TWO CENTURIES TO FREEDOM
One Family's Migration from Lucca, Italy to New Mexico and Other American States
CHAPTER EXCERPTS
8
Immigrants at War (1918–1919)
First Menicucci Inventor
All the foundry employees were naturally tense following the war declaration, but there was only one noticeable change for the Menicuccis—the shrinking number of workers due to calls for military service. Some, such as National Guard Reservists, received orders to active duty just days following the war declaration, and their absence in the foundry was immediately felt in the high-bay work areas. However, operational changes were in the offing.
The foundry crews were restructuring their manufacturing lines to meet new demands for wartime materiel and vehicles. At the threshold of World War I, America was evolving into a military manufacturing giant. Automobile manufacturers were on the front line of American war production because they were best positioned to retool to produce war-fighting vehicles and other equipment. As the manufacturers received lucrative new government contracts for military gear, they demanded new components from the various contractors who served the auto industry, including the Bradley facility.
New molded iron products required new molds, many of which were larger and more intricate than they used for standard automobiles. The upsizing caused operational problems; unforeseen failures beset the teams attempting to meet the government’s specifications. One intractable molding problem-plagued Giulio’s team. To create a gear, they constructed a mold from tightly packed sand formed into the shape of a desired object. Hot, liquid metal was poured into the mold. Once the metal solidified, the mold was broken and the cast object was removed. Workers then sanded and polished the object for delivery to Ford Motor Company to the customer. The foundry was adept at producing these products for automobiles but not those for tanks and other war vehicles three times their size.
The larger object they were attempting to mold frequently fractured as it cooled in the mold. A fracture is costly because the metal has to be cooled, fully reclaimed and re-smelted for a new mold. It wasted time and money. The situation led to accidents, such as burns, and drove up production costs. Giulio was intent on solving the problem and experimented with solutions. The solution was carefully controlling the cooling process using special cooling fins. Giulio, with Amerigo at his side, designed and built a prototype mold and tested it. It greatly reduced failures. It was another remarkable engineering insight that characterized Giulio’s technical skills.
The men worked overtime implementing the new system on the line. Until then, management had paid little attention to Giulio’s team, as they were not accustomed to ideas emanating from the high bays. That changed when Giulio’s team ramped up production with few failures. Cost reductions tend to catch management’s attention. They quickly implemented the new mold design throughout the plant. It was a novel concept worthy of a patent because it revolutionized the molding process for large metal wheel rims, gears and other round objects.
Giulio discussed his new system with the Cardosi family and the management’s reaction. Giulio was excited, but he was unsure how to capitalize on it. John’s brother, Paul, owned an oil distributorship, and he understood American business practices. He could smell a rat in the mix and advised Giulio that his invention had value and that he should claim it and ask for compensation. This was America, where people were recompensed for inventions. Giulio did not have to ask because the Bradley operators already knew the value of the invention and offered Giulio seven hundred fifty dollars (about nineteen thousand in 2024 dollars) for the exclusive rights to the invention. The invention was worth much more but Giulio gleefully accepted the largest bounty he had ever imagined. Bradley patented the process and used it until the 1980s. Some might argue that this situation was unfair to Giulio; after all, he should have been named on the patent and received royalty payments. A patent would have been irrefutable proof that he had invented something, logging him as the first Menicucci to have earned one. It was incidental to Giulio; he had the biggest pile of money he had ever imagined, which was good enough for him and his brother. However, as military induction notices infiltrated the workforce, a new change was afoot for them.1
Grand Planning
The Menicuccis learned how to use the American newspapers as a source of information for making decisions. In 1916 and 1917, with maritime losses in the North Sea making regular front-page news, both men were piqued. They had limited knowledge of geography and no understanding of the nuances of the ground war, but the sea lanes were different. Both had been on a ship in the North Sea and it was rough. The thought of being in the steerage hull of a huge ocean liner with water rushing in from a torpedo attack terrified them. They had a phobia of suffocating to death in cramped places. Franklin Jr. mine haunted them.
It was now late 1917 and Giulio, with his brother’s help, had spent nearly a year developing the new molding technique. However, the threat of induction was ever present as they witnessed many of their co-workers disappear daily. There was talk about hiring women to replace the departed men, figuring that even though they lacked the physical strength, they could do many foundry jobs.
Military inductees from the plant were ordered to report to different training camps throughout the country. There was a chance that the Menicucci brothers could even be split up, a prospect they desperately wanted to avoid. They went through a heated period of information gathering, not only by reading the newspapers but also through letters and reports from their workmates who were in military training.
They did what they always did in time of need—turn to family and close family friends for advice and help. They had personal friends and relatives in Albuquerque who all emigrated from Lucca province. Their cousin Austutillo Giannini lived there, although he was still too young to be drafted. Their close friends were also there: the three Matteucci brothers, Amedeo, Alessandro, and Johnny. The Matteucci family all hailed from Lammari, near the homes of some of Pasquale Menicucci’s family, who also lived in Lammari. Giulio and Johnny were near the same age and were close friends. Johnny was born Giovanni (John) but immediately employed the English version of the name after he arrived in America in 1906. He loved the ring of Johnny with Matteucci, and it became his namesake for business purposes and among friends. But, his family called him John. Johnny and Austutillo did well in business and urged the Menicuccis to move to Albuquerque. But, until the Army decided otherwise, there was no reason for the Menicuccis to leave Kankakee.2
After exchanging a few letters, a reason to exit Kankakee arose. Based on reports, men from Albuquerque reported for Army training at Camp Cody, near Deming, New Mexico. The Albuquerque area was a small town at the time and groups of men were often drafted together. If the brothers could get to Albuquerque and establish residency, they would likely be trained together. But there was still a problem: what if their draft notices arrived at different times? Then, they might still be split up. Johnny had the answer. They would wait in Albuquerque for one of them to be called and then the other two travel with him to the enlistment office at Camp Cody. Men could walk into the camp and enlist. As Johnny hatched it, they planned to travel to Camp Cody and enter the war simultaneously.
