What do you think?
Rate this book
West New Rochelle N.Y.: An Italian Journey
With exacting recall and precise detail, Anthony D'Ermes paints exciting pictures of his childhood as a first generation American born to immigrants from Southern Italy. Told with humor and compassion, he portrays their hopes and dreams alongside their everyday struggles to learn a new language, new customs, and their frequent painful experiences with housing, jobs, and government regulations. The story is told from the viewpoint of the D'Ermes family, but it is easily an "everyman" story of typical immigrant families of the period. With rich detail, D'Ermes illustrates how the first generation children-American schooled and street smart-frequently helped their parents by reading and interpreting official documents, acting as translators with city and school officials, and helping them avoid immigrant scams and rip-offs. The book details the primary institutions used by the Italian community to acclimate to this new culture and society, focusing on the Catholic Church, the New Rochelle School System and the Feeney Park Boys Club and Library. Many Italian immigrants brought with them superstitious customs from the peasant countryside that can only be described as the "occult." Mr. D'Ermes describes the application of these occult practices to treat all manner of illnesses and ailments. Although quaint today, D'Ermes describes the prevalent fear of curses that others might inflict on your family and the application of chants, incantations, potions and charms that warded them off. Of course no book of this kind would be complete without a full discussion of the foods and recipes that were used in his house and in many Italian homes, including Christmas and Easter feasts when special "religious" foods were prepared. Mr. D'Ermes concludes with the values he learned in West New Rochelle and in the Boys Club that have served him well for the past 60 years as a business and corporate executive. You don't have to be Italian to thoroughly enjoy this delicious slice of New York history from the viewpoint of a boy growing up in West New Rochelle during the 30's, 40's and 50s.
254 pages, Paperback
Published October 15, 2001
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 15, 2019
A FATHER'S DAY BOOK REVIEW
West New Rochelle NY: An Italian Journey, by Anthony J. D'Ermes.
Father's day approaches as I write this review, a happy coincidence. I didn't actually plan for this book to come at this time, but when it arrived, I couldn't help but wonder if, in some unseen way, I was being given a gift and just at the right time. Cloudy memories of the past were upon me when I ordered it. I suddenly had an urge to talk to the people in my family, my father and grandparents, and the wonderful people that surrounded them -- us -- when I was a child.
They are long gone, and despite past efforts at research, Mr. D'Ermes two books only recently came to my attention. They were mentioned with great appreciation by Robert Semenza in his book, "The Last, Best of All Times". Indeed, I can hear the gentle, musical cadence of the Italians back then in the author's voice, and so many of the author's memories were echoed in the reminiscences we kids loved to hear our father and grandparents recount, even for the umpteenth time. I can still recall the joyful glint of tears in their eyes as they brought back to life for us people who had been part of their journey from the hopeless poverty of southern Italy to the relative paradise of West New Rochelle.
Yes, it was a "paradise", if that place is someplace where you are surrounded by caring parents and family; simple, colorful folk who would do anything to help out a neighbor in need even though they had little to share; and friends with whom you forged a bond that, in many cases, transcended time and great distance, and became lefelong companions, fellow travellers in the ongoing Italian journey into America.
For my father, my great grandparents, and so many others, the journey began here, in West New Rochelle. The author often waxes idyllic about those old days, and the modern reader may be tempted, be it arrogance or disbelief, to discount the Edenic flavor of such remembrances. That would be a mistake, because that is really the point, the entire reason that people like D'Ermes and Semenza have made the effort to pass these memories on to us. These really were the last, best good times. These were the last days of an America where enclaves of immigrants could build a safe haven for themselves and their children while making their way into their new home and country. It was the twilight of a day when you could play outside till well after dark and traipse hither and yon with your buddies, and no one needed to worry about you. But they did anyway. It was the end of a Season of Innocence which post-War America would never see again. For the Italians of that time, particularly the kids my father's age, it was perhaps the last and most vivid foretaste of heaven that they would ever know.
