My Recollections: The Early History of the Baldino Family in America

My Recollections: The Early History of the Baldino Family in America

by Dr. Rudolph Masciantonio



I. Purpose and Method



My purpose is to write down my recollections about the early history of the family of Ferdinando and Maria Baldino in America so that new generations and others may know about the family and so that stories and traditions that have been transmitted orally for generations may be preserved from loss as memories fade and older members of the family pass away. I cannot vouch for the authenticity of all of these recollections. They are mainly things that were told to me or that I remember from my childhood. In a few cases I have been able to refine my recollections with testimony from other people or with documents. But basically the recollections are from my head. I began setting this material down in the 63rd year of my life.



Now seems like a good time for this project. Just recently (August 18, 2004) a dearly beloved first cousin, Mrs. Marie Baldino D'Ambrosio known affectionately as Cookie, died at the age of 96. I had the opportunity to interact with her large family at her funeral. Her death represented in some senses the end of an era in our family. Her burial at the family plot in Holy Cross Cemetery has filled the plot at least in so far as full sized caskets is concerned, though cremains may still be buried there. She was my last maternal first cousin and a precious link to our family's past. Cookie is a source of some of the stories and material recounted here.



At this time there are also new members of the family through marriage or birth and more new members on the way and members who are coming of age. Though they may not have the Baldino name they share the heritage of the family, and I hope they will enjoy learning about the early days of the family's history in America. And so to all these young people and to all gentle readers my warmest greetings and love!



It seemed best to set down my recollections seriatim person by person. With this approach there is an inevitable amount of overlap. In many cases I lack knowledge or memory of important matters about an individual. I only know bits and pieces or little stories or seemingly trivial details. Sometimes what I remember is negative. In all cases, however, I tried to write down what I remembered whether it was positive or negative or neutral. It is not my purpose to write hagiography. I do not mean to trivialize or denigrate the memory of any member of the family and apologize to anyone reading this material who is offended by anything I write. Any reader who has additional information or corrections to offer is most welcome to do so.



II. Nona, i.e., Maria Scornienco Baldino, My Grandmother



Nona, our matriarch and foundress, was born in the Italian province of Calabria, the toe of the peninsula of Italy, in the town of San Lorenzo. San Lorenzo was not far from Costanza. She was the only daughter of another Maria Scornienco, my great grandmother. The family had lived in Calabria for many generations. They were humble people, and it would not be off the mark to describe them as Southern Italian peasants. The name Scornienco suggests perhaps an East European, possibly Slavic connection. My sister (Marlene Masciantonio Christensen) remembers my mother (Mildred Baldino Masciantonio) saying that Nona could understand or speak the Albanian language. There were many people of Albanian descent settled in southern Italy.



Many Southern Italians immigrated to America in search of better opportunities. America's streets were supposed to be paved with gold! Maria immigrated and her mother, the other Maria Scornienco, remained in Italy but did not live long after her daughter left. Also coming to America was Dominic Scornienco, Maria's father, my mother's grandfather. Dominic Scornienco is interred at the Baldino family plot in Holy Cross Cemetery, Yeadon, Section 52. His name appears on the gravestone. He was supposed to have been a very kind and gentle man, but I know almost nothing about him. He died while my mother was a little girl. My mother remembered that she and her cousin Mary Baldino Mauro (also known as "Didadufta"- more on that name later!) were sucking ice from the ice wagon in front of the house when Dominic Scornienco was laid out in the livingroom. In those days ice was used to keep the corpses fresh and viewings were in the parlor of the house where the deceased had lived. My mother also mentioned that the family cat positioned itself under the casket and remained there for the three day viewing. A crepe consisting of a black or violet ribbon with a flower hung on the front door to signal that this was a house of mourning.



I do not know at what point my Nona married Ferdinando Baldino, whether in America or in Italy. They lived on the eight hundred block of Kimball St in South Philadelphia and eventually at 1031 Snyder Ave, in South Philadelphia. We sometimes kiddingly called Snyder Ave. "Snocky "Ave.



Nona was a dear lady who was very fond of me. She always wore a conservative black dress and flesh colored stockings with seams up the back and with garters that were visible below her knees. She had black flat heeled "sensible" shoes. She carried a cane, which she used to prod or to herd my sister Marlene across the light green/gray carpet in the living room at Snyder Ave. She spent a lot of her time sitting in the kitchen of the Snyder Ave. house. She did not speak much English at all, though she seemed to understand spoken English. She conversed with her daughter Carrie (my aunt) and her son Jimmy (my uncle) in the Calabrian dialect of Italian. None of them knew how to read or write Italian or even how to speak the standard Italian language. If you pressed them to spell or pronounce a word carefully, it would cause confusion, and they might even change the pronunciation of the word. Also living with Nona, Carrie, and Uncle Jimmy at Snyder Ave. was my Aunt Elsie, the wife of Uncle Jimmy. Aunt Elsie did not speak Italian, being of Polish descent. She spoke to Nona in English, called her "Mom", and made her meaning clear through gestures and intonation or as a last resort asking Carrie to interpret.



People held Nona is high esteem. I know that my paternal grandmother Carmella Tursi Masciantonio knew her and often called her with great respect "Santa Maria" ("Holy Mary" or "St. Mary"). My paternal aunts Juliette Masciantonio Tursi and Emilia Masciantonio Pero also knew her and spoke respectfully of her.



Nona had a fund of proverbs and maxims which she frequently quoted and endeavored to live by. One of her favorites, according to my mother Mildred, was that the tongue was a soft thing yet it could do a tremendous amount of damage. Another was that one should never put off till tomorrow what could be done today. Another was that one must remember that for every rose there is a thorn.



Nona's room was in the back of the house on the second floor. She had very little furniture, viz., a plain pipe metal single bed, a Singer sewing machine (which my sister Marlene Masciantonio Christensen still has) and a small wooden cabinet (which I still have).



Nona was known for her frugality. Carrie said that Nona saved everything. Items that she saved (e.g., chairs, little tables, trunks) could be seen in the basement of Snyder Ave. I know that Nona had a string box where she saved scraps of string from packages, etc., which she would use in lieu of buying string. The house on Snyder Ave. lacked much in the way of decorative items. It did not, as my sister Marlene and I remember, have pictures on the walls. Even religious objects were in short supply. The dining room table was covered by a lace table cloth and had a large Chinese vase on it which Marlene still has. The vase had plumes in it. As far as I remember we never ate in the dining room.



Nona spent most of her time at home on Snyder Ave. sometimes venturing to the nearby Epiphany of Our Lord Church at 11th and Jackson with Carrie or Aunt Elsie. She loved to say the Rosary and kept the beads handy for this purpose. As many Italians do to this day, she said the Rosary prayers in Latin. Her favorite prayer was the Ave Maria which forms the major part of the Rosary. She had great devotion to the Blessed Mother, her namesake and patroness. She would visit us at 2031 S. Redfield St .in Southwest Philadelphia from time to time but only when my father (Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr.) took her by automobile. She also visited her daughter Theresa Baldino (my Aunt Theresa) and the family there at 49 Edgewood Rd in suburban Broomall. But again she visited only when someone took her there by automobile.



My mother, my sister, and I visited Nona almost every weekend at Snyder Ave. We went via G bus and the old 81 trolley car which ran on Snyder Ave. from 30th and Passyunk or my father (Rudolph Masciantonio Sr.) drove us there. Carrie, Aunt Elsie, and my mother would make dinner while Nona sat in the kitchen. Sometimes Nona would talk to me in the Calabrian dialect: "Rudy, ven aca!" ("Rudy, come here!") was a frequent imperative. I loved her smile when she said it. Nona like to use the word "giambilo" which I think means "little young man" when she saw me or my cousin Jimmy Cavallaro. She called my sister "Marlena pupa!", i.e., "Marlene doll". She would refer to a cat (of which there were many in the alley behind the Snyder Ave. house) as "usinella padrunella". "Usinella" was an affectionate little pet name that really cannot be translated. "Padrunella" meant "little boss." Another frequent imperative was "Mange!", i.e., "Eat!". The reader should note that all Italian dialect expressions contained in this account are transcribed approximately as I recall them since the speakers did not read or write the dialect or standard Italian. Carrie and Cookie would use some of these expressions from time to time.



One time I embarrassed Nona by going out into the yard which was in the rear of the house behind the kitchen and the unheated pantry. She was urinating into a metal bucket when I appeared. I told her I was sorry. She smiled and made a hand gesture which I interpreted to mean "Don't worry!" The bathroom of the Snyder Ave. house was upstairs in the middle of the second floor between Aunt Elsie's room and Carrie's room. I could understand why Nona might want to avoid the stairs at her advanced age.



Dinners at Nona's were simple, unadorned, and informal and usually consisted of pasta and meatballs and Italian bread. Sometimes we had pastina in brodo, a favorite of mine, or egg soup made by scrambling an egg in chicken broth. When "the Broomalls" were there with us Tony Cavallaro (Rita Cavallaro's husband and Jimmy Cavallaro's father) would offer to go out to get cold cuts. He would bring back sumptuous quantities of such items as (sp.?)guttaghina, (?sp.) gabacula, salami, provolone, and spicey "Sidgi" olives and some rich Italian pastry too. People thought that he got it from the 9th St. Italian market in South Philadelphia, but Rita once said that he went to his parents' home at 6th and Washington Ave. to get it. Even in those days Tony's mother was referred to as "Sidgi grandmon". Tony's family was Sicilian and proud of it, and the distinctions between Calabrian and Sicilian foods and customs were a frequent subject of conversation in the family. Nona showed Carrie and my mother how to make broth when no chicken stock was available. (Briefly, you put butter in water and season with salt and pepper!) We also had tomato and lettuce salads dressed with oil and vinegar. We ate in the kitchen on the uncovered kitchen table even though the breakfast room and the dining room had large tables in them. Aunt Elsie would sometimes take Marlene and me to the corner store (Agnes' at 11th and Snyder) for ice cream. Sometimes we got to play with the pinball machine there, especially on those occasions when my cousin Jimmy Cavallaro was also visiting with his parents Rita and Tony and Aunt.Theresa.



