INTRODUCTION

Shenango, a college publication, represents the dream of one creative history professor
come true. About a year and a half ago, Jim Siar read the book Foxfire and became so im­
pressed and enthralled with it that he asked several of his fellow faculty members to read it.
We did.
Our school, the Shenango Valley Campus of Edinboro State College in Pennsylvania,
is located in an industrial steel area and populated by citizens from various ethnic backgrounds.
Jim Siar saw in this situation opportunity rich in Fox fire project possibilities. Faculty members
Eugene Antley, Assistant Professor of Sociology and Anthropology, Edward Lindway, As­
sistant Professor in Science, and Caroline Daverio and Dr. Carmen J. Leone, Associate Pro­
fessors in English, soon became enthusiastic supporters of Jim Siar’s ideas about the Foxfire
concept for our school. Thus was born the project for ethnic studies at the Edinboro Shenango
Valley Campus.
The Shenango Project in Ethnic Studies is carried out by means of oral history, one of
the approaches to the preservation of the past. Oral history does not in any way supplant the
traditional, documented recording of history. Rather, it is an enriching addition to the tradi­
tional method and can, conceivably, provide, in some cases, primary source material for docu­
mentation.
The students participating in the oral history project interview people with interesting
ethnic backgrounds, record, photograph and transcribe the interviews, and cull from the trans­
criptions one or more illustrated stories of individuals, rich in the culture of many lands and
nationalities.
The Shenango Project has become for us much more than a college course to take or to
teach, much more than searching for good stories for our magazine, in fact, much more than
the publication of our magazine, important as this is; it has become the means of a new aware­
ness, a new appreciation of the contributions of all peoples to the culture of our American
community — contributions of foods, customs, the arts in every conceivable form, ideas and
philosophies.

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Working in the Shenango Project has revealed a new and exciting view of American cul­
ture. The United States of America we have decided is not really a “melting pot” but a “bou­
quet of flowers.” It is understandable that immigrants have not simply discarded the old for
the new or forgotten the familiar for the unknown or the novel. Rather the immigrant has
striven to save and protect the old and familiar, and at the same time, has added the new.
Alex Kasich, interviewed by Kerry Generalovich, said it well in these words: “America should
be a bouquet of different flowers. Each group should contribute everything best they have to
this country instead of unifying to one to erase everything.”
Those of us who were born in the United States of immigrant parents know that they came
to America in search of a better, richer life for themselves and their families. We also know
that though our parents still honor the culture of their fathers, they have readily espoused and
cherish just as intensely the American ideals of “life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. ^

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A RICH PEOPLE’S NAME!
by
Don Reiter and Paula Lazor

“You are not old. It is just that you were young, a long, long time ago.”
—Pablo Casals
It is now sixty-five years since Fernando “Fred” Brestelli immigrated to America. But still the spry,
good-natured Italian emigrant — now a full-fledged American citizen — possesses the same self-reliance and
zest for life as the day he set foot on American soil in 1910.
Fernando arrived in America at the age of eighteen. His initial desire, upon arrival at the Battery (an
immigration station) in New York was to look American and not like a “green horn” — the name given to newlyarrived immigrants, usually because of their appearance.
And so he arrived in America wearing a new tailor-made suit with a new shirt, a new hat, and new shoes to
match. “I got that suit on — very nice, but the hat was funny. The shoes the same thing. When I see — I no want
— 1 go barefoot. I no want those shoes but I had to. The shirt the same thing. A woman over there, she make a
funny style. The hat — no tie — and the shoes and the shirt, but the suit it was number one,” Fred explained.
Fred is a self-taught man. In his lifetime, he learned to read and write in both Italian and English, without
any formal education. He has also held various jobs such as barber, noodle-maker, papermill worker, railroad­
man, highwayman, and factory laborer.
Before coming to America, Fernando spent the first eighteen years of his life in Ceccano, Italy, a small
village outside of Rome. Fernando was a foster child, who was born illigitimately in Rome and raised in Ceccano
by a foster mother. The government paid foster mothers for wet-nursing infants, like Fernando, and raising them
to adulthood.
It was a common practice in Italy for wealthy men to father children outside of marriage, and then to have
the child given “for adoption” via the Italian Government. “My poor mother (foster) had a bambino (baby)
so she took away from her baby and took me, so she got two dollars a month.”
Fernando continued “Fernando Brestelli is a rich people’s name. The rich people, they make me and they
give me to the government. You see, the rich people up there have more chance to make family. If he no like his
wife, he use somebody else — pretty. Then give baby to government. That’s a cheap way.”
And so Fernando was raised with 15 or 16 brothers and sisters in a one-room house. “This place where I
was raised was poor; where I was born was rich — maybe the son of lawyer, judge, maybe engineer . . . high
people.”
Living in such a large household, Fernando learned responsibility at an early age. “I had to watch myself
— like a babysitter,” Fernando explained.
After work his mother came home every evening to make supper for all her children. “She did it up before
we (children) go to bed. God always provide. Either Combread — we never see much white bread.”
“Sometime (there was) nothing in the house, (and) you have to borrow, like in business: ‘Can you give me
two tinell — like a bushel — to keep 'em going?' They give it to you and put it on the book, but you have no
time to pay back. So she (the owner) sues you. Maybe five lira (18-1/2 cents each) for a one-dollar order.”
Fred recalled getting his first job when he was eight years old. “This neighbor friend of mine called
Amerigo — nice-built, well-fixed. The father got property, land: they got a store that sell candles, confetti, candy
and goods. This man came near me and say, ‘Fernando, I got a job over here as a timekeeper in this big office.’
6

