My mother’s family comes from Northern Italy, the Po River Valley, near Milan. Their village, Cardano-al-Campo, is only a 20 minute street-car ride away from Switzerland and not far from Lake Lugano and Lake Como. It is part of the Lombardy region of Italy. 1

Venanzio Morosi was the second husband of Giuditta Zocchi. Giuditta married her first husband, Pietro Morozi, on 27 Apr 1868 in Cardano al Campo. My great grandfather Venanzio may have been Pietro’s brother, I don’t know. I do know Venanzio was a barber for the military and the family consisted of two girls and a boy. Both girls had the first name of Maria, but went by their middle names, Teresa (1876) and Carolina (1886). A son, Carlo, was born between the two girls. Carolina was my grandmother. She was a loving and wonderful grandmother!

Although Carolina only had a 4th grade education, it was enough for her to become literate and sufficiently proficient in mathematics. She started work at age 13 in the textile factories. But since she knew her letters and numbers, she worked in the office instead of on the floor with the other girls. Later, when her brother moved to southern Germany to open a grocery, she crossed the Alps with him. She stayed for a year or two, to help get the business off the ground. The grocery catered to the Italian workers, the swelling waves of the great Italian Diaspora. The greatest human migration of contemporary times, the Italian Diaspora saw in excess of 25 million, motivated by poverty, leave Italy in the 100 years between the 1861 Italian Reunification and the 1960s economic Italian Miracle. 

While in Germany, Carolina developed a fondness for a German dish, which her daughter Mary, my mother, shared. Mitzh Laag is a dessert cake that is mostly whipped cream. The name means “With Cream”. Whenever someone wanted lots of whipped cream on anything, that was a family joke – you want it Mitzh Laag. This request would result in an obscene amount of whipped cream being added to your dessert!

According to family lore, another favorite meal that Carolina brought to America was Catserra. I have found the same recipe on line associated with the town of Cardano al Campo, called La Cazola:

1. Catserra or La Cazola
   

2. Sauté onion in butter and tomato
   

3. Brown cut up pork chops
   

4. Add celery, carrots & cabbage
   

5. Season with salt, pepper and a dash of nutmeg.
   

6. Add water, cover and cook one hour on stove top.
   

But perhaps the most traditional of recipes Carolina brought to America was Panettone. The Christmas bread originated in the Milan region during the time of the Roman empire. It’s a sweet bread made with candied fruits and flavored with anise, traditionally shaped in a round loaf. I still make it every year using Carolina’s recipe.

Angelo Aspesi (DOB: December 3, 1882) was the son of Regina Ferrazzi and Pietro Aspesi. Angelo and his brother Gaetano had a maternal uncle Luigi Ferrazzi who would marry Carolina’s older sister, Teresa. All five of whom would eventually leave the beautiful Po River Valley, Swiss Lakes and Alps for America.

Luigi Ferrazzi (DOB 1867) came over first, as an adventurer in the late 1880s. He worked in the silver mines of Nevada. He owned a horse and cart business in San Francisco while it was still a wild west town. After ten years, he returned to his hometown of Cardano al Campo to find himself a wife. He remained in Italy for a few years before returning to America, this time the east coast because Teresa felt San Francisco was too untamed, sparing the family from the Great San Francisco Earthquake. Luigi and Teresa’s first child, Elena, was born in Italy about 1898. 

Quarrying was an industry dating back to before the Roman Empire in northern Italy. Although many of the young men from northern Italy would have gravitated towards the quarries because of this heritage, the Aspesi’s first experience in that industry may have been in America. Originally, both the entire Ferrazzi and Aspesi immigrant families lived in Pigeon Cove, Rockport, Massachusetts and worked in the quarries.

Luigi encouraged his brother’s son, Angelo to emigrate. Angelo, at age 20, moved in with Teresa and Luigi in Rockport and worked alongside his uncle. Ultimately, Angelo took a job at the Cape Ann Toolery – the local forge. After a few years, Teresa encouraged her sister Carolina to come over, at least for a visit. Angelo proposed, but Carolina wasn’t sure she wanted to stay in America. She wanted to go home to Italy, at least for awhile to think about it, which she did.

Carolina’s and Teresa’s father Venanzio died young. Mother Giuditta remarried and I believe had more children with her new husband - perhaps twin daughters by her 2nd husband (Macchi?.) Ultimately, Carolina decided her future was in America. Angelo offered to pay for her return trip, but Carolina insisted on paying  her own way. Luigi and Angelo probably crossed the ocean in steerage originally. But Italians who returned to Italy, usually had saved enough money to have, if not first class, at least somewhat better quarters in 3rd class. Carolina arrived at New York City on April 18, 1909 onboard the Duca di Genoa sailing from Genoa. She was 22.

In addition to being book smart, Carolina was talented in sewing, knitting and crocheting. Like most of the Italian women of that era, she never sat without lapwork. She made herself a simple but lovely white dress with a some embroidery and other details for her wedding day. When she and Angelo went to the Rockport priest to be married, the priest demanded a payment considerably in excess of what was the typical donation for a wedding. When Carolina asked why so much, the priest replied, if you can afford a new dress, you can afford a higher fee. Carolina took Angelo by the hand and walked out of the rectory and down to Rockport City Hall where they were married in a civil ceremony on Sept. 14, 1909. This marriage was considered invalid by the Catholic Church. Consequently, Carolina was never a regular attendee at Mass, although, she insisted the children attend regularly.