Nona and her husband Ferdinando putatively had twelve children. Many of these children died in infancy or early childhood. One of them, viz., Frank, drowned in the Delaware River when he was about twelve years old. He went on an outing with friends and never returned. His friends came back to tell Nona that he had been lost. This incident happened many years before my birth. It deeply hurt Nona, and she talked about it from time to time. Some of Nona's children had the same names. There were two Mildreds in toto and two Carolines in toto, for instance. The earlier children were buried in a cemetery somewhere in South Philadelphia. The cemetery is no longer there. I don't believe that I ever knew the names of all twelve children. The baptismal names of the children were in Italian. Mildred was Emilia. Carrie was Carolina. Jimmy was Vincenzo (which is correctly translated as Vincent, not James). Theresa was the same in both languages. Nona was told by her doctor after my mother Mildred, the youngest child, was born that any further pregnancies might be fatal..



The four children of Nona's and Grandfather Ferdinando's who lived to be adults and whom I knew were as follows:

I. Aunt Theresa, i.e.,Theresa Baldino, the oldest child, and the mother of Rita Baldino Cavallaro, Marie Baldino D'Ambrosio, Ralph Baldino, and an earlier Ralph Baldino. Aunt Theresa was married to Uncle Tony, Antonio Baldino.

II. Uncle Jimmy ,i.e., James (really Vincenzo) Baldino, the father of Basil Baldino and Jimmy ("Jimmy the Soldier") Baldino. Uncle Jimmy was married to Aunt Elsie.

III. Aunt Carrie (but we always affectionately called her "Carrie"), i.e, Caroline Baldino who did not marry

IV. My mother, i.e., Mildred Baldino Masciantonio, the youngest child and the mother of Dr.Rudolph Masciantonio (me!) and Marlene Masciantonio Christensen My mother was married to my father, viz., Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr.

Knowledge of this basic stemma is fundamental to understanding our family relationships.



My mother and Nona would talk by telephone every day. They were very close.

Nona was basically in good health both physically and mentally. She kept the rosary handy. She did not have television. The radio was rarely played for her. There was a wind-up, non-electric Victrola for 78 rpm records which Carrie sometimes played for her. There was a Cunningham upright player piano in the living room. Carrie had rolls for this piano which would play tunes when someone pumped the big pedals., But the player piano was not used often. Eventually the piano was moved to the sun parlor and then the basement of our house at 2031 S. Redfield St.



Nona knew how to "do the overlook" and passed this skill to her daughters Carrie, Mildred and Theresa. Aunt Theresa in turn passed it on to her daughters Rita and Marie. Being overlooked meant that someone had given you the evil eye or mal'ochia. People who were overlooked typically would yawn a lot and might have a headache. If you had been given the evil eye, a devil might be involved. To cast out the evil eye, i.e., to "do the overlook", someone had to trace little crosses on your forehead using common water to which a little salt had been added or, if it was available, holy water from church. The person tracing the little crosses on the forehead would say the Ave Maria several times while doing so. Sometimes the person doing the overlook could sense how bad it was. (Carrie seemed to be especially good at sensing the extent of the overlook. Sometimes she would say as she did the overlook, "You've got it bad!") Then the water had to be thrown away, preferably outdoors where no one would go for a while. If someone happened upon the spot where the water had been thrown away, that person could get the overlook.



When Aunt Theresa's husband Tony (Uncle Tony or Pop Pop) died in 1949, Nona said that she should have been the one to die since she was so old. She got sick with a cold after Christmas in 1950. Carrie put a bed in the breakfast room of the Snyder Ave. house so that Nona did not have to go up and down stairs to go to bed. The first floor of the Snyder Ave house had a vestibule, a large living room with a door to the side yard, a dining room, a breakfast room, and a kitchen with pantry adjacent to the yard.



One day when I came home from school on January 4, 1951 our neighbor Mrs. Belle Feinberg was there to take care of us. She said that my mother had gone to Nona's house. I asked Mrs. Feinberg if Nona was sick. She did not answer directly but reminded me that Nona was very old. As it turned out, Nona had died quietly in bed in the breakfast room, probably of heart failure. She was 104 years old according to Jimmy the Soldier, i.e., Jimmy Baldino, the son of Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jimmy. Basil, the other son of Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jimmy, confirmed this age some years later for me. I remember that my paternal grandmother Carmella Tursi Masciantonio commented on how very old her friend Santa Maria, i.e., Nona, was.



III. My Grandfather Ferdinando Baldino



I did not know my grandfather since he had died several years before my birth. I did know some stories about him.



He was very concerned about the frequent and severe earaches that my mother Mildred Baldino Masciantonio experienced as a child. He would form a cone with a piece of paper and gently blow warm breath into my mother's ear. Also he would funnel steam from a kettle on the stove into my mother's sore ear.



He took good care of the coal furnace in the basement of 1031 Snyder Ave. Coal was delivered throught the coal shutes through the cellar windows. Coal had to be added to the fire from time to time, and the fire itself had to be banked with a shovel. After Grandfather Ferdinando died, Carrie took care of the coal furnace.



Grandfather Ferdinando used to serve in the cavalry in Italy and knew how to handle and take care of horses. Once there was a run away horse on Snyder Ave. No one seemed to know what to do. But my grandfather caught up with the horse, pulled sharply on the bridle and got the horse to stop and fall to its knees. Jimmy the Soldier told my sister Marlene this story.



Grandfather Ferdinando was a bricklayer by trade and was the foreman of crew that worked on the cobblestone streets of the city. He was literate in Italian and English. On pay day each week he would purchase a bottle of Omega whiskey which he would consume over the course of the week. Cookie told my sister Marlene this story.



At some point in 1908 he purchased for $80 the family plot in Holy Cross Cemetery and his name is on the deed from the Archdiocese of Philadelphia. This deed was passed around the table after Cookie's funeral on August 23,2004 at Anthony's Ristorante in Drexeline. I remember some young cousins asking who Ferdinando Baldino was.

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Nona liked to talk to people in the vestibule at Snyder Ave. with the front door open, thus letting the heat out in the wintertime. My grandfather would tell her to close the door and use her maiden name in doing so: "Maria Scornienco, ferme la porta!" My mother told me of these incidents.



Nona used to caution him to turn lights off to save money. He would tell her that he would be dead a long time in the dark and wanted light now that he was alive.



My mother said that my grandfather was a respected gentleman, a good provider for his family, and a good husband and father. She said that the family life was happy, though it is possible that she was filtering out anything negative. When the family lived on Snyder Ave. my grandfather wanted the house to be the best possible. He made sure that it had such improvements as electricity, telephone service, and reliable centralized coal heat coming up through heating registers. The Baldinos were always the first to get new household improvements while Grandfather Ferdinando lived but less so after his death.



When Grandfather Ferdinando came to America in the latter half of the 19th century he was accompanied by brothers and cousins also named Baldino. All were from Calabria. My mother remembered an Uncle Frank. Three unmarried female cousins lived on 15th St. and were called the "15th St. girls.", no matter how old they became. One of these (I think her name was Mary Baldino) many years later worked in Bonwit Teller's in Center City and got reacquainted with my mother when my mother also worked at Bonwit Teller's. There was also a cousin Mary whose maiden name was Baldino who married Ralph Mauro and lived in a row house in the West Oak Lane section of Philadelphia. Cousins Mary and Ralph had two children, a boy (perhaps Ralph Jr.)and a girl (Clare). Cousin Mary also had a sister named Cousin Katie. Cousin Mary on at least one occasion visited Broomall. Aunt Theresa called Cousin Mary behind her back "Didadufta", a humorous name that Carrie, Cookie, Rita and my mother used but no one was able to explain with certainty. Grandfather Ferdinando's brothers and cousins are the source many of the Baldino's in the Philadelphia area. Sometimes the plural of the name, viz., Baldini, was used.



Grandfather Ferdinando lived in an era of gas lights, horse drawn carriages and wagons, horse drawn and electric trolley cars, and high button shoes. Life was simpler.



V. Carrie, i. e., My Aunt Carrie, Caroline Baldino



Carrie was like a second mother to me and my sister. She was also very close to her other nieces and nephews, viz., Jimmy and Basil Baldino (the sons of Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Elsie) and Ralph Baldino, Rita Baldino Cavallaro, and Marie Baldino D'Ambrosio (the children of Aunt Theresa and Uncle Tony). Carrie once said that that she had helped financially with Ralph Baldino's college education. She also said that Ralph, despite her benefaction, could be gruff. In spite of his occasional gruffness, she seemed especially fond and proud of him.



"Jimmy the Soldier" and his older brother Basil (the sons of Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Elsie) lived for a time with Carrie, Nona, Uncle Jimmy, and Aunt Elsie at the Snyder Ave. home. When Jimmy was drafted into the army in World War II I remember how upset Carrie and Aunt Elsie were. His service in the army got him the appellation "Jimmy the Soldier" to distinguish him from the many other Jimmys in the family! Carrie was also close to the two sons of Basil and Helen Baldino, viz., Jimmy (another one!) and Tippy (Basil, Jr.). Carrie would comment of how confusing it was to have so many Jimmys in the family. "Yous (sic) don't know who the hell you're talking about!" she would say.



Carrie was a hard worker. She was employed by Bayuk Cigars for many years along with her niece Marie "Cookie" Baldino. Carrie would bring my father (Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr.) a big metal five gallon container of cigars from time to time as Daddy was a devout cigar smoker. Daddy would distribute some of the cigars to his brother Albert Masciantonio and other members of his family.



Carrie visited us at Redfield St. almost every weekday before going to work. She came via the 81 trolley and the G bus. She always brought us little gifts, e.g., cakes, cookies, household items such as clothes lines and pencil sharpeners.



She used to take her housedress off while at Redfield St. to relax in her petticoat (her slip, as she called it) in our dining room. From time to time she and my mother would dye their hair in the bathroom after spreading newspapers all over the floor and fixtures. They used Roux brand dye in warm dark brown. They never called it dyeing. It was always "touching" the hair or "touching up" the hair. Carrie's hair became thinner and redder toward the end of her life. My mother told her that the dyeing had caused the thinning Rosemary D'Ambrosio Clark, Cookie's daughter, was present for at least one of those hair "touching"sessions. As Rosemary later said, in those days hair dyeing was a "complicated process involving almost setting up a chemistry lab!"



Sometimes Carrie would mediate disputes between my parents. She typically would hold up the Rosary beads and tell them that they had "two beautiful children" and that they should therefore get along and change their attitude. She always pronounced "beautiful" and "attitude" and similar words in the South Philly fashion, viz., "beauteeful" and "atteetude".