It did not take a lot of thought for the brothers. If they had to go to war, it was best to go with friends and family. Cardosis agreed and assisted them in obtaining rail tickets to Albuquerque. The brothers notified the Bradley management and took their final cash payments. Both had impressed the management, and they were verbally guaranteed that their jobs would await them after the war. Importantly, their aunt, Amabele Morelli, lived in Albuquerque and had a place for them to stay. She was sister to the Menicucci’s mother and had immigrated about ten years earlier. Her husband, Francesco, widowed her a few years earlier in Italy, and she moved her family to Albuquerque shortly afterward. She had plenty of room at her home at 714 Tijeras Street, just a half block from the Matteucci’s Champion Grocery Store where Johnny worked. Before leaving Kankakee, the brothers changed their mailing address to their aunt’s Albuquerque address, an important step in establishing residency in Albuquerque. They left their savings in the Kankakee safe because they expected to return following the war.
In February of 1918, the two brothers traveled by rail north to Chicago and, from there, boarded the Atchison, Topeka & Santa Fe railcar that brought them directly to Albuquerque. They walked the eight blocks from the rail depot to their Aunt Amabele’s home. As they passed through the door, it was like a trip back home to Italy. The aroma reminded them of their mother. Plus, Amabele and Teresa had similar physical features. She was blood family, the first they had encountered in a decade. That evening Amabele cooked a typical Italian meal for the men, including plenty of wine. They were safe for now, and a relaxing night’s sleep followed.
The following day, they met with Johnny Matteucci at Champion Grocery. Johnny was the youngest of the Matteuccis and the only one eligible for military service; brothers Amedeo and Alessandro were already too old at forty and forty-six years old, respectively. Alessandro offered the Menicuccis temporary work at Champion Grocery but the Morellis had already secured work for them at the railroad yards, the largest employer in the city. By the time the Menicucci brothers arrived in Albuquerque, the Matteucci family had been in business for years. In February of 1918, they worked as apprentice railcar mechanics. Importantly, Immaculate Conception church was nearby to serve the community.
Togetherness
They worked for several months before Johnny Matteucci was called to service. In late June 1917, following their plan, the three men boarded a southbound train for Camp Cody. This military camp was built in the mid-1800s as an Army fortress to bolster American defenses of its southern border following the Mexican-American war. Although the Americans easily defeated the Mexicans in the mid-1800s military adventure, taking Mexico City by force in eighteen months, the Treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo that ended the conflict never set well with the Mexicans. They lost much land area and all of the disputed territory of Texas, leaving the U.S. as the controlling entity for the western half of the North American continent. As a result, border skirmishes were normal, and the Army often intervened to re-establish order. The poor relations with its southern neighbor left the Americans worried that Mexico might use the European war as a distractive opportunity to reclaim territory. What was more, reports of an encrypted message dubbed the Zimmerman Memo indicated that the Germans had been negotiating an alliance with the Mexicans. The rumor was that the Mexicans sought to reverse the Guadalupe-Hidalgo accord. This alarmed the Army and further justified the Camp.
As the nation entered the war in Europe, US military leaders projected that the resources needed for a global military campaign required an Army many times its size of two hundred thousand men, eventually millions. Training facilities were rapidly built to meet the need. Camp Cody was one of them. Before the war, it was envisioned to train the National Guard and military reservists, but it was quickly converted to handle tens of thousands of inductees, most of whom were deployed to France. The camp was the newest and the most advanced training facility in the Army, with excellent provisions for the men. Some of the first men to arrive at the war front in France in late summer were National Guardsmen stationed at Camp Cody when war was declared.
Johnny and the Menicuccis arrived at the parched, dusty and feverish military facility late on June 27, 1918. They were quickly hustled off to the orientation area, where they took their initial briefing, collected their issued supplies, found their bunks, and met their drill sergeant who would train them. As the men were processed, they recorded Giulio’s name as Julius because it was a name that sounded like Giulio. So, he was to the Army Julius Menicucci. At that point, he assumed the Americanized version of Julio and retained it for the remainder of his life. Amerigo had no problems with his name because it was similar to America. Johnny was a common American name.
A quick physical exam qualified each man for the rigors of training and warfighting. Once cleared by the physicians, they initiated the metamorphosis from citizens to fighting men. The rare man who failed the physical was sent back home. Six weeks of training with rifles and other military equipment was standard preparation for deployment to the American Expeditionary Force in France, commanded by General John Pershing. Pershing insisted that all American servicemen and women arrive fully trained and battle-ready regardless of rank or job specialty. This order aimed to prevent high losses when green, untrained soldiers were placed directly into battle and expected to learn on the job. His second concern was maintaining control of his troops under AEF command.
The Allied powers were eager for American equipment and troops but viewed Americans as lacking proper training and organization. They argued that Americans should be placed under Allied command. Many commanders had suggested dividing the Americans among the various Allied Power commanders, essentially using them to replace the losses they had sustained in a stalemated contest. Pershing rejected all of this. Certainly, the Americans had no combat experience in a European ground war, but they had performed well in Mexico, albeit against a rag-tag opponent. Pershing correctly reasoned that if he could demonstrate well-trained and well-organized battle groups, he could justify keeping his units together and under American command. For this, he had President Wilson’s ear and his support. Throughout the remainder of the war, Pershing’s commanders led American troops in various battles supporting the Allied war effort. Little did Pershing know that his AEF command structure was the prototype for America’s future intervention in an even greater conflict with the same European agitator.