I’ve been told many times, what a happy marriage Angelo and Carolina had. How they were the nicest, meekest, and most loving couple. They lived their entire married life in Pigeon Cove, Rockport, albeit in several different houses. They had seven children:

1. Louie “Jonesy” 10/1/1910–11/11/1997 m. Pauline Clancy
   

2. Children: 1 dtr by first wife (Geraldine)– Caroline
   

3. Venance “Skinny” 1/20/1912 - 7/1976 m. Kay Bean
   

4. Children: None
   

5. Hugo 8/23/1914-12/29/1993 m. Carolyn Casey
   

6. Children: Lee, Pamela (Burke), Mark
   

7. Peter Frank 7/30/1917 - 1/27/1986 m. Marie Wilson
   

8. Children: Diane (Young), Peter 7/28/1958 - 3/7/2008
   

9. Ann Eleanor 7/21/1919 – 12/10/1991
   

10. Children: None
    

11. Charlie (Carlo A.) 6/6/1922 - 12/18/1992 m. Virginia “Ginny” Harrison
    

12. Children: Adopted brothers Robert & Philip
    

13. Mary J. 1/18/1926 – 2/9/1975 m. Salvatore J. Favazza 4/7/1923 -11/7/1976
    

14. Children: Karen Ann & Steven Charles
    

Luigi’s & Teresa’s family grew, too.

1. Elena –born in Italy about 1898
   

2. Giuseppe “Joseph”– born in America 1901
   

3. Guillermo “William” – 1903
   

4. Carlo “Charles” – 1905
   

5. Angelo & Angelina – 1907 (twins born when Teresa was about 40)
   

However, Luigi’s itchy foot eventually led him to resettle his family in Quincy, where there were other Ferrazzi cousins including his nephew Anastasio. Anastasio was Luigi’s brother Giuseppe’s son. The immigrant generation worked in the granite quarries and through that means provided better opportunities for their children. Anastasio’s son Bill Ferrazzi earned a degree in education prior to his very short career as a pitcher for the Philadelphia Athletics in 1935.

Luigi and Teresa’s son William Ferrazzi (1903), who became the Chief of Police of Quincy, also worked in the quarries as a boy. Boys were used to communicate between the two sides of the quarry. They would be placed in buckets and sent across the open working pit on suspended wires. Today, no one would dream of endangering any child in that manner in America, but in the late 1800s and well into the 1900s it was accepted practice, as was the risk of death and injury.

Angelo and Gaetano’s  father, Pietro Aspesi, had a small inn, probably just two or three rooms he’d  rent out. But it added some cash and made their lives relatively comfortable. When Giuseppina Morosi (no relation to Carolina & Teresa) became engaged to Gaetano, her future mother-in-law, Regina Ferrazzi Aspesi, sent a pint of milk every day to Giuseppina so she would become strong and healthy and be able to bear healthy babies. At age 90 Zia Giuseppina, still oohed and ahhed over how exciting it was to receive that milk every day that was just for her. She told me it was the most delicious thing she had ever tasted!

Giuseppina sent a few dollars now and again to her family in Cardano al Campo her entire life. When she was in her late 70s or early 80s, she went back for a visit where she was treated royally. She was amazed at the lovely homes they had! Additionally, most of the family had shops on the ground floors of their homes selling linens or other regional items.

Gaetano & Giuseppina (Zio & Zia) Gaetano crossed the Atlantic first, moving in with his brother’s family. When he had saved enough, he sent for Giuseppina. She arrived at Ellis Island on 3 Feb 1921. Gaetano met her there. Gaetanto legally married Giuseppina at Ellis Island before bringing her to live with Angelo & Carolina. It was a customs requirement that no unmarried woman was allowed off Ellis Island unless met by a blood relative. The couple bought their house at 21 Curtis Street for $2,000 when Giuseppina became pregnant. They had two sons, Gino & Robert, married to Doris and Dottie. Both Gino and Robert had two sons. They and their sons and their families all lived on Curtis Street or nearby in Rockport all their lives. It’s not much more than a mile from Angelo & Carolina’s house at 216 Granite Street.

On Thursday nights, before my grandparents added the indoor bathroom, my mother would walk to Zio & Zia’s house to take a bath.

Carolina Aspesi (DOB: May 5, 1886) was the only literate Italian woman in Pigeon Cove, so she wrote and read letters for the Italian neighborhood. She was also literate in English, learning to speak, read and write English from her older children as they learned it themselves in elementary school. By the time her youngest, my mother Mary, was born, the household language was predominantly English, “We’re in America, now – we speak English!”

Many Italians returned to Italy for visits.  Some Italians, “Birds of Passage”, worked seasonally in America, returning to Italy in winters.  Both Teresa and Luigi, and Gaetano and Giuseppina visited their homeland after WWII as did many families who had spent years worrying about family left behind. Carolina and Angelo never went back after their marriage. Angelo may have wanted to, but crossing the Atlantic three times was enough for Carolina. I remember her saying she had been very sick and very frightened crossing the Atlantic. That the waves had been huge and it had stormed the entire way. I believe it was the last of those month long trips that had been the rough one.

The only time Carolina ever considered returning to Italy, was associated with a miscarriage or infant who was stillborn (possibly 1924, although I can find no official record of this child). Caroline was depressed, became homesick and wanted to move back home. But Angelo said, no, he followed the politics and thought there was going to be a war and he didn’t want his family caught up in a European war involving the Fascist Italians and the Germans. The only old world family they seemed to have kept up with was Carlo’s family. Carlo died a young man in Germany circa 1914. We believe Carolina’s mother Giuditta died around age 50. To the best of my knowledge, Carolina didn’t maintain close relationships with her half-siblings. Carlo’s only surviving child, daughter Carla emigrated to Lima, Peru with her husband, Eliseo Rusconi in 1948. Carolina and later Ann corresponded with this branch until Ann’s death in 1991. Carla and I exchanged letters when Ann died. 2

There was a nice little enclave of Italian families in Pigeon Cove, I believe mostly Northern Italians who worked in the quarry and the forge. I remember visiting Gilda Polloni, a contemporary of Carolina & Angelo, in the little yellow house across the street. In the 1960s, Gilda’s grandchildren lived with their parents next door. They were just a few of years older than me. I remember being dressed up by them for pretend parades and mock weddings on Sunday afternoons when we visited.

