Italy is more than just major tourist destination to me. My grandparents are from a small village in southern Italy, so this a story about the search for my southern Italian heritage, and the family roots I have been dying to explore.
Summer 2016 was special for me for many reasons. I led my first study abroad program, taking undergraduate students to London and Paris for three weeks. That was a major life lesson in patience and organization. Another major first for me was a trip to South America. I never envisioned I’d get to travel to such cool places for my job, but I have realized just how lucky I am. But the highlight of the summer, the trip I’ll never forget, was getting to explore Italy and my southern Italian heritage.
Of all the places I’ve been, the most humbling was visiting my grandparent’s village in southern Italy called Montefalcone di Val Fortore. This tiny village way up in the mountains, 50 miles northeast of Naples, with less than 2000 people is where my grandparents are from. When I began planning our trip to Italy, on the very top of my visit list was a day trip to my grandparent’s village. For a brief moment, I considered skipping it because my dad insisted there was nothing there. He assured me that was the reason his parent’s left to begin with, nearly 100 years earlier.
Despite my minor hesitations, I knew it was important to see where my family comes from. I couldn’t go all the way there and not experience that. The day after we arrived in Naples, armed with a physical map and good ‘ole google maps, my hubby drove us the 2 hours up narrow and winding mountain roads to get to Montefalcone di Val Fortore.
As we drove, I had butterflies in my stomach. The surroundings weren’t all that unfamiliar to something we had seen driving between LA and Bakersfield. Maybe the roads were in rougher shape, but we could have sworn we were driving in California. At one point, we noticed this little, brightly colored village sitting on top of one of the mountain peaks. My husband told me he was sure that was the village. I assumed it was just too small. As we drove up and up we kept getting closer. Sure enough, that was the village.
Once we reached the village, my nervousness remained. There were very few people outside and the village was just as tiny as my dad had said. There was one main road that cut through the middle of town. On either side, there were brightly painted homes. The entire village appeared so much newer and modern than I had envisioned. For some reason, I thought I would be transported back to 1921 when we arrived. Like time had somehow stood still since my grandparents emigrated.
We parked our car and began walking around the village, shooting pictures of the juxtaposition of the old and new, wandering up another mountainous path to reach the lookout over the city. It was extremely windy and cold, much different than the hot and sticky weather we had left in Naples. I was wearing a dress and hat which was not a good choice for the ultra windy weather.
What struck me the most about the village was just how isolated it felt. It was up high on the top of this mountain, overlooking rolling hills of green and farmland. There was hardly anyone around, except for some elderly men sitting on a bench outside of a teeny convenience store. We also walked past a home with a crying child. He was probably 4 or 5 and the minute he saw us walk past, his crying stopped. I’m sure he was very confused to see my husband, who definitely stood out in Italy in general.
After only about an hour, we decided to depart from Montefalcone di Val Fortore to check out nearby Benevento, the capital of the province of Campania. As we drove away, all of a sudden I got choked up. Tears began to well in my eyes and soon were streaming down my cheeks.
At first, I was perplexed by my reaction. Certainly, the tiny village was underwhelming to see in person. It was tiny, there was hardly anything or anyone around, but yet, I was emotional. Why? Well, I began to think of my grandparents.
Just under 100 years ago, they left this place, with nothing, to come to America to make a better life for their children. What struck me was the courage and tenacity they must have had. It is nearly impossible for me to envision my grandfather riding on a donkey from Montefalcone di Val Fortore all the way to Benevento, to get on a train to Naples, to take a boat half way across the world, to end up in Ishpeming Michigan, all in hopes of finding a better job to support his family. That is courage. My grandfather arrived in America in 1920, nearly one year later, with my infant Aunt Mary in tow, my grandma made her way, on her own, to follow my grandfather. That is strength.
I only wish I had known them. Unfortunately, my grandfather died three years before I was born and my grandmother died when I was only five years old. I have some faint memories of her, but mostly I just have the stories my dad has told me. What I do know about my grandparents is that they valued education. That is one of the most important values they passed on to my dad and in turn to me. I am thankful for my grandparents for leaving their tiny little village of Montefalcone di Val Fortore. Even though I didn’t know them like I wish I could have, I value their courage and their willingness to take such a big risk for a better opportunity for my unborn father. Their bravery is truly inspiring, even 100 years later. I’m so glad I was able to explore my southern Italian heritage.
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My family is also from Montefalcone di Val Fortore. It was interesting to stumble on this article! We are from Long Island, my family immigrated to Queens, NY. I went to visit back in 1996 when I studied in Italy. I met some family members that my Great Aunt had a phone number for. It was a fantastic experience, especially because my grandparents were married in the church.
My great grandparents were also from Montefalcone and settled in Ishpeming . I hope someday also to visit Italy so I can see where they came from. Thanks for sharing.