At Camp Cody, each recruit completed various aptitude tests, which the Army used as a guide to match individual skills to assignments. The Army understood that men perform better when they enjoy what they do, and they had a huge variety of work to do. It also understood that soldiers with poor English language skills put fighting units at risk. So, all immigrants, regardless of naturalization status, were schooled in reading and writing proper English and American society's ethical norms. Immigrant aliens, which included Johnny and Amerigo, were put on a fast track to naturalization. Both were naturalized in Deming, New Mexico, a few weeks after enlisting. (Julio was already naturalized.) This fundamental civic education of immigrants aided the war effort and created knowledgeable, patriotic citizens. For the Menicuccis, the Army continued Angelina Cardosi’s instruction.
Bricks, Music and Guns
Due to his masonry skills, Amerigo was identified as a tradesman and classified as a brick mason who assisted Army engineers in construction. He was permanently assigned as a first-class private to the utilities division at Camp Cody, where he spent his entire enlistment of seven months. He excelled at constructing and modifying buildings on the fort and, in a short period, received two field promotions to Sergeant first class, producing the first non-commissioned military officer in known family history.
Julio was singled out as a musician because he was proficient with the mandolin. He had no formal training in music but had natural musical abilities. At that time, musicians were in demand, and few men came into service with musical skills. He was immediately classified as a third-class musician and assigned to the 109th Engineer Regiment of the 24th Infantry Division of the AEF in Chaumont, France, about sixty miles west of the stalemated battlefront.
Johnny possessed no particular skills or trades; he was a shopkeeper in his brothers’ grocery store. He was selected for gunnery training and was assigned to Company D of the 128th Machine Gun Battalion, 24th Division, subsequently deployed to France in September. A gunner’s job was especially hazardous because the flames spewing from the barrel when fired became a blazoned target for return fire. Fortunately, Johnny was issued the new Browning Model 1917 machine gun, the most advanced in the world. It was a reliable, water-cooled gun that fired a 30-06 round. Water allowed the weapon to fire tens of thousands of rounds continuously without cooling periods, a tremendous advantage because it kept the enemy pinned down with few breaks to allow it to identify the gunner’s position and return fire. Pinning the enemy with fire allowed the infantry to move successfully against entrenched German positions. The gun weighed only about forty pounds, about a third of the German equivalent, and could be handled by a single man instead of two. However, the M1917 gunning team required two soldiers, the gunner and an ammo man. Browning’s new gun improved battlefield performance and was a factor in the success of the Muese-Argonne operation, which was the first global demonstration of American military might. A gunner was a perilous assignment regardless of weapon. Many soldiers often quipped that a gunner’s life expectancy on the line was one minute after he commenced firing.3
During Johnny’s assignment, the Allied Powers were executing the Sept 26th Meuse-Argonne offensive. The objective was to cut a major German supply line, divide the German army, and starve it of materiel. Pershing applied every available American division in the effort, about one million two hundred thousand men. It was not the typical trench warfare that had characterized the war for years, as the eager, young Americans with plentiful weaponry overwhelmed and routed the beleaguered Germans. By November, the German war machine was in tatters, the Kaiser snuck out of Germany like a scared rat, and a new German regime headed by Maximilian of Baden petitioned for an armistice.
The timing was Johnny’s good luck because he joined the offensive as the Germans were on the brink of defeat and often quickly surrendered positions to the rapidly invading Allied forces. A gunner in an advancing army is not risk-free, but it is less hazardous to shoot at a retreating enemy than one fighting back.
Julio’s musical assignment may sound to many as a cupcake job, often portrayed as a serviceman playing the flute while his compatriots were dying in the trenches. Pershing believed that music was the key to a successful army endeavor. He thought music elevated the men's fighting spirit and patriotic levels, allowing him to create the proper atmosphere for battle. He believed music was of comfort and refreshment to the men following battles. He frequently pointed out that the Romans, commanders of some of the greatest armies in history, used music as a key element of army life. Shortly after taking command of the AEF in France, he persuaded Congress to authorize more bands and to build an Army bandmaster and a musician’s school at AEF headquarters in Chaumont. Simultaneously, the training camps were put on notice for musicians.
The principal work of an Army band was to provide music for the pomp and circumstances of ceremonies, such as for meritorious awards, holiday festivities, marching in formations, and playing special concerts for wounded soldiers. In sum, their job was to augment important military events with music. Certainly, playing a musical instrument in marching formation was less hazardous than a machine gunner in the field, but it was not risk-free. Musicians were often dispatched throughout the theater of operations, including near the battlefront. These soldiers were permanently on temporary duty, moving from one place to another and playing with different company members at any given time. It was not unusual for a band unit to be enveloped in an enemy surprise attack, forcing them to trade musical instruments for rifles. Some army musicians, especially the lower-ranked ones, were occasionally assigned to assist in evacuating wounded from the field, one of the most dangerous jobs in the Army. Musicians sometimes filled in losses on the line before replacements could be secured. Generally, though an Army musician had an important role in the war effort, he had a much better chance to survive than an infantryman manning a machine gun on the front. Such are the vicissitudes of Army assignments.4
Smokey Calling Card
Julio was proud to serve as an American serviceman. He knew that many of his countrymen also served under the AEF command. In the evening in late fall of 1918, Julio found out how close some of those countrymen were. He was part of a military detail on temporary duty near the southern part of the front in France. His detachment was preparing to provide music for a troop- and command-rotation ceremony the following day. While walking among the barracks one evening, he sniffed a familiar aroma. Tobacco smoke. It reminded him of Italy, especially his neighbors in Lucca. The aroma was distinctively pipe tobacco with its thick, sweet billows of whitish clouds swirling and mixing in the air. Then it hit him. It was Johnny Matteucci’s pipe. He had to find the source, so he followed the plume of smoke, sniffing along like a bird dog. He tracked the smoke and saw it slipping around the corner of a building like a sheet of silk flowing in the wind. When he crept up and looked around the corner, he could see a man smoking a pipe—it was Johnny puffing away on his characteristic bent pipe.5
On a path as a tobacco aficionado, Johnny sampled some French tobacco he bought at a local market. Johnny smoked at an early age and was enamored by the variety of tobaccos and their various flavors and effects. He often explained how the pipe's wood could alter tobacco's flavor. In pipe smoking, taste and aroma are the defining characteristics. Johnny’s pipes always had distinctive aromas as he frequently experimented with different types of tobacco. Before the war, he helped his brothers manage tobacco products in Champion Grocery. My wife and I lived next to Johnny and Teresa for fifteen years before his death, and his pipes and select tobaccos had remarkably distinctive and delightful aromas. One of Johnny’s most distinctive personal attributes was centered on his pipe, which he always seemed to be cleaning, packing with tobacco, or smoking.