The Italian families would get together for picnics and kitchen dances every week in their younger years. They’d push back the furniture and either turn on the radio, or pull out their instruments and dance and laugh and eat, much like they did a decade earlier in Italy by the Lakes. All the Aspesis loved music, although none played an instrument. The radio was always on. On Sundays, there was a Boston station that played Italian operas. Caroline had been to La Scala in Milan, once and loved it. My mother grew up knowing all the Italian operas. Music from the radio was a constant, except during the war years, when it was turned to the news. My mother was ironing her dress for church Sunday morning, listening to the radio when she heard about the Japanese bombing of Pearl Harbor, December 7, 1941. I believe that at least one of her brothers was serving in the Pacific Fleet at the time. He was joined by his brothers, as well as his Pigeon Cove and Quincy cousins.

With 4 sons serving in the Pacific and family living in northern Italy, WWII was a period of constant anxiety. Grammy Carolina did what she could, sending boxes of cornflakes, dried milk, chocolate and clothing to her family in Italy. Her great-niece Anna, in her 70s as of this writing, remembers how exciting it was to get those packages during that difficult time.

216 Granite Street, the house where my mother, Mary, was born – and the last house Carolina owned, was an interesting house! It was actually only half a house. The original owner was well to do and left it to his two children who divided the ownership. Grammy had the “servants” half with the big kitchen and back staircase. The other half was owned by a family who we called the “gypsies”.  First Angelo, and then in later years, his son Peter, unsuccessfully tried to buy the other half.

The gypsies were not the best of neighbors. We always had to be quiet or they’d complain. There was a line of tall trees and shrubbery which effectively divided the yards with no passage between the two sides in front, except at the granite wall at the street. There was a tall wood fence in the back yard. They never mowed their lawn which looked like a tall field of straw. Neither did they paint or do any other upkeep. Angelo, on the other hand, kept his property immaculate. And Carolina had a green thumb. My mother used to say that if Carolina stuck a stick in the ground, the next year it would be a flowering bush.

The gypsies used to advertise the house for rent for a month or so in the summer. And inevitably, a family would show up on Grammy’s doorstep with a photo of her half of the house, which was sent the renters by the unscrupulous gypsies. Angelo & Caroline had to be quite firm that the section rented out was the other half. The house wasn’t reunited until the 1990s, after it had passed out of my family. I invited myself in twice. The first time when the first owner operated it as a B&B living in the old half and renting out the refurbished gypsy half. Carolina had lost her wedding ring while gardening. The B&B owner, Dolly, had found it, and returned it to me when I visited!

I visited 216 Granite St. again when it was under construction to unify it as a more typical one family home - they did a great job! In addition to the large family table, Carolina’s foot treadle sewing machine had been sold with the house. Both items were still there. By that time, the sewing machine was an antique. It was displayed prominently in the new great room created out of my grandparent’s living room, master bedroom, and enclosed back porch. The roses and irises along the front wall still bloom profusely every year, at least 80 years since Carolina and Angelo planted them. People used to stop to take pictures of those roses in bloom when Grammy and Grampy owned the house; they still do.

The door to the left off the foyer was to the kitchen. This was the heart of the home. The only room big enough for everyone. There was a big double stove –half for cooking, half to heat the room. I remember it was oil, but my mother remembered an earlier wood stove. Grammy would make baked beans every Saturday night and they’d stay there for Sunday breakfast. The dominant feature of the kitchen was the oak table. It was huge! It had several leaves, and was sold with the house, as it simply wouldn’t fit in any typical house. Three adults could sit across the width. It was mostly pushed right up to the radiator and front porch windows, to allow maximum space on the other side. I believe you could seat 18 people at that table. The sink was in an alcove off the kitchen, the back wall of which separated the kitchen from the back “hall” and staircase. There was a long 2nd story open back porch out side of the back hall that ran along the length of the downstairs bedroom. Grammy, in her 60s, once fell off that porch, broke her hip and hurt her back. She never fully regained her mobility. 

As a child, I was intrigued by the basement. The back cellar door was level with the back yard, hence the 2nd story porch on the first floor. And the main room could be used as a summer kitchen. It had a sink; I remember it being used as a laundry room. Grammy Carolina had an old fashioned machine with an open tub that she filled using a hose hooked up to the faucet in the sink. The washer had a ringer that she would crank to squeeze out the water. In bad weather, she’d hang the clothes in the cellar. There was also a furnace room, a coal room and a third storage room in that cellar that had once been the root cellar for vegetable storage.

The upstairs had a bathroom (which my mother Mary remembered being installed to replace the outhouse), one huge bedroom for all 5 boys, and two tiny bedrooms, one for Ann and one for Mary. When I’d visit, I’d stay in my mom’s old bedroom.

The bed was a ¾, not a double. There were just a few inches at the foot and far side of the bed. There was an eave over the head of the bed and a little high dormer to the side in that eaved wall. There was a second full window at the foot of the side of bed that looked out over the side yard. There was a little hard pink plastic doll hanging from the shade pull with a very full crocheted skirts – usually white with either a pink or blue stripe, but sometimes pink or blue with a white stripe. To one side of the bedroom door, there was just enough room for a small dresser. When I visited, Ann would sit at the dressing table to remove her makeup and put her hair in curlers, and I’d chatter away with her. Telling her my little girl secrets.  The closet was in the hallway. The bedroom doorjamb was flush against the wall where it entered into the hallway next to the dressing table. The bedroom was next to the narrow bathroom. My mother’s bedroom and bathroom might have been one room at one time, and split for the bathroom. The bathroom had a closet and a central chimney going up through the center of that room. The chimney was wallpapered on all four sides. It was cute wallpaper – seashells and seahorses. I liked it.