“Say this man to me, ‘you want to come to work at macaroni factory?” To me, this is just like Saint Peter
come to me, (and ask me): ‘Fernando, you want to come to heaven?
“So I run to my mother and say, ‘Ma, guess what happened! This Amerigo tell me to go work in the mill!’
Oh! She was so proud, too”.
Work at the macaroni factory required many long hours of hard labor for very little pay. Fernando’s initial
salary was only eight cents a day!
“(I worked) dark to dark. No six hours or eight — dark to dark,” Fernando emphasized. “Sometimes you get
up at one o’clock in morning to run over there.”
“After awhile they give me a better job. They raise me in wage — twelve cents a day. I carry noodles up­
stairs — three or four stairs way up. We make fine-a-stuff — pasta-fagiuoli — we put in a sack, haul them up
to dry out in tents, if rain; in dry weather, then outside,” Fred said.
Fred’s daily 12-cent wage, however, was not a permanent guarantee. One day the owner’s chauffer saw
Fernando caught in the middle of a scuffle with his cousin. Fred recalls: “I pinch my cousin a little bit. , . It
happen the owner’s chauffer pass through there. So, he say, ‘What has happened?
“Oh, Fernando do this,” Fred’s cousin cried. So the chauffer then asked how much Fernando earned. When
Fred told him his daily earnings, the chauffer replied, “So now, you will work for two cents a day.”
“I got so disappointed. I could not swallow up that,” Fernando said. “So my mother was at a mill built
up on a mountain. When I went over there, it was hot in July.” Traveling barefoot, Fred arrived at the factory to
tell his mother the bad news.
“Mother, 1 quit. I wash out,” Fernando declared. “So when fall come, my father, he make a grain field. Some
people own the land so they make an agreement for more space to make a grain field. One year my brother help
him and next year, I help him”.
Then Fernando’s brother left for America. Fernando recalls: “I work one year and finally my brother send
forty dollars home. Them people never see forty dollars in their whole life.”
Thinking that Fernando was asleep, his parents discussed the plans they had for the money. “One of them
said, ‘I have an idea to send Fernando to America.’ I hear that — it make me proud,” Fernando said.
Fernando’s mother then spoke with the village postmaster, Lorenzo. “My mother talk to this postmaster
. . . She say she has an idea to send Fernando to America but (that) I (would) need my birth certificate from
Rome — could he get it as fast as he could?”
Mother put six eggs in a handkerchief. We only had six chickens. She took six eggs from her children to
send to this postmaster’s wife ... So when I went over there, she ask me, ‘Why she (Fred’s mother) took six eggs
off her children to give us and we no need it.’ The postmaster’s family had “a pile” (of money), Fred explained.
The postmaster’s wife then worried about Fernando’s family. So when Mr. Lorenzo came home in the even­
ing from the post office she told her husband how badly Fernando’s mother needed the birth certificate. Fred
continued: “It (only) took one week to get this certificate, other people who no bring the eggs, it take one year.”
As soon as the papers came, then Mario, the postmaster’s son, delivered the long-awaited message to Fer­
nando, good news — the money come for you to go to America.”