That evening, Johnny was outside his hut enjoying some free time before deploying with his machine gun the following day. Pipe smoking was ubiquitous among the soldiers in the trenches and barracks because loose tobacco and matches were included with personal rations; cigarettes were not yet invented. The war was deadly, and the prolonged trench fighting produced a steady stream of casualties ranging from bullet wounds to grossly contorted bodies of those who died agonizing deaths from poison gas. Death was a continual threat and tobacco helped to calm nerves. Pershing believed it helped to develop courage when doubt threatened.
The two men reacted like rediscovered long-lost brothers as they reminisced for an hour about their experiences since leaving Camp Cody just a few months earlier. Johnny had received special instruction on machine gunning and field battle techniques. He was trained to fight in the trenches and fire on the enemy. He would be in battle in the coming days. Julio bragged that he was now playing the accordion, bass and mandolin but had not yet seen action. The men left with a prayer to the Madonna for Johnny and a special request for the Lord to bring them together in Albuquerque after the war.
20
Angelic Tragedy (1957–1968)
The baby should die
In 1957, Amerigo and Davina were thankfully welcoming their new grandchildren. It was early in the morning on October tenth that Amerigo took a call from his son-in-law, Al Arrigoni, reporting that their daughter, Rena, had begun labor and he was fixing to bring her to St. Joseph Hospital, which at the time had the most modern maternity ward. This was Rena’s second child. Regina, her first, was just a little older than one year and growing rapidly.
The couple quickly dressed and Amerigo brought Davina to the Arrigoni home where she took over Rena’s home duties looking after her granddaughter, cooking and preparing the crib and other facilities for the new arrival. Amerigo set out for supplies, as dictated by Davina. By the afternoon, Davina and Regina sang songs and played happily as they awaited with great anticipation for Regina’s new sibling. Amerigo, confident but wary, wandered around Super Service Station waiting for news.
At St. Joseph Hospital’s maternity ward, problems developed early in the labor. The physicians identified a breech position for the fetus, which is a potential complication because the baby is positioned to be delivered feet first instead of head first. The breech position increases the probability of the umbilical cord accidentally wrapping around the baby or being squeezed closed during the unusual birthing position. At that time, diagnostic tools were limited, with no electronic monitors or other monitoring devices that are common in Twenty-First Century facilities. Doctors treated patients with manual stethoscopes, blood pressure instruments, observation, and physical examinations.
Breech births at the time were much more serious than in the Twenty-First Century, in which cesarian section, a relatively safe procedure, is available in emergencies. As time passed, Rena’s labor proceeded but with difficulty. She worked for hours throughout the day with little progress in moving the baby through the birth canal. After hours of struggling, fiddling and hoping, the medical team decided that the baby could be in peril and they induced labor. At that time, medical practice strove to avoid prolonged labor, especially with a breech condition. The physicians applied the drug Pitocin (Oxytocin) and broke the Amniotic sac.
Finally, the baby appeared but Rena immediately knew something was amiss. She had been through childbirth; she was no novice. She noticed that baby Arlene was not crying after birth. The medical team hovered over the baby and spoke of some problems with the “umbilical cord,” mentioning it several times.1 Rena lay concerned and waiting, her heart racing with anticipation as she heard nearby newborns wailing with new lives. Finally, they presented the five-pound baby girl to her. There was little time for any bonding because the baby struggled to breathe. Her eyes were glazed over, just like those of elderly people with heavy Cataracs. Rena asked the team about the baby’s eyes, but they casually dismissed her concerns. She knew something was wrong. Mothers have an innate ability to recognize disorders in their children.
The medical team did not take long to acquiesce to Rena’s assertion. The baby was indeed struggling to survive and they moved her to an isolette, an enclosed crib with a high oxygen, sterile environment. In the first three days, Arlene developed jaundice, vomited frequently, and had constant diarrhea. She convulsed often and contracted pneumonia. Rena fell into shock and was sedated, returning her to a hospital bed. As Arlene struggled to survive, Al called on his pastor to baptize the child, anticipating a quick demise. For five days Rena lay in bed trying to recover from the physical effects of a tough labor and the mental anguish of a potentially severely ill newborn. Davina and Amerigo were allowed to visit. When they did, Rena’s psychological condition lay firmly in Davina’s domain. She focused on maintaining hope in her daughter. Prayers are hope and their visits always incorporated them.
Days passed with Davina holding down the homestead. Davina, with toddler Regina in tow, went about the normal domestic duties. Anxiety was proportional to the number of days with no news. Al only told them what he knew, that there were some complications and the family would be reunited in a few days. When Rena was finally released about ten days after the birth, she arrived at her home and was greeted by Regina and Davina. With no baby in her arms, all Rena could tell her toddler and mother was that Arlene “…cannot come home yet.” She then proceeded to the kitchen with her mother where she spewed the details, rendering both women into a slumped state of despondency and tears. The family outlook, which had appeared rosy and bright just a week ago, had plunged into murky gloom.