Judy tells me her dad Bill Ferrazzi used to go to Havana, Cuba with his FBI buddies to gamble. He was quite good at it and used his winnings to pay his wife’s medical bills. When he was the Quincy War Duty Officer during WWII, his young nurse wife contracted tuberculosis. Because all the medicines were being diverted overseas, there was no penicillin to treat her. After an extended illness and stay in the best sanatorium available, Saranoc Lakes, she died in 1945 – exactly one month before penicillin (the only really effective TB drug) was again available state-side. During this period, their only child, daughter Judy (1938), had been taken care of in her father’s house by various relatives, as well as spending time with Teresa (who herself was battling a terminal illness) and other Quincy relatives. It was always a couple of weeks here, a few weeks there. In 1943 Bill, who was in charge of 800 auxiliary police officers and headed up the Subversive Investigations “when sabotage was an everyday threat to the vast Fore River shipyard and other vital Quincy war production plants,”4  brought motherless Judy, age 5, to his Zia Carolina and Zio Angelo – for just a few weeks. At that time, their youngest, Mary, was 17 and their other daughter, Ann was 24. Judy stayed until she was 13, and her father remarried Joey.

Carolina was an excellent cook of northern Italian food, such as Risotto alla Milanese, Osso Buco, Zambaglione (zah-bah-yone). She used a lot of nutmeg, which is typical of that part of  Italy. Beef stew has a dash of nutmeg and was served over polenta. Her apple pie had nutmeg. She used rags to seal the edges of her pies to keep the crust from getting tough. She always had biscotti (biz-cott) in her cupboard.  But her pies are what I remember best. And her sneaking skinny, fussy eater me an extra piece, making the “shhh” sign, when my mother was in the other room.

As a child, with 5 older brothers, Mary played first base at baseball. However, she wasn’t particularly athletic. She never learned to swim. Once, while on a raft at the beach, she was swept out into deep water. Luckily her brothers were around and they rescued her. The boys grew up swimming in the ocean and in the fresh water filled open quarry pits.  Mary remained afraid of water her entire life. She had difficulty going deeper than her ankles. I loved the water, and terrified her with my boldness.

Mary would always know what her mother Caroline was cooking. She watched her parents swing the chickens around to break their necks before preparing them for dinner. Mary had no compunction eating the poultry. The rooster would chase her and had treed her once. But, she wouldn’t eat the rabbit. Neither would Ann, but Ann didn’t pay as much attention, so their mother would say it was chicken when it was really rabbit, so Ann would eat it.

Carolina laughed easily and often. Her whole body shook when she laughed. Her son Louie said she shook like a bowl full of jelly. Everyone loved making her laugh. She also had a great sense of humor. She had lost most of her hair when I knew her. She kept what wispy hair she had covered with a fine white hair net. When I asked what happened to her hair, she said she loaned her hair to Louie, and he lost it. Louie was bald. She had a great way with children. Of course, I was the grandchild. Caroline was ambidextrous. Her children reminisced that she could “get you coming or going with the wooden spoon.”

My mother, Mary, hated her middle name “Josephine”. For some reason, she loved the name Mary Jane. Sometimes that’s what she’d tell people her name was. That’s what she told me to tell people, if asked. When she became engaged, she wanted the invitation and announcement to either say Mary Jane or Mary J. – not Mary Josephine. The battles between mother and daughter were legendary. The wedding intentions and invitation read Mary Josephine. The topic of my mother’s middle name was always a touchy one, best avoided. She loved and respected her mother, but never gave up her anger over her middle name.  

Mother and daughter were very close and loving. They talked daily during my childhood. I remember, when Mom was talking to Grammy, the conversations were always long. They’d call each other over every little thing. I remember visiting Grammy when a blueberry pie was cooling on a chair behind the kitchen door to the bedroom. The pie was jostled and flipped onto the floor. Grammy had just washed and rinsed the floor, so she scooped it up and we ate it anyway. The following week, my mom dropped a blueberry pie on the oven door when taking it out of the oven. She, too scooped it up to serve, and called her mom to laugh over the coincidence. I remember, I was a grumpy one. I wanted a pie that hadn’t been scrambled and scraped up!

I loved spending a few days here and there down in Pigeon Cove – just Grammy and me. Ann lived with Grammy, but she worked. Pete also lived there until 1956-7, and would be around frequently thereafter. Louie was often around. I felt very loved with that group. Pete would take me everywhere with him, and later, when my brother and Diane, who were born just a three months apart, were old enough, they’d come, too, joined the following year by Pete’s son Peter. Pete liked driving around in his car. That was his summer vacation, taking the kids for outings around town – doing errands or walking the beach looking for interesting rocks. He was fantastic with kids! So patient and such a good listener.

Louie was a jokester. Grammy would put metal wash tubs in the back yard under the apple tree in the hot weather and fill them with the hose as a child’s pool. Louie would come out and ask if there was room for him, and he’d put his feet in and balance on the rim, which would have me in stitches laughing.

Grammy Carolina used to take the bus up to our house to help my mom with the ironing. This was before permanent press. Everything laundered was wrinkled. I started out ironing pillowcases and handkerchiefs. Our pillowcases were beautiful. Grammy Carolina would have my brother and me pick out an embroidery pattern during a Sunday visit, and the next Sunday, there’d be an embroidered pillowcase trimmed in crochet for each of us. We spent every Sunday afternoon in Pigeon Cove.

Carolina crocheted each of her children gorgeous bedspreads. My mother got a winter bedspread and a summer bedspread. I got one, too, that she had been crocheting for Venance’s wife. Kay didn’t realize it was being made for her, and said something about how she couldn’t see why anyone would put so much work into something that wasn’t all that attractive, when you could buy a much prettier one. Grammy finished it and put it away, and gave it to me when I was a young girl. I sent Ann’s bedspread to Judy when Ann died. Judy’s daughter owns it now. My daughter and future daughter-in-law will each receive one when they set up their own homes.