“When I got in the boat at Naples, my mother, who never gave me a big lunch like that — (gave me) half of
a springer (chicken) and half a loaf of bread in a napkin. She thought I was going to starve to death in Naples,”
Fred said with an understanding grin.
“When I got there, the agent take care of the people. The boat was named “Berlin” (and had) a
German captain.” Fred continued: “So when I got this package — the spring chicken and bread, the driver, who
take the suitcase, he grab that. The agent give it to the driver (and explained to me): ‘The company furnishes
the food.’ So the man eat like he starved to death. I never got chicken like that from my mother (before), and
somebody else eat it!” Fred exclaimed. “At least, give me the napkin.”
“I no even taste it, but we stayed at a big palace. Make big food. Everybody had his own bed and stuff like
that. The next day, we take the boat,” Fred said.
“I was afraid. I had never been on a boat. Never been around.”
When Fred arrived in America, he first got off at the Battery in New York and met his relatives.
“Over there in the Battery, you go in at six and you come out at six. Crowds. People from everywhere come
from the boats. The crowds all the way. I had to wait till six o’clock for them (Fred’s relatives) to come out.”
“Oh! I was so hungry. I see a guy over there with a little wagon who sells peanuts. So my guts were crying.
Hungry.” So Fernando went over to the peanut vendor and with a handful of change bought his first American
food — a nickel’s worth of peanuts!
Fernando’s cousin then took him shopping in downtown New York. Fred explained: “She had a friend who
sold shoes, caps and everything. So she take away my funny shoes, and she buy me nice regular shoes. Button
shoes. They cost two dollars. Buy me silk stockings, buy me a shirt, blue tie, and a cap — blue. Match 'em with
suit.”
“I look like I was born here, so when I went to Croghan, New York, where my brother be, I am no more green
(an immigrant).”
“It was May and it was cold yet,” when Fred recalled first arriving in Croghan, a small town located in the
middle of the woods. This friend took me down to the house where he boarded. They had a saloon, a restaurant,
and a bakery. This man, he was Italian and (his wife), she was Polish but she talk Italian good. So the man said,
‘Make some food for this boy and he is going to pay.” This woman, she had the coal stove — red hot. She made
five or six pounds of meat, bread and beer. She made a big pan of sauerkraut.” Fred continued: “I thought we
were going to eat and (leave) some to sell, too. She ate the whole thing! All herself!
“When she was finished then she said, ‘I made it for you.’ So when my friend from the Battery yet come on
the bicycle — paesano— we make a steak, not for one man but two. I thought he was going to pay. Then he told
me, “You pay for the food. I am going to give you the money after while. I never saw him pay back yet,” Fred
declared.
“The owner of the bakery, he have a boarding house from one to twelve. My brother board in number three.
I go to number three and I got in the house. My brother we kiss each other, we celebrate and I take a beer.”
Fernando’s first job was in a paper factory at Croghan where he worked both outside and inside. “The bosses
were Irish people. So my brother, he took a box of cigars to the big boss by the name of Mac. He said, ‘to come
to work tomorrow morning.’ So I go over to work in the woods and cut wood to make paper.”

Fernando’s mother told him, however, that he would still need an additional $42 before he could leave
Italy. “So my mother took a day off from her job. We had to walk five miles to see her niece who was way in the
country. They were well-fixed — all corporation — the daughter, sister, and brother-in-law. We got the money,
but within two years I had to pay them back or else they would make my father work two acres of their land,”
Fred recalled. “My hair stood up from worry. So much worry for a young boy . . . That means after two years
Papa has to go dig the ground. That old man would have to scratch the ground.”

“In the summertime, there was built another place near the factory, need more room. The officer was a
bricklayer from Germany — nice people. They tell me to help the bricklayer, so this suit me better.”

“I needed $82 complete for train. I had to have two dollars in my pocket while I was on the boat and $25
when I come out, because 1 had to have at least $25 to start,” Fernando explained.

During this time of workers’ unrest, Fernando’s brother left for another job on the railroad. Even though the
outdoor laborers were on strike, Fernando continued to work.

8

“I spent all summer in the brickyard. After it was cold, I had to go back to the paper mill gang. Finally, the
people got wise over there (at the paper mill). Everybody inside (formed) a union — outside, no union. The out­
side workers also got wise and wanted join the union, so they strike; the company no like.”

9

Fred explained: “My brother, he took all the money. He no left me not one cent. I need the money. I need
the work. I have no money to eat, so I work, work. Finally, I got to be the leader of the gang.”