After a week and a heavy application of penicillin, Arlene beat a pneumonia infection, but the convulsions and gastrointestinal problems remained unabated. The baby could not gain weight. Every time she gained a pound, she relapsed with another malady that shed it off. The medical team tried various combinations of breast milk and special, highly nutritious baby formulations. Nothing worked. The baby continued to struggle and the medical team applied every diagnostic test they knew to discover Arlene’s condition. All tests were negative. Her condition was unknown to the Albuquerque medical team and they were out of options. After a month, the hospital released the baby to the Arrigoni family, but her condition remained nearly as critical as the day she was born. She weighed less than a pound above her birth weight. At home, she required twenty-four-hour care to battle a continuing series of ailments ranging from ear infections to convulsions and struggled to hold down food and gain weight. As Rena put it, “Each day was a struggle to defy death.”
For months, Davina spent every day with Rena, helping her with the baby and the toddler. Every evening, Amerigo brought gifts before settling in for dinner. Then, they returned home and prepared for the next day and the same routine. Rena regularly visited the local pediatricians, but they were all helpless. They could not diagnose the condition, so they could not treat it. In one of many visits to the family physician for an ear infection, Rena asked the physician what was wrong with her daughter and why she was so often afflicted with ailments. In frustration, the doctor suggested that she ask Arlene. He could not diagnose the condition and it was his way to convey his capitulation. Rena understood the frustration, but she was furious at his callousness. After recovering from that event, she tried another physician the following day. His response was even more insensitive, saying that the child was not normal and “should die,” adding that he refused to treat the child’s ear infection.
Rena was not stupid. She could see that the child had little hope of living normally, but she also saw the girl as a product of the Lord, deserving the right to exist until the Lord takes her. She lived her beliefs. In her mind, once a child is born it cannot be killed no matter the costs. Arlene’s condition was accidental and she was a huge burden to the family, but Rena loved the child and would not abandon her. As long as Arlene lived, Rena committed to making her life as pleasant as possible.
At home, she, Al, Davina and Amerigo prayed nightly, but they wrestled with the meaning of the situation. The Menicuccis had always believed that significant events occur in people’s lives to offer opportunities for redirection. They were hard-pressed to find any opportunities in this situation. They were saddled with an incurably sick child that would consume the major resources of the family for the foreseeable future. Amerigo lamented because he believed that Julio Henry was the last disappointment, but that held not a candle to this challenge. It was beyond anything they had experienced and both Al and Rena said so often; they could not recall any retardation cases in Italy. These cases did occur often in the backwoods of Lucca but newborns with Arlene’s condition usually succumbed quickly after birth. Breech births often caused injury to the baby and not infrequently resulted in the mother’s death. In Italy, infant deaths were not uncommon. In this case, America’s superior medical system had saved the baby. Unfortunately, the medical community had little idea of how to treat it.
The Nadir
Rena and Al were exasperated with the local pediatricians and finally seized on a recommendation to have Arlene examined by the Children’s Hospital in Denver, Colorado. The hospital was one of the most medically advanced institutions in the country and specialized in rare childhood disorders. A week later, Al, Rena and Arlene traveled to Denver to meet Dr. Robert Fisher at the hospital. He helped them through the child's admittance process. Once Arlene was secured under the care of the hospital’s nurses, Al and Rena settled into their nearby hotel room to set up a temporary home while they waited for the results, expected to consume at least a few days.
Each day they visited the hospital and sat alongside Arlene’s crib, comforting and caring for her as she was shuttled to one test after another. For four days Fisher’s team tested, examined, retested and reexamined. The Arrigonis, meanwhile, mostly prayed, as Menicuccis and Arrigonis have done for generations to kindle hope when it appeared to be lost. Finally, on the fifth day, as the Arrigonis entered the child’s hospital room, the nurse indicated that Dr. Fisher was ready to present his diagnosis. Discorded emotions coursed through Rena’s young body. Initially, exhilaration swept her over; perhaps now, with a diagnosis, they might have found their nadir in what had been boundless agony and suffering. Then dread prevailed as she considered that the results might indicate that their nadir was a permanent condition. Al took Rena’s shaking arm and led the couple solemnly to the meeting.
Dr. Fisher was sympathetic but firm. Arlene has “a condition known as galactosemia.” Both parents gulped; it sounded sinister. The doctor explained that it was an inherited condition that prevented her body from breaking down the sugar galactose, a major constituent of milk products. He explained that such a condition allows the galactose to accumulate in the body, damaging the liver, brain, kidneys and eyes. A symptom of the disease is cataracts, which Rena noticed in Arlene’s eyes immediately following birth. Then came the hammer. Even with appropriate treatment going forward, the child was permanently disabled with no hope of a normal life. She might be expected to live only a few years, he added, seeking to provide some hope of closure for the parents. He further explained that babies born with the condition must be fed only milk-free products throughout life. The critical milk-free period is the initial days following birth, where the baby’s diet is carefully controlled, allowing the infant’s body to stabilize. Milk products are essentially poisonous to Galactosemia victims.2
The news plunged like a dagger into Rena’s heart. For many months, she had unwittingly poisoned her child with her breast milk. Many questions rattled in her head. Could her little angel have been saved? Why didn’t the Lord provide a warning? They prayed and followed the rules. Had the Lord abandoned them? Then, the stultifying reality settled in with both parents. It was true. They had hit their nadir and it was permanent.
They gathered up Arlene, checked out of their hotel and headed directly to the airport for the trip back to Albuquerque. They said little on the hour-long flight. When they arrived at home, Amerigo and Davina were the first to visit. They sat in horror as the young couple divulged the dispiriting news. The grandparents were witnessing a family ordeal that had no parallel in the history. Al and Amerigo both agreed that mental retardation was not in the blood of either family. But they forgot Aledino Menicucci, Amerigo’s brother, who had some inherited disability that led to his early death at twenty-eight years of age. And there was Rena’s brother, Julio Henry, who died of suspicious causes about a week after his birth in 1931. Some reports of Julio Henry’s symptoms match the general pattern of untreated classic Galactosemia.
