Amarcord (I remember), was a 1973 Italian comedy-drama film directed by Federico Fellini.

Fruit and produce stands on Balbo Avenue, today’s De Pasquale Plaza, circa 1949

 It’s also the title of this quick chronology of remembrance through Federal Hill circa 1940.

“On Sunday morning during warm weather we would be hanging around the streets as young adults, and all we could smell was the fragrance of the “Sunday gravy” emanating from the open windows of the three tenement houses. The sounds of Antonio Pace’s Radio Italia program were the only musical entertainment playing in the background. On Fridays, the smell of fried squid and smelts from Amoriggi’s fish store permeated the air. You could buy chunky sliced snail salad and cooked sand crabs from a cart, squeeze a lemon, sprinkle some salt and feast your appetite”. Yeah; the famous Sunday gravy; the thick salt pork laced red tomato sauce simmering on the stove for 4 or more hours, where thick pieces of pork ribs, garlic-filled bracioles and house-made meatballs rested comfortably. It provided the memory of flavours and conviviality of every Italian-American household on any Sundays and major holidays. Of course, the word “gravy” was not in the Italian dictionary but was adapted by the young immigrant’s family to describe the hearty texture of the red-brownish velvet condiment. It was the initiation of a long marriage between Italian techniques and American ingredients, and that unity is still popular nowadays with dishes that developed then, still popular today and defined as American-Italian cookery.

Giovanni 1 is visibly nostalgic as he shares some of those memorable thoughts with me during a sidewalk chat one early autumn morning. He’s a fit “young timer”, and along with few other “friends young timers”, spends mornings on Federal Hill, enjoying a coffee, sharing a laughter’s and poking fun at each other.

What was it like growing up here? I asked: The Hill was very different than today replies Felice; there was more respect for people and for our culture, but most of all there was a sense of belonging for this area (one of the first Italian immigration colony in North America dating back to 1889). We just spent time on the sidewalk after school; we played “kick the can;” hide-go-seek and “wild horse jump the fence” … played pranks on each other, enjoyed a beverage from Hope’s soda and watched girls go by. The beginning of the Hill hosted a bathhouse and a comfortable house near Garibaldi’s Park, a place where citizens could go and bathe. “There was no hot water recalls Felice, the place was divided into two sections for boys and girls.

The centre of Federal Hill was actually Spruce Street which runs parallel to Atwells today. There were about a dozen bars along that strip such as Capuano’s Café’ and Herbie’ Café’, further up there were Marcello’s Bar Room, Sally’s Bar and Duffy’s. There was also a bar owned by a Polish man identified simply as “Big Polack” in relation to his notable size.

Around the corner in the Cappelli building, there was a market called Calise’s Food Store near John’s Bar with Shorty’s Market tucked in the corner of De Pasquale and Atwells. Duffy’s liquor store occupied today’s Sovereign Bank next to Leo Garofalo’s fruit stand. The four-story brick building adjacent (today Potenza Ristorante), was the home of the first pasta factory in New England called “The New England Macaroni Factory”. “They stood inline ”, John 2 says; for dry and fresh pasta, and the dry spaghetti was so long that they split them and wrapped them in thick brown paper”. Eventually became Russo’s hardware store and the initial location for Di Pippo’s, and a mattress company.

De Pasquale Avenue was named after Judge De Pasquale, strict enforcer of the law particularly adamant toward young teenagers. Sheriff Vinny Berarducci was also around, alternating the second job as an undertaker. The street was originally named Arthur Avenue, then Balboa Avenue. It ended at the corner of Kenyon School. Years later, a large home was removed and allowed the connection with Broadway. On the opposite side of the street, Balboa Avenue continued to West Exchange, crossed the railroad tracks and connected with Harris Avenue near the former vegetable markets. “You could buy grapes there in early fall and make wine for the winter or sell your own vegetables if you were a farmer,” says Mario. Few ice cream places lined up near the fountain; Mello Ice cream, Modern (which sponsored a local football team), and New Creamery. Pushcarts with fresh vegetables and fruit aligned next to each other with card board-made signs indicating prices and location.

The streets were sectioned in areas of belonging. Each group of youngsters hung around a specific corner and rarely crossed over. Equipped with slick hairdos, happy day’s attire, and little money, the young timers spent days alternating school, sports and girl watching with strong bonds of friendship and robust family ties.

Living young on Federal Hill was simple, wholesome and fun. “We played stickball with cut-up broom handles or boxed,” says Felice. We had the Providence Boxing Academy on Joslin Street and a boxing gym on 333 Atwells run by Charlie Camella. Notable boxers came out of Federal Hill such as Steve Marcello and champion Ralph Zanelli.

Felice himself had a gym and trained boxers. The second floor of today’s Bank of America hosted the Federal Bowling Alley operated by Slime and on the same side of the street, Gould’s sold furniture.

Food was, of course, the main attraction. There were several bakeries (Scialo’s (still there today), Bosi’s on Knight, and Del Sesto on Balboa Avenue. Guadagno’s bakery also started here but moved to another location. The first Roncio’s bakery was opened on Acorn Street and eventually replaced by Capasso’s. The double brick oven is still there to see in the rear of Federal Hill liquor store.