Not sure how long ago this was written, but my great grandparents were both from Monteflacone di VF. & I too am from Long Island! I started searching for the village as I’ll be traveling to Naples this summer and was hoping to find my way up there. If you have any pointers and would like to connect - my email is thomasasammut@gmail.com ! Salute, cugino!
Today is March 10, 2024 - I stumbled upon your site and had to comment as my grandparents were also from Montefalcone and the story of your Grandparents journey to Ishpeming is so similar to mine.
Short version: My Grandfather, Nunzio Manzolino, and his two brothers, first sailed over to work in the Ishpeming underground mines between 1915-18?. He returned to Italy, married my grandmother 1919. He went back to Ishpeming to earn money for her passage, (with my aunt born 1921), on Oct. 1922.
My Grandmother's maiden name was Zeppa. I never met my Grandmother she passed before I was born and my Grandfather passed when I was only 2.
Last week I mentioned this story, and your Grandparents last name, Vicario, to my cousin who grew up in a house, top of the hill, Main Street, Ishpeming. She knew of them instantly. Her mother (my other Aunt) knew your Grandparents and the exact house they lived in down a street behind their house?.
Isn't it ironic how we descendants feel that pull to want to pay homage to our Grandparents,, and honor their courage of leaving their country/families, to an unknown land for a better life.
Thank you for posting your story. (and to the other commentors)
I have been researching Ancestry.com, and "virtual touring" the cities and surrounding areas of Benevento, in hopes of going to Montefalcone someday soon, to also experience my heritage.
Hi - my dad instantly mentioned they changed their last name so he remembers too. What is the name of your aunt who knew my grandparents? She probably knows my dad - Anthony/Tony. He still goes up to Ispheming often.
Hi Lori – my dad instantly mentioned they changed their last name so he remembers too. What is the name of your aunt who knew my grandparents? She probably knows my dad – Anthony/Tony. He still goes up to Ispheming often.
Hi Stacy, glad to hear from you!
My Aunt's name was Rose Manzoline Stensaas. (she passed 20+ years ago) They lived at 412 Main Street.
Hmmm, I spoke with my other cousin (Jim Larson who lives in Negaunee),,,who chimed in on knowing your family, I think he named a Tony as being a friend of his wife, Linda's, brother? (If you can follow that) I don't know her maiden name, but said her brother is 80 something.
I visit Ishpeming every Memorial weekend myself, I was born there but now live in Mpls.
My dad is in his 80s so totally possible. He does have a friend named Dave in Negaunee and he does remember the Manzoline’s in Ishpeming. He’s definitely up there several times in the summer. What a small world and small internet :)
What a story and follow up posts. I went there in 1969 with my parents to see where mom was from. She came to US in late 20’s with her mother and later joined by step-sister who was in a convent. I remember the contrast of visiting relatives who barely running water or one, without a front door (hanging straw, like hippie days with beads). Distinct memory was on Saturday, a donkey pulled cart went to the top of hill and slowly dumped a load of water on the cobblestone culvert. All the women had lined up along the stone culvert to wash clothes as the water ran downhill. The first in line, at the top, got the cleanest water. Another day, women were walking with loaves of bread on wood boards on their heads, coming from the central oven, I assumed. The contrast was we went to Turino to visit more relatives and watched us land on the moon. Family name D’Angelo.
Forgot to say, mom ended up in Gwinn, Michigan when she came over, through Ellis Island. I am lesliekangas@yahoo.com
Love that so many people are finding this story and sharing their family's stories too!
Stacy! Thanks for your post and for the comments. It inspires me to share some of my narrative about our trip to my grandfather's, home in Montefalcone di VF. I am Tony Janckila (maternal grandfather, Antonio Pappone, b. 1894). To those interested to track ancestors, I suggest a few things: Plan well ahead and better to spend at least a couple days. Civic offices have limited days and hours of operation. Write in advance, in Italian, to the town hall, local school and any addresses with your family names of interest that may be on line. We wrote 6 months in advance and got a response from a teacher who sent copies of my grandfathers kindergarten and 1st grade report cards. A great, unexpected favor with invaluable information. In the following I will include last names of my ancestors only, not those of the people we met there. What follows may seem long, but I think it may be interesting and helpful for others with ancestors in Montefalcone.
Wed. Sept 5, 2018.
Arrived in Roma without problem. Finding car rental and someone to explain functions of navigator and garage exit was a challenge. Driving south to Benevento was easy, but Italian drivers like to straddle the
lines between lanes. Turning into the mountains became a harrowing adventure. The navigator took us the shortest route instead of safest. Up and down narrow, broken, washed out pavements, through woods and farmland, on tractor trails. Exhausted after 4.5 hr drive following long flight. We stayed at hotel Michelangelo in San Bartolomeo in Galdo, across the Fortore river valley from Montefalcone (20 min. away). Had a delicious meal of sea bass and mushroom ravioli at nearby restaurant.
Thurs. Sept 6,
Arrive in Montefalcone about 10am. Parked on the main roadside. Started wandering to explore the village. Immediately a man turned to us and asked, " Americano?"
