By Alvina Damis Chimenti

The first documents regarding Albania date from the fifteenth century, I believe. According to these documents, Albanians are descendants of the ancient Thracians and Illyrians. Many years ago, our ancestors migrated from Albania to the Calabria region of what today would be considered southern Italy – the “toe” of the boot. They settled in the small town of Lungro where they mingled with and married native Italians.  

My grandfather Gennaro Damis and my grandmother, whose maiden name was Elizabeth Balzano, were married in Lungro around 1865. They had four children together: Nicholas, Mary, Raquel (Katie), and Letizia (Elizabeth). I am sorry to say that they may have had several other children who did not survive beyond infancy, but I do not know more about this.

During the process of Risorgimento, or “unification” of Italy, life had become very difficult for the people of southern Italy, and many Italians had to make the difficult decision to leave their homes in search of better opportunities for their families. Gennaro and Elizabeth, together with their children, left Lungro for New York in the spring of 1886.

The Ellis Island Emigrant Processing Center had not yet been built when my family arrived.  At that time, new immigrants arriving in New York were taken instead to Castle Garden for processing.  Castle Garden was a fort that had been built around the time of the War of 1812, and I understand it was a miserable place.  

My grandfather was asked if he had a trade (he did; he was a fine tailor), and whether he had a place to live.  Fortunately, a few friends of my grandparents who had come to America previously came to vouch for the family, so my grandparents were released immediately. Some poor immigrants who knew nobody had to stay on the island indefinitely, and sometimes they were even send back to their native lands.  My family, however, was welcomed into their friends’ home while they searched for work and a place to live.

According to my father, the family arrived in Manhattan on the day a big celebration was taking place.  There were banners flying, bands playing, and people gathered in the streets. My father told me of a man named John, who landed on the same day that he did.  He was crossing the street when a team of runaway horses came tearing down the street.  Someone shouted, “Look out, Johnny!” and pushed him out of the way.  He couldn’t understand how the man knew his name and said, “What smart people there are in America!”  I don’t think this story was true, but my father always chuckled when he told it.

My grandparents soon found an apartment on St. James Place, near Chatham Square. Gennaro got a job with an exclusive clothing establishment known as Levy & Son, which sold clothing for men and boys.  It was a high-class store and my grandfather was so proud to be paid with cash, unlike in the old country, where he would have traded for services.

Shortly after arriving in New York, my Aunt Mary came of age at 16. She married John Frega, who worked as a street cleaner for the Sanitation Department.  The men wore heavy while uniforms which they had to keep spotless and they had to keep the streets immaculate.  John earned fifteen dollars a week and considered himself well-paid.  Mary and John had sixteen children, but only five survived.  It seemed the little babies could not live beyond their second birthday.

Aunt Katie married a politician named George Capparelli. They had only one child, Georgie. Uncle George was a member of a Democratic club know as Tammany Hall. He was a clever operator who earned his living issuing citizenship papers to poor ignorant immigrants and charged them a fortune. Of course, these papers were illegal and the government eventually caught up with him. He was convicted and sentenced to a year in Sing Sing Prison in 1899.

Uncle George did not stay in prison very long, however.  While in prison, he wrote to the Governor of New York, Theodore Roosevelt, and asked for a pardon.  After a few weeks, he was released and sent home.  From that day on, George became a Republican and campaigned very hard among the Italian people getting their votes for Roosevelt, who was running for President of the United States.

Elizabeth went into the convent at the age of fifteen, joining the Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus, of which Mother Frances Cabrini was the Mother Superior.  Mother Cabrini worked tirelessly building schools, hospitals, and orphanages from New York to Chicago and Elizabeth, who had taken the name of Sister (later, Mother) Berchmans, traveled with Mother Cabrini everywhere she went.  

After an epidemic of smallpox took the lives of a number of nuns in New York, Mother Cabrini wanted a burial place just for the nuns.  She solicited money from the wealthier immigrant families of New York.  My grandfather (who was hardly a “wealthy immigrant”) donated a thousand dollars — an astronomical sum — towards this goal.  

Eventually, Mother Cabrini was able to buy a beautiful piece of property in upstate New York, overlooking the Hudson River.  It was known as West Park Cemetery and it exists today, although the property has expanded into a discernment center for women curious about taking Orders. Mother Cabrini has been canonized by the Roman Catholic Church as the Patron Saint of Immigrants.

When my father came of age at 23, he went back to Calabria to marry my mother, Mary Alessio.  The marriage was planned by the families who had known each other in Lungro.  My grandfather wanted a good match for his son, and although the Alessio family was poor, they were well regarded within the community. My mother was only sixteen but she had received a good education and was already working as a schoolteacher.

After the wedding in Lungro, Papa brought Mama to America. They traveled in steerage class aboard the brand-new SS Augusta Victoria. The newlyweds brought Mary’s six-year-old brother, Giacobbe along with them. Once they landed in New York, Giacobbe became Jacob. It was 1889.