Tag Archives: andrea doria

My Dad and America!


The story of how my family came to the USA is a bit convoluted – but which immigration saga isn’t? The twists and turns of how things turned out are what makes these stories so fascinating. The crazy, and sometimes funny adventures that occurred during the actual immigration, are truly gems in my eyes. They are treasures that I want to remember forever and to pass on to my children. So here goes my story:

It all started out with my paternal grandfather and his brother. These two young boys from the early 1900’s had dreams of coming to America! My uncle came first (around 1905) and somehow found his way to San Francisco. The story goes that he made the voyage in a crate, but who knows how much of that is really true! Perhaps he was a stowaway? Again, who knows! All we know is that he settled in San Francisco and ended up owning a very prosperous restaurant. This SF uncle would eventually become our connection to the USA. My grandfather, on the other hand, came a bit later to enlist in World War I as an American! He probably saw that as his ticket to residency. Here’s a picture of my grandfather in his uniform.



Even though my grandfather enlisted in World War I in 1917, he never saw battle. At the end of the war, he went back to Italy and got married to my grandmother. It’s not clear if they were already sweethearts or not but that’s why, perhaps, he went back. They married in 1920 and had their first child, my aunt, in 1922. In July of 1926, my dad came along. When my dad was 4 months old, my grandfather decided to bring his family to the USA. They sailed from Genova aboard the Conte Rosso – my grandmother, my grandfather, my aunt and my dad. Here they are posing for their portrait!


They settled in Milford, NH. My grandfather ran a granite yard there. They stayed for 4 years, during which time my uncle was born (automatically making him an American citizen – this will become important later in the story!). My grandmother tried to endure life in America for her husband’s sake, but she really didn’t like it here. To please her, my grandfather decided to return to Italy with his family in tow. Here they are on their return to Italy (this time there are 3 children):


They settled in Ispra where my dad stayed until he immigrated in 1955. According to records I discovered on Ancestry, my grandfather returned one more time to the USA in 1930. No one knows why and I guess we never will. I don’t know how long he stayed, but he was back before my aunt was born in 1933! My grandfather died at the young age of 51 from meningitis, leaving behind his family during the height of World War II. Because he died during the War, during a time when everyone was concentrating on the pure act of survival, many of his stories died along with him. Even my dad, who was 15 at the time of his father’s death, didn’t know much of his father’s life. I’ve found, that sadly, the old folks didn’t talk much about their lives and the younger generation didn’t feel it was important to ask. Nowadays, these stories would be so precious to have and to be able to pass down to future generations.

When my dad’s younger brother (the one born in America) turned 18, he was asked to come back to the USA to serve his military duty. I think he did his military duty  up in Alaska, but unfortunately, I’m not really sure of the details. I believe this was during the Korean War. After his military stint, he decided to try his luck in San Francisco (remember, they had an uncle there who owned a restaurant). My dad’s brother met his future wife and settled in SF, never returning to Italy.

Now back to Italy and my dad! My dad was a successful soccer player but he was getting older, and knowing that he couldn’t play soccer forever, he was searching for a change in his life. Italy was still depressed and trying to recover from the devastations of war. There wasn’t much in the way of jobs, and things were not looking too prosperous. He was already engaged to my mom and asked her, if he were to go to America, would she follow? Being young and in love, my mom told him that she would follow him wherever he went! He presented her with an engagement ring and told her he would go to America to scope things out. He promised he’d come back to marry her. And if things were good, he’d bring her back with him to the USA. My mom made a promise to the Virgin Mary that if he truly came back for her, she would give her ring to the Madonna! But she also gave him a one year ultimatum – she wouldn’t wait longer than one year! Back then, men came to America and never went back! My dad decided that he wanted to go to San Francisco, since he had a brother and an uncle already there. My dad left Genoa aboard the Andrea Doria in March of 1955.  My mom, my father’s aunt, and two of his best friends went to see him off. One of his friends was so upset to see him go, that he ran after the ship as far as he could go.


Upon boarding the ship, my dad felt great! He said the ship was so much fun – he played cards and ate and drank to his heart’s content. As soon as it exited the Straits of Gibralter, though, things took a turn for the worse. My dad ended up getting so sea sick that he wasn’t able to get out of his bunk for the entire 2 weeks of voyage to New York. During this time, he wrote letters to my mom telling her that he wished he could die.

Upon setting foot on shore in New York, he immediately felt better – and hungry! I’m sure he ate something right away, but he also shared a fellow passengers’ yummy Italian treats! I’m not sure how long he spent in New York, but he needed to take a cross-country train to Oakland/San Francisco. He was under the impression that the train he boarded in New York would take him all the way – whoops! No one told him that he would have to change trains in Chicago. When the train stopped in Chicago, he had to scramble to find out where he needed to go for his connection. Not speaking English, he was definitely quite confused. Luckily for him, a member of the Armed Services came to his aid and directed him to where he needed to go. He made the connection and continued his journey to Oakland/San Francisco, where he was united with his brother.

