findingphilblog

When I was about 10, I went to the Statue of Liberty. I was desperate to visit “the place where my ancestors came,” but Ellis Island was years from being renovated. So, a picture of me at the base of the Great Lady in a silly foam crown had to do.

I had no idea if it was true that my ancestors came through Ellis Island or not, but now I know that it was.

Turns out Ellis Island’s search is free. And, well, I just may have burned the two hours waiting for my county commissioners meeting digging around.

I’m pretty sure I found him. August 4, 1904. That’s when Francesco landed in America with his wife and her brother, Cesare. But I can’t figure out why Saverina’s name is recorded as Teresa Pasqualina. She’s 19. He’s 30. Wowza. I guess the guys in our family always did dig younger chicks. My mom’s seven years younger than my dad. I’m 8 years younger than my boyfriend. Grammy was eight years younger than Grandpa Phil.

Francesco? Dates totally check out. Cesare Brescia? Yup. If I go by the age of the Trust Administration document and do some math, this Cesare is the right age, right name. If these are definitely my people, it means that my father’s family is from a place called Catanzaro. I looked it up. It’s basically in the arch of the boot of Italy, a costal town with a rugged inland. It looks amazing. I already want to visit.

It just feels right. The manifest said Francesco was a tailor, which is what I remember Grammy telling me. He was headed to Pittsburgh. But to is own house. Hmm. And it seems to indicate that he was in the US from 1889 to 1904. U.S. Citizen Discharge on the Pier is stamped over both his and her names. So, were they both citizens already? If they’re coming back from Italy, did he marry her here or there? Meet her here or there?

There’s also the name of the ship. The Konigin Luise. A picture I can buy. I stare at it for a long time. I wonder. Was their passage like the people in steerage that I saw in “Titanic”? Was it worse? Better?

I call my parents and my dad gets on the phone.

“Catenzaro,” I said. “That’s where we’re from.”

My dad can’t believe it. He traveled through Italy with a friend after he got out of Vietnam. He said he must have come within miles of the place.

I ask him again about Francesco’s will. He said he never heard his father talk about getting money from his father. Of all the questions that are lingering out there, this is the one that bothers me the most. I’m a journalist. What’s the first rule of journalism? Follow the money.