Sept. 21 marked the 70th anniversary of the Rocky Marciano-Archie Moore fight of 1955. It was Marciano’s last bout and final knockout of an opponent. He retired the following year with a 49-0 record, 43 of which were knockouts. He’s the only boxer to retire undefeated. Sadly, he died in a plane crash at age 46 in 1969.

Such a career should be ripe for the silver screen, but Marciano’s back story was too humdrum for Hollywood. However, the champ’s short life did make it to television in 1979 starring Tony Lo Bianco and again in 1999 starring Jon Favreau.

What Hollywood and the Big Screen really wanted was Italian guttersnipes. Instead of gentleman Rocky Marciano, the moguls chose to do a biopic of middleweight Rocky Graziano, a juvenile delinquent and Army deserter, who made for better drama (“Somebody Up There Likes Me,” starring Paul Newman in 1956). In 1980, the down-and-dirty life of middleweight boxer Jake LaMotta was introduced to American audiences in “Raging Bull.” Robert De Niro started down his cinematic road of unsavory Italian American characters as the misogynistic, violent and crooked LaMotta.

But the real Rocky inspired wannabe screenwriter Sylvester Stallone to reimagine the champ as a punch-drunk mob enforcer who rises to boxing glory as the “Italian Stallion.” That the character has a Hispanic surname may still escape Sly as well as fans of the “Rocky” series. Nevertheless, it is this fictional Rocky that fronts our sports image to new generations. (If you want the real story of Rocky Marciano, look for “Rocky Marciano: A Life Story” on YouTube, narrated by Robert Loggia.)

Hollywood thrives on flawed Italian Americans, usually painting us as curiosities or just plain evil. Al Capone, Don Corleone and Tony Soprano are now America’s top crooks, real or imaginary. Tony Manero (“Saturday Night Fever”), Joey Tribbiani (“Friends”) and Vinny Gambini (“My Cousin Vinny”) are America’s all-time loveable characters. For the kids, there are Mario and Luigi. There have been a precious few positive characters along the way, like the eccentric Lt. Columbo and the tormented Capt. Furillo of “Hill Street Blues” fame. Though flawed in their own ways, they represented our legacy of public service. I suppose we should be thankful for small favors.

Many of us enjoy these movies and TV shows even though we sometimes wished the embarrassing characters had different ethnicities. I recall my excitement when “Rocky” came out. The Italian Stallion swelled my pride because I knew he represented scores of Italian American boxers who helped propel us to assimilation and success.

But Hollywood rarely deviates from the fictionalized side of us. The man who founded Bank of America, established branch banking and funded Walt Disney as well as the Golden Gate Bridge never inspired a major biopic. Instead, Hollywood fictionalized A.P. Giannini as a small-time shady banker with murderous sons in “House of Strangers” (1949), right down to cafone spaghetti dinners.

American war heroes Sgt. John Basilone (Medal of Honor and Navy Cross) and Capt. Don Gentile (“a one-man Air Force,” according to Gen. Eisenhower) never overcame Hollywood’s Italian criterion. Nor did they inspire Francis Ford Coppola, Martin Scorsese or David Chase to honor them. Rather, it was Steven Spielberg who acknowledged Basilone in three episodes of HBO’s “The Pacific.”

The side they hide includes federal investigator Ferdinand Pecora, who exposed Wall Street shenanigans in the 1930s that led to the Securities and Exchange Commission and the financial guardrails that protect investors today. His name is a footnote while Charles Ponzi’s is immortal. Ponzi’s scam was an estimated $250 million in today’s money. Bernie Madoff defrauded his victims of $68 billion worth. Nevertheless, with two cable movies that quickly went to the stacks, Madoff’s infamy won’t outlive Ponzi’s or Capone’s.

Interestingly, De Niro played both Capone and Madoff, but the actor’s bad-guy magic wasn’t able to rocket Bernie into Hollywood’s dubious Italo-sphere.

The article above appears in the November 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture.

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It all began with a journey. Not in the rhetorical sense of the term, but with real steps, into emptying villages, along silent streets, alongside faces filled with expectation and questions. It was the summer of 2015, and I had an urgent need: to tell the story of Basilicata not as a remote place, but as a space of possibility.

