library of Congress,
Ransom notes by Siena Della Fave
Author photo by Steve Winter
FOR MY FAMILY
PAST, PRESENT, AND FUTURE
AUTHOR’S NOTE
The events described in this book are true and the dates accurate.
All the central characters are based on real people.
Giovanna Costa Pontillo Siena was my great-grandmother.
Angelina Siena Arena was my grandmother.
Most of the names of primary characters that are deceased remain the same; the names of characters based on people who are living have been changed.
Some primary characters are composites, and some details and minor characters have been fictionalized.
GLOSSARY OF ITALIAN TERMS
acqua — water
aiutami — help me
ammoratas — girlfriends (Italian-American slang)
andiamo — we go, let’s go
arrivederci — good-bye
aspetta — wait
avanti — come in
bambino — baby
basanogol — basil (Italian-American slang)
basta — enough
bella — beautiful
bene — well
biscotti — cookies
blu marinos — Navy (Italian-American slang)
boccalone — big mouth, gullible one
bocce — Italian ball game
bravo — good, congratulations
brigantaggio — thieving
briscola — card game
brutto — ugly
buon giorno — good day
cafone — crude person
Calabresi — people from Calabria
Calabria — southern region of Italy
cannolo — an Italian pastry
capisci? — do you understand?
caro — dear
castello — castle
che cosa fa? — what are you doing?
chiazza — town square
ciao — hello/good-bye
coglioni — balls
come si chiama? — what’s your name?
con — with
contadini — peasants
cos’è successo? — what happened?
cosí bella — how beautiful
cugina — cousin
culo — butt
dago — derogatory term for Italian-American
Dio mio — my God
disgraziato — miserable one, wretch
dottore — doctor
due — two
farmacia — pharmacy
festa — party
finalmente — finally
forza — go
fratello — brother
gabbadotz — stubborn (Italian-American slang)
gedrool — jerk (Italian-American slang)
glantuomini — the gentry
gombada — friend that’s like family (Italian-American slang)
grande — large
grazie — thank you
guarda — look
inglese — English
l’alta Italia — the north of Italy
La Mano Nera — The Black Hand
l’America — America
levatrice — midwife
loro brutti puzzolenti mafiosi — ugly lowlife gangsters
lupo — wolf
ma — but
macchiette — musical theater sketches
maestro — master
mafioso — thug, crook
mala femmina — bad woman
malocchio — evil eye
medza menz — half and half (Italian-American slang)
Mezzogiorno — the south of Italy
mille grazie — a million thanks
mio fratello — my brother
molto — very
mustasole — a type of hard cookie
Napolitano — person from Naples
niente — nothing
nome — name
nonno — grandfather
non parlo inglese — I don’t speak English
occhi — eyes
opera buffa — comic opera
padrone — owner/wealthy
paesani — countrymen
pasticcini — pastries
pazzo — crazy
pensione — small hotel
perché — why
per favore — please
pescatori — fishermen
pescespada — swordfish
piacere — please/pleased to meet you
Piemontese — person from the Piedmont region in northern Italy
Pokerino — card and board game
pomodoro — tomato
prego — excuse me/you’re welcome
principessa — princess
professore — professor
Puglia — region of Italy
puttana — whore
questa — this
Risorgimento — Italian revolution
schifoso — lowlife
Scillese — person from Scilla
scopa — card game
scusa — excuse me
sì — yes
signora — ma’am
signore — mister
sindaco — mayor
smettila — cut it out
sorella — sister
sporcaccioni — pigs, slobs
strega — witch
stronzo — turd, shit
terremoto — earthquake
torta — cake
tre — three
uno — one
va al diavolo — go to the devil
va bene — okay, fine
vaffanculo — go fuck yourself
vai — go
voto — vote
wop — derogatory term for Italian-American
yia-yia — grandmother (Greek)
zia — aunt
zio — uncle
zucchero — sugar
CONTENTS
PROLOGUE
PART ONE: SCILLA, CALABRIA, ITALY 1890–1901
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
PART TWO: NEW YORK, NEW YORK 1901–1902
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
PART THREE: SCILLA, ITALY, TO NEW YORK, NEW YORK 1902
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
PART FOUR: NEW YORK, NEW YORK 1903–1904
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER EL
EVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
PART FIVE: NEW YORK, NEW YORK 1905–1907
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
PART SIX: NEW YORK, NEW YORK 1908
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
PART SEVEN: SCILLA, ITALY AUGUST–DECEMBER 1908
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
PART EIGHT: NEW YORK, NEW YORK DECEMBER 29, 1908–SEPTEMBER 8, 1909
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
PART NINE: NEW YORK, NEW YORK SEPTEMBER 11, 1909–DECEMBER 8, 1909
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
PART TEN: HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY 1918
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
EPILOGUE
SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
SHAMELESS PROMOTION PAGE
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
PROLOGUE
HOBOKEN, NEW JERSEY, 1985
“We lived at 202 Elizabeth Street.” My grandmother looked away from the video camera to my head. “How come you don’t do anything about your hair? Why don’t you go to the beauty parlor?”