Fresh loaves of Italian crusty bread and succulent pastry perfumed the mornings and the citrusy scent of cream-filled sfogliatelle ran across your olfactory senses. Food stores were fully stocked and abundant. They provided cold cuts, olives, cheeses and tomatoes. Butcher shops such as Acorn Market (started on Acorn Street), and Joe’ Quality meat market were in every corner; fresh goats, lamb, rabbits, and chicken were slaughtered daily, hung off the ceilings and sold to the Italian mothers and grandmothers for the evening dinner or for that special religious reoccurrence. At one time there were as many as five poultry and turkey slaughter locations.

Fresh vegetables and fruits were purchased daily along with bread and eggs. “We did not have a refrigerator”, admits Giovanni 2, we kept the food in the icebox (large wooden case lined with galvanized panels). The smell and the nutritional value of fresh food was the most important rule of family table life.

Iavozzi bakery on 210 Atwells provided sublime pizza in wooden ovens. Tony Colonial was an Italian marketplace owned by a Greek man and today’s Roma’s building aligned a bakery, a shoe store and small drug store. On the second floor, there was a pool room-club named Giuseppe Verdi in tribute to the Italian composer. On weekends it turned to the second-run movie theatre. Later on, in the same location, Rocco Bagaglia hosted the Society of Veterans of Foreign Wars. On Gessler Street Pauli Mama also showed movies for the neighbourhood.

On the corner of America and Atwells, there was a fire station that provided safety, an occasional refuge for the neighbours and a hot meal for the less fortunate. Diagonally across the street, Vincent’s sold elegant dresses and accessories for children. Fancy, lace dresses, hung in the spacious windows that wrapped around the corner on Acorn Street. On the inside large countertops with thick spotless glasses lined symmetrically filled with religious ornaments for Baptism, Communion and Confirmation celebrations. Few doors down there was a bank on 295 Atwells and adjacent Almonte’s operated its vintage clothing store that offered garments, socks, shirts and fabric, along with intimate apparel. Mr Almonte himself greeted everyone at the entrance of his store in perfect elegant postures and cordiality. He actually drove until a few days before his death and parked in the same exact spot for 40 years. On the same side of the street further down Gasbarro’s liquor and wine store (113 years old), was the previous home of Columbus National Bank, not far from Paliotta’s Market and the Federal Hill House at 400 Atwells Avenue.

There were, of course, restaurants, diners and luncheonettes, certainly not as many and varied as today. The beginning of the Hill hosted Angelo Civita Farnese, probably the oldest eatery on the strip from the region of Abruzzo, along with Camille and Jack Parolisi of famed Camille’s, formerly Marconi’s in the ’20s in honour of the inventor of the wireless. The Marzilli family owned and operated The Old Canteen and Smith’s Restaurant offered good food on the corner of Lily and Atwells. The restaurant eventually moved to Manton Avenue after a fire. Capitone’s fish market was in one end of the plaza (Geppetto’s), equipped with a large basin of fresh eels swimming freely, and surrounded by three different produce stores, while Frank Basso’s Providence cheese was on the bottom of the hill (today’s Tammeny’s Hall). The address of Venda’s had been home to Woolworth’s and Ben Franklin stores and eventually housed Rite Aid pharmacy until recent times.

Carl’s Lunch offered everyday sandwiches, cheeseburgers and breakfast, while Sunny Side Diner made the best omelettes and calzones. But Federal Hill was not just food, bars, bakery, shops and butchers. It had a variety of other businesses which blended very well with the cultural and social fabric of the ward. There were attorneys, financial institutions, loan centres, doctors and dentists. One of them carried the unusual nickname of “horse dentist” because of apparently petrified children with extraction forceps. For just two dollars you could have a tooth pulled or filled. Vincent B.Mottola’ sister was one of them who had the wrong tooth removed.

But the most important features of Federal Hill were the four schools and the churches. One of the schools was on Atwells Avenue, one on Africa Street (old wooden building), one on America Street and the last one on Kenyon Street, (still there today under the name of Carl Lauro), The three churches, Saint John’s at the corner of Sutton and Atwells (demolished), Holy Ghost, and Mount Carmel on Dean Street. These educational and religious institutions represented the pillars of family life, social values and spiritual support and faith for the growing community. The Africa Street school was also the site where the older adult Italians went to learn to read, write and speak English a couple of evenings during the week, and also the place where the first-generation American born Italian kids went to learn to read, write and speak Italian so they could converse properly with their Italian born parents.

“The Hill is going through serious changes today” implores Edmondo. While we all understand the modernization changes that occur with the influx of other ethnic groups, we miss those days. It is important to understand the fabric and social values of this little ghetto (place of assembly), we call Federal Hill. Respecting the territory, the ideals and the history of this place is fundamental for the growth and the safety of all of us. The proper protection and management of a territory is a duty for all, and while we concentrate on the future we ought to never forget Amarcord…….where it all originated.

About one hundred and ninety-sixty years ago Napoleon Bonaparte did not know there was a Waterloo waiting for him. It would be a tragic sin if the same fate occurred to Federal Hill.

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