“And in the morning, the first coffee to wash your
mouth — 15 cents, your second one — 10 cents with a
little bit of milk. She was not a regular woman, she
could take your eye out for business.”

“In the wintertime, over there (at the papermill), there is zero weather from September to June. The mill is
located alongside a canal. One day the boss wanted to know where Fernando was staying. “You see, I wasn’t
stupid. I could see this man was going to bother me at night ... to go to the canal to break the ice, so the mill
can run,” said Fernando.

\
One Sunday Fernando took thirty eggs and made
macaroni. “I made the dough and spread it. She
cooked it, but still charged me for it at dinner.”

“So one big lie came in my mouth. I give my number eleven but I live at number three. So he called at
number eleven to find me. So when this Charlie (Fred’s boss) come look for me, this lady says to Charlie there’s
nobody here who works for you. So her people no bother to tell him anything. So he look and could not find me,
so he went away.”

Fernando moved out of that house even before the
road was finished in the fall. He went instead to
another Italian woman in town, and made macaroni
at her house, free of charge.

“In the morning when I want back to work, he came to see me, mean like a bear. “Where you been last
night?” he asked. “I got a big lie in my mouth. Me in Watertown — like (the distance) from Sharon to Youngs­
town (approximately 15 miles) — no convenient at that time. He said, ‘How . . . you get to Watertown — no car,
no nothing — you lie to me?”

After completing his work in Rome, Fernando and
his friend John Battiste moved to Elmira, New York,
to work on a long road to be built by hand — a job that would last all winter.

“You talk all you want. I no hear nothing. Second time he went, the same thing. He could not find me, I
was still in number three. So then another big lie come in my mouth.”
“Me in Carthage (New York),” Fernando claimed. “But the third time he find me. So he told me he would
fire me. So he found me and he give me a big kick in my hind end,” said Fernando, eyes twinkling, “and it
still hurts.”

“There was a big banker from Italy there who took care of all the people who come from Italy. He was told
that they had eighty-two men over there that needed jobs. We were sent to a highway at Rochester. There
was engineers there and nobody could talk English but me. So he told me that I had to be foreman.”
^

Fred continued: “One way Charlie hurt and another way he helped. So when my pay come, instead of draw­
ing $9.35, I got $42 and some cents. So I tell him, ‘Good-bye Charlie.”
Fernando then took a train to Rome, New York, where his brother was working. “When I got there, it
was a lot of traffic over there. The guy, we was raised together and worked in the macaroni factory, was telling
me my brother lived in a box car. My brother had a bunk for me. I sleep with lots of rags on my feet. There was
a crack in the box car and when I got up in the morning, there was three foot of snow on my feet but I wasn’t
cold: I was warm!”
On the morning Fernando went to the railroad yard with his brother and began shoveling snow. “In the sum­
mertime, we work on the railroad.” One day Fernando’s foreman, Harry, asked him to leave Rome and join him
in his home town where he was returning to be with his wife.
Harry explained: “Here in Rome you got show, saloon, you no can save money, but over there they just
have a grocery store, and post office and one hotel. And a mill for cow feed.” So Fernando left Rome and lived
in a toolhouse that his foreman provided for him.
“In one year, I save three hundred dollars., I took care of myself. I eat good. So when my brother decided
to go back to Italy, he come visit me at the toolhouse.”
Fernando’s brother then tells him: “Give me some money, I got to go to the old country.” Fernando said. “I
give you plenty before. You take care of yourself and I take care of myself. So I give him twenty dollars, the
reason, to buy Papa a pair of shoes. But he didn’t even bring the family a bag of peanuts.”
After his brother’s departure, Fernando also left his job to seek work in Niagara Falls where his cousin had
told him there was “lots of work and where you could make two dollars a day.” But the whole town was on strike
when Fred arrived.
Fernando then traveled to Saranac Lake, New York, where they needed roadbuilders. Once again, Fred had
poor living accommodations. “When I got there, they (relatives of his father) had a place down in the cellar —
a couple of rooms. They had a bunch of kids. She (the wife) was a terrible cheat. One day she tell me because
everybody was outside that Sunday she was going to make eat and if somebody sleep in the floor, it would cost
15 cents, sleep in the chair — 25 cents, and sleep on the bed — one dollar.
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“Most of the men were about forty or forty-five, and 1 was about twenty-two. Nobody paid any attention to me.
So instead, 1 go to work and the men stood around the fire.”
Fred continued: “One time they got a field on fire and the big boss said, ‘That’s a helluva gang you got.’
Well, I had to shut up. 1 told him that I don’t like this job. So then I went to another company near Plattsburg.
1 got the flagman job there to flag the train because the foreman was worried that I was going to take his job.
He told me that he knew all about this gang — nobody wanted to work.”