Davina comforted her daughter, feeling the anguish as if it were hers. Amerigo, too, was deeply saddened but comforting the family was Davina’s job. But he could not prevent doubt from mingling into his soul. The Menicuccis had always believed that opportunities always accompanied significant events in people’s lives. The mining accident provided the opportunity for a new direction in America. Dante’s crisis led to his full recovery and a robust family. Where were the opportunities in this tribulation? Never had he or Davina been stricken down as that day. The women wept, the men shook their heads in dismay and little Regina hid in her room playing. In the end, they all prayed because it was all they had left.
21
Lucchese Attain Significance (1954–1961)
Growth Galore
In 1954, Albuquerque’s Italian colony comprised around three-hundred Italian-surnamed families; about two-thirds were Lucchese. Considering that about three times as many southern Italians as northerners immigrated to America, the large percentage of Lucchese in Albuquerque was remarkable but unsurprising.1 Lucchese founded Albuquerque’s Italian colony and the success of these people in America was not lost on their friends and family in Lucca. Oreste Bachechi, an initial immigrant, was remarkably prescient in his pre-1900 exhortations about Albuquerque. From an economic perspective, the early immigrants could not have picked a better time to immigrate or a better place to land than Albuquerque. In the 1950s and well into the 1960s, Albuquerque was routinely among America's fastest-growing cities per capita. Building permits issued in Albuquerque between 1945 and 1955 rose over seven-hundred percent. Many more new businesses succeeded than failed. The city regularly annexed big blocks of land where homes and businesses sprang from the high desert landscape like desert flowers after a spring rain. Kirtland field comprised Sandia Base and Manzano Base, creating an Air Force Base and opening up civilian employment opportunities. Between 1945 and 1955 Albuquerque’s population doubled.
America was a Christian-based country and Albuquerque was heavily Catholic. Moreover, many of the descendants of the early immigrants, some 3rd generation, inherited the zeal and drive that characterized the original immigrants. In other words, they were doing what good, decent Catholic Italians do: produce virtuous and productive people who serve society over generations. The Italians quickly assimilated into Albuquerque’s society, selecting to retain certain Italian customs and practices.
Public schools steadily expanded under Superintendent John Milne. The city then had two high schools, four junior highs and 45 elementaries. Nearly sixteen hundred students attended St Mary’s school—six hundred 9th-12th grade high-schoolers and nine hundred first-through-eighth grade schoolers. Forty-two hundred students attended the University of New Mexico.
The city had three radio stations (KOB, KGGM, KOAT) and two television stations (KOB and KGGM). In 1956, the city completed the Civic Auditorium, a round structure with a bubble-shaped roof. It drew in some big entertainers, such as Bob Hope and Victor Borge. Frank Sinatra, of northern Italian descent, performed in the arena to a packed house in 1957, including many young, local Italian women who marveled at his handsome, youthful manliness. His silky-smooth crooning all but laid them to faint.
The city maintained eight-hundred miles of roads, two hundred and fifty paved. It constantly proposed bonds for infrastructure and the public generally approved them. Few development projects were denied, but city leaders overwhelmingly defeated a suggested pulp mill facility. Albuquerque’s downtown neighborhoods were already plagued with periodic outbreaks of putrid fumes from the human waste processing facility south of the city. A pulp mill, with its infamous reputation for offensive effluents, had no chance.
Boom Time
By the middle 1950s, with the Korean War in the mirror, the city, its economy and the Menicucci family were all in the fast growth lane. The war had little effect on Albuquerque, save for those men who had escaped the World War II draft due to age were now called to serve. The scale of the Korean War was a tiny fraction of the world war. Families and businesses grew in concert, with the family enterprises producing adequate resources for both families to live a middle-class lifestyle and royal luxury compared to Colono's life in Italy.
Albuquerque’s downtown area remained the heart of the business community, and Super Service Station was in the midst of it. Location and visibility are keys in retailing and the Menicucci brothers capitalized with a constant barrage of advertisements offering one deal or another. Tires—sales and service—were producing major profits for the station. Mario was always quick to explain that gas was a convenience for customers with tiny margins burdened by high labor costs for the islands; it rarely contributed to profit. By the late 1950s, Super Oil and Super Service employed full-time bookkeepers. Mario also purchased a building on Fourth Street directly north of the Super Service Station office. He converted it into a warehouse to store tires and other accessories.
When Charlie hired Ralph Green as a mechanic in the mid-1950s, he more than doubled the repair shop’s productivity. Ralph performed repairs full-time while Charlie split his time between management and hands-on work. Ralph was a local Hispanic with deep roots in the community. The repair work grew so fast that Mario purchased the building north of the station and Julio connected the two buildings with a hallway. It instantly quadrupled Charlie’s available indoor repair stalls from two to eight. No longer would he and his men be forced to repair autos in the winter cold. Nor would they compete with Johnny Matteucci for the stove because they had their own in the new shop.
Dante and Mario developed quickly in their roles as business managers. Dante assumed the mantle of the enterprise leader, taking the job from Julio. He had the right personality, drive and leadership skills for the job. Julio had trained him in his likeness. Julio listed himself in the Albuquerque business directory as a driver for Super Oil, which gave Dante the public notice to proceed upward. Julio used the time to enjoy work that he routinely had done years earlier—delivering products directly to customers. He used the deliveries to take him about town, which could help him identify potential business opportunities. Super Oil had contracts with the Jesuit priests in Jemez to supply oil products to them. Super Service held the contract for all of their automotive repairs.
