6. Chico and Rosaria

rancesco Tocci, in particular, was vividly remembered, possibly because of his lifestyle. Chico was--to put it politely--a lady's man. My maternal grandfather was also among the first of the second wave of immigrants. The first wave, the seven families, were those who crossed a narrow sea from one country to another. The second wave would cross an ocean and, in doing so, span two continents.

     The history of the Balkans in the fifteenth century includes a Leonardo de Tocci, a minor despot from south of Albania, who appears briefly as a side character in the war against the Turks. The book containing Don Giovanni's genealogy also includes information on a Greece-based family with the name Tocchi and connections to the Byzantine emperors and other royal families in Europe. At least one individual named Francesco, listed with the date 1335, appears on that family tree, but we could uncover no direct link between the Toccis living in Falconara and the family of the genealogy.

     There was also apparently no Tocci among the original seven families. The meager historical records of Falconara state that the first Tocci, accompanied by men named Baffa and Formosa, arrived in

1629, a year that coincides with none of the major Albanian migrations. Oral tradition, which may be less accurate, suggests the first Tocci appeared during the second year of settlement. He may have come from another Italo-Albanian village rather than directly from Albania. It is even possible that he was a Latino, if that makes any difference.

      Francesco Tocci probably cared little of his origins. His main interest in life, at least judging from the stories told about him, was women.

      My mother was frank in describing this fault of her father. In the last few years of her life, Ledda took a scrap of paper one afternoon and scribbled on it a brief Tocci genealogy. The first issue of Francesco Tocci, she identified as "girl esposito."

      Esposto is the Italian word literally meaning "exposed" and is used to refer to a "foundling child" or, less politely, esposito, a bastard, an illegitimate child. Esposito is a common name among Italians and Italo-Americans, and carries with it no particular stigma, but for those who know the language, there is the message that someone in that person's family, even if centuries ago, was born outside the bonds of wedlock.

      The family name of the girl with whom Chico had at least one night (or perhaps part of an afternoon in the bushes) of romance was Lucci. My mother apparently did not know the girl's first name. "Before marriage," my mother had written under Lucci's box on the Tocci family tree. Signorina Lucci was a housekeeper in the home of Rosaria Genovese, whom Chico was engaged to marry. My mother suggested she may have been an orphan, taken into the home by the good will of the Genovesi.

    Rosaria's parents, in the Italian custom, watched closely while Chico courted their daughter, but unfortunately must have overlooked the housekeeper. Either before having the baby, or after, Signorina Lucci left the village. It was a small village and seemingly her sin would not have been easily forgotten by those around her, although as will be seen, Signorina Lucci was hardly unique among Falconarese in having ignored the sixth commandment and becoming exposed.

     Looking at the faded pictures in aged photograph albums, it is easy to see why Signorina Lucci, mother of the esposito, liked Chico. He was an uncommonly attractive man. Most of those who knew Chico, including Ledda, his second daughter, remember him as being very tall--but one has to consider the sources. Most of the Falconarese, my relatives and others in the village today, are, well, people of short stature. To our knowledge, no descendents of the seven founding families have ever been drafted by the National, Basketball Association--or maybe even by their local junior high teams. At five feet seven inches, I was the giant of my family, as tall as my father, towering over my mother, who was five feet two. My Uncle John stood maybe five feet four inches; my Aunt Chiara below five. It would have been possible for Chico to have stood five feet six inches and still be considered, among the Falconarese, "tall."

     But of one thing there is no question, he was handsome.

     Francesco Tocci had curly hair, raven black as a young man, and a mustache which curled down past his mouth and ended beneath his chin. He waxed the mustache to keep it straight and pointed. It was the mustache that gave a harsh, almost angry look to Chico's face, yet if you looked beyond the surface, you discovered soft eyes and gentle manners.

     Like most of the men of Falconara, Chico had little fat on his body, hardened by the tempo of village life which included severe physical work and seemingly inadequate amounts of food. He had a square jaw, high cheekbones, piercing eyes almost as dark as his wavy black hair. Despite his time spent in the sun, his complexion was light. His long, straight nose was hardly Roman, considering his Albanian heritage, but it bore comparison to such noses. It is easy to imagine Chico as a young man walking confidently through the narrow streets of the village, whether en route to the fields or on some other mission for his mother. Understandably, the eyes of many mothers, as well as those of their daughters, followed his progress.

     Chico, of course, would have been oblivious of the interest his passing aroused among the women of Falconara. Even if aware, he would not reveal that awareness, since most of the male members of the village of Falconara moved in a men's world. They displayed the epitome of the terms "macho" and "cool" before those terms had become popular barometers of masculine behavior. What interested the female members of the village was of little interest to them, unless it was a female of their house, and maybe even then they were not too interested.