^
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“Well,” Fred said. “He made them work. The men got mad and wanted me to be foreman.” 1 said, ‘1 got
you by the neck. You no want to work for me — 1 got my flag, my bucket, and sing by myself.”
“It come time I write to my mother and father and said, ‘I don’t like nobody over here. Would you pick me

I
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up one girl over there that suits you. Nice.” Fred continued: “They pick a girl from my godfather. She was
number one — a beauty. So she wrote me that she wanted to come to America but wanted to go to Sharpsville
because she had a sister and a brother there.

I

So Fernando took a train to Sharpsville. “It was almost dark when I got there. I stopped at a grocery store to
find my brother-in-law. The place 1 got to stay, they charged thirty-five dollars for one month.” After becoming
better acquainted with the area, Fred moved to a house on Main Street, close to the Shenango Furnace where
he worked.
“1 worked six o’clock to six o’clock. At this house
where 1 live, I told the woman how to cook the sauce
slow and no worry, I cook myself when 1 get home.
1 make my own homemade noodles. Them people
never saw that before, they cook sloppy,” claimed
Fred.
The enjoyment of Fernando’s noodles was not a
new occurrence. Fernando had been a cook in the
armed services, too. Fernando explains: “Uncle
Sam wanted volunteers for the cooks. So I stepped
forward — one-two-three-four. I cook in the kitchen.
I had an idea to learn so when Thanksgiving come.
Uncle Sam furnish eighty to ninty chickens.
Fernando grows his own garden stakes
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Before they send the boys back they want them a
little fatter. So the mess sergeant decided to have
chicken soup. So I make noodles. The officer wanted
to know who made the noodles. Fred Brestelli!
‘Well, I’ll be darn, I am going to eat over here,’ the
officers said. And so they brought a bowl and took
some over to the officer’s mess hall.”
Fernando’s self-education went beyond the
kitchen. He also taught himself how to read and write,
first in Italian, and then in English. “When I come
to Sharpsville, I buy a grammatica (grammar book).
Some words I don’t know — I watch television, pick
‘em up a lot.”

In a more serious vein, Fernando admits: “When I was young, I like America too well — you see I happen to
be married — the first child, either boy or girl was going to be named ‘America.’ She change her name because
it is funny to be called ‘America,’ but on my letters, she signs her regular name, your daughter, ‘America,’ (al­
though) she calls herself‘Mickey’.
Fernando Brestelli is now 83 years old. Yet the self-assertiveness and independence so characterized by his
youth still shines through his ruddy, sun-weathered cheeks and laughing eyes.
As Fernanco aptly concludes:
“I don’t want anybody to take care of me. I want to do everything myself. I no can stand somebody doing up
for me. You understand?”
Yes, Fernando, we understand.

Some words, like the word ‘delight,’ I don’t know
this word but I learn from a book. I got a letter from
a lady, who wrote, ‘I was delighted with your com­
pany.’ I keep this word in my heart,” Fernando said
softly.
“I sent ten dollars to Roma for books. I sent ten
dollars but they only send me a book worth 50 cents,
yet they take the rest of the money. They send me a
song book about romance and stuff like that. Anyhow,
I got Arrivaderci Roma. Since then I started to read
English,” Fred explained.

Italian Proverbs
Think of the last step,
but be sure to take the first.

Wanting all
loses all.

“I went to work in a shop over there but I no stay, the man say to me ‘Hey Dago!’ I no can take that,”
Fernando said. “So I decided to come back home. I work with Mike Kristich. He was a good man. Later, I got
my own barber shop on Main Street and Sixth Street. It was hard to pay the bills. So I decided to quit. I just
cut my family’s hair.” said Fernando.

Even a small flower
is a sign of affection.

Serve not to others
whatever is unpalatable to you.

Fernando returned to the mills after his career as a barber. He first went to Valley Mould to work as a member
of the electrician crew, but did not last there very long.

Those who sympathize with troubles of others.

Fernando also ventured into barber school 45 years ago. “When I was workin’ the mill (in Sharpsville) I got
sick and I went to a doctor. Later when I better, I decided to try barber school. I go in the morning — back in
the evening — to a school in Youngstown.”