My Uncle Albert (my father's brother Albert Masciantonio, Sr., the husband of Carrie Cascarella Masciantonio) liked Carrie very much and always made sure that she got invited to his many parties and shindigs at his big and elegant house in Merion beside St. Charles Seminary. He called her Carolie (pronounced "G‡rolee"), perhaps to distinguish her from his second wife, the redoubtable Carrie Cascarella. Another reason for our calling my mother's sister just plain "Carrie" was to distinguish her from the legendary Aunt Carrie Casacarella. My Uncle Albert may have flirted with Carrie, and I remember her telling my mother about it and referring to Uncle Albert as "that son of a bitch". "What does that son of a bitch want?" she asked. Both my mother and Carrie called Uncle Albert "the Squire of Merion."



Carrie had a fiery Baldino temper. Sometimes, if people were teasing her, she would end the discussion by saying forcefully: "Yea, well yous (sic) can all go to hell!" In tone and timbre as well as shortness of stature she reminded me of Cookie. Carrie also often used some of the expressions that Cookie made famous as per Patti Shuster's eulogy for Cookie, viz., "Your eyes are bigger than your belly!" "Bunch of gypsies!" "You know-the whatza name!" Carrie also liked Sta tacita! (Calabrian dialect for "Stay quiet!" or "Shut up!") When she hailed a cab she shouted: "Hey Yeller!" She also used "what-cha-ma-call-it" when she forgot a word.



Carrie was very fond of her new grandnephew, Billy Baldino, the son of Ralph and Doris Baldino. She carried Billy's baby picture in which he is being held by Aunt Theresa religiously with her in her pocketbook and showed it to many people. Carrie often mentioned that Billy was a colic baby.



Like Cookie, Carrie was a truly great house cleaner! She was always scrubbing and polishing something. The hand carpet sweeper (a Bissell, I think) was in the corner of the living room. It was not electrically powered and was emptied manually from the bottom. Sometimes my sister Marlene and I would empty the carpet sweeper for Carrie. Like the living room wall-to-wall carpet the carpet sweeper was light green. Snyder Ave. never had a vacuum cleaner.



Like my mother Mildred and by her own admission Carrie was no great cook. What she cooked was very simple. Aside from pasta and "gravy" she made soups, cooked vegetables, mashed potatoes, and meat dishes. Her coffee (and that of my mother) was very weak; Cookie and Rita from Broomall referred to it as "dish water."



After Nona died Carrie received one half of the Snyder Ave. house in Nona's will read to the family in the Snyder Ave. living room by my godmother and first cousin Rita Baldino Cavallaro. Rita sat on the staircase as she read and claimed that the will was different from the one she had originally seen. The other half of the house was divided equally among my mother, Uncle Jimmy, and Aunt Theresa. The idea behind the will was that Carrie would not have the total burden of maintaining the house. Also Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Elsie could continue to live there.



Nona's death was hard on Carrie because she loved Nona very much and because caring for Nona was chiefly her responsibility although Aunt Elsie helped. Carrie had lived her entire life to that point with Nona.



One day a neighbor from the other side of Snyder Ave. near the Frank's Beverages storefront, Mrs. Delamota, and her attractive opera singer daughter Elsie Delamota, were visiting Carrie while we were there. Carrie told Mrs. Delamota that Nona had said prayers for a good death (the Bona Mors devotion) the way Italian women had done for centuries. Mrs. Delamota looked a little like Nona and always, like Nona, dressed in black. Mrs. Delamota was very kind to Carrie.



Carrie was fond of her immediate neighbor Lena Lerro who lived with her family at 1029 Snyder Ave. Years later the Lerro's eventually bought 1031 Snyder Ave and refaced the front and connected it with their house at 1029 Snyder Ave. I think that the Lerro family still owns 1031 Snyder Ave. There was a neighbor at 1033 Snyder Ave. whose name was Helen. Carrie and she got along well also. The back yards made it possible for neighbors to talk while hanging clothes out to dry on clothes lines. Clothes, incidentally, were washed by hand on a washboard and wrung out by hand at Snyder Ave.. 1031 Snyder Ave. had a dark green wooden fence around its yard. Most of the yard was cement, but there was a small petunia patch around the fence. Carrie loved petunias.



Carrie was also an enthusiastic knitter and crocheter. Aunt Theresa and Carrie sometimes talked about knit needles and crocheting and the two little square blankets of multicolored yarn which Aunt Theresa made for my mother Mildred.



There was an alley behind the yard of Snyder Ave. with lots of cats which Carrie would sometimes chase with a bucket of water or a broom. Cats liked Carrie, but she did not always seem to like them. The alley was blind with no access to Snyder Ave. With Carrie's help we found an orange ("gravy") and white cat there who lived with us for about 20 years and virtually grew up with us, viz., Whiskers. Carrie referred to Whiskers (and all orange cats) as a "gravy face". Whisker's remains are in my garden at 431 S. 20th St.



On one occasion Carrie did the overlook on me. See supra the section on Nona for details on this rite. Carrie threw the water she had used in the overlook into the yard. My sister Marlene wandered into the yard. Carrie commanded her to go back inside because anyone could catch the overlook from being near where the water had been thrown.



Sometime after Nona's death Carrie began to feel ill. She was weak and lost a lot of weight. She could not go to work every day and eventually stopped working altogether. She had chiropractic treatments for a while and even had a gown at the chiropractor's office with her name "Carrie" on it. Eventually she was found to be diabetic. She was very upset about this diagnosis and cried profusely as she told my mother about it.

After the diagnosis she spent about a week in Broomall at the Edgewood Rd. house. Aunt Theresa felt that the fresh air and good food there would do her good. Also Rita and Marie were experts at the care and treatment of diabetes since Aunt Theresa was a diabetic.



Carrie did not manage her diabetes well. I remember Aunt Elsie telling my mother that Carrie did not like the testing and the insulin injections. So she tended to omit both. She also was not very expert in following the recommended diet. I remember my cousin Rita Cavallaro saying that her Aunt Carrie had lost her fight with life many years back and that the diabetes was one more blow. On one occasion in Sea Isle City Carrie said that she thought that perhaps the answer to her health problems was to "get a good load on", meaning to get drunk. But both she and my mother Mildred never drank at all as far as I knew.



Then one day in October 1953 Carrie was found at Snyder Ave. unconscious. Uncle Jimmy administered insulin to her (perhaps wrongly, because she may have had hypoglycemia); he also was a diabetic. However Carrie had a stroke and never regained consciousness. When Carrie was taken to the hospital Aunt Theresa said "My sister will never return". She was in the hospital for 21 days. Each day my mother and Cookie together visited her and spent many hours with her, even sleeping there. Finally she died on November 3, 1953. (November 3 is my baptismal day and the day of Rita Cavallaro's funeral and Basil Baldino's death) Carrie's death was a big blow for my mother who never expected it. In addition to being her sister, Carrie was my mother's best friend, and after Nona's death was in touch daily without fail either by visit or telephone. Carrie's telephone number (the Snyder Ave. number), as I remember it, was DEwey 6 6727.



Carrie's viewing, like Nona's, was at Baldi's on South Broad St. My sister and I had to get there via public transit for the first night because my parents did not want us there on the first night. We came anyway on our own steam. Requiem Mass was at Epiphany of Our Lord, at 11th and Jackson, where Carrie had told the pastor off a couple of years back for not seeing to it that the candles were lit for Nona's Requiem Mass. Like Nona, was interred in the Baldino family plot at Holy Cross Cemetery. When Uncle Jimmy put a flower on her coffin as they lowered it into the grave, he said "Goodbye, Shortie!" He always called her "Shortie". He cried profusely as we all did.



V Uncle Jimmy, James (Vincenzo) Baldino



Uncle Jimmy was frequently absent from Snyder Ave. when we visited. Sometimes he would read the Evening Bulletin (a now defunct Philadelphia daily broadsheet) or the Daily News in the living room. He would involve us kids in his reading occasionally giving us brief item to read. I remember stumbling on the word "battalion" which he helped me with, and now I always remember him fondly when I see or hear that word.



Officially Uncle Jimmy was a water meter reader for the City of Philadelphia. However, it seemed that he rarely reported for work except to collect his pay. The City government had many employees in those days who did little actual work. The Republicans controlled City government for about 67 years prior to 1952. I remember Carrie expressing surprise when the Democrats won control of the Philadelphia City Hall with the election of November, 1952 despite the Republican victory at the federal level with the election of General Eisenhower as President. Carrie worried about the election's effect on Uncle Jimmy's job. Eventually Uncle Jimmy retired with a pension from his City job.



The local Republican Party was very kind to our family. In addition to providing Uncle Jimmy with a sinecure, in the early days they found newly emigrated family members places to live, jobs, and even delivered big gift baskets of food to the front door on holidays. When Baldinos became citizens or came of age, they usually registered as Republicans, a family tradition that persists even today. Uncle Jimmy had connections in the party.



At some point Uncle Jimmy's name was painted on the wall of Levis, an old Philadelphia eatery on 6th St. (I think) near Lombard St.. Levis (with no apostrophe and pronounced as though it were "Levisis") specialized in great meaty hot dogs, spicey fish cakes, and Champ Cherry (a combination of cola and cherry soda) dispensed by a soda fountain that was one of the oldest in America. The owners were Jewish; the help was all African American. Long term regular patrons, and especially those with political connections, had their names put on the walls. As Rosemary Clark, Cookie's daughter, pointed out to her son Christopher Clark many years later, it was considered a high honor to have one's name placed on the wall at Levis. Levis is no longer in business, but the building where it was still has the sign "Levis ThatÕs All!" incorporated into its cornice.



Though offically he worked for the Water Department of the City of Philadelphia, Uncle Jimmy's real job, it seems, was as a number writer. In the days before state lotteries people could place bets with number writers. The customer who wished to play selected a three digit number. If you boxed the number (at extra charge) you would win regardless of the order of the numbers. I remember seeing Uncle Jimmy with sheets of paper with names and numbers written down carefully in pencil. Apparently he would check with someone about the winner each day by telephone.



Once Carrie gave me a list of numbers to put in the garbage can in the yard. Once the police had threatened to rip the heavy phone off the wall in the dining room at Snyder Ave., but Uncle Jimmy was able, with his connections, to prevent that. Number writing and playing the numbers were extra legem but immensely popular. Carrie would sometimes dream of the numbers she wanted to play. If she dreamt of a number she would inevitably box it. Aunt Elsie also played the numbers and, occasionally, my mother Mildred.