     The man born Francesco Tocci was known as a gentle man, a person of extraordinary politeness. It would be charitable to say that it was Chico's gentle manners that attracted the attention of Rosaria Genovese, but it would not be true. It was a simple matter of fact that the marriage between Chico and Rosaria was arranged, as were arranged all marriages in the village. It was almost unheard of for a young man, or woman, to have any say in their choice of spouse. They might hint about someone to whom they were attracted, although usually by the time that happened--a boy being attracted to a girl or vice versa--it was already too late. Quite frequently, the choice of who married whom had been made while the prospective bride and groom were still very young and a contract, or embarcada, agreed upon by the respective parents. This embarcada included the payment of a dowry, which in the simple ways of the village more often was land or animals and agricultural goods instead of money.

     That Chico had impregnated the Genovese family housekeeper, the girl named Lucci, apparently did not enter into the arrangement, or interfere with what basically was a business arrangement between two families. Men were placed upon this earth to impregnate women. Women were placed upon this earth to become pregnant. If one had any question concerning the correctness of this doctrine, he could ask the village priest. Those of decent upbringing, of course, were expected to avoid impregnation until after the nuptial ceremony. Then they were expected to produce many children, preferably boys. For either of the two families to break the engagement would have been a greater infamia than Chico getting the maid pregnant. Thus, plans went forward for the marriage.

     Who knows what Rosaria thought of this misdeed of her husband-to- be? Nobody would have considered asking her. Yet those who remembered Rosaria, including her great grandson John Molinaro, would state that she had a tough disposition. Rosaria also was strong-willed, though she had a weakness for children. Born February 2, 1865, Rosaria was beautiful, short, with dark hair that her daughters and granddaughters would inherit. Everyone recalled Rosaria's rosy, red cheeks. John Molinaro says of her: "She was a hard working, extremely tolerant, well-liked, fast-moving woman--intelligent, but uneducated. A guiding force in the family, she kept everything under control."

     And so the marriage between Francesco Tocci and Rosaria Genovese occurred. The date was August 9, 1884. He was twenty-eight, she nineteen. Among the cultural practices still retained by the Albanians living in Italy was the traditional wedding ceremony. Francesco Tocci certainly married Rosaria Genovese in this manner.

     They sent no wedding announcements. The fathers of both bride and groom went from house to house in the village to personally invite family and friends to attend the ceremony and the dinner and party planned afterwards. Great care was exercised in preparing a list of those to be notified, even though everyone in the small village would have known far in advance of the planned wedding. But to not be properly invited was a grave insult, an error in omission that might not be forgiven for generations.

     Several weeks before the ceremony, both bride and groom would go to the municipio to execute the paperwork and satisfy the civil authorities that a proper union was to be consummated. Several days before the ceremony, the bride's mother would journey to where the parents of the groom lived, where most certainly the couple would also live. She would pay her respects, probably bringing an offering of good will, some food, or a bottle of wine. My mother drilled into me what surely must be the eleventh great commandment, at least among those of Italo-Albanian descent: you never go to another person's house empty-handed! The visit of the bride's mother, however, was partly to seal the family commitment. It would be the bride's duty, once married, to care for her husband's mother, to assist her in cooking, in cleaning the house, in any other work that was the lot of the women of Falconara. It was a burden from which she would not be entirely relieved until her male children married and brought brides to assist her. Even then, she would see after her mother-in-law's health until the old woman died and she became the matriarchal figure in the family. In this manner, the families took care of their own. Nursing homes are foreign to the culture of Falconara. This is true throughout Italy, where family is paramount.

     But the primary purpose of the bride's mother's visit would be to prepare the nuptial bed. This is the Albanian equivalent of the American bridal shower. Accompanying the bride's mother as she approached the family home of the groom would come relatives and friends of both families, all women, with baskets filled with linens, food, and other items that might be part of the final dowry payment. They balanced these baskets delicately and precisely atop their heads. Up and down the twisting streets of Falconara they would walk in single file, silently, rarely smiling, only occasionally having to steady their head-top baskets with an upper hand. The women of Falconara had been carrying heavy burdens--laundry, food, goods, buckets of water--on their heads since they were small girls and what to outsiders seemed an incredible balancing act came easy to them.

     Moving to the room where the couple would begin their married life, the bride's mother would begin preparing the nuptial bed with the best sheets and pillowcases, beautifully stitched quilts which either had been sewn for the occasion or handed down from the family treasury. Atop the nuptial bed, the women now scattered almond candies, traditional and delicious sweets that on the day of ceremony would also be wrapped in

small bags and presented to wedding guests. These almond candies have remained part of the wedding traditions of the Falconarese who moved to the United States. When Hal and I were married, we had almond candies at our wedding. They are delicious. In Falconara, however, the women also scattered on the bed money, confetti and other gifts for the young couple.

     The bride would be preparing her wedding dress, a traditional costume unlike the flowing white bridal gowns worn in America. The Albanian blouse is called a gipuna; the skirt, a cesa. These wedding garments are very ornate and typically Balkan in their style. My mother brought her wedding vest with her from the old country, although she never wore it. Her gipuna was royal blue with ornate gold threads as decoration in flowing curlicues across the front. When ethnic clothes became popular some years ago, I altered this blouse into a vest, removing the sleeves so it would fit my longer arms. I wore the gipuna to a Christmas party and, years later, one of our friends still remembered how I looked in that vest coupled with black bolero pants.