Fred tells why: “I like to shovel sand — a job on the floor. I no be an electrician. I no can’t take it. I can
dig a ditch, make a mould, but I no can climb up there. I am no use to that. So I quit. Then I go to Sharpsville
Furnace.”
Fred retired at the age of sixty-six. He had worked at the railroad roundhouse, a job which terminated with
World War II; then he temporarily worked at the water company, and later on, Fernando was employed by the
Malleable, from which he retired.
“You see, I couldn’t do my job anymore (shoveling sand) because of my back. I went up to the retirement
office to retire. I lost a pension because I did not have enough time,” Fred explained.
“I was a widower when I retired,” he said. Fernando who had married Theresa on Dec. 27, 1919 had two
daughters, Maria and America. So now Fred lives alone in his eight-room house, living only off his Social Secu­
rity. Fred said that he does the best he can.
“I made the garden. Make my own noodles. Make my own bread.” And he still sings.
Fernando is glad that he moved to America. He jokes: “Over there (in Italy) 1 never had a penny in my blue
jeans, but today, 1 have fifty cents!”
12

^ prized possession is not to be borrowed,

will find their own diminish.
Heed all advice,
decide alone.
The best word often remains unsaid.
5?

Even a queen has need of a neighbor.

Se Dio Voile — (If God wills).

We leave the world as we enter, empty handed.

He who leaves an old road,
knows what he leaves.
but not what he will find.

(ju

O
\y

In his backyard study, deco­
rated with innumerable wellknown cartoons which create an at­
mosphere of yesteryear, we listened
to George Tomko’s story

^

byR
by Ruth Ann Slater

George Tomko’s parents came from Austria-Hungary in the early 1900’s and
settled among the Slav people on Florence Street, Sharon, Pennsylvania, where
Mr. Tomko was born. He has many fond memories of his childhood and enjoys
reminiscing about those carefree days. Besides being an artist, he enjoys singing
and remembers when he and his youngest sister would do the supper dishes and
harmonize while singing a popular song. When he joined the seminary in 1925, he
sang with their quartet. After ten years in the seminary, he returned to the Shenango Valley and started work in the Sharon Post Office. He ‘joined up with a
local orchestra and was on the radio on Sunday afternoons during the World War
II years. They sang such songs as “When the Lights Go On Again All Over the
World,” “Johnny Doughboy” and “I Found My Rose in Ireland.”
Mr. Tomko retired from the Post Office in February, 1973 and enjoys gard­
ening and continues to sing, mostly in the church now. He has a shelter in his back
yard where he retreats to draw his monthly cartoon for the Sharon Herald which
gives the people of the Shenango Valley a glimpse of what life was like in earlier
days.

15

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“I remember in the dining room, we had
one of those low-hanging lights over a round
table. I’d shut the door, because my mom and
dad would have company. In those days, the

“Of course, when I got older and I was
out of school I would subscribe to magazines.
I still have some in my possession and find
articles in them that apply to the present.

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neighbors used to visit. Two or three doors
down, they’d come up and visit. They’d just sit

“Of course, I always like to look back to

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there by the table and talk and talk. Maybe
they’d have coffee or tea or something like that.
But they’d spend the evening in conversation.
That’s how I spent a good many of my evenings,

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under the dining room light. I’d practice, practice. If you start drawing a vase and flowers or
something like that, just keep doing it over and

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Here is George Tomko’s story as he
told it to us:

“I left high school during my sophomore
year since I wanted to attend a missionary
society. I left the seminary in 1935 and grad­

“My dad first settled in the eastern part
of Pennsylvania. He worked in the coal mines
for awhile. When he came to this part of the
state, he worked at the old Stewart Iron Fur­
nace. I used to visit every now and then when

uated from Westminster College in 1936.

when I was a kid . . .
“What really got me started in the Her­
ald, was the fact that there were so many art­
icles in there about war and crime ... It was
so pessimistic. So I wrote to the editor and
asked him if he would like to try some of my
drawings. I drew that first one about the old
swimming hole and added a few sentences.
I sent it in. He said he would accept them
all and was delighted to have something
like that.”

over again. Eventually you are going to get it
1:

.

^

I
I

into a drawing that looks good. So it just
means practice, practice. That’s all there is

t

to it.