Uncle Jimmy putatively had extramarital affairs with women and was not the best provider for his wife. Aunt Elsie had many dental problems and had over time lost all her teeth. She had no dentures. She literally gummed her food. People attributed her lack of teeth to Uncle Jimmy's neglect of his family. Aunt Elsie outfits were humble but colorful "house dresses", and I do not recall ever seeing her in Sunday best clothing. I remember Jimmy the Soldier complaining bitterly about the way his father had treated his mother over the years. Jimmy the Soldier did this right after Aunt Elsie had died. I sometimes felt that Jimmy the Soldier bore ill feeling against Uncle Jimmy's total blood family including Nona, Carrie, Aunt Theresa and my mother, but I wasn't sure. Basil also was critical of his father. But Basil remained close to my mother over the years after Aunt Elsie died. He would take my mother on day trips to Lancaster County with his wife Helen. He liked to tease my mother and introduce her as "the last of the Mohicans". Even after Basil's death from his heart condition my mother and Helen remained close friends.



Uncle Jimmy's lifestyle, if one may use that term, caused, I was told, a deep rift within the family. Aunt Theresa at some point told him off and said that she never wanted to see him again and that she no longer considered him to be her brother. She disapproved of the kind of life he had led. He came to my mother in tears and asked "How can Theresa be so mean? " My mother tried to be a peacemaker and get Aunt Theresa to forgive and forget or at least to forgive. But my mother managed instead to get herself in trouble with Aunt Theresa. When phone calls did not seem to work my mother went to Broomall unannounced by public transit on a rainy day, but she was not permitted to enter the Edgewood Rd. house. She was told to go home, Cookie and Rita acted as Aunt Theresa's agents here. My mother, after trying unsuccessfully to get Aunt Theresa to change her mind, went home by public transit deeply hurt and upset. For several years after that rainy day there was no contact between "the Broomalls" and my mother. It wounded my mother deeply that in trying to make peace between Uncle Jimmy and Aunt Theresa she had exacerbated the situation. She sadly recounted many times her treatment on that rainy day. She worried also about what would happen to her brother, my Uncle Jimmy.



Aunt Theresa's son Ralph Baldino was the peacemaker between Aunt Theresa and my mother. He had a talk with his mother who by that time was blind and sick. She stayed almost always on the second floor of the Edgewood Rd. house. Ralph reminded Aunt Theresa that he only had one living sibling, viz., my mother Mildred since Uncle Jimmy was dead by that time. Ralph urged Aunt Theresa to make peace and forget the past. Cookie and Rita called my mother to invite us to visit Broomall again which we continued doing every weekend for some time. Aunt Theresa did not live too long after this very joyful family reconciliation in 1963.



Some years later in the early seventies Cookie and Rita brought red meat as a traditional housewarming present to my mother when my mother had moved in with me at 429 S. 20th St. in Center City Philadelphia. They apologized to my mother for their conduct that rainy day long ago. They said that they had to do what Aunt Theresa told them to do, that Aunt Theresa had a fiery Italian temper, and that Uncle Jimmy had his faults too! When Uncle Jimmy's faults were mentioned everyone chuckled.



After Aunt Elsie's death in 1955, Uncle Jimmy, my mother, and Aunt Theresa decided to sell the Snyder Ave. house. Family members were asked to take furnishing that they wanted but most of what was in the house got sold or trashed. As I mentioned above, the Lerro family next door bought the property and made extensive changes in it. Uncle Jimmy moved to Southwest Philadelphia, near 54th and Chester Ave. as I remember. This location was not too far from our Redfield St. house, so he could keep in touch with my mother. He rented a room and had kitchen privileges. One day the landlady of the house called my mother to tell her that Uncle Jimmy had died in his sleep.



Uncle Jimmy died while I was still a member the Christian Brothers, a Catholic teaching order. I had spent six years with this religious order where I was known as Brother Gregory Peter, F.S.C. The gentle reader should note that sometimes my being away with the Christian Brothers is the reason for some of the chronological vagueness of this magnum opus! Once when my parents took me out on visiting day from the Brother's Elkins Park Scholasticate we managed to run into Uncle Jimmy at 15th and Jackson Sts. in South Philadelphia. He was sitting on the front steps of someone's house. It was a fun meeting which my mother had engineered. It was the last time I saw Uncle Jimmy alive. At his funeral at Baldi's I led a decade of the Rosary.



VI. Aunt Elsie, Elsie ?Wadica Baldino



I have already mentioned some recollections about Aunt Elsie. Here I will add a few more.



Aunt Elsie had a sister who was very elderly and lived a long life in Maine. Her name was Tone, maybe short for Antonia. Jimmy the Soldier and Basil referred to her as Aunt Tone.



Aunt Elsie was very close to Nona, Carrie, and my mother, all of whom were painfully aware of the way that Uncle Jimmy treated her. Baldino women were strong in the face of the weakness or absence of Baldino men. Aunt Elsie had her own bedroom, beside Nona's toward the rear of the second floor of the Snyder Ave. house. Uncle Jimmy slept in the front bedroom on Snyder Ave. Then came Carrie's bedroom which was connected to Uncle Jimmy's by an additional door Then came the bathroom with its claw foot bathtub.

.

When we visited Snyder Ave. each Saturday or Sunday afternoon Aunt Elsie often took my sister and me to the movies on 7th St. Typically the show consisted of a newsreel, a short feature of some sort, a serial such as Batman or Tarzan, the feature film, and a cartoon or two. Aunt Elsie would buy us ice cream or candy, often at Agnes, the corner store at 11th and Snyder. Sometimes Jimmy Cavallaro would be with us. More rarely, Jimmy and Tippy, Aunt Elsie's grandsons, would accompany us to the movies. My mother was always telling Aunt Elsie that Tippy was "cute" but Jimmy was "so handsome." Aunt Elsie would always beam when someone complimented her grandsons. She called my mother "Mill".



Aunt Elsie had beautiful lavender perriwincke blue eyes which my sister Marlene remembers vividly. My mother said that in her younger days Aunt Elsie was extremely beautiful. Also I had heard that Aunt Elsie in her younger days took care of my cousin Rosemary D'Ambrosio Clark when Rosemary's mother Cookie was working.



Once when Aunt Elsie came out of the bathroom at Snyder Ave. her dress was up in the back. Carrie and my mother told her "Elsie, your ass is out!" Aunt Elsie laughed and adjusted herself without replying and headed downstairs. I never saw her angry. She seemed to enjoy being one of the Baldino women and had a certain serenity about her. I never heard her criticize Uncle Jimmy or complain about his treatment of her. She knew how to do the overlook and would perform the rite from time to time on people.



She was known affectionately as "our Elsie". Of course the adjective "our" was applied to other family members: our Basil, our Rita, our Rosemary, our Theresa, our Billy, our Doris, etc. "Our" was a favorite Baldino adjective! Rita Baldino Cavallaro had the middle name "Elsie" in honor of Aunt Elsie.



Aunt Elsie was very concerned about Carrie's health after Carrie was diagnosed with diabetes, and, she would call my mother about it. She would try to get Carrie to take better care of herself.



After Carrie's death Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jimmy continued to live at the Snyder Ave. house until Aunt Elsie's death (June 5, 1955). By the time Aunt Elsie died Jimmy the Soldier, her son, had already married Jenny Scidurio of Warnock St. in South Philadelphia. Jenny was a short, dark, vivacious woman with a strong perfume. She was full of fun when dealing with us kids. I recall visiting Jenny's mother Esther Scidurio on Warnock St. Esther, with her black dresses and hairstyle, in some ways reminded me of Nona. Later Jimmy the Soldier and Jenny had three sons (Jimmy III otherwise called Vincent, Jaime and Joseph) who married and fathered about 10 children, mostly males. The names of the grandchildren of Jimmy the Soldier and Jenny Scidurio Baldino are: Albert, Josh, Jaime, Nicole, Vincent, Michael, Daniel, Todd, Joleen, and Jeffrey. Jimmy the Soldier and Basil lived in Bellmawr, NJ in adjacent houses, though Basil at one time had a farm in Elmer, NJ. As I mentioned before, Basil married Helen and had two boys, viz., Jimmy and Tippy. Jimmy and Tippy in turn had their own families. Thus there are many Baldinos in this branch of the family descended from Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jimmy. Sadly, now that Jimmy the Soldier and Basil are dead, the "Broomalls" and the Masciantonios have lost touch with all these cousins descended from Aunt Elsie and Uncle Jimmy. Most of these cousins live in South Jersey in such places as West Deptford, Somerdale, and Bellmawr.



VI. Aunt Theresa, Theresa Baldino Baldino, Mom Mom



Aunt Theresa was married to Uncle Tony (aka Uncle Daddy), i.e., Antonio Baldino, who was her very distance cousin. Their relationship was so distant that it in no way violated the Church's rules on consangunity. Aunt Theresa's maiden name and her married name were the same, viz., Baldino. Jimmy Cavallaro, Rosemary D'Ambosio Clark, and Billy Baldino, and Marcia Baldino always called her or referred to her as Mom Mom. My sister and I always called her Aunt Theresa. My mother, Carrie, and Nona called her Theresa which was always pronounced "Tressa".



Aunt Theresa's family had lived on Mountain St. in South Philadelphia prior to moving to Edgewood Rd in Broomall. I don't remember the Mountain St. house except for its front door; someone had photographed that front door and perhaps I just recall the photograph.



I had heard it said that Aunt Theresa had had all the doors inside of the Mountain St. house removed except for the bathroom door. She thought that a house without doors was lighter and airier. The Mountain St. house was frequently mentioned in conversation by Cookie, Rita, and Ralph, the adult children of Aunt Theresa and Uncle Tony, when I was a child.



Aunt Theresa and Uncle Tony and their family moved to 49 Edgewood Rd.in Broomall to a house which their son Ralph Baldino, a pharmacist and former sergeant in the US Army, had purchased brand new for himself and his first wife. His name was on the doorknocker and also on the utility bills for many years. The house in the early days was surrounded by lawn with a few small bushes and trees. Over the years these plantings became much larger. The house had a septic tank under the back yard and was not connected to a common or municipal sewage system. The telephone number was Newtown Square 0389 and you had to call the Operator and tell her the number in order to reach it. Later the exchange was changed, and the number became ELgin 6 0389. It became possible to dial the number directly.