     My mother, however, did not retain her original skirt, the cesa. On one of Uncle John's visits back to Falconara, he obtained a similar multi-colored cesa, which now is in the possession of my sister Marion. In addition to skirt and blouse, the Albanian wedding costume included a black bun-holder for the hair, almost a cap, which fitted on the back of her head. Marion also retains that item from our mother's wedding.

     On the morning of the wedding, Rosaria Genovese's father escorted Rosaria to church. Her mother, meanwhile, stayed home continuing to

labor over the meal to be presented later that day. Standing in front of church, awaiting his bride, was Francesco Tocci. There were three churches available for the wedding in 1884. The one atop the rock, castellluccio, was barely a chapel and difficult to reach. The buonconsiglio church still was standing at that time, not yet shattered by the earthquake of 1906. The largest of the three was San Michele with a wide piazza in front of it and an overview of the valley down to the sea.

     For no logical reason, I like to think of my grandparents being married in this last church. Before entering the church, and before two witnesses, Chico and Rosaria proclaimed their intent to marry. They then proceeded inside, standing before the altar during Mass. Friends and relatives crowded into the church, which had only a few pews on which the older members of the family sat. Most stood at the side or in the rear of church, crossing themselves at appropriate points during the ceremony. Others, many of the men, remained outside the church, talking, waiting on the balcony above the piazza for the ceremony to be completed. It would have been, in August, a pleasant place for the men to wait, the sun warm but not hot at Falconara's high altitude, the prospect of a good meal awaiting them, once the priest got finished with his foolishness.

     Inside, between Chico and Rosaria and the altar, was a table atop which was a bible, the wedding rings, two containers of white flowers, two cakes, a bottle of wine, and a glass brought by relatives and later blessed by the priest. At that time in Falconara, the village priest was Francesco Riggio. There probably were several priests in the village at this time, although most likely Riggio performed the ceremony. The

records of the village name him as Falconara's priest between 1877 and 1895. Before him was Francesco Manes, who served forty-four years. After him would come Bernardino Lupi, a man known as Zota Nuni, Falconara's priest for fifty-six more years. (Zota is the Arberesh word that means priest; Nuni was Bernardino's nickname.) In the nearly four centuries between 1591 and 1952, for which there are records, only ten men served as head priest in Falconara. Then change would accelerate. In the three decades following the death of Zota Nuni, there would be eleven more priests, culminating with Papas Antonio Bellusci who served through the seventies. None of these priests were named either Tocci or Musacchio.

     After blessing the rings, which the young couple placed on each others' fingers, the priest held the white flowers over the couples' heads and intoned the customary good wish, "You can always live, always be glad." He then cut the cake and soaked it in wine before offering it to bride and groom to eat. Moving to a corner of the church, Chico and Rosaria then broke the glasses from which they had just drunk. This signified that no one else could drink from the same glasses, a pledge of their fidelity toward each other. Had they failed to break the glasses, it would have been considered a sign of bad luck to come.

     Chico and Rosaria then returned to the table, dancing around it. With the church wedding ceremony completed, they walked to the municipio, signing the register attesting to their civil juncture. The couple visited the house of the groom, properly honoring his parents, then the house of the bride, properly honoring hers. At the latter house the celebration began, music supplied by accordion and bagpipe players. Among the dances they played was the tarantella, an Italian tradition borrowed by the Falconarese.

     John Molinaro described for us the construction of the bagpipe, known as a zmbonia: "The bagpipes were made of goat skin. They would slaughter a baby goat and slit the skin up the neck, cutting off the neck. Sheepherders cured the skin with grease and fat, so it became very pliable. Then they would reverse the skin. The flutes that fitted into the skin were made out of canes. It took a hell of a man to blow one of those skins. The old timers who played the bagpipes, their faces got red. Once they filled the skin with their air, they would release it by pressure from the left arm, providing a continuous harmony." The old timers still play the bagpipes in Falconara today as we would discover during one of our visits.

     Sitting down at the wedding table, Chico threw his plate in the air to signify his joy at being married. As was the custom, everyone ignored this action on the part of the groom.

     After the special dinner Rosaria received a basket in which had been placed grain, corn, bread, and salt, the main foods the couple would need for survival, symbolizing good luck. The celebration continued well into the evening, the wine flowing readily.

     Toward the end of the evening, people began to leave and the bride and groom headed for their bedroom in the home of the groom. "When a couple married," claimed John Molinaro, "honeymoons were nonexistent." The bride and groom spent one night together in some privacy--then it was back to work on the small, terraced plots of ground carved from the sides of hills on which, by dint of labor twelve to fourteen hours a day during the summer, they raised the food that permitted them and their families to survive through one more year.

Chapter 7 >

Falconara: A Family Odyssey

Higdon's Home Page