I was always fascinated in the handwork Grammy Carolina did. She taught me to knit, embroider and crochet. I wasn’t very good. But I was very enthusiastic and became better in later years. My mother Mary, was never interested in any of that. She started a few sweaters and a couple of sewing projects, and Grammy finished them. Ann, however, specialized in knitting argyle socks as a young woman. Later, Ann crocheted a few afghans. Mom, was very surprised at my determination and relative skill at these arts. We decided that gene had just skipped her.

Grammy Carolina cried when she found out she was pregnant at age 39 with her last child, my mother, Mary. She didn’t expect she’d live long enough to see this child grow up. She predicted she’d die before she turned 50. But she lived a long life. It was the child she carried, Mary, who died at age 49, seven years to the day after her mother’s death at 82.

My dad, “Sam” proposed to Mom on Christmas Eve 1947 at 216 Granite Street in front of the whole family.  Dad was Sicilian. The dialects the parents spoke were essentially different languages. The engaged couple was afraid the parents wouldn’t be able to communicate. The Milanese dropped the ending vowels on lots of words (like biscotti/biscott) and the accent sounded almost French. The Sicilians often dropped the initial sound, pronounced every ending vowel and had a Spanish lilt to their dialect. But although their children only knew the dialects, the parents had had 2 - 4 years of education in proper Italian and could speak and understand each other just fine.

The wedding was at 4PM in St. Ann’s Church in Gloucester and the reception followed at 216 Granite Street. Dad was the next to youngest of 9 and Mom the youngest of 7. With spouses, that made for 27 siblings at the reception - plus 20 or so of their children. Add to that their aunts and uncles and first cousins and their children, plus the neighbors who joined in. It was a beautiful day, thank goodness – the house couldn’t have possibly held them all! The huge kitchen table was laden with food and the party was outside.

Sixty years later, people who were there, still say it was the best wedding they ever attended. Judy remembers running to the chicken coop with the kids. What it was, was an Italian wedding in the finest tradition.

Mom and Dad’s first apartment was on Foster Street in Gloucester, across the street from Dad’s brother Peter and his wife, Margaret. Margaret gave birth to her 3rd child, Roseann, while Mom and Dad were on their honeymoon, a driving tour to Washington D.C. and Virginia. When they returned, their first question was “What did we have?” Since Peter was a fisherman, Margaret was home alone for 7 to 10 days at a time with 3 year old Geraldine, 2 year old Joey and the baby. On Sundays, when Peter was out and my parents went down to visit Caroline and Angelo, they’d bring Margaret and the kids. Both Caroline and Angelo loved children. Angelo especially loved babies. Margaret remembers how warm and welcoming they were and how she loved being in that house, too. She remembers that as soon as she came in the door, Angelo would gesture with his fingers the Italian “Gimme” sign, and say, “Let me hold the baby.” And he’d hold and entertain baby Roseann for the entire afternoon, while, I’m sure, Caroline was feeding biscotti and pie to the toddlers, and foster daughter Judy Ferrazzi.

Angelo also loved the Westerns on TV. I’m told he’d get quite excited and cheer and jump out of his chair while watching them, shouting a warning to the good guys about the ambush at the pass. My Dad told me Angelo also enjoyed keeping an eye on the thermostat. After years of carrying wood to the kitchen stove and shoveling coal into the basement furnace, he found a great deal of satisfaction in checking and adjusting the thermostat every couple of hours and then settling back in his chair with a chuckle and a smile.

When my parents bought 28 Madison Square, with its big double lot and overgrown garden. Angelo would come to Gloucester and help Dad, who was raised in the North End of Boston and knew nothing about gardening. Angelo was very patient and supportive. He had a sweet, gentle nature and patiently taught my dad, Sam, all about gardening. I remember a photo of Grampy standing nearby while Dad worked in the dirt.

Angelo treated Caroline very well and made sure his sons did the same. He insisted he or his sons wash the floors and beat the rugs. He regarded it as too heavy for a woman. He did this in addition to keeping a wonderful yard and garden. Pete was the child of his heart. Angelo died at home on March 9,1952 of pancreatic cancer. It had been a painful illness.

Ann both lived in and commuted to Boston off and on throughout the 1960s and 70s working in the banking industry. Although I can’t remember all the particulars, balancing career and family was a strain on her. As the only unmarried adult child when Carolina had her first heart attack/stroke, Ann had to make hard decisions about taking time off and whether to work on Cape Ann close to home or in Boston where there was more opportunities. She resented being put in that position simply because she was the only unmarried child. She went back and forth a few times, jumping from a job in Boston to a job on Cape Ann. They sold 216 Granite Street when Carolina had a more serious heart attack about 1966-7 (?). Grammy stayed with us for several months after that attack. My brother Steve slept in the hallway, and Grammy stayed in his room. It was fun having my grandmother in our home. Dad was taking guitar lessons at the time. Dad would go upstairs to serenade Grammy, who was always very complimentary and applauded Dad. Her favorite was a song from her childhood, Vieni Sul Mar (Come to the Sea). But Grammy didn’t want to stay and put us out; and she couldn’t go back to Rockport.

Ann and Grammy moved to Whittemore Street near our home at 28 Madison Square in 1967. Dad and Mom started looking for a new house where we could all live together. They made an offer on the carriage house attached to the stone mansion over Good Harbor Beach. Dad brought in workmen to see if it could be converted into a duplex. It could, but unfortunately, the realtor decided to buy it for himself.

In the meantime, while Ann was working in Boston, Mom would be with Grammy during the day, and I’d stay with her many days after school. My dad’s sister, Mary Orlando, would fill in whenever we needed her.