“I’ve been drawing ever since I can
remember. Since I was six or seven years old.
When I was about ten or eleven, I used to draw
Indian heads. I mean, being a youngster, you
felt like adventure. We used to go to the movie
and see the Indians. I just kept drawing. I used
to copy a lot of the funny papers, especially
Maggie and Jiggs. I used to like Maggie and
Jiggs. I used to copy, sometimes, the whole Sun­
day comic section. I’d color it with watercolors.

I had to take my dad’s lunch bucket down to
him.
“My mother and dad first lived in what we
call “down in the valley,” down by the railroad
tracks. They lived in so-called “company
houses” near the furnace. I remember them.
They were all built in the same fashion, style.
Painted red. From there, they moved up on to
Florence Street. That’s where I was born and
raised.
“I received my early education in Illinois
and later attended high school in Sharon,
Pennsylvania.

“That’s how I spent a good many even­
ings. Of course in those days we didn’t have
places to go like they do now.
16
17

WEDDING SERENADES
“A wedding in those days
gave the youngsters in the
neighborhood an opportunity
George Tomko in His First
Pair of Long Trousers
t; I .,34 '
T!'

biSiO

T

oj

hi'-'}

ciobiigion

him qp
IE Picked the wrong place
TO SHOW OFF HIS EASTEI? SUIT

.fita
'

tffij i‘"*
' ''^0 ' ^.. ■ ■ '''

rM'r
liii

MEMORIES OF THE
FLOOD OF
MARCH 13, 1913
“A view of the devas­
tating flow of the flooded
Shenango River from the
corner of South Dock Street
and Budd Avenue.”

“Hardly ever has it happened, after
I had them in the paper, that I didn’t get a
phone call or letter from some people. They
ask me, ‘How do you remember those
things?’ They will tell me about such and

never experienced or was in contact with.
This way I get to tell something about what
we did when we were kids, and I illustrate
it with a little drawing of some kind. Since
1969, I try to get one out once a month. I
get many interesting letters because of these
drawings. So, it’s interesting to me. It’s a
good hobby. I like to draw.”

such an affair or event that happened. I’ll
say, “Well, I wasn’t there. I can’t write about
it.” I always tell them I don’t want to make
anything about something that I myself
18

to serenade the newlyweds.
The sooner we collected our
loot, the sooner peace and
quiet returned to the neigh­
borhood.”

AMISH HEA VEN ON EARTH
by Thomas Wilds

The ethnic background of the Amish is unique. One of the oldest of the eth­
nic groups, they have not been pressured into accepting the ways of the typical
American community life. Many similar groups have disappeared, while others
have undergone radical changes as they come in contact with our ever advancing,
mechanized society. The use of the distinctive Amish language, dress, and re­
ligious convictions tends to preserve their image and quiet way of life. In a
country as standardized as the United States, it remains a difficult task to remain
unaltered in a society that leans toward maintaining a strong group identity.

"BE NOT CONFORMED TO THIS WORLD,BUT
BE YE TRANSFORMED BY THE RENEWING OF
YOUR MIND THAT YE MAY PROVE WHAT IS
THE GOOD AND THE ACCEPTABLE AND PER­
FECT WILL OF GODr*

*

21

but write in English. Children speak only
English at school. The young are taught the
standards of the community. Religious
beliefs constitute the main core values of
the Amish community. In the community,
people share a common intimate relation­
ship with one another. “The good life”, as
it is referred to, is the way of life for the
“chosen people of God”. With practical
knowledge and hard work, a good living can
be made from the soil. The Amish self

If you’ve ever driven through an Amish
community you cannot help but be aware of
its distinctivenss. The Amish people follow
a doctrine of nonconformity to the rest of
our modernized world in their dress, furni­
ture, farming methods, language tools, books,
and ways of life in general. The Amish use
none of our modern conveniences: they use
no modern machinery, no electricity, no run­
ning water, no plumbing or even telephones.

YOU DONT HA VE TO BE FUELISH WITH THIS ONE.

sufficiency is the key to their way of living.