Edgewood Rd. was a circle that led into West Chester Pike, the main road from 69th St. West Chester Pike in Broomall was a two lane highway with trolley tracks on the side. The Red Arrow trolley ran from 69th St. Terminal to West Chester. Much of the line was single track with sidings. There was a long siding in Broomall. When we visited Aunt Theresa the trolley ride was always fun. In addition to cars marked "West Chester" and "West Chester Express to Westgate Hills" we could also take short routed cars marked "Larchmont". The wooden Red Arrow station shelter nearest Edgewood Rd. was Pine Valley Road. The clickity clack of the trolleys on their private right of way and the wail their air horns were very much part of the atmosphere of the Broomall house in those days.



Aunt Theresa was a truly great cook. The meals in Broomall were always special both in the quality and quantity of the dishes and the attractiveness of the table settings. They contrasted to the plainness of meals at Snyder Ave. or at home on Redfield St. Aunt Theresa in those days was in the kitchen directing and training Cookie and Rita. I remember well the homemade pasta that Aunt Theresa produced from scratch. It dried on the kitchen table. My cousin Jimmy Cavallaro, my sister Marlene, and I ("the three wild Indians" as we were called) would consume raw pieces of pasta when the adults were not watching. The meals were lengthy, and one always left the table more than satisfied. In addition to the "gravy meat" served with the pasta, often there were two roasts also served because, I think, Tony Cavallaro (Rita's husband) did not like all types of roasts. The meals were always noisy as people would talk or argue loudly. At these meals Carrie or Cookie would sometimes tell everyone, "Yea, well yous (sic) can all go to hell!"Strangely and, unItalianly, wine was not generally served with the meals, but the men had their "shots" of hard liquor when they first arrived. Uncle Tony, Aunt Theresa's husband, did drink wine at the meals. Despite all the commotion at meals Aunt Theresa always made it clear that she, in Patti Shuster's words many years later, was the matriarch who "ruled the roost".



The pavement in back of the kitchen eventually became a patio and then an enclosed porch. Aunt Theresa was proud of this improvement and changes being made in the basement as well. She enjoyed sitting on the glidder on the patio while listening to the music of the Italian Hour on radio. Sometimes she would snap the ends off of string beans for dinner while sitting on the glidder. She liked the song "That's Amore!" She also liked Julius LaRosa from the Arthur Godfrey Show. Another favorite song was "C'e'na luna mezz'u mare", which much later on I learned was a bawdy dialogue between a mother and a daughter about marriage to men with various occupations.



Once a group of us including Ralph Baldino's wife Doris, Rosemary, Jimmy Cavallaro, my sister, myself, and Tony Cavallaro (Rita's husband) went to a fair being held on the grounds at St. Anastasia's Church in Newtown Square. At one of the games we won a big basket of groceries which we proudly brought to Edgewood Rd. Big mistake! Aunt Theresa asked belligerently "What are we going to do with a whole basket of groceries Where will we put it all?" Rita and Cookie were concerned that the foods we had won were the "wrong brands". There were only certain brands that were acceptable apparently. So I learned that winning is not necessarily an unvarnished blessing!



Aunt Theresa was always most kind to me. I remember just before I left for the Christian Brothers' Juniorate in Ammendale, Md. that she hugged and kissed me several times warmly out on the lawn in Broomall and gave me an Italian blessing which as nearly as I can remember was: "Bene de zia! Bene de Iosue!" It may mean "The blessing of your aunt! The blessing of Jesus!" She had a sweet smell to her person which my sister Marlene attributed to her diabetes.



Aunt Theresa once was arguing with my mother about something and said to my mother that I was a sneak. I happened to overhear, but I don't remember the context.



Aunt Theresa had humorous names for people. For example, she called my paternal Uncle Armond (Armond or Edmond Tursi, who was married to my father's sister Juliette Masciantonio Tursi) by the immigrant Italian name "Waletta" which means "Little Wallet", a reference perhaps to his reputation for being frugal. However, the name might also have applied to his stature and appearance. Uncle Armond in stature and appearance resembled the actor Danny DiVito. People still called him Waletta until his death in his nineties in 2002. Aunt Theresa dubbed his wife (my Aunt Juliette Masciantonio Tursi) "Grunia" which my mother said meant "Poison Ivy". As I mentioned before, Aunt Theresa called Cousin Mary (Mary Baldino Mauro)"Didadufta" which may have referred to her bulk (and perhaps clumsiness) as contrasted with the small stature of her husband Ralph Mauro. She dubbed several people who liked to cry and lament "Pissa ma occhia" which perhaps means roughly "Their eyes piss". She joked about how they put "a black bow on the piss pot."



Aunt Theresa had strong opinions on the 15th St. Baldinos and the other Baldinos who were descendents of Grandfather Ferdinando's brothers and cousins. She wanted nothing to do with them. She said emphatically that they brought bad luck.



In the last five years of her life Aunt Theresa was blind because of diabetes. Her vision had declined over the years. Sometimes she could distinguish colors or whether it was day or night. But she was very brave, a good soldier despite her blindness. She liked to fold laundry for Rita and Cookie. She said that folding laundry helped her to pass the time. She had the very best of care from her two loving and deeply devoted daughters, viz., Rita and Cookie. Her son Ralph's background as a pharmacist and her daughter-in-law Doris' background as a nurse also contributed to the excellent care she received. Her daughters Rita and Cookie took her to the foot doctor and to her general physician regularly. Aunt Theresa had first been diagnosed with diabetes many years ago when a sore on her foot would not heal. The sore came about as a result of her burning foot on a hot coal from the furnace. When Aunt Theresa had to go to the doctors, it was a major event in the house around which everything else would be planned. Each year Cookie and/or Rita visited a special store which sold seamless clothing for diabetics. Rita and Cookie were expert at balancing Aunt Theresa's carbohydrates, proteins, sugars, etc. properly. Aunt Theresa was cheerful and upbeat, even when she spent most of her time on the second floor of the Broomall house and only went downstairs on very special occasions. Before she relocated upstairs, she used to sit in the dining room chair in the corner near the kitchen. That was her spot. But Rita said that her mother became uncomfortable in that dining room chair after she relocated upstairs on those few occasions when she would go downstairs.



Aunt Theresa beamed with delight when her granddaughter Rosemary would visit the Broomall house with her daughters Cynthia Marie and Patricia Rose and Rosemary's first husband Bill Allen. I remember croquet games on the lawn during such visits. Later there were visits by Rosemary and her second husband, Dick Clark, father of Susan Clark and Scott Clark by his previous marriage and Christopher Clark by Rosemary. Dick Clark was a fun guy to talk to. He was a great believer in political conservatism and a fan of Barry Goldwater. He knew a lot about capitalism and free market economy from his experience as an executive in a big aluminum company. Once Rita Cavallaro forbade him from serving as a bartender in the basement recreation room at Broomall because he used too much liquor in the mixed drinks. He told her in his own defence that if one is going to buy good liquor, one should not dilute it too much with other ingredients!



When her son Ralph Baldino had a heart attack Aunt Theresa was very upset and asked everyone to pray that Ralph would make a complete and speedy recovery. He did recover well. My sister and I sometimes called Ralph "Uncle Ralph" because he was old enough to be our uncle. He gave us gifts that made an impression, e.g., a copy of a story book called Hans Brinke: Their Silver Skate by Mary Mapes Dodge which my sister Marlene still has and a red totally mechanical adding machine that fascinated us. He also brought my mother a Japanese kimono that was purple silk with a floral pattern. My mother and Carrie would say that Ralph could be "sweet as pie" but that he could be moody also. Once while I was a member of the Christian Brothers Ralph and I discussed why theology was called the "queen of the sciences". Aunt Theresa looked on appreciatively. I thought. Ralph was the first college graduate of the family in America. He was also Cookie's twin brother, a fact which she always underscored when the occasion presented itself.



Aunt Theresa was very proud when Billy and Marcia Anne Baldino, the children of Ralph and Doris Baldino, were born. Aunt Theresa would have spirited conversations with Doris Baldino. Doris was not afraid to tell Aunt Theresa when she disagreed with her. Doris called her "Mom". Doris would knit the most complex and beautiful things (e.g., sweaters for Billy, argyle socks for Ralph) while talking to Aunt Theresa. I think that Doris' interest in knitting had developed independently, i.e., it was not connected with Carrie's or Aunt Theresa's interest. As a knitter Doris was certainly far superior to Carrie and perhaps to Aunt Theresa. Once I remember meeting Doris' mother when she visited Broomall from Florida. Doris was probably the first "Merig‡n" (i.e., non-Italian) to enter the family. My sister Marlene thought that Doris looked like Katherine Hepburn.



The Broomall house had a lovely living room with beautiful furniture, but we were not generally allowed to sit in it. The family gathered in the dining room or in the kitchen or out on the patio, or in the finished basement but not in the living room. When television came to the house we were allowed to watch it in the living room. The television was the first that I experienced and had a magnifying glass over the small screen. The Howdy Dowdy Program at 5:30 PM was the favorite show both of myself and my cousin Jimmy Cavallaro. We were led to believe that the restrictions on the use of the living room were directly from Aunt Theresa, though Cookie and Rita enforced them meticulously. Once when Nona was visiting she started to sit in the living room, but was asked to come into the dining room instead. Carrie would ask from time to time "Why the hell do yous (sic) have a living room if you're afraid to use it?"



I loved visiting Aunt Theresa. The fresh country air, the newness of the suburbs, my cousin Jimmy Cavallaro's wonderful sandbox, Jimmy's electric trains and train display that filled the whole basement on occasion, the way Aunt Theresa, Rita and Cookie doted and fused over me - all these things made visits very attractive. Once Rita said to me, "If you want anything, Rudy, just ask for it. If we have it we will give it to you. If we don't we'll get it!" In the course of a lifetime not many people say things like that to you! We got to drink light or heavy cream if we wanted it instead of milk. In the summertime my sister and I would spend a week or two at a time in Broomall. It was for us city folk like a country resort. Jimmy Cavallaro introduced us to Max Brown, a friend the same age who lived on Edgewood Road. Max was learning to be an altar boy and would even "say Mass" for us with a cardboard tabernacle.



One day (Oct. 21, 1963) I received a sad message at South Philadelphia High School (where I taught Latin and Greek for five years) that Aunt Theresa had died in her bedroom. Jimmy Cavallaro had tried to resuscitate her as did the rescue squad. As Jimmy told me tearfully, "Mom Mom was good to us, and we will miss her very much."Aunt Theresa's Requiem Mass was at St. Pius X Church, a new parish carved out of St. Anastasia's. The priest took his time and had a beautiful singing voice. Dick Clark commented to me on how moving the Latin Mass was when done properly and not rushed.