Thus was born #IdealPlace — more than a project, a gentle obsession. A way of saying that even in territories considered peripheral, new words are being generated, visions capable of touching the heart of Italy’s transformations. Not just beauty, but work, innovation, citizenship.

Over these 10 years, I have tried to construct a narrative that is neither nostalgic nor promotional but militant, in the best sense of the word. Because talking about a region like Basilicata inevitably means talking about the entire country. Talking about depopulation, inequality, youth on the run and roots that resist. But it also means listening to the stories of those who choose to stay, return, reinvent. It means viewing the territory not as a problem to be solved but as a laboratory for social, cultural and political experiments.

#LuogoIdeale has become a blog, a social media hashtag, a radio program, a series of books and a collection of videos, meetings, and urban walks. Each stop has been a way to explore the questions of the present.

We tried to recount Potenza on the eve of RAI’s New Year’s Eve; to convey the authentic image of Maratea beyond the postcards; to walk among the contradictions and expectations of Matera, overcoming 2019 but still not knowing the fate of humanity, profoundly affected by COVID; to seek out stories of innovation and courage in the most unexpected places. We gave voice to women and men who are building change from the bottom up, to entrepreneurs, teachers, artists, administrators and activists.

My 2024 book “Game Changer” celebrates the stories of these men and women: brave souls capable of transforming their communities, sparking processes of change and innovation in the complex region of Basilicata.

Above all, we tried to restore dignity to the narrative of a territory often simplified or forgotten. It wasn’t about creating a brand but about building a community. Of words, of course, but also of faces, gestures, presences. Of connections between generations, countries, experiences. Of affections that become visions.

This is why the project has found space in institutions, festivals, schools and public squares. It has transcended the internet to enter our lives. Over the past 10 years, we have experienced epochal ruptures — a pandemic, new wars, climate crises — but the need for ideal places has never diminished. Indeed, it has grown. Because an ideal place is not a perfect place: it is a space where we try, together, to make another idea of the future possible.

Telling the story of Basilicata back then was — and still is — a way to question the country about what it means to grow without uprooting. It is a way of affirming that there are no lesser territories, only unheard narratives. And perhaps today, more than ever, we need maps that lead not only to global cities, but to the margins that teach patience, loyalty and care. We need places where time becomes more human, and the future can still sprout like a seed in a crack.

#LuogoIdeale is this: a way to stay. A way to leave without forgetting. A way to believe, once again, that another story is possible. That Basilicata is the land of the future.

The article above appears in the October 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture.

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At the 10:30 a.m. Mass with my parents at St. Mary Star of the Sea in Narragansett, Rhode Island, in August, I noticed the empty pew where Judge Frank Caprio had long sat with his family. Knowing his deep Catholic faith and his battle with pancreatic cancer, I feared the worst. On Aug. 20, his family announced his passing at age 88.

I interviewed Judge Caprio in the summer of 2023. It wasn’t our first meeting, but it was the first time I was welcomed into his home. I was nervous to enter the world of a man who was a force in Rhode Island politics long before gaining national fame through his enormously popular YouTube clips, “Caught in Providence.” His warmth soon put me at ease. I found a man shaped by an immigrant household’s hard lessons, family bonds, a close-knit Italian American community and the belief that justice must be tempered with humanity.

He reached into his desk and pulled out a small autograph book from his sixth-grade graduation. Inside, his father, Antonio Caprio Sr., had written: “The road is long and very bumpy, but I know that you will proceed with honor, and with your head held high, to the end of the highest learning.” His father urged him to reach beyond his own education, which had ended in seventh grade when he went to work to support the family. “My father didn’t sign it just ‘Dad,’” he said. “He wrote ‘from your father, Antonio Caprio, Sr.’ He wanted me to understand the weight of those words.”

His philosophy — compassion for the vulnerable, patience with the struggling, fairness — was rooted in that family ethos and the Italian American neighborhood where he grew up. “We knew everyone, their aunts and uncles, their cousins,” he told me. “We were like one big family.” Federal Hill in Providence, Rhode Island, was an Italian village transplanted to America.

Another defining lesson felt like prophecy. One winter, sitting in a cold-water flat with the oven door open for heat, his father placed a hand on his young son’s shoulder and said: “Someday you’re going to be a lawyer, Frank. And you can’t charge poor people, because if we need a lawyer now, we can’t afford one.” In Italy, respect often meant deference to authority; in America, his father recast it as fairness rooted in compassion and taught his son the law could be a shield for the powerless. From then on, Frank Caprio never wanted to be anything else.

