A Proud American Citizen Who Was Grandfathered In
CONTRARY TO my children’s belief I was not Coxswain on General Washington’s boat when he rowed the Delaware. I’m old, but not that old, but I’ve been around for 36% of this country’s existence. I’m proud to be an American although I recognize that deep ideological divides, often exacerbated by social media, make it difficult to find common ground and engage in productive dialogue. What it means to be an American in this 21st century is a complex and evolving concept, shaped by long enduring ideals and the powerful currents of contemporary events. I still believe in the American Dream and how it continues to inspire people from all over the world.
Yet, I might not be celebrating our nation’s birthday and holding on to my belief that America is still a beacon of hope and a model of freedom and democracy without the courage of two men I barely knew, who left everything behind in Europe, embarking on a journey into the unknown.
In 1903 at the age of 32, Antonio Gervasi said good-bye to his wife Giuseppa, and left Vallelunga (full name Vallelunga Pratameno) Sicily. He may have walked the 37 miles to Palermo to board the good ship, Sicilian Prince, for his voyage to the new world. He landed at Ellis Island on June 29, 1903. There, some Irish clerk changed the “i” into “e” at the end of his name and the Gervase saga in America began. I have no information on how he got from Ellis Island to Buffalo except that hundreds of Vallelungesi settled in Buffalo and Batavia, N.Y. in the early 20th century. A year later Grandma followed him to the new world. My father was born in September, 1905.
My other grandfather left his little town of Afragota, Italy to sail to the USA aboard the good ship Republic. He landed on these shores on May 24, 1906. His name was Antonio Sansano. A clerk at Ellis wrote Zanzano on the immigration papers. I guess spelling wasn’t a requisite to work at Ellis Island. He married Maria Perone. My mother was born in 1907, the last of their eleven children.
I can only presume that freedom and opportunity were what brought my grandparents to America. Still, I am in awe of the sheer courage it took to abandon everything for the promise of freedom and a chance at a better life, even if uncertain. I can only imagine how their initial struggles – starting with nothing, learning a new language, adapting to a new culture – embody the grit required to build a life in a new land. Booker T. Washington, in his memoirs from 1908, “The Man Farthest Down,” observed the following, “I saw Sicilian peasant families living in a single room with no chimney, a stone hearth for cooking (when there was food to cook), one bunk (a heap of straw) upon which the entire family sleeps… the coarseness of such family existence is beyond description…”
Then there was the voyage itself. Life on immigrant ships around 1900 was often cramped and uncomfortable, especially in steerage class, where passengers shared tight quarters and faced unsanitary conditions. Many endured long journeys filled with seasickness and homesickness as they traveled to seek a better life in America. The voyages took between two weeks and a month, depending on specific routes, the type of ship, and weather conditions.
There were no passports or visas; each immigrant had to speak directly to an official. Third class passengers went to Ellis Island for the required immigration inspections. Those who passed inspection were simply sent on their way with no official paperwork. There was no, “Welcome to America, here’s your new photo ID.”
I have no recollection of how or what my grandparents felt about coming here. Only my maternal grandfather, Anthony Zanzano, returned for a visit to Italy when he went to Rome in 1925 as a member of a pilgrimage to have an audience with Pope Pius XI. My friend, Inge Kessler, who had a harrowing escape from East Germany during the Cold War, told me about her excitement over voting for mayor and city council members of Carmel. “It was a proud moment,” she said. “I could fulfill my hard earned right and privilege of voting for the very first time.” Sadly, many natural citizens do not share her intensity.
My grandfathers arrived in America with nothing but the hope for a better life. They worked hard, building families and careers from the ground up. Their experiences remind me of the resilience and determination that define the American spirit. Their courage to leave their homeland paved the way for my own American story. I hope I’ve fulfilled the legacy they left me. I’ve tried to actively participant in civics, confident that my single important vote during my 36% of our country’s existence played a role in shaping America.
Happy 4th of July.
Contact Jerry at jerrygervase@yahoo.com