VII. Uncle Tony, Uncle Daddy, Antonio Baldino, Pop Pop



We called Uncle Tony "Uncle Daddy". His daughters, Rita Cavallaro and Marie Cookie D'Ambrosio, in turn called my father(Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr.) "Uncle Daddy". Thus there were two "Uncle Daddys "in the family. Jimmy Cavallaro and Rosemary D'Ambrosio Clark called Uncle Tony Pop Pop since he was their grandfather.



Uncle Daddy or Uncle Tony was literate in Italian, English, and Latin. He had been a seminarian in Italy and supposedly left the seminary because he had, Carrie told me, "an eye for girls." When Extreme Unction and Holy Viaticum were administered to him before his death, he recited the Confiteor in Latin and answered all the responses to the ritual in Latin. In his ability to read and write Italian he was perhaps unique in the family although Grandfather Ferdinando Baldino also was able to do so. Sometimes he would read an Italian language newspaper published in Philadelphia called Il Progresso.



I had heard it said that Uncle Daddy had a sister in South America. However I never really knew much about his provenance or how he fit into the stemma of the family. When he died on Sept. 30, 1948 I did not recall anyone from his side of the family, if he had one, coming to the funeral.



There was a lovely stuffed bird ( a ring-necked pheasant) in the dining room of Edgewood Rd. As a child I thought that it had some connection with Uncle Daddy but I was not sure.



Uncle Daddy loved fungi (i.e., mushrooms). My own father Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr., was also a fungi enthusiastic and the two would go "fungi-ing" in the open areas and woods around Broomall (and also in New Jersey) with Jimmy Cavallaro, my sister Marlene, and myself ("the three wild Indians"). The trick of fungi-ing (Sit venia verbo!) was to distinguish edible mushrooms from poisonous toadstools. As the two men would spot edible mushrooms they would say "Fungi!" with enthusiasm. The fungi were gathered into little brown paper bags with the help of "the three Indians" and brought back to Edgewood Road. Aunt Theresa always greeted the fungi with enthusiasm.



One day while fungi-ing with Uncle Daddy we came across a large patch of black-eyed susans. Uncle Daddy told me the name of this flower. I told him that they looked like daiseys. He agreed and said that black eyed susans and daisies were cousins. To this day when I see back eyed susans I think of him.



Uncle Daddy planted and tended a Victory Garden in the rear lawn of the Edgewood Road house. It was located on the garage side of the house but in the rear down a slight incline and next to the property of the Glenwood Memorial Gardens. It included tomatoes, lettuce, cucumbers and other things. Victory Gardens were being planted in those days as World War II drew to an end. At some point a peach tree was planted behind the house and a weeping willow. But I don't know whether these were during Uncle Daddy's watch or later. Climbing the peach tree became a source of delight for Jimmy Cavallaro, Billy Baldino,, and myself in later years. The swing-glidder that was placed under the willow tree was also a lot of fun.



Uncle Daddy was also interested in crabbing. I remember being taken crabbing with him, Tony Cavallaro, my father, and perhaps others at the New Jersey shore somewhere- perhaps in Margate or Sea Isle City. We crabbed at a bridge near the bay-not the ocean. We used metal cages which were lowered into the water. Unsuspecting crabs moved into the cages and then were hauled up and deposited in baskets. We made a good catch. Aunt Theresa was pleased with the quality and quantity of the crabs. With the help Cookie and Rita she made a delicious spaghetti and crabs dish.



Uncle Daddy liked to say the word sp.? "Ishkabibble". As we were walking along he would say this word from time to time and smile. I had no idea why or, at the time, what it meant. My sister Marlene Masciantonio Christensen says that it was the name of a comic strip that appeared in the paper at that time.



Unlike anyone else, at meals Uncle Daddy drank wine, usually red wine. A bottle of wine was kept in the dining room china closet just for him.



While Uncle Daddy was alive and for years afterwards, the "Broomalls" had the traditional Seven Fishes Dinner on Christmas Eve. Cookie would name the seven fishes. I can't name them except for baccala(codfish) and scungile (eel or conch). Uncle Daddy would help Cookie with the Italian names. In those days Christmas Eve, the Vigil of Christmas, was a strict day of fast and abstinence for Catholics. However, Italians found an ingenious way around the strictness of the rules. One meal was permitted on fast days so the Italians made that one meal a truly huge feast. Meat was not permitted on a day of abstinence. So Italians pulled out all the stops with seven elaborately prepared fish delicacies. The Seven Fishes Diner at Broomall was lavish and Lucullan with plenty of pasta and Italian pastries and spirited conversation and arguments!



I remember Uncle Daddy laughing and smiling as he talked gently and kindly. He had wire rimmed glasses. Unlike the other "Broomalls" he never in my presence raised his voice. He enjoyed the meals we had together, even though these were noisy affairs with many female voices being raised. Sometimes he would playfully call Aunt Theresa "Teeray". She would smile whenever he did. I had the feeling that Aunt Theresa and Uncle Daddy loved one another very much. There was delight in their eyes when they looked at one another.



I remember Uncle Daddy watching Rita and Tony Cavallaro wrestling playfully on the lawn on the side of the house. Uncle Daddy applauded their efforts. Tony Cavallaro delighted on such occasions in calling his wife Rita "Woman!"



One September afternoon while Nona and Carrie, my parents, and my sister were visiting Broomall, Uncle Daddy did not feel well. He went upstairs to the bedroom that he shared with Aunt Theresa.to rest on one of the twin beds. However, when he did not feel better after the rest, the decision was made to take him to the hospital.



I remember how the weather changed on that afternoon suddenly from a bright day to a dark and rainy day. Rita and Cookie talked about their father's health and how he had previously experienced chest pains. Sadly, he never returned alive from the hospital. His death from heart problems was on Sept. 30, 1948, just two days after my 8th birthday on Sept. 28. As I mentioned before, Nona said that she should have been the one to die because she was so old. She tried to comfort her daughter, my Aunt Theresa. This was the first occasion where I realized that Aunt Theresa was Nona's daughter. Prior to this occasion I had always thought of them as two totally separate grandmotherly ladies. Uncle Daddy's viewings at Baldi's on South Broad St. were the first I ever attended; ditto for my sister Marlene who is 21 months younger than me. The traditional Requiem Mass was at the old St. Anastasia's Church on Valley View Road in Newtown Square. The church at that time was a small wooden chapel rather than the large stone building that is there now.



VIII.My Mother, Mildred Baldino Masciantonio, Aunt Mildred



Writing about one's parents can be tricky because one generally knows so much about them. So I will try to be very selective and include items likely to interest family readers.



There were stories about my mother's life before my birth that were passed on to me and/ or my sister Marlene Masciantonio,Christensen.



When my mother was a little girl her father (my Grandfather Ferdinando Baldino) bought her a costly gold ring from a fancy store on Passyunk Ave. Her mother Maria Baldino (my Nona) objected and said that such a gift was too expensive for a little girl and should be returned. However, Grandfather Ferdinando prevailed, and my mother got to keep the ring.



As a young woman my mother was very beautiful, and she was offered a job at an elegant night club in the Adelphia Hotel in Center City as a hat check or cigarette girl She would have to wear a short skirt. When Uncle Jimmy found out about the job offer he got very angry and absolutely refused to allow her to accept it. He prevailed.



As a young woman my mother spent a lot of time with her sister Carrie and her niece Marie (i.e., Cookie). They went places together. Usually they traveled by trolley car. At that time South Philadelphia and Center City had trolleys on virtually every street. The number of automobiles was very small. Once when the trolley was not coming they decided to hitchhike. In those days people were not cautioned against hitchhiking (nor perhaps did they need to be).Carrie, Cookie, and my mother got into an automobile but the driver hesitated to move and tried to engage the young women in conversation. Finally Carrie or Cookie asked the driver:"Got any gas?" To which he replied affirmatively. Then Carrie or Cookie said "Well, step on it!" That imperative forcefully uttered got the driver moving.



My mother married late in years. She was 38. She said that she was waiting for Carrie, who was slightly older than she, to marry first. But Carrie never did marry.



My parents never taught us to speak the Calabrian dialect. They did talk to one another in it, especially when they did not want us to understand. And they talked to other relatives in it, e.g., Carrie, Nona, Aunt Theresa. They seemed to be sensitive to the different registers of the Italian language and its dialects. They claimed, for example, that Aunt Carrie Cascarella spoke "real Cali", a denigrating term meaning low class or vulgar. Speaking Italian was not considered a goal to strive for. In fact we seemed to be pushed in the direction of being "Americanized". I remember as a child regretting my dark Italianate features and skin and wishing I could look like Eddie Dugan, a fair skinned boy of Irish descent who lived down the street. I even resented my distinctly Italian name, viz., Masciantonio. In Southwest Philadelphia we lived in Most Blessed Sacrament (MBS) parish where there were only two kinds of people, viz, those who were lucky enough to be Irish and those who wished they were!



We did eat Italian food. My mother could make a nice plate of spaghetti and homemade meatballs. Sometimes she made the meatballs "Sidgi style", i.e., with raisins. My mother frequently remarked that her sister Theresa and her sister's daughters Rita and Marie were so much better at cooking than she was. Being ethnic was not stylish in those days. My mother referred to s. 9th St. and the Italian market area as "stinkin (sic) Nine (sic) St.", partially because it was not chic to be ethnic. We had a lot of "American" food too, but no Kraft Macaroni and Cheese, a food that became a staple with later generations of the family. My mother could make "a nice platter" consisting of meat, vegetables, and potatoes. All pasta was called "macaroni" and all pasta sauce was called "gravy". Sometimes a non-Italian would be referred to with some disdain as "Americano" or, more often, "Amerig‡n" or simply "Merig‡n." Marrying someone "Merig‡n" was not, on the one hand, a particularly loyal thing to do, though of course, on the other hand, it contributed to the overarching goal of Americanization.



When we lived at 2031 S. Redfield St. in Southwest Philadelphia, my mother wanted the double doors between the sun parlor and the living room removed because she thought (along with Aunt Theresa) that the door removal would make the place lighter and airier. (Do Baldino women have an anti-door gene?) So my daddy had the doors removed and discarded. Years later I found a set of doors discarded from a similar house in the trash and dragged them home because by that time everyone agreed that double French doors with little window panes were attractive and gave greater flexibility to how the house could be used. So my daddy found a carpenter to install the doors.