His path was not easy. He worked multiple jobs, studied law at night, taught by day, served on the City Council, and eventually opened a small practice. Through persistence and support of family and community, he built a career that took him to the bench.

On his first day as a judge, a belligerent woman came before him with many unpaid tickets. He ordered her to pay. Later, his father corrected him: “She wasn’t arrogant, Frank. She was scared. You can’t do that.” From then on, he viewed each case by placing himself in the other’s shoes. “It wasn’t about punishment,” he reflected. “It was about understanding. I never wore a badge into the courtroom. I wore a heart.”

That heart is what millions saw when his brother began filming cases in his Providence courtroom. “Caught in Providence” drew more than a billion of views online. He never sought fame; people recognized a man who treated everyone with dignity and kindness.

As our interview wound down, he spoke about returning to his immigrant grandfather’s hometown of Teano, Italy, where he was welcomed in a parade and embraced by distant relatives. “Every other person told me we were related somehow,” he laughed. “In two generations,” he marveled, “we went from my grandfather who could not sign his name to my son graduating from Harvard.”

Judge Caprio’s passing leaves a deep void, but his legacy lives on in those he touched. For those of us in the Italian American community, he embodied the best of our heritage — faith, family and heart — and showed how those values could ennoble the law.

The article above appears in the October 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture.

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In 2020, the graffiti-marred statue of Christopher Columbus in Arrigo Park was unceremoniously yanked from its pedestal and stored on its back in a Chicago Park District warehouse. After a protracted legal battle, the Joint Civic Committee of Italian Americans was finally able to win its release earlier this year, but only on the condition that it be showcased indoors in a museum that’s currently being created on Taylor Street.

So, who will now occupy the position of honor that Columbus once held in that storied public park just a stone’s throw away from the Shrine of Our Lady of Pompeii in Chicago’s legendary Italian enclave. Thanks to the tenacity of the JCCIA’s legal team, the city of Chicago has guaranteed the pedestal will showcase an Italian or Italian American who has contributed significantly to the community in Chicago or nationwide.

The decision will rest in the hands of a committee of the Department of Cultural Affairs and Special Events, on which a member of the JCCIA will be a part. Whatever luminaries they may entertain, one candidate stands head and shoulders above all others: a frail nun from Italy who built a global empire of giving and who once called Chicago home.

Chicago boasts two “saints” who arrived on its lakeshore at around the same time, one secular and one religious. Jane Addams came to the Windy City from Cedarville, Illinois, in 1889, and Mother Frances Xavier Cabrini travelled from Sant’Angelo Lodigiano by way of New York City 10 years later.

Addams’ Hull House was the first of its kind in the U.S. to bring culture and education as well as aid to the immigrants of Chicago, and she is rightly revered for it. A co-founder of the ACLU and a proponent for workers’ and women’s rights, she was the most famous woman in America at the time. Though she was initially shunned for her pacifist stance during World War I, she was vindicated in 1931 when she was awarded the Nobel Prize for peace.

Today, she is celebrated at Chicago Women’s Park by “Helping Hands,” a sculpture by Louise Bourgeois “that symbolizes the lives that Addams helped improve,” according to the Chicago Park District website. It may surprise you to know that it’s the only monument in the entire Chicago Park District that celebrates an actual (vs. fictional) woman.

As remarkable as her accomplishments were, they pale in comparison to what Mother Cabrini gave to the metropolitan area and the world. This diminutive woman, always in poor health but armed with an indomitable spirit and determination, conquered first the Big Apple and then the Windy City before forging a network of 67 schools, orphanages and hospitals in 15 nations.

Though she and her Missionary Sisters of the Sacred Heart of Jesus were sent to America by Pope Leo XIII in 1889 to help Italian immigrants, her work was never limited to Catholics or Italians. It is estimated that she traveled some 55,000 miles all told and improved the lives of more than 100,000 people. She always said, “The World is too small for my work.”

Mother Cabrini arrived in Chicago in 1899, founding the Assumption School on the Near Northwest Side and then Columbus Hospital in Lincoln Park and the Columbus Extension Hospital in the Taylor Street neighborhood. She and her sisters also ministered to prisoners in Cook County Jail.