The Amish speak a German dialect

Amish live by these ways and teach
them to their young. They do not retaliate
against hostility. They show no violence or
even bad habits. Their religion is their way
of life, not just an activity as it is for many
others. The rules of the Amish church are
very specific in regard to our present life
styles. They forbid such things as electrical

THE QUIET OF LIFE
22

her, satisfaction is a benefit of hard work.
The canning of food consumes a large part
of the wife’s time during the summer months
when fruits, vegetables and meats are pre­
served for the winter months. In the eyes
of the Amish it is the duty of a good Chris­
tian to keep himself separate from what
they believe to be the satanic kingdom that

appliances, worldly dress, worldly amuse­
ments, decorative items, musical instru­
ments (although singing is a big event in
the community), working outside of the
Amish community, luxury items of any kind,
automobiles and tractors with inflated tires.

dominates our present world. One gentle­
man had but this passage from the Bible

An Amish woman’s work is never done:
housework, farm work, cooking, sewing,

may prove what is the good and the ac­
ceptable and perfect will of God. ”

canning, gardening, painting, milking, car­
ing for the family. Although she has voting
rights in religious activities in the com­
munity, her role is a subordinate one. For

Romans 12:2
Amish preaching and teaching emphasize the
need for a separation from the world in order

to pass on to me:
“Be not conformed to this world,
but be ye transformed by the
renewing of your mind that ye

to carry on a Christian life.

A WORKING CLASS HERO
by Henry Michaels
and
Corinne Antley
Four

intricately

hand-

Never one to admit defeat, Charles Pul­
lam began guessing at the measurements
and noting his approximations on a piece of
paper. Finally he had a bit of luck. A guard
whose first reaction was a suspicious “What
are you doing?” softened and offered to
let Mr. Pullam in to do his figuring.

carved model stagecoaches,
hundreds of wooden cups
and an assortment of beauti­
fully finished furniture pro­
vide convincing testimony for
that old truism that “a happy
retirement is a busy one.”
Hand Carved Stagecoach
The craftsman behind this impressive
demonstration of skill is a former German
immigrant who began his carving almost
three quarters of a century ago while em­

“I had a hard time getting a plan for it,”
admits Pullam. He sent away for a couple
of plans but found they wouldn’t work. In
desperation he remembered that there was
a real stagecoach in a Harrisburg museum

ployed by the Diamond Match Company.
Charles Pullam is his name and he is 93
years old.

he could look over and use as a model.
Never one to while away his afternoons
with a pipeful of tobacco and a vacant smile,
Charles Pullam first learned to appreciate
the value of free time while working for the
railroad as a telegraph operator. Of those
years Mr. Pullam says, “ It was mostly 12

“My wife and I went down to Harris­
burg,” said Pullam. “I took a pad of paper
with me but they had it fenced off. You
couldn’t get close to it.”

hours. Then when eight hours came, that was

Furniture of All Kinds
Much of Pullam’s work is done on a
lathe rather than carved with a knife. One
exception is the pair of horses he made for
his stage. He explains that he overcame the
difficulty of making them the same size with
the help of mathematics.

“You go right in there,” he said, “and
you take all the measurements you like”.
Pullam recalls, “I went in there and I
stayed there for an hour and a half.”
Measurements in hand, Pullam came
home and sketched his idea out on paper.
Three hundred and thirty-seven hours after
he began, the first stagecoach was completed.
Two of the coaches are on display and can be
seen at the Nightingale Inn which is owned
and operated by members of the Pullam
family.
Not all of Pullam’s creations are planned
in such a painstaking manner. Of a knick-

something I couldn’t believe.
In all that time I had one
Christmas off in 45 years.”

knack shelf he made he says, “I just started
scratching something
ended up with”.

and

Pullam’s Lathe

that’s what I

“I took a course with the International
Correspondence School in Scranton, Penn­

Charles Pullam decided to
carve his first stagecoach one
evening when he got tired of
reading and was looking for
a way to pass some time.

sylvania ” says Pullam. “I thought I was
foolish at first for doing it, but, no, by
golly, the young fella today, if he doesn’t
know it in his head, he is lost”.

Another Work ofArt
28

29

working. I leave them go. I watch them close
and if I see any mistakes I don’t tell them.

I went to a fella’s house one time and he was
just an ordinary fella and he was putting a
room on his house. He was no carpenter and

I went up there to visit him . . . and he put
all this finish on, I wouldn’t tell him that. I
told him he did a good job. I wouldn’t want
him to feel bad and it would. That would be
on his mind for a long time.”

A sign of the tremendous amount of
labor put into his hobby is the fact, that,
after years of steady use, his metal tools
are pretty much worn out. With a spark of
humor Pullam remarks that if he had sold
his stuff instead of giving it away he would
not only be able to buy new tools he would
be better off than Nixon, but then again

“I keep my mouth shut,” he says. “I
don’t do much talking when somebody’s

as he quickly added