One day, Mary Orlando had to leave the house 15 minutes before I was due to arrive. She accidentally locked the downstairs door and I couldn’t get in. It was dead of winter and the roads were icy. I ran down to the landlord’s house, but he wasn’t home. His neighbor, a young mother came up with me (I was only 14), but we couldn’t get in. We went back to her house and called Pete. He came up and picked up a rock and broke the window to reach in and unlock the door. That’s a lesson I’ll never forget. Grammy was pale. Nervousness. She could hear us trying to get in and we called to her, but it was stressful. Later that year, when the roses were in bloom, I brought the young mother a huge bouquet to thank her for her kindness to me that day.

I loved the time I spent with Grammy Carolina after school in the Whittemore Street apartment. I had a deep orange dress and an orange and gray jumper, which I wore with an orange sweater; both were mini-skirts. With both outfits I wore my orange fishnets. When Grammy saw me, she would exclaim, “Ooh – your legs are on fire!”

One day I was helping Grammy Carolina from her bed to the chair. Her legs gave out and down she went. I couldn’t stop her, so I swept the pillow off her bed to the floor and she plopped down on the pillow with her back against the wall. She was fine, so I covered her legs with a blanket, gave her some water, called my uncle Pete and sat on the floor with her to visit. We laughed and had a great time. I brought in some tea and snacks for our impromptu picnic. When an anxious Pete and mom arrived, they were surprised to find us both in a merry mood, and everything just fine, aside from the fact that Grammy needed help getting back into bed.

Grammy Carolina died Feb 9, 1968 from a heart attack. She was in Addison Gilbert Hospital. I remember visiting her there the day before she died and her asking me for agua. I didn’t know what it was she wanted. Louie came to the door just then. He knew, agua is water. What a shame my generation never learned Italian! Italian was the language adults spoke when they didn’t want the children of my generation to understand.

Vignettes

The Rockport Murder

On a Halloween night during the Depression, teen-aged Ann walked home after dark past the house where a middle-aged spinster was found tied up and murdered in her bed the next morning. The mattress had been set on fire, but was only smoking. It was the great unsolved Rockport murder. It was actually the 2nd of two murders, the first being a Main Street shoemaker, in his shop during the noon lunch hour the previous summer. Earlier that Halloween night, the murdered woman had told a group of people at the minister’s house that she knew who killed the shoemaker, and that if he didn’t confess, she was going to turn him in. Most of the people there dismissed her pronouncement. The police and community had surmised that the murderer had been a hobo passing through. Now the community knew it was someone local; and Rockport was a very small town in the 1930s.

Ann was also working in Boston during the Boston Strangler era. Ann always had a deadbolt on her bedroom door. My grandmother wouldn’t let anyone mention either mystery. Of course, my uncles would mention them from time to time to tease their sister.

The Toolery in Pigeon Cove

Angelo worked at the Toolery until his retirement. Angelo worked the big hammers, as did most if not all his sons, for at least awhile. I remember driving by the “Boom-boom” with Auntie Ann when she took me for the day, to wave at Uncle Pete and Louie. Since they had been there so long, they had the best hammers, in the open doorways, by the street where there was a breeze. It was like looking into Dante’s Inferno. The men were covered in grime. They wore earplugs; they were all hard of hearing. The noise was deafening. The men fed hot metal from the furnaces into the huge piston like hammers.

Angelo had two serious accidents while working the big hammers at the Toolery. In both cases, the men simply carried him home, about a mile away, and put him in his bed for his wife to care for. No health insurance or workers’ compensation back then. In the first accident, his face was burned and injured by hot metal exploding into it. Luckily his eyes were spared. The second was far more serious.

Angelo lost the rhythm one day and had his hand crushed. He lost 3 fingers and part of his hand. Luckily, he retained his thumb and forefinger. He still had young children at home. The toolery was family owned back then. The owners compassionately gave him a job as Day Watchman, which saved the family from hard times. I believe Angelo had also worked for awhile during the Depression on the unfinished breakwater off Sandy Bay – perhaps it was just his sons, but I remember being told some Aspesis did work on that breakwater. 

Although Louie worked at the “Shoe” in Beverly for awhile, I believe he spent most of his career at the Rockport Toolery. Charlie ultimately got quite a good job as manager at a Fish Company. Hugo did well at GE in Lynn. Venance worked a government job that started in the Depression years having to do with conservation, I believe. He had some heart issues due to a childhood illness which kept him out of active service. I remember Venance as a bar-tender in Lanesville and at the Elks. Pete stayed with the Toolery until retirement; he liked the schedule. Thankfully, he had no serious accidents like his father, although he was very hard of hearing.

Pete (my Godfather)

Italian was the language spoken when adults didn’t want children to understand. I never really could pick out more than a few words here and there, only topics of conversation, rarely details. However, I got a lot through the emotional context and non-verbal cues.

I remember the day Pete came down the staircase through the kitchen and out the door without stopping to give me a hug. It was late summer or early fall 1956. I was not yet 3. There was a lot of excitement and waving of arms and chatter in Italian. I knew people were upset. At bedtime, that night or another night soon after, my mother told me that I should start calling Marie, Aunt Marie. That she and Uncle Pete were getting married. I may have only been 3, but I knew I wanted to be a flower girl. Mom said they weren’t having a wedding, but they were having a baby, and so was she. That I was going to be a sister and a cousin.

Pete had actually been married once before when quite young. They divorced. Then he fell in love with Marie. They “courted” for ten years. Marie was Pete’s date to my parent’s marriage in 1948. Pete wanted to marry Marie for years, but she, a good Irish Catholic, couldn’t bring herself to marry a divorced man. They had a happy marriage, although both died too young.

While building their house, they lived with Marie’s widowed Dad, Ralph Wilson. Ralph adored Pete. Pete was so affable and helpful. Always full of energy. Pete was the one who did anything and everything for anyone. He was the handyman. He checked in on his mother a few times each week, mowed the lawn, maintained the yard and did whatever needed doing. He did the same for his father-in-law, bringing him a plate of supper every night before sitting down with Marie and his own family. Pete was the good guy. Whether you needed a ride to the airport or help digging a ditch, Pete was there. I remember when we had a large snake on the loose in our yard, Pete came up to “help” my Dad hunt it out. I was sitting up on the swing-set, well out of the way, when Pete caught it behind the neck, picked it up, whipped it to break its neck to kill it. He held it up, it was a greenish speckled snake over 6 feet long and very thick.