She used the Chicago rail hub to travel extensively to Colorado to support miners, and to Los Angeles and then Seattle, where she became a naturalized U.S. citizen in 1909. She died in Chicago in her room in Columbus Hospital in 1917, exhausted by her work, and was canonized on July 7, 1946, becoming the first U.S. citizen to be declared a saint.

Wouldn’t it be fitting, especially now that we have a Chicago connection with Pope Leo XIV, for a monument to Mother Cabrini to occupy that vaunted position in Arrigo Park, making her only the second woman to be honored in that way by the Chicago Park District?

The article above appears in the September 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

Our family histories play a crucial role in shaping who we are today. They serve as a powerful reminder of our roots, the hardships our ancestors overcame and the resilience that defines a community. By embracing these rich legacies, we not only pay tribute to their struggles but also commit to keeping their stories alive for future generations.

At precisely 1 p.m. on Nov. 30, 1896, a devastating tragedy unfolded at the Gilorma grain mill, just a few kilometers from the town of Alessandria del Carretto along the Saraceno River in the province of Cosenza. A sudden landslide had blocked the water supply pipeline to the town, leading to a desperate and perilous effort to clear the debris. During the cleanup efforts, a second landslide swept several brave workers away and buried them alive.

While some mill workers, including Antonio Pagano, Vincenzo Mitidieri, Salvatore Adduci and Paolo Basile, emerged physically unharmed, the toll on others was severe. Domenico Rago suffered a head injury. Worse, the youthful 20-year-old Vincenzo Arvia and 21-year-old Leonard Alfano lost their lives. Among the other victims who also perished were 22-year-old Vincenzo Napoli, 26-year-old Giovanni Larocca, 26-year-old Giuseppe Mitidieri, 50-year-old Giovanni Gatto, 54-year-old Pietro Larocca, and my beloved great-uncle Alessandro Arvia, just 26 years old. The parish priest from Sant Alessandro Martire church recorded their passing as occurring “suddenly under an excavation of a mill in the Valle district.”

News of the disaster spread quickly, drawing both townspeople and officials to the site. They included Francesco Colomba, the mayor of Alessandria del Carretto, and the town doctor, Pietro Chidichimo. Police from the neighboring town of Oriolo were summoned to investigate the incident. Initial rescue efforts were hindered by torrential rain, which triggered a second landslide. The last victim, Giuseppe Mitidieri, was still trapped beneath the debris, forcing rescuers to postpone their mission until conditions improved.

On Dec. 5, 1896, the community of Alessandria del Carretto came together to pay their respects in a heartfelt funeral service for those who had fallen. The following year, on the anniversary of this tragic disaster, a memorial service was

held to honor the lost lives. The town’s bells rang daily, serving as a solemn reminder of the impact this tragedy had on all.

In the aftermath of the disaster, mourning turned into a demand for accountability. The owner of the mill, Don Filomeno Rossi, who had served as the town’s mayor in the late 1880s, and the miller, Antonio Bruno, faced charges of manslaughter due to negligence. Although the Court of Castrovillari initially acquitted them, an appeal from the victims’ families prompted a retrial at the Court of Appeals of Catanzaro. On June 12, 1897, both men were convicted and sentenced to 12 months and 15 days in detention, along with a fine of 1,666 lire. They were also ordered to pay restitution to the families of the deceased.

While the stories of this tragedy have been carefully handed down through generations by the town’s elders, the passage of time often threatens to erase our personal histories. That’s why I passionately urged the administration of Alessandria del Carretto to establish a permanent memorial in honor of the victims. Such a memorial would serve as a place for the descendants of the victims of the Gilorma landslide, as well as the entire community, to come together in remembrance and to preserve those memories for future generations.

Historians Professor Ettore Angio and Professor Alessandro Arvia, alongside writer Janet Arvia, secretary Grazia Brunacci, attorney Mimma Covelli, digital creator Rosemary Fanti, creative director Richard Koranda, and author Giuseppe Genise, have generously shared their expertise in support of this initiative.

I am wholeheartedly committed to raising the necessary funds for this project by rallying the support of the town of Alessandria del Carretto, as well as its descendants throughout the United States. To lend a hand, contact me at jwarvia@gmail.com.