I ignored her. It was a refrain, not a question. “Nanny, try not to move around so much. You keep coming out of the frame.”
For the tenth time, I got up to adjust the camera. My grandmother was seated on the couch and wore a red polyester shirt. Her dyed blonde hair had been set so that two curls framed her face, which was overwhelmed by her gold-rimmed glasses. She was eighty years old and could remember details from more than half a century ago, but not what she had eaten for lunch.
“How many more questions?” complained Nanny halfheartedly.
As Nanny had gotten older, she had mellowed. She said hello to people she didn’t know well and showed her grandchildren more affection. It had taken two decades, but at twenty-eight, I was as close to my grandmother as anyone could be. Still, she was stubborn, and if I was going to get what I wanted on tape, it would take manipulation and coaxing.
“We just got started,” I said, trying to sound sweet and patient.
“I don’t know why you’re doing this anyway,” she grumbled.
“I told you. My memory isn’t as good as yours. You don’t want me screwing up the facts if I try to tell these stories to my kids someday.”
“Some things you shouldn’t tell.”
PART ONE
SCILLA, CALABRIA, ITALY 1890–1901
ONE
Giovanna Costa gripped her father’s arm as he escorted her down the aisle. Nearly everyone from the tiny southern fishing village was in the church of the pescatori, Santa Maria di Porto Salvo. People smiled at her, some whispered. Giovanna wondered what they were whispering and guessed it was nothing she hadn’t heard before. Comments like, “Finalmente, it’s about time!” and “What took them so long?”
Nunzio glowed at the base of the altar. He was tall, taller than Giovanna even, and with the sun blazing through the windows making his deep red hair a bright gold, he resembled a lit taper. Even from this distance she could feel his warmth and see beyond his eyes. His gaze lifted her up and sent them both spinning into their own little world, which was where they existed most of the time.
The village of Scilla was their pezzo di cielo caduto in terra—piece of heaven fallen to earth. They lived in the Chianalea, the oldest part of town, which housed the fishermen. Cobblestone alleys led to their stone houses, perched on the water. The crystal-clear azure sea lapped at their front doors, and their boats were docked at their doorsteps. Their backdoors and terraces led onto the narrow streets and alleys that wound up the mountain.
Scilla was situated on three levels, divided into three parts. The town jutted into the sea. At its point was the ruin of a castle that had been conquered and inhabited by countless invaders and clergy since it was built in A.D. 500. On one side of the castle was the Chianalea. On the other, the half-moon-shaped Marina Grande. There the houses were set in from the sea, and the sandy beach served to dry the fishermen’s nets. Above the Chianalea was San Giorgio, the newer part of the city, where the town square and city hall overlooked the splendor of the Calabrian coast and Sicily’s Aeolian Islands. And beyond San Giorgio were terraced lemon groves and farms that reached to the top of the mountains.
It was here that Giovanna and Nunzio grew like the vines on the village Indian fig trees, intertwined in such a way that it was impossible to know where one branch started and where the other ended. Giovanna did not know life without Nunzio. Her father and his mother were brother and sister. Their houses were two doors apart, and they were born two months apart. Although her earliest memories all had Nunzio at her side, it wasn’t until she was six years old that she realized that life did not exist without him. Nunzio was hoisting baskets of smelts onto the dock from her uncle’s fishing boat. As Nunzio turned to say hello, he slipped, sending the fish flying. Giovanna laughed. Giovanna had a throaty, hearty laugh even at that age. Instead of getting angry, Nunzio did it over and over again until Giovanna laughed so hard she had to gulp for air.
When Giovanna and Nunzio weren’t doing chores, they were in the water. They would swim out to one of the many rocks that dotted Scilla’s coastline and use it as home base to explore the sea around them. The clear water showcased a kaleidoscope of color, created by hundreds of species of fish and coral. Over the years they had developed the ability to hold their breath for long stretches and dive underwater to explore the reefs and wrecks.
Early on, Giovanna’s father and aunt had assured each other it was a childhood crush. There was a road to Scilla now; the people of Scilla were not obliged to marry cousins. With each day, though, it became more apparent that Giovanna and Nunzio were a matter of destiny, not circumstance. If someone commented, Giovanna’s father and aunt stoically repeated what their father said on the subject of marriages within the family: “It makes the blood stronger.”
Elizabeth Street Page 1