Once Aunt Theresa stopped by at Redfield St. for an unplanned visit. My mother had not prepared for the visit, but Aunt Theresa, savvy cook that she was, was able to whip up a truly excellent meal for all of us with just what was in the house. Aunt Theresa knew what to do with food and how to make the best with what you had. My mother's cooking skills were, on the other hand, more limited.



My mother got herself a driver's license- perhaps becoming the first, and for a long time, the only female in the family who could drive. A man named Pepper taught her to drive "down the lakes", i.e., in what is now Franklin D. Roosevelt Park but in those days it was called League Island Park. South Philadelphians just called it "the lakes". Our car was a 1946 and then a 1947 black Plymouth sedan with a manual side gear shift and clutch. My mother found the hill at the top of Edgewood Road near the West Chester Pike hard to negotiate. Shifting gears to get up the hill was the problem. Sometimes Rita would coach her. Sometimes Tony would even drive the car up to the Pike for her and then turn it over to her. Her interest in driving grew out of her enmity with her sister-in-law my Aunt Juliette (Juliette Masciantonio Tursi) and her brother-in--law, my Uncle Armond (Armond or Edmond Tursi). Aunt Juliette and Uncle Armond. had been dubbed by Aunt Theresa Grunia and Waletta respectively, as the reader may recall supra. Uncle Armond was using my father's car to haul fruit to his fruit stands on 9th St. where he was a merchant. Aunt Jeanette Masciantonio Giunta (the sister of my paternal grandfather Venanzio Masciantonio) and Aunt Theresa both urged my mother to learn to drive just to "get the car away from Waletta and Grunia!" So my mother followed their advice.



My parents' marriage had problems. Daddy was away in Allentown or Bethlehem or Easton or Harrisburg for three days a week. His job, as a driver saleman and later foreman, for the Tripoli Barber and Beauty Supply Co., took him out of town. Daddy was ten years younger than my mother, and the age difference may have contributed to the marital problems. Carrie, as I mentioned previously, tried to play the role of the peacemaker.



My mother's devotion to her children was absolute and unflinching. She was Supermom. She did the best for us always as she understood it. I was raised as "a fine Itralian (sic) boy" who would be catered to and waited upon at every turn. I thought that she treated my sister in the same way, like a princess. As a result we children did not learn a lot of practicalities in life until much later on in life. When I was with the Christian Brothers in Ammendale, Md. and Elkins Park Pa. she wrote to me every single day. I still have the letters. She made sure that full advantage was taken of visiting privileges both in Ammendale, Md.and Elkins Park, Pa. Once my parents brought Rita, Tony and Jimmy Cavallaro to Ammendale to visit me at the Christian Brothers' Novitiate.

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My mother at one time smoked Chesterfield cigarettes, though she gave them up later in life. Occasionally when she felt sick she would say that she "felt like 60." She continued to use this expression into her seventies, eighties, and nineties!



Daddy would call her "Mill". Sometimes she would answer "Dill". "Dill" or "the Dill" became a kind of nickname or pet name. She would sometimes use malapropisms that we called "Dill errors". For instance, when my sister Marlene had a headache my mother told her to take two eccentrics instead of two Excedrins. My mother called British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher "Mrs. Thrasher". Once she called Martin Luther King "Martha Newton King". Once she said that Billy Baldino drove a Porch, rather than a Porsche. This latter Dill error about Billy's car was borrowed from Cookie. Once she said that her British shorthair cat Sparky was getting too fat (27 lbs) and had to be put on a budget (instead of a diet). Cookie, by the way, called Sparky "Porky". On another occasion my mother said that Donny Osmond was a moron (rather than a Mormon). She enjoyed laughing over these Dill errors.



She had some strong ideas about life and the modern world. Here are a few of them: If you enjoy food while you eat it will make you fat. You'll ruin the reception on a television set by watching junky shows. You should always buy white towels and tissues because they are more sanitary. The rest of the world beyond the United States was "the other side", an expression which Carrie, Aunt Elsie, and Cookie used. Once when there were earthquakes in Japan my mother telephoned my sister Marlene in Denmark to see how she was because Denmark, like Japan, was "on the other side".



Once she listed the ten "hunkiest" men in her opinion in public life. They were: Lee Iacocca, South African State President P.W. Botha, Tip O'Neal, Frank Rizzo, Phil Donahue, Mr. Quartermain of General Hospital, George Schultz, Henry Kissinger, Mel Torme, and Ross Perot.



Sometimes we would ask her about world events that she remembered. For example, if she remembered the Korean War? World War II? World War I? The Spanish American War? The Civil War? The Revolution? The French and Indian War? When the events were too far in the past she would say, "What are you trying to do? How the hell old do you think I am?" Then she would add in the style of Carrie and Cookie "Yous (sic) can all go to hell!" She had the Baldino temper and described herself as "high strung."



Like other Baldino women my mother was a truly great cleaner. Even in her eighties and nineties she would clean- perhaps just doing a little at a time.



My mother held various retail jobs over the years. She worked in millinery (ladies hats) and my parents even talked about opening a millinery shop. Daddy even had a name picked out, viz., "Mildred's Million Dollar Millenery Shop". My mother would be known as "Miss Millie of Southwest Philly". But the millinery shop never materialized. My mother was also a wrapper at Bonwit Teller's on Chestnut St. and a clerk at Caldwell's elegant Chestnut St. store. She also worked as a clerk on Woodland Ave. near our house and as a house cleaner for an elderly lady named Mrs. Widner on Rosewood St. in South Philadelphia.



Our Southwest Philadelphia neighborhood grew rougher with time. In 1972 my mother sold the house and moved in with me at 429 S. 20th St. where she had her own apartment. Living in Center City was a big boost for her. She was an active member of the Sodality at St Patrick Church, 20th and Locust. The Sodality was a group ladies who recited the Little Office of the Blessed Virgin Mary and the Office of the Dead together and went on recreational outings. She also attended lectures and programs at the Ethical Society on Rittenhouse Square. She got to be friends with a number of Jewish ladies who lived on Rittenhouse Square and took her to films, lectures, concerts, and social activities. These Jewish lady friends opened up a whole new world for my mother. The ladies liked to hang out on the park benches or at the McDonald's on Walnut St. near the Square.



My mother also enjoyed baby sitting and had regular clients, viz., our neighbor Sandy at 425 S. 20th St. who had two children (Little Brie and Little Coleman) and Judy Bolton another neighbor who had a daughter named Melissa. My mother was very close to Little Brie and Little Coleman and Melissa. In a way they were the grandchildren she never had. The children stayed in touch with her over the years.



My mother was an upbeat person who enjoyed life and kept a sense of humor and a sense of proportion about life's problems. She would say when confronted with a problem, "We'll manage". I thought that the years she spent on 20th St. (1972-1993) were among her happiest. She was mentally in excellent condition. As she would say, "I have all my marbles!" She liked to caution people against using their heads just as a hat rack. Physically she had some of the problems of aging (e.g. a touch of arthritis) but nothing that she did not manage effectively. She was also a person of deep faith who, like Cookie, had a daily regimen of devotions and prayers. She was a daily communicant at St. Patrick for many years and sought out the traditional Latin Mass wherever she could find it. When her vision was improved by laser treatment for macular degeneration, she attributed the improvement to the special intercession of St. Lucy. Like her mother Nona she was very devoted to the Rosary. She would tell people who had problems or were depressed to "say a nice Rosary."



On December 7, 1993 her hip broke when she was picking up a pasta shell that had fallen on the floor in her kitchen. It was a Sunday afternoon after dinner. At the Pennsylvania Hospital they determined that she needed a hip replacement. The operation (on December 8, my father's birthday, and the Feast of the Immaculate Conception) went very well and she convalesced nicely. She came home before Christmas after a brief stay at Marlene's apartment on Carpenter St.. My mother's new hip was named "Herman". After the new year she experienced respiratory problems and on Jan. 4 (Nona's death day) returned to Pennsylvania Hospital where some days later she died quietly and unexpectedly in her sleep on the morning of Jan 18, 1993 at the age of 94. Cookie and Rosemary came to see her that day and learned the sad news that she had passed away from the hospital staff. My mother was cremated and had a Latin Requiem Mass at St. Patrick Church because that's what she wanted.



IX. My Father, Rudolph Masciantonio, Sr., Uncle Daddy



My father for most of his life since my birth was a big man who weighed over 210 lbs. He was about 5'11"" in height. His pants had to be specially made. He enjoyed eating. In addition to a pasta course at his meals he would have an entree such as steak, veal, lamb, ham, pork, or chicken. He loved a big breakfast of bacon and eggs. In later years my mother would say that in daddy's time cholesterol had not yet been invented! Physically daddy had tremendous strength and was able to lift barber chairs single handedly.



As I mentioned previously, he worked for the Tripoli Barber and Beauty Supply Company located on the 600 block of south 9th St. The faade of the building including the inscription "Tripoli" remains intact. Tripoli was located on the same block as the house where my father had grown up, viz., 618 S. 9th St. My parents lived at this address in the 4th floor apartment for the first few years of my life and that of my sister Marlene. 618 S. 9th St. was also where my paternal grandmother Carmella Tursi Masciantonio lived and my Aunt Juliette Masciantonio Tursi, and my Uncle Armond (or Edmond) Tursi. (The reader may recall that Aunt Juliette and Uncle Armond had been dubbed "Grunia" and "Waletta" by Aunt Theresa.) My unmarried Uncle Jimmy (James Masciantonio, my father's brother) also lived there.



The 9th St. house had also been the residence of my paternal grandfather Venanzio Masciantonio, but he had died some years before my birth. In addition to being the landlord of 618 S. 9th St. and some other property in the area, he was also a wine maker, or some would say, a bootlegger, since he lived during the Prohibition Era. My father was a proud graduate in 1929 of South Philadelphia High School for Boys, a school where I taught Latin and Greek many years later. Yearbook and wedding pictures show daddy as slender and handsome. He told me many stories about his days at South Philadelphia High School, e.g., how the old Earle Theater, one of the grand movie palaces on Market St., was called the South Philadelphia High School Annex because so many students who "bagged" school went to the Earle to spend the day. Daddy wanted to go to college after he finished high school, but Grandfather Venanzio did not believe in college and wanted daddy to go to work to make money for the family. While in high school daddy already worked part time for the Tripoli Co. After high school he became a full time Tripoli employee as a driver salesman. He would drive a big truck loaded with supplies for barbershops. He would stop at about 100 barber shops a day and try to interest the barbers in buying hair tonics, shaving creams, tissues, as well as shears, razors, barber chairs, etc. Riding in the truck with him on occasion was a lot of fun. He would comment on the barbers as we left each shop. He called some of them "cheap bastards".