History often fades into obscurity, but we must not let the sacrifices of our ancestors be forgotten.

The article above appears in the August 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

The Italian-American community is about to embark on its most challenging and important project in recent history: the creation of a National Museum of Italian American History on the National Mall in Washington, D.C.

Italian Americans have made tremendous sacrifices while making monumental contributions to our country. A national museum would serve to memorialize our exceptional history and preserve it for the benefit of future generations.

This initiative began last year when the Museum and Cultural Affairs Committee of the Conference of Presidents of Major Italian American Organizations recommended to me that we begin to explore the prospect of creating a national museum.

I thought the committee’s idea was brilliant, and I immediately reached out to U.S. Rep. Tom Suozzi, D-NY, a good and loyal friend of the Italian-American community, to work with us.

At our annual COPOMIAO meeting last June in New York City, Tom made a presentation to our 70-member organization. I then introduced a resolution to support the creation of a National Italian American History Museum in Washington, D.C. and it passed unanimously.

Tom then reached out to U.S. Rep. Michael Rulli, R-Ohio, who along with Tom is co-chair of the Italian American Congressional Delegation. Mike enthusiastically agreed to serve as co-sponsor of the bipartisan National Museum of Italian American History Commission Act.

The legislation they drafted would create a planning commission to examine the possibility of creating a Smithsonian Museum of Italian American History on the National Mall in Washington. This commission would include experts in both museum planning and the immigrant experience, and is modeled after ones previously created to bring national museums for other ethnic groups into being. The bill would also examine the feasibility of establishing, maintaining, funding and operating a facility dedicated to our Italian-American legacy as part of the Smithsonian Institution.

The legislation to create this commission is known as House Bill H.R. 1102, and it was introduced in Congress in February. At the time of its introduction, it had nine co-sponsors, and it had been endorsed by 78 major Italian-American organizations.

Our initial challenge is to get this legislation passed in the U.S. House of Representatives. To do so, we need to encourage as many House members as possible to serve as co-sponsors of the legislation.

Every Italian American can play an important role in this effort by sending a letter or email to their Congressional Representative, encouraging them to co-sponsor the bill.

Below is a sample communication that we can all use:

Dear Congressman (or Congresswoman),

I am writing to ask you to support H.R. 1102, the National Museum of Italian American History Commission Act, which would create a planning commission to examine the feasibility of establishing a Smithsonian Museum of Italian American History.

All of the bipartisan chairs and co-chairs of the Italian-American delegation have joined on as original co-sponsors, and the bill is supported by every major Italian-American organization in the country.

Italian Americans have made invaluable contributions to the United States. From Fortune 500 CEOs and public servants to Supreme Court Justices and Nobel Prize recipients, they have excelled in all areas of American life. The Italian-American story is the quintessential American story: immigrants arriving in our country and embracing commitments to family, community, public service, love of country, and hope for a better future.

This legislation will create a planning commission of experts in museum planning and the immigrant experience to examine the feasibility of establishing, maintaining, funding and operating such a facility as part of the Smithsonian Institution.

I am requesting that you support this bill by signing on as a co-sponsor. Please contact Ivanley Noisette (ivanley.noisette@mail.house.gov) in Congressman Tom Suozzi’s office to do so.

Thank you for your consideration,

Your Name

For more, click here.

Let’s all take the time to express our pride in our Italian-American heritage by forwarding the above email/letter to our respective representative.

The article above appears in the April 2025 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

Can two centuries of Italian diaspora across the globe fit into a 30-second sound bite or a 280-character tweet?

“No, no and no again,” say the faculty of the fourth edition of the Italian Diaspora Studies Summer Seminar. Sponsored by the John D. Calandra Italian American Institute and Roma Tre University, the session took place in Ostiense, a southern quarter of Rome. The 16 participants arrived from Turkey, Canada and Italy, and from California, Colorado, Indiana, New York, Oklahoma and Pennsylvania in the United States.

The IDSSS is the dream child of a team of innovative scholars who have supported Italian-American studies programs on the undergraduate and graduate levels in their efforts to examine this mass scattering of Italians.