I wish I could have shared this book with my Dad. But today, as Father's day is at hand, I can't help but wonder if just maybe, he's sharing it with me, a secret gift of knowledge from father to son, passed from hand to hand across the greatest of all chasms, from a father who wishes his son to know him better. And to know that he is happy at last, because he is back where he always in his heart longed to be, in the New Rochelle of the late 30s and pre-war 40s, playing stick ball with Uncle Mike or softball with Uncle "Chico", coming home to the aroma of fresh washed laundry, and peppers and eggs on the stove, a fragrant loaf of panne Italiano on the table and grandmother Jenny's beautiful, unusual grey-blue eyes filled with relief that at last her son is come in for the day. He has found his heavenly mansion, and for my Dad, I know it's a place that looks a lot like West New Rochelle.
Thanks for the gift, Daddy. I love you, and I will always remember.
West New Rochelle NY: An Italian Journey, by Anthony J. D'Ermes.
Father's day approaches as I write this review, a happy coincidence. I didn't actually plan for this book to come at this time, but when it arrived, I couldn't help but wonder if, in some unseen way, I was being given a gift and just at the right time. Cloudy memories of the past were upon me when I ordered it. I suddenly had an urge to talk to the people in my family, my father and grandparents, and the wonderful people that surrounded them -- us -- when I was a child.
They are long gone, and despite past efforts at research, Mr. D'Ermes two books only recently came to my attention. They were mentioned with great appreciation by Robert Semenza in his book, "The Last, Best of All Times". Indeed, I can hear the gentle, musical cadence of the Italians back then in the author's voice, and so many of the author's memories were echoed in the reminiscences we kids loved to hear our father and grandparents recount, even for the umpteenth time. I can still recall the joyful glint of tears in their eyes as they brought back to life for us people who had been part of their journey from the hopeless poverty of southern Italy to the relative paradise of West New Rochelle.
Yes, it was a "paradise", if that place is someplace where you are surrounded by caring parents and family; simple, colorful folk who would do anything to help out a neighbor in need even though they had little to share; and friends with whom you forged a bond that, in many cases, transcended time and great distance, and became lefelong companions, fellow travellers in the ongoing Italian journey into America.
For my father, my great grandparents, and so many others, the journey began here, in West New Rochelle. The author often waxes idyllic about those old days, and the modern reader may be tempted, be it arrogance or disbelief, to discount the Edenic flavor of such remembrances. That would be a mistake, because that is really the point, the entire reason that people like D'Ermes and Semenza have made the effort to pass these memories on to us. These really were the last, best good times. These were the last days of an America where enclaves of immigrants could build a safe haven for themselves and their children while making their way into their new home and country. It was the twilight of a day when you could play outside till well after dark and traipse hither and yon with your buddies, and no one needed to worry about you. But they did anyway. It was the end of a Season of Innocence which post-War America would never see again. For the Italians of that time, particularly the kids my father's age, it was perhaps the last and most vivid foretaste of heaven that they would ever know.
I wish I could have shared this book with my Dad. But today, as Father's day is at hand, I can't help but wonder if just maybe, he's sharing it with me, a secret gift of knowledge from father to son, passed from hand to hand across the greatest of all chasms, from a father who wishes his son to know him better. And to know that he is happy at last, because he is back where he always in his heart longed to be, in the New Rochelle of the late 30s and pre-war 40s, playing stick ball with Uncle Mike or softball with Uncle "Chico", coming home to the aroma of fresh washed laundry, and peppers and eggs on the stove, a fragrant loaf of panne Italiano on the table and grandmother Jenny's beautiful, unusual grey-blue eyes filled with relief that at last her son is come in for the day. He has found his heavenly mansion, and for my Dad, I know it's a place that looks a lot like West New Rochelle.
Thanks for the gift, Daddy. I love you, and I will always remember.
Displaying 1 of 1 review