Pete came back from WWII, with what would be diagnosed today as PTSD, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. He needed to keep busy. He couldn’t sit still for long. He would get jumpy and come and go abruptly. Pete was a coxswain on the USS Mount Olympus May 1944 – March 1946. The Mount Olympus carried 633 men, was an amphibious force flagship, and was heavily loaded with radio equipment. Pete was aboard her going through the Panama Canal, and at San Diego, San Francisco, Hawaii, Guam, New Guinea and Ulitithi Atoll in the Carolinas.

Pete, with Marie, Diane & Peter in tow, would stop in once or twice a week, usually while we were in the midst of supper. No one in our families ever rang a doorbell or knocked. We always just walked in. Pete’s family would pull up a few chairs, and maybe have a cup of tea while we finished eating. When I finished my meal, Diane and I would go up to my room to have little girl visits, although I was 3 years older than she. My playmates were usually quite a bit younger than me, so I became very good at entertaining them. Everyone said I should be a kindergarten teacher – especially my mother, who felt that that was the ideal job for a woman.

Steve and Peter were just a year apart. I don’t remember details about how they got along. I think Peter just played quietly by himself a lot with the xylophone or other toys at our house, staying as much away from Steve as he could manage. Peter was one of those beautiful and gentle little boys who people knew were gay (once we knew what gay was –which most of us didn’t in the 1960s and early 70s). When we visited Pete’s house, I remember Peter being much more out-going. My cousins had a playroom-porch with lots of dress-up clothes. Peter loved his Mom’s old high heels, costume jewelry and hats. He had a dazzling smile and the sparkliest eyes, I have ever seen.

Peter was ambidextrous, like our grandmother, but favored his left hand. His dad would always be telling him to use his right hand, which was the accepted wisdom then. It seemed mean to me. Poor Peter would give a big sigh and switch hands. I can’t comment much on their father-son relationship in the 1960s, I didn’t understand enough to know what I was observing. I do know there was both a great mutual love and a disconnect between them; it must have been difficult for both of them.

Unfortunately, Pete died too young. Prostate or bladder cancer, shortly after his retirement. Marie died a few years after him, also of cancer. I’m glad my children had them in their lives, at least for a few years. They still remember playing with Pete in his swimming pool. My children would have been the closest Pete & Marie had to grand-children.

Diane became a medical technician and phlebotomist. She married a divorced or widowed man with children and lived in Pete & Marie’s house on School Street for a couple of years. She never wanted children of her own. Diane relocated to the Southwest, then moved around from there. Peter studied political science at George Washington University, had some sort of internship in the Capitol, and after graduation, got a job at the University. Unfortunately, after our parents’ deaths, we totally lost touch. 3

Ann (my Godmother)

Ann had lived and worked (or went to secretarial school) in Quincy with her Zia Teresa and older cousin in her late teens or early twenties. Ann had gotten quite serious with a Sicilian boy there. But, the family had broken up the relationship, out of prejudice against the Sicilians, who were regarded as lower class by the Northern Italians. Later, Ann also had a serious beau in a successful divorced Jewish banker with children from Boston. He proposed, but that was too much for Carolina and Angelo to accept, and Ann had to choose. Again, she chose her family over her beau.

When Sam proposed to Mary at 216 Granite St. on Christmas Eve, 1947, Carolina & Angelo had no objections. At least he was Italian. They told the Quincy relatives about my Dad. We like him. He’s a good man. The family kept mum.

Ann and my mother went shopping a lot, usually with me in tow. It seemed like almost every Saturday to me. They enjoyed it; and I was often their live doll to dress up on those outings. Often Ann would take me shopping for a special holiday dress for my birthday present. One year she took me to see Fiddler on the Roof in Boston as a combination birthday Christmas present. Ann was a wonderful aunt.

Ann always dressed nicely. She told me once that when she was young she bought a cheap sweater and her father took her and the sweater back to the store. He had her get a nicer one. He told her that quality lasts, and it was better to spend a little more to buy quality. It looks better and lasts longer, if you take care of it. She always looked good. Ann and her girlfriends traveled some. She visited Italy once, and had long weekend outings.

When she was in her 70s she was carded once because the cashier didn’t think she was old enough for the Senior Citizens’ discount. She took good care of her hair, which remained thick, and her skin, which remained smooth, her entire life. Her car, and her independence, were her pride, though. She was unusual for her day. Most women didn’t drive, and fewer owned their own cars. Actually, she and Pete celebrated each other birthdays until Pete got his license. Grammy had mixed up the days.

Ann was a novelty for her time, a “career woman”. She had a head for numbers and worked in banks her entire life. But things didn’t turn out for her like they did for Katherine Hepburn in the movies. She was frequently disappointed that young men she had trained were promoted over her. To add insult to injury, she often ended up doing their jobs for them. Still, she persisted. She changed banks several times in her attempts to break that glass ceiling.

Ann was a surrogate grandmother to my children until her death on December 10, 1991 from a stroke. We spent most holidays together. She would arrive on Christmas Day with a shopping bag of presents for my children, just as she always had for my brother and me. We saw her a couple of times a week, just as I always had as a child. She often brought my children a can of mandarin oranges and a bag of Milano cookies as a treat. She drove me to the Birth Center at Beverly Hospital when I was in labor with my son in 1982. I found her and brought her, via ambulance, to the hospital when she had her stroke.