The three-and-a-half-week intensive experience features several disciplines: cinema, diplomacy, history, language, literature, psychology and sociology. Participants include journalists, teachers of Italian and Ph.D. candidates who arrive with long- and short-term projects — such as essays, memoirs, scholarly research and teaching materials — to push the conversation to the public via high school and university classrooms.

The three coordinators — Distinguished Professor Fred Gardaphe and Dean Anthony J. Tamburri of the Calandra Institute, and Associate Professor Sabrina Vellucci of Roma Tre University — have garnered a reputation for “making things happen” in this multi-disciplinary field on both sides of the Atlantic.

Since 2018, when many of the organizers met in Melbourne, Australia, the interest has increased exponentially; three subsequent editions of that conference followed, with the fifth taking place in December 2024 in Genova, Italy.

“A number of previous fellows have returned to their home institutions and offered courses on Italian-American studies for the first time at their respective institutions,” Tamburri reports.

Among the benefactors that support the IDSSS are the Alexandra De Luise Gift, American Association of Teachers of Italian, Giambelli Foundation, Italian Language InterCultural Alliance, National Italian American Foundation and UNICO National.

Gardaphe, who specializes in literature, opened his session with: “What happens when you find the American history you are being taught does not reflect your history or your life? Where do you fit in? Where does your family fit in?”

Diasporas are natural phenomena, Gardaphe emphasized, and they aren’t limited to just one group. Italians, Jews, the Irish, Africans, Armenians, Asians, South and Central Americans and Middle Easterners, to name a few, have all arrived on U.S. shores as a result of these mass migrations.

Some were persecuted in their home countries, others left due to economic and social injustice or natural disasters, with new and ongoing scholarship endeavoring to set the historical records straight.

Psychology Professor Donna Chirico of York College in New York posed the tandem questions: How do you identify yourself? New arrivals are expected to subsume their identity: What does it mean to hyphenate? “Right now we are witnessing multiple ‘forced’ diasporas, changing the language of how we speak about diaspora,” she noted. “We’re now using words like ‘expelled,’ ‘massacre’ and ‘annihilation’; forced diasporas are different from leaving by choice.”

Cinematically, Italian Americans have excelled. “Through films, we make and break stereotypes through popular culture,” says Professor Anna Camaiti Hostert, who lives and works in Italy and the United States, teaching at several American universities.

“Italian-American directors have a sense of that aesthetic even if they are not aware of it,” she noted. “They are also good storytellers and have incorporated imagery from their Italian roots and have thus had an impact on American popular culture.”

The research of Professor Charlene Fletcher of Butler University in Indianapolis is revealing how the padrone system brought Sicilians to work side-by-side with African Americans in Mississippi during the 19th and 20th centuries. Professor Cristina Migliaccio of Medgar Evers College is analyzing the digital diaspora of the Neapolitan language as it travels through social and streaming media and may ultimately reshape the cultural images of Neapolitans.

For more about the summer seminar, click here.

The above appears in the November 2024 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

As an author, I’ve had the pleasure of meeting hundreds of Italian Americans at book signings. It’s always my pleasure to chat with these fine people.

I enjoy their family tales and always encourage them to tell the stories of their immigrant ancestors to their children and grandchildren to help preserve the memory of the incredible accomplishments of their forebears.

That’s not to say that only Italian immigrants had it rough. The opposite is true: All new arrivals struggle and immigration is still a challenge today.

I write about Italian immigrants and speak to groups about them coming to this country a century ago because, as the grandson of Sicilian immigrants on my mother’s side, I grew up hearing about their experiences, some of which were heroic, some funny and some tragic.

My concern has always been that the bravery, sacrifices and struggles of those early Italian immigrants will be lost in the mists of time simply because their stories are not being handed down from generation to generation.

That concern is heightened because Hollywood has largely ignored the wonderful legacy of these hard-working people and chosen to focus instead on a slim criminal minority.

In my humble opinion, the amazing triumph of the Italy-to-America immigration and assimilation experience is a far better narrative, and it absolutely cries out to be told by each of us.

Imagine leaving your homeland and the people you love: young men and women saying goodbye to parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, siblings and cousins, knowing they will never see them again. It is utterly unthinkable and yet millions of Italian families did exactly that.

It’s difficult to understand how these humble arrivals prevailed a century ago, when most of them came here with little money, did not speak the language, faced enormous prejudice, and received little or no social services.