Upon arriving, he lived in a small basement apartment in the same building as his brother. He wrote at least three letters a week to my mom telling her how much he missed her and loved her. They would occasionally make dates for a phone call, a complicated and, often times, frustrating experience. There were very few telephones in their little home town in Italy, and whenever my mom knew that my dad would try to call her because he had made a date with her in his letters, she had to find herself at that location. The place that she chose was the new “supermarket” in town. The owners of this market were probably just as excited as she was whenever she went over to receive the call from America! They quickly became close to this young woman who’s boyfriend was so far away. The calls themselves were difficult because most of the time the connection was so poor that all they could really say to each other was how much they loved and missed each other. When my mom sees the communication nowadays, and sees how I chat to my cousins in Italy via Skype, Face Time, etc. she just shakes her head and says how nice it would have been if she would have been able to have that during those years that her and my dad were apart.

My father went to work as a dishwasher in his uncle’s restaurant and slowly learned the workings of the restaurant business. My dad went from the pampered life of an athlete to being a dishwasher! He never complained and took the blisters and sores as a badge of honor. He realized that the USA presented a lot of opportunities, and so he decided that he liked it and would bring his future wife here. Vowing never to set foot on a ship again, he saved fervently for a flight back home. Air travel was super expensive in those days and he had to work and save for months in order to afford the trip. But after only 3 months of being here, he sent word that he was coming home to marry his sweetheart. Plans were made and a wedding was planned for the day after Christmas 1955.

RIP Andrea Doria


July 25th will mark the 54th anniversary of the sinking of the Andrea Doria off the coast of Nantucket.  This luxury cruise liner was the most beautiful ship of it’s time with magnificent paintings in its dining rooms and expansive deck promenades.  It was Italy’s pride and joy, and a way for Italy to begin the process of rebuilding its tarnished reputation after WWII.  The ship was engineered with all the most advanced systems available, including a radar system.  But this radar system did little to help them during the evening of July 25th while it was advancing towards its destination of New York City after an 8 day voyage across the Atlantic from Genoa and found itself in dense fog.  The ship was carrying over 1100 passengers and 500 crew members when it collided with the Swedish passenger ship, the MS Stockholm, around 11 pm.  Both ships had noticed each other on their radar systems, but due to pilot error on both sides, they misinterpreted the radar readings and ended up colliding into each other.  The MS Stockholm, a ship constructed with a bow prepared to tackle ice in the North Seas, rammed into the starboard side of the Andrea Doria and sliced open the ocean liner like a can opener.  Those passengers that were unfortunate enough to have their cabins at the point of impact were killed instantly, while others died when the sea water began flooding the lower decks.  49 poor souls lost their lives that infamous night.  Fortunately, the majority of the passengers were saved due to the quick thinking of the crew and the response by other ships in the area.  The Andrea Doria took 11 hours before it disappeared into the sea.  Gone forever was this luxury hotel on the sea, and the lives of the passengers and crew were changed forever.

The story of the Andrea Doria is one close to my heart because this is the ship my father sailed when he came to the United States in 1955.  Fortunately, he was not on that infamous voyage but instead sailed one year prior to the ship’s sinking.  And sadly, he is not here today in order for me to ask him all the questions I now have of this famous ship.  But I will relay some of the stories he told me about his voyage.  I’m not sure what class he travelled in, but I’m sure it was tourist class.  After all, he was taking this ship as an immigrant coming to America to find his fortune.  Even though he was a professional soccer player in Italy, athletes in the 1950’s were not paid nearly as well as they are today and so therefore, I’m sure he did not travel as a celebrity.  Irregardless, he recounted stories of the glamour of the ship and how much fun he had on board while the ship sailed through the Mediterranean before  going through the Straits of Gibralter.  But once out in the open seas of the Atlantic, he got desperately sea sick and spent the rest of the voyage in his cabin.  That was the last I heard about his voyage on the Andrea Doria.  He wrote letters to his fiance, my mother, stating how sick he was and how he wished to die.  He was miserable on the voyage and could not wait to hit landfall.  All the glamour of this beautiful boat was lost to him because he felt so horrible.  Evidently, the Atlantic in March is notoriously rough, and I’m sure if he had known this, he would have picked another time of year to go.  My father returned to Italy 9 months later to marry my mother, but he took an airplane and never again set foot aboard a ship or, for that matter, any kind of boat!  Just the thought of it was too much for him to bear.  But….I would love to have known his reaction and thoughts when he heard of the sinking of the Andrea Doria and how, I’m sure, he realized that it could have been him aboard that fateful trip.