Although she was happy and easy going by nature, the difficulties and disappointments in her life darkened her personality. She felt cheated out of both a career and a family of her own. She held a grudge. She was sometimes harsh and hurtful. I remember my Mom crying over something mean Ann had said or done. Dad asked Mom, “Why do you put up with her, she always does this to you, why do you spend time with her?” I’ll never forget, my mom answered, “Because she’s my sister.” That was a lesson on family that I have never forgotten, a counterpoint to the situation between the once close and loving families of Teresa and Carolina.

Quincy Relatives

I don’t think I ever met any of my Zia Teresa’s children, besides Judy’s father. The Aspesi and Ferrazzi boys visited back and forth and kept in touch, but there was a major rift on the female side and no visiting. To complicate matters further, Judy’s step-mother kicked her out when she was a teenager in high school. This time, the displaced and understandably angry Judy spent several years with Angelina, waiting for her father to take her back home. He never did. Although partially in Italian, I still remember the intensity of those kitchen table conversations about the unfolding Quincy drama. Quincy became my Grimm’s fairy tale land, inhabited by the wicked Step-mother, the Battle-Axe and a Witch. When Judy, the only female relative who lived in both worlds, visited, those nommes-de-guerre were not used in her presence.

Judy Ferrazzi Johnson

Judy gave me a beautiful old prom dress of hers for my dress up. It was white with a shoulder to hip diagonal cascade of pink roses. Judy was very petite, and I was very disappointed when I outgrew that gown. Judy gave me plastic ballet figures, and I tried to imitate the positions for hours on end. I wanted to take ballet lessons, but never did. (It’s an interesting example of generational female relationships, Judy had piano lessons, which my mother wished she could have, so I had piano lessons. When my daughter was young, I took her to ballet lessons.) Judy taught me how to swim, or more accurately, dog paddle, at Back Beach in Rockport. It was the fear of scraping my knees on that rocky bottom that did it, for me. She also taught me to float; I had the same motivation.

Judy studied to be a nurse and a policewoman, before settling on a secretarial career. Her life seemed very glamorous to me. She gave me a nurse’s cap, as well as various pieces of jewelry. I remember seeing her in a police uniform, once. Judy moved to California in the 1960s while I was still in elementary school and worked at UCLA in administration. Judy eloped to Hawaii with Jack Johnson, an airline pilot for Continental when she was 36. Judy had been afraid to fly, prior to her marriage. I remember many phone calls and lots of angst when she had to fly back East when her dad died. Once married to a pilot, Judy overcame her fear.

Judy and Jack, whose family owned an oil well or two, relocated back to Jack’s hometown, El Paso, TX in the 1970s where they raised their only child Andrea, my unofficial godchild. I visited them with my 2 children in Jan - Feb 1985. They had a beautiful large home with a double living room and a master suite. Judy sent me large boxes of Andrea’s old clothes for Sandy. Beautiful things! When Sandy outgrew them, I passed them on to neighbors with two little girls. Judy and Jack divorced in the 1988. Judy wasn’t able to go back to work because of health or to keep the big house. Judy stayed in TX, because it was Andrea’s home. Andrea became a high school English teacher. Judy died in 2009, the youngest child of  Carolina and Angelo’s Pigeon Cove family.

Terms of Endearment

Footnotes:

1. 1.Cardano al Campo was founded approximately 2,000 years ago at the intersection of two major Roman roads. An eleventh century record of building owners in Cardano al Campo list Aspesi, Morosi and Ferrazzi families as property holders. With a current population of 12,000, these same families are counted among the most numerous.
   
   Cardano al Campo, as part of Lombardy, was conquered and ruled by the Gauls (French) and several Germanic peoples over the millennium. Charlemagne  and Napoleon were both successful invaders. Heavily damaged in WWII, Cardano al Campo was occupied by the Germans; and was a seat of an active resistance movement. While under Spanish rule and experiencing famine, Cardano al Campo was also ravaged by the 1630 Great Plague of Milan.
   
   

2. 
   

2. 2.A member of this branch, now living in Australia found this site, reconnecting the South and North American families after a twenty year gap!
      Family of Zio Carlo Morosi in Lima, Peru
   

           Carlo Morosi m. Maria Casolo Ginelli

                               |

                    Carla Morosi m. Eliseo Rusconi

                                         |

                                Anna Rusconi-Morosi m. Rafael Mesia

                                                              |

                                                        Maribel

                                                        Carolina

                                                        Miguel

                                                        Rafaelito  

1. 
   

3. 3.I searched for my cousin Peter Aspesi on the Internet and found his obituary five weeks after his death on March 7, 2008 of a type of blood cancer at age 49. I posted a local obituary and spread his ashes at Back Beach in Rockport where we played as children.
   
   

4. 4.Obituary of Chief Wm. Ferrazzi, Quincy Ledger, 9 March 1966.
   

The Aspesi Clan

Appendix:

71 Essex County Polk Directory
Aspesi Charles A (Virginia M) supvr Lipton Pet Food h61 Wheeler St (G)
Aspesi Hugo (Carolyn J) wldr Gen Elect (LYNN) h90 Western Av (G)
Aspesi Louis (Pauline) emp Cape Ann Tool h26 Taylor St (G)
Aspesi Peter F (Marie T) drop forger Cape Ann Tool hSummer St Extn (R)
Aspesi Venance (Katherine) mach opr Lipmass Marine h42 Langsford St (G)

Aspesi Kath Mrs clk John A Johnson Inc r42 Langsford St (G)

Aspesi Gaetano (Josephine) retd h21 Curtis St (R)
Aspesi Robt J (Marilyn) buyer Matt Biscuit (Cambridge) h22 Curtis St (R)

Aspesi Gino (Doris E) clk First Natl Stores (BEV) h20 Curtis St (R)

Aspesi James mech Peter Bernard Garage r20 Curtis st (R)

Written by:

Karen Ann Favazza Spencer

June 23, 2007 - April 21, 2008

Ed:  July 27, 2018

Aspesi Family

Sunday Morning

Pigeon Cove

1923