Julio used his deliveries to Jemez as opportunities for him and his brother to take in a mineral bath or catch a few trout. Julio knew many folks in Jemez, including the man who drove the fishing stream stocking truck. By this time, New Mexico had stocked trout in the state's streams, rivers, and lakes. The stocking driver called and told Julio exactly when and where he planned to stock the streams. With his brother in tow, Julio conveniently arranged Super Oil deliveries to Jemez on the day following stocking. Julio explained, “The trout won’t bite when they first put them in the stream because they are shocked. But the next day, they are hungry.” These Jemez deliveries with Julio were as close as Amerigo ever got to Super Oil Company. While Julio was overseer of both organizations and spent time at both locations, Amerigo had virtually nothing to do with Super Oil. But if Julio were delivering kerosene in Jemez, then Amerigo was compelled to assist his brother on the delivery and whatever additional Jemez Mountain activity might be appropriate, such as fishing. It was strange to see a two-thousand-gallon fuel tanker truck parked alongside the highway with its operators standing in the Jemez River trout fishing. The brothers were feeling the retirement spirit.
Mario, too, was content to do what he learned best—run a retail business. Mario had been schooled by Amerigo, one of the top retailers in Albuquerque. As with Amerigo, customers visited Super Service Station to talk to Mario. During this time, Amerigo focused on customer interaction, while Mario concentrated on learning management. Dante and Mario learned well. In 1957, Standard Oil Company, a major national supplier of oil products, honored Super Oil Company as its top wholesaler. Mario, meanwhile, negotiated a four-hundred-thousand-dollar contract with the state of New Mexico to supply tires for all state vehicles (about four million in 2024 dollars).
Mario recognized his younger cousin, Charlie’s, unique technical role and essentially abdicated the management of the business repair space to him. Mario kept the books for the station, including the repair business, which sometimes led to disputes about purchases for new equipment. Charlie constantly sought to stay abreast of automotive advances because new technology was appearing in automobiles every year. Many new vehicles required special instruments to diagnose problems. Without them, the service mechanic operated blindly. Mario, with limited technical background, was dismayed at the costs of test equipment. He once asked me, “Why does your dad need so much new equipment?” Charlie needed new equipment to service new vehicles. Besides, he was more than compensating for the investment with increased prices for the repair work. It rubbed against Mario’s Amerigo-instilled sense of thrift. They believed that you invest in equipment and use it until it wears out. That applied to a lot of tools, such as brooms, but not test equipment for modern vehicles. Automobiles' electrical complexity was rocketing as World War II-developed technology found its way into commercial products. Charlie continuously explained to Mario the need for new equipment to remain competitive.
Dante, like Julio, was involved in the Knights of Columbus, steadily ascending to management positions by organizing organizational fundraising efforts. He also flirted with politics, working with Democrats in his political ward and supporting candidates by hosting political events. Conversely, Mario had a personality like Amerigo’s, less ostentatious and aggressive, more reserved and lower key. He picked up American bowling as a hobby, playing on various teams in the city. He joined the Elks Club, as did other family members, but unlike Julio and Dante, he rarely sought organizational or leadership roles. Like Amerigo, he was content to let Julio and Dante gain the spotlight while he quietly ran the station and grew his family.
Felonious Nonna (Grandmother)
While things in the family businesses were going swimmingly, one odious activity was flourishing right under Julio’s nose: narcotics dealing at his home. At least that was the news that Albuquerque’s Police Sergent Alex Nottoli delivered to a suspected scofflaw at his residence one afternoon in 1957. Giulia Grangani Menicucci, Julio’s wife, was merrily doing her housework at her new home on San Carlos Road, SW in the Huning Castle Addition. Hearing the front bell, the rotund, sixty-year-old woman waddled to the door, opened it a few inches and mouthed her normal greeting, which she had memorized phonetically. Running the words together, it sounded like: “Sorry, I donna speak English, goo bye.” Then, she shut the door and walked away without looking at the visitor. Most people departed. This time, Nottoli, a long-time Lucchese immigrant, held up a letter, pounded on the door and shouted in Italian to open it; “Police business,” he said. Once she peered out and saw that it was Alex, whom she knew, she opened the door.2
He shoved the letter in her face and facetiously asked if the letter was for her. Giulia looked at it and saw it was from her sister in Italy. She smiled and said yes. It was the package of Canapa seeds that she was expecting from her sister in Italy. She had assumed it was lost in the mail and Alex was delivering it to her. Instead, he delivered bad news. On the face of the letter was written: “Seme di Canapa (Canapa Seeds).” Woefully for Giulia, recent federal laws had outlawed all Cannabis, regardless of its content of hallucinogenic cannabinoids. Canapa was scientifically classified as Cannabis Sativa, although it contains an inconsequential amount of intoxicating ingredients. Canapa is a type of hemp used in craftsmanship throughout Italy. The damning evidence, as Alex saw it, was the letter itself, which had both Giuli’s name and the name of the federally illegal contents noted in big lettering and contained seeds. Plus, she admitted the crime by identifying the envelope as intended for her. Giulia was suspected of narcotics trafficking, mail fraud, cultivation with intent to distribute, smuggling and a host of other felonies carrying long prison sentences.
Teresa Menicucci Clark, daughter to Julio, was visiting then and told the story: “That Alex stood there like a big bully, shaking that letter in mama’s face and showing off his badge. When Mama finally figured out that she was accused of breaking the law and maybe going to jail, she nearly fainted. She screamed and cried as we got her to the couch. I called Papa and he came right over. When he got there and found out what happened, he laid into Alex: ‘She’s sixty years old and can’t even speak English. She never even leaves the house. How is she going to sell narcotics? What’s wrong with you?’ Alex tried to explain the law, but his arrogance put everyone off. Alex was from Lucca and Papa told him he was ‘disappointed that he thought like that of Lucchese woman.’”