Making their transition even more difficult, the 1920s were a time of enormous social upheaval. A million soldiers had returned from war, taking most of the decent-paying jobs. Prohibition had become law, spawning dozens of criminal enterprises that ravaged the country, mostly the big cities, where many of our ancestors settled.

Prejudice against Italians was terrible. Job ads often specified “No Italians Hired.” Making matters worse, Italian immigrants were often victimized by their own countrymen. Criminals among them would steal, extort and beat new arrivals, making already challenging lives even more difficult.

These brave souls often took the most menial jobs for the least pay. Many worked long hours at backbreaking labor just to cover the rent and put food on their tables.

Assimilation was tough. Millions returned to Italy, but millions more stayed, believing that they would persevere and firm in their determination to make a better life for their children. We should all be grateful that they did.

This begs the question: How did they survive?

• First of all, our ancestors believed in the strength of family. They stayed together, loving, supporting, encouraging and protecting each other.
• Their faith in God was powerful and undeniable.
• They were welcomed into ethnic enclaves teeming with paesani who came before them.
• They bought from and sold to each other, helping their businesses thrive.
• They encouraged their children to become educated, to speak English and to become Americans.
• They worked hard and encouraged their children to do the same.

The history of Italian immigration cannot be told without recognizing and acknowledging the vital role played by women. Without those strong, determined individuals, success would have been far less likely. Women were the glue and the silent power that held families together, ensuring their survival. They were, in every sense of the word, equal partners with their hardworking husbands.

So please, everyone, tell your family stories. Write them down. Record them. Make sure that this generation and those to follow know what was done for them by the heroic men and women who came here from Italy a century ago.

Last October, I found myself strolling through the cobblestone streets of Rome taking in the sights and sounds of the magical “This is Wonderland” event. It was like stepping through the looking glass in more ways than one. “Alice in Wonderland” is a story we all adore, but did you know that Lewis Carroll’s famous tale was inspired by a potentially dubious love connection with a 10-year-old muse? It invites us to contemplate the delicate balance between innocence and unseen dangers. And just as the origins of “Alice in Wonderland” are hidden and blurred, so too are the potential risks that lie in wait throughout the internet for today’s children.

As I returned home that evening, I began thinking back to earlier in the year, when I came upon an article about the arrest of a 36-year-old Roman man for pedophilia. It wasn’t just the heinous nature of the crime that captured my attention; it was also the global cooperation that took place to bring the man to justice. Based on a tip from the Australian police about explicit images on the internet depicting abuse of a minor, an arrest of the predator was quickly made. The Italian police were able to breach the dark web, find the images, and apprehend the perpetrator with remarkable rapidity.

The speed and efficiency of global cooperation intrigued me, so I contacted the Italian national police. I was led to their national cybercrime unit and the special task force within that unit known as the CNCPO (National Center for Combating Child Pornography Online). Through them, I was able to gain tremendous insight into the dark world of cyber-sexual crimes against minors. In the process, light was also shed on the special breed of compassionate and well-trained officers who work for the unit, as well as the NGO (non-government, non-profit organization) that is assisting them in their noble efforts.

Formerly known as Operation Underground Railroad (OUR) and now known as OUR Rescue, the American-based international NGO has been training law enforcement agencies in the latest technologies for the last 10 years while also running a victim-aftercare program. Having made it a priority to learn the latest technological tools to catch predators, CNCPO began working with OUR Rescue a little over a year ago. Wonderfully, the cooperation and friendship between the CNCPO and OUR Rescue has given each the tools to be more effective in their mission.

OUR Rescue technology rapidly removes CSAM (Child Sexual Abuse Material) from the internet while helping to catch predators as quickly as possible to minimize the damage done to children and their families. It also helps officers extract identifying information from the images without having to view the abuse multiple times, which is damaging to the mental health of the officers. Safeguarding their mental health reduces the risk of them leaving the unit due to the stress, which in turn helps to keep experienced personnel on staff for longer periods.

OUR Rescue estimates that more than 2 million children are trafficked each year. With so many hidden dangers, even in places designed for children, how do we protect them? Here are some tips I’ve learned:

Use the parental controls on your child’s phone and computer. Establish an open dialogue with your children about the hidden dangers on internet-chat rooms, games where they chat with strangers, etc. Teach your children that it’s OK to say “no” if an online conversation feels uncomfortable. And it’s so important that children and teenagers understand that everything they post and share on the internet is there forever.

Although the subject matter of this column is dark, the intent is to shine a light not just on the dangers that surround our children, but also on the progress being made by real-life superheroes at organizations like CNCPO and OUR Rescue.

To report suspicious activity, call the 24-hour-a-day National Center for Missing and Exploited Children’s CyberTipline at 800-843-5678. Remember: If you see something, say something.

The above appears in the July 2024 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.

The cover of Fra Noi reads “Embrace your inner Italian”: words that inspire us to explore every aspect of our heritage and community. In my case, the catchy phrase opened the door to the Italian Cultural Center at Casa Italia. An oasis of italianità in Stone Park, the center is home to a hardy band of volunteers who truly live this calling.

I paid my first visit in 2015 and was introduced to Dominic Candeloro, a pensive curator with glasses that often slide down his nose. He, in turn, introduced me to the vast cultural riches of the center: its Italians in Chicago exhibit, art galleries, extensive library and archives, and so much more.

My desire to embrace my inner Italian was kindled earlier that year during a visit to my father’s birthplace in Torricella-Peligna, a small town in the magnificent Maiella mountains of Abruzzo. Unfortunately, my father, Attilio Italo Colasante, didn’t share the gift of la nostra lingua with me, so I felt a little lost among the fluent Italian speakers during my stay.

The archives of the Italian Cultural Center give written and pictorial testimony to the hundreds of thousands of Italians who, like my father, worked hard to build a better life for themselves and their families in America. Regrettably, the fearful years of World War II caused my father to rename himself Leo Colsant and keep his beloved ancestral tongue to himself.

It was a period of rapid assimilation into American society. Nonetheless, his Italianism never left him. Like his father, Giuseppe, he played the violin and, when he raised a family, grew a vegetable garden. You know, the usuals: zucchini, eggplant, oregano, parsley, tomatoes and so on. His mother, Rosa, insisted on speaking Dante’s Italian and Grandpa always slipped into the local dialect, but none of that rubbed off on me.

During my visit to Torricella-Peligna, I did research in a small archival room of the Church of San Giacomo, which contained 300 years of baptismal, marriage and death records. Giuseppe and Rosa Colasante married at the church and had their five children baptized there. The church’s campanile, or bell tower, embraces the town with sound each hour. It issues a call to prayer and, to some locals, an invitation to pause at the Penna Nera cafe for a cappuccino.

I find this same profound sense of communion among the volunteers at our cultural center. Every Wednesday, our own campanile rings out when we hear “Coffee’s ready! Pronto!” and Ross gathers us for a cappuccino in the Florentine Room. As we sit and sip, Francesco updates us on his podcast, and Vincenzo shares his vast knowledge of medieval and modern Italian history. Then, there’s Lucio, our cuoco di pasta. If he isn’t in Italy, he’s as constant as the Swiss Guard of our magnificent 1/100-scale replica of St. Peter’s on the third floor of the center.

We fondly recall the involvement of Fr. August Feccia, the center’s founder and spiritual guide, who would unite us in prayer and regale us with fiery passages from Dante’s “Inferno.” We also remember past volunteers like Domenico, who would surprise us with dishes featuring fresh-from-the-garden eggplant or zucchini, or his strong homemade wine.

Here, I’m part of an extended Italian family. I revert to the name Leo, from my birth certificate. Pian piano, I muster the courage to speak Italian, even if the conversation leaves me frustrated. I learn it as I embrace it.

We come together and labor as a family. Anna and I digitize documents of past hard-working Italians in Chicago. Barbara and Terrence bring a fresh look to the costumes and artifacts of the Sicilian Heritage Museum. We can’t wait to delve into the plays of Luigi Pirandello, having previously explored Dante’s “La divina commedia.”

The Italian Cultural Center is a living experience as well as a cultural treasure. A wealth of heritage and warm Italian friendship awaits you. If you would like to join us, email me at leecolsant39@gmail.com. We welcome you to experience our oasis of italianità, as you deepen your embrace with your inner Italian.

The above appears in the May 2023 issue of the print version of Fra Noi. Our gorgeous, monthly magazine contains a veritable feast of news and views, profiles and features, entertainment and culture. To subscribe, click here.