Daddy was also a member of the Circulo Roma Club on Point Breeze Ave. near 29th St. in South Philadelphia. Essentially the Circulo Roma was a men's club with its bocce court, tables for card games, bar, and dining facilities. It was called simply "The Club". The Club had a cook named Rosie. There was a sign as one entered the building that read "A nice place for nice people". The members seemed to be all Italian. On Sundays daddy would frequently deposit us (my mother, my sister and me) at 1031 Snyder Ave. with Nona, Carrie, and Aunt Elsie. He would then drive to the Club. Toward evening he returned to 1031 Snyder Ave. to take us home to Redfield St.

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Later daddy became the manager of the Club. When he was the manager he would frequently announce "Drinks on the house!" This meant that everyone present got a free drink of choice. Daddy liked Horlocher beer as well as "shots", i.e., whiskey glasses of hard liquor. My mother thought that he drank too much and would sometimes call him a " boozer", "rumdum" or "rumacusa". She attributed most of their marital problems to his drinking.



My parents arranged for my sister and me to have private piano lessons at home once a week. We used the piano that had been moved from Snyder Ave. to the sun parlor of our Redfield St. house. The piano teacher, Mr. Leon Berenson, came each week. Marlene and I discovered that if we claimed to feel sick we could avoid the lesson. We never became virtuosi, but I was always glad to be able to read music and pick out a tune on a keyboard. My mother knew how to play "The Fairy Waltz" by ear, i.e., without music. She would play it for daddy and us children from time to time. Once she played it in Merion at one of Uncle Albert Masciantonio's parties at daddy's insistence and in the presence of Carrie and the formidable Aunt Carrie Cascarella.



When we lived at 2031 S. Redfield St.daddy would take my sister and me and my mother to visit family regularly. Sometimes we would make three stops in the course of a Saturday, Sunday, or holiday. We would visit Grandmon Carmella Tursi Masciantonio, Aunt Juliette Masciantonio Tursi and Uncle Armond Tursi at 618 S. 9th St. where we had once lived. Uncle Jimmy (James Masciantonio) also, as I previously mentioned, lived at 618 S. 9th St.. Here Marlene and I would have to play the piano along with the daughters of Aunt Juliette and Uncle Armond, viz., Doris and Loretta Tursi. Doris and Loretta Tursi were much better piano players than Marlene and I were. The piano playing sessions there were ordeals for me and Marlene.



Daddy also took us to visit his other sister Aunt Emilia Masciantonio Pero and Uncle Lou Pero on s. 15th St. near a prison. Aunt Emilia and Uncle Lou had a huge and attractive family and house. My mother got along very well with Aunt Emilia. Also among places to be visited was the house of Aunt Millie Tursi and Uncle Alec (pronounced as though it were "Ullic") Tursi on s. 15th St. Uncle Alec spent a lot of time at the Club with daddy. Uncle Alec was the brother of my grandmother Carmella Tursi Masciantonio and was really my great uncle.



One of my father's brothers, Uncle Albert Masciantonio and his wife Aunt Carrie Cascarella Masciantonio lived in Merion. They too were visited often. Uncle Albert threw big parties. As I mentioned before, Carrie Baldino always invited to these along with us. Uncle Albert, who owned an oil burner and furniture business, even claimed to have invented a mixed drink called the Hawaiian.



Of course Broomall and 1031 Snyder Ave. were on the list of places to be visited frequently. Since everyone lived in close proximity with much of the family still in South Philadelphia, people stayed in touch and were able to see one another frequently.- quite different from the far flung transcontinental family of today.



There were other relatives that we rarely saw, e.g., my father's brother Freddy Masciantonio, a plumber, and his wife Aunt Augusta. My father had another brother, Peter Masciantonio, who lived at the mental hospital at Pennhurst, Pa. Uncle Peter was retarded. We visited there occasionally..



The adults that we visited felt that they should give money to us children. Marlene and I received many quarters and dimes-but never paper money. Daddy encouraged us to save this and other money though he himself tended to spend money quite freely. Sometimes my mother would call him a "spacone" which I think means a showoff who spends profligately. With encouragement from my father I used to collect newspapers with Marlene's help and sell them to Max, the local junk dealer, for as much as a penny a pound. Later, with daddy's encouragement also, I got a paper route delivering the Evening and Sunday Bulletin. Daddy gave us a small allowance of about $1.00 per week.



When my father would return from his three days upstate on the job, he would make it a point to return via West Chester Pike. He would stop at the Broomall house and have dinner there. He came back from Allentown, Easton, and Bethlehem loaded with foods and antiques. He was a very generous man and dispensed freely what he had bought upstate. He also provided Tony Cavallaro and others with barber supplies from his well-stocked truck. He started his antique shaving mug collection (which I still have) on his trips upstate. He enjoyed his visits to Broomall where Rita and Cookie always treated him fondly and called him "Uncle Daddy". He thought that Aunt Theresa lived "como una regina!" ("like a queen").



Daddy had a corny but great sense of humor. He enjoyed the story of the impecunious college student who liked to communicate with his father in rhymes. The son wrote" No mun! No fun! Your son!" to which the father replied "Too bad! Too sad! Your Dad!" When someone would belch unexpectedly, daddy would relieve the embarrassment by asking: "What did you expect? Chimes?" I felt that my father enjoyed life, was a bon vivant, and was upbeat and optimistic. He certainly had many friends.



In the summer time my sister and I had two vacations, one or two weeks in Broomall (already described supra) and one week in Sea Isle City, NJ. People in those days (the forties) seemed fiercely loyal to their shore resorts. Ours was Sea Isle City where we stayed in the rooming house over the Seaside Restaurant, an Italian eatery run by Mr. and Mrs. DiGiorgio. Carrie was frequently with us. Daddy would continue working for most of the week and then join us on weekends. Sometimes we would visit the house in Margate rented by Aunt Juliette and Uncle Armond near the landmark elephant Lucy.



Daddy enjoyed taking us for rides in his car. Going for a ride in a car with no particular destination seems now to have vanished as a form of recreation, but as my sister and I were growing up going for a ride was great fun. Often we would wind up at the Philadelphia International Airport or the Dairy Queen in Clifton Heights or in Upper Darby on West Chester Pike. Often it was just a ride through the country with no particular goal. Daddy was fiercely loyal to Plymouth cars just as Tony Cavallaro was loyal to Pontiacs and Uncle Albert Masciantonio to Chyslers. In those days you got a brand or make of car and stuck to it. It was always easy to identify the make of a car because the variations within each brand were not that great. Most of daddy's cars were black. "They are good for funerals", people would say. His final car, however, was a powder blue Plymouth sedan.



Daddy was not very handy, unlike his brother my Uncle Albert or his other brother, my Uncle Freddy. Masciantonio, the plumber. When something had to be done around the house daddy had to call someone, e.g., Uncle Albert or Uncle Freddy, or sometimes even get my mother to do it. My mother, for example, painted our basement on Redfield St., and repaired the cement on the front steps.



In 1960 daddy experienced severe chest pains and called an ambulance to Redfield St. He walked down the high steps in front of the house and was taken to Misericordia Hospital in West Philadelphia. He had had a myocardial infarction. At the time I was in the Christian Brothers' Scholasticate in Elkins Park. The Brother Director there arranged for me to visit daddy at Misericordia Hospital where a number of family members had converged. Included in the group in addition to my mother and sister were Rosemary D'Ambrosio Clark, Ralph and Doris Baldino, Rita and Tony Cavallaro, Aunt Juliette Tursi and Uncle Armond Tursi. Rosemary asked the cardiologist in attendance some particularly insightful questions.



Daddy recovered from his heart attack and convalesced at home with my mother bringing him his meals and making him comfortable. His illness seemed to help their marriage. In those days it seemed that rest was the primary treatment for heart problems.



With time Daddy developed congestive heart failure and was troubled by swollen legs and shortness of breath. His heart valves had been damaged by his heart attack. Eventually he had to retire from his job as General Manager of the Tripoli Barber Supply Company. Retirement because of ill health was sad for him and the people at the company. He was the highest ranking company official who was not a member of the DiPuppo family which owned the company. Matty DiPuppo (whom Marlene and I called affectionately Uncle Matty) was especially upset by daddy's leaving. Daddy died of congestive heart failure on the morning of December 31, 1965 at the age of 57. He had been staying at the suburban Bywood home of Aunt Juliette and Uncle Armond on the theory that the fresh country air and Aunt Juliette's great cooking would make him feel better. He used to joke that he wanting the clinking of glasses and light-hearted partying to go on when he died. Since he died on New Year's Eve in a sense he got his wish.



Daddy's viewing was at Perri's Funeral Home on West Chester Pike. In those days Masciantonio funerals were always at Perri's just as Baldino funerals were always at Baldi's. People were fiercely loyal to their funeral directors at that time. Daddy's Requiem Mass was at Most Blessed Sacrament Church, 56th and Chester Ave., our parish church, which he had attended rather irregularly. He was buried at Holy Cross Cemetery in Section 2 in the Masciantonio plot.



X. Epilogue



I will write no more now. I have covered the basic stemma of the family and others are better qualified to write about more recent generations.



Perhaps these recollections can be made available through the internet or on a Baldino family website or in some other way. The website might include the touching eulogies for Cookie delivered at her funeral by Dr. Billy Baldino, Jimmy Cavallaro, Christopher Clark, and Patti Shuster. With a techie on our side we might even be able to include some photographs.



While it is sad to think that we are separated from the deceased members of the family, we do have our good memories and traditions and the love that transcends the generations. And through the eyes of faith there is the hope of a glorious reunion in eternity. Perhaps it is fitting to end these recollections with Nona's favorite prayer, the Ave Maria ("Hail Mary"), which has been sung at the funerals of so many of our loved ones over the years. This prayer reflects the tradition of devotion to the Blessed Mother that perhaps is another Baldino characteristic. So here it is in the Latin that Nona knew and used:



Ave Maria! Gratia plena! Dominus tecum! Benedicta tu in mulieribus et benedictus fructus ventris tui Jesus!

Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus nunc et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen.









Written in September, 2004 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania