Today is Grandpa Ferrara’s 97th birthday. He told these stories one evening to several of us around the table, stories that nobody had ever heard before.
His mother died when he was four years old. He remembered chasing the horse and buggy that her casket was in and he lay across the rod that connected the back wheels so it wouldn’t move. He said someone dragged him away, kicking and screaming. What a sad memory for a little boy to carry forever. His father married again and one night he and his wife left in the middle of the night to return to Italy, leaving his mother -- who never learned to speak English -- in charge of his ten children. He said his brothers Nancy and Joe had watched his father fill up the trunk, little by little, and they stole some money that he had packed away. Later they wished they had taken it all! The grandmother couldn’t care for the little boys so they were placed in a boys' home in the French Quarter. Sam and Joe were downstairs and Vic and Andy were upstairs. Grandpa said he had vivid memories of Vic and Andy who were 2 and 3, dressed in long white gowns, crying and reaching for him and Joe through the railing of the balcony. He didn’t remember much about the food served, but he did remember a big boy pitching chunks of bread to the boys around him, breaking them off of a long loaf of French bread. If you couldn’t catch it, you didn’t get any. Was that supper? I don’t know. Grandpa ran away from there when he was seven years old. He remembered he was barefoot and it was a cold day. When he got home, somewhere in the Carrollton area, he hid under the house and listened to them talking because he was afraid they would send him back. They didn’t, and eventually the others were brought home once the older boys found work and could support the household.
Does anyone who was there that night have anything to add?
I remember that night in Grandpa's kitchen and my recollection of it is about the same as yours.
That is a sad story, I've heard either you or Uncle Sam tell it before. Would you please consider either writing down or taping these memories down so we can pass them down/share them with our kids?
ditto what Nancy said
I agree with my sisters - these are precious memories!
I wasn't there that night but remember hearing the story. It makes me sad. Grandpa was very loving and gregarious to the grandchildren. Mama, tell about how successful most of those brothers were in life despite having such a sad childhood.
Yes, it's true that they all grew up to be successful businessmen, some more successful than others. Pete and Russell were partners in many ventures and became very wealthy in Harahan. Nancy was a Captain in the Fire Department in New Orleans. Joe was an electrician and jack-of-all-trades and looked like a twin of Grandpa's. Vic was a mechanic and owned his own filling station/repair shop. Grandpa owned a battery shop and then the year we were married, and the reason he didn't come to his only son's wedding, he opened a Western Auto Store. I don't know what Red did, nor what his actual name was, nor who his childen were, but he lived in Harahan too. I don't know what Andy did; he lived in Florida and so did Annie. There was another daughter who died as a married adult and Grandma knew her and thought there was a child, but she was pretty much forgotten. Andy had a photograph of the grandmother copied and sent it to all the brothers back in the 70's. It wasn't expected, and Grandma said Grandpa cried like a baby when he opened the envelope and saw the picture of the lady who raised him. I don't know what happened to that picture. It never was displayed and I didn't run across it looking through Grandma's collection of pictures.
I'm glad I was party to that session at the kitchen table. Grandpa was willing to talk and we kept asking questions to keep him talking. Daddy had never heard any of his life stories and really wasn't interested. He wasn't like me; he believed the past was done and let's get on with the future. And I just loved hearing the stories of the early lives and asked and asked. My family. His family. Whoever would talk.