Embarrassed, Alex retreated, but the damage was done. Julio was furious and followed him back to the police station, where he talked directly to the Chief, Paul Shaver. Shaver was an Immaculate Conception parishioner and occasionally added police-style assistance to help usher large congregations; Charlie Menicucci, Julio’s son, was chairman of the Usher’s Club. Julio served on the church building committee. The two families knew each other and shared the same Catholic life values, including applying common sense before accusing elders of crimes. He always had an open door for Julio.
Julio did not take long to wring out apologies from the city and promises for moderation and common sense in enforcement. Julio agreed to destroy any hemp seeds hanging around the house and to inform his Italian family of the prohibition. No charges were ever filed against Giuli, but the anecdote spread through the community like a forest fire, evoking emotions from outrage to robust laughter. Even today, the tale lives on. Giulia Menicucci was the notorious sexagenarian Italian Nonna accused of dealing narcotics out of her home on San Carlos Road in the Huning Castle Addition, one of Albuquerque’s most prestigious neighborhoods.
An unlikely confluence of events led to this absurdity. By 1957, in a matter of six years, sweeping new drug laws outlawed products that had been used for centuries. Giulia’s Italian family operated a fabric factory where they used Canapa liberally. She learned various needlecrafts in Italy and was by 1957 an accomplished craftswoman of embroidery and cutwork.3 She used Canapa fibers, which are exceptionally strong, to fortify heavy-duty embroidered articles, such as potholders. Hemp fibers are, pound-for-pound, many times stronger than mild steel. Giulia had been using hemp since she came to America. It was always readily available. But by 1957, it had disappeared from Albuquerque store shelves. Logically, she wrote to her sister for seeds. She planned to grow some.
Alex was promoted to sergeant/detective in 1957, just after sweeping federal drug regulations were enacted. It was a big promotion and he sought opportunities to impress his superiors. Part of his job was interfacing with the post office to ferret out drug trafficking. That put him in a position to spot the letter, giving him the unique opportunity to read the Italian-written envelope and surmise Guilia’s guilt. His emotional zeal led him to extremes, for which he was disciplined. Italian needlework practice, the new drug laws and Alex’s promotion conflated to produce a historically ridiculous event. If it had not been for Alex, it is likely the package would have been delivered without incident.
Personality Contrast
Amerigo was a model of calm professionalism at the station, but the hunting field was a different story. There, his copious enthusiasm overflowed. The family men typically hunted, fished and foraged together and Amerigo was always the one most excited when he viewed huntable game outside the vehicle. Dove season, which started on September 1, excited him because it was the first outing after a long layoff from the previous fall. He could hardly wait to get out of the vehicle and begin shooting. Charlie told the story: “The five of us were driving up to a field near Lemitar loaded with doves. It was opening day and Zio (uncle) was itching to get out. There were hundreds of birds on the fence. Amerigo pushed everyone aside, got out of the car, loaded his gun and fired at an angle. He knocked down twenty-eight and the limit was twenty-five. He picked them up and tried to give some to us so he could keep hunting. Julio stepped up and told Amerigo ‘You are over the limit. You’re done for the day.’” Amerigo waited in the car sulking and mad as hell but he never did it again, at least not when Julio was there.”
Saving the Porcini
While that was typical Amerigo behavior in the field, Julio’s might be typified by an event on New Mexico Road 4 south of Jemez Springs around 1960. It was a late, drizzly August afternoon as Julio, Charlie and I were returning from a wonderful mushroom hunting trip. We traveled in Julio’s 1950 Desoto Custom 4-Door Sedan. It was more like a small military tank because of its durability and weight. It had plenty of power and its heavy steel frame was advantageous in snow and mud. We had been hunting along Road 4 in the Jemez Mountains high country, where the dirt road becomes nothing more than a wide trail snaking through the forest. We had gathered Porcini by the bushels full, and the car was stuffed with them. Boxes of Porcini filled the trunk, with every nook filled with fungi. Inside, boxes lay on the back seat and floor, leaving me a couple of square feet for sitting. A box-full lay on the front seat between Julio and Charlie. Large Porcini heads, some measuring over a foot in diameter, were tucked along the front and rear dashboards.
It had been a bonanza, and Julio was eager to get home and process them as soon as possible. The weather was hot and muggy, so getting them sliced and on drying racks was essential to produce a good stash of dried mushrooms that could last for years. Driving south out of Jemez Springs along Road 4, their bubbly conversation was abruptly interrupted by a southbound traffic pileup about four miles south of the village. Several arroyos cross the highway in that area, forcing drivers to ford them. In large rain events, which the region had experienced that afternoon, raging waters could scour out the pavement. From a view of the surface waters rushing across the road, it was impossible to know whether pavement was missing underneath, potentially creating a hazard that could stall an automobile as it fords, rendering the passengers in mortal danger of being swept downstream. People feared the crossings and many often waited for hours until the water receded before passing through.
Julio had been through this before but had a load of premier Porcini to process this time. He drove his Desoto in the northbound lane, passing a half dozen cars waiting behind the running water. He and Charlie got out of the vehicle to survey the situation. While Charlie was removing his socks, rolling up his pantlegs to his knee and putting his shoes on his bare feet, Julio grabbed a fishing pole and handed it to him. Charlie waded out into the arroyo as it flowed over the road, using the pole as a probe to confirm the secure pavement in front of him. The flow was only about twenty feet in width, so Charlie only needed to wade about half the distance by leaning forward and extending his long fishing pole to the other bank. Once he had tested the road, he gave the all-clear, got in the car, and Julio plunged through. Water lapped at the bottom of the car doors, but we were out in a few seconds and were speeding along with no other vehicles in front to impede him. More importantly, the Porcini were safe.
Once Julio was through, others followed. Charlie and Julio warned me not to reveal our little adventure to the women. Julio knew the wives would not have approved of the episode, and it was best to avoid the discussion altogether. If Amerigo had been in the vehicle, he would not have agreed to the plan, even after Charlie’s assurance. Risk was not part of Amerigo’s persona.