"Yes"
In broken English and hand gesture, " You write letter?"
"Yes"
"Come to my house".
We followed about 3 doors up the street and entered a small kitchen where and old woman sat behind a large bowl of freshly peeled tomatoes. Thursday and Sunday are traditional for tomato sauce. The man introduced himself as Mario, his mom was Antonetta. He spoke no real English, she was illiterate. He produced the letter I wrote to Maria Consolata Pappone. We were shocked to see it and we all started chattering with nothing understood. Mario got on his phone; soon family members and neighbors filled the kitchen, all discussing the letter. Finally Leonardo arrived, A sweet man in 80s who spoke good English from living in Chicago for years and returning home to retire. My letter had been circulated around town to find if anyone knew Antonio Pappone and if anyone could could receive us. What a greeting! No one was sure if my Antonio was related to remaining Pappones in the village.
Leonardo offered to be our guide and first took us to visit his friend, Biagio (88). He is the widower of Maria Concetta Pappone who passed in 2014. Biagio produced a copy of my letter to his wife and proudly gave us her photo funeral prayer card. He teared up as we speculated his Maria may be family. He shared some water, sliced some fresh mozzarella and poured a little wine. Maria has 3 siblings, Linda, Francesco Paolo (deceased) and Michele still living in Montefalcone. We would come to meet them later. Biagio proudly showed us his handiwork re-weaving and restoring old furniture and other crafty things. He kept them in his little workshop behind the kitchen. He posed for a foto with his 100 year old accordion, then shared some homemade grappa. Italians swear by it as a digestive and cure all. In Rome, our tour guide called it legalized moonshine. After a hug and goodbye, Leonardo got in our car for a tour of the village and lunch at Il Nobility Ristorante. We met the owner, Leonardo ordered pasta, tomato sauce bread and wine, all homemade, of course. Leonardo knows everyone. He was a contractor who built many of the newer buildings and homes. His father, Alessandro, was also a craftsman honored for his work on the church, Alessandro's father was a furniture maker.
From here, we went to Leonardo's home on the main street. It is unusually large, since he built it. Garage on street level, apartment on 2nd floor, his daughter's apt on 3rd floor, and unfinished apt on 4th. His wife, Maria speaks perfect English, having lived in Chicago. Luckily, their daughter, Pina, entered. We asked if she knew a teacher, Myriam. In fact Myriam was her daughter's teacher. She called and half hr later, Myriam arrived. After discussing my ancestry search and her findings of report cards, she agreed to meet us at town hall to search the official records. We had only 2hrs from 3 to 5 while open. There, we met Giovanna, record keeper. She retrieved grandpa's birth record, marriage record to his first wife. This was a shock, since no one knew of this. She stayed behind when grandpa immigrated in 1913. He later married my grandmother, Mary Polvere in Eveleth, Minnesota. No records found on fate of first wife, Maria Filomena DiVizio back in Italy. These few records were a gold mine, since our family did not know anything about grandpa's life in Italy except his mothers name was Minelli. He hated Italy and would not speak of it. This experience was
worth our entire trip to Italy.
Friday, Sept. 7
We became friends with wife of hotel owner, Antonella, who made all the fresh cakes and biscotti served at included breakfast. We also shared hugs with housekeeper, Lena. What a culture! We met Leonardo again at 10am for a stroll through town market, regular Friday event. He introduced us to all his friends. We got into a bar where a group of old men were having reunion with their buddy, Mr. Altobelli. No one knew of any of my family names, including Altobelli, Pappone, Tudisco, Vecchiola, Ciarmoli, Polvere, Minelli, etc. We toured a local cemetery and took photos of many memorials to family names hoping to find a connection later. Lunch again at Il Nobili with risotto and gnocci, bread and wine. Our trip ended with the following highlight.
Leonardo guided us through narrow, steep cobblestone streets to a small square where some older folks were gathered on benches waiting for us. It was Linda and Michele Pappone and some neighbors. Hugs and kisses all around, Linda was crying at prospect of meeting family from America. During a lot of Italian discussion of their families, some fresh figs, fig pastries and espresso were delivered to our little outdoor table. Michele recently lost his wife, Maria Ciarmoli (another family name), so he was very quiet. He lived on this street, Via San Luca, and was one I sent a letter to, but he did not acknowledge or remember. We closed our trip with visit to church, saw Alessandro's plaque of honor, met a nun, made a contribution and signed up for newsletter.
Upon further research at home, I discovered from grandpa's birth record that he was born at the exact location where we had figs for snacks on Via San Luca (originally Via Ripitella). That part of town is still called Ripitella area. What a trip!
If you, Stacy, or any of the commenters want to discuss Montefalcone and possible family connections, ill be happy to correspond through this post. Thanks again for these posts. The photos are very familiar.
Tony, thank you for sharing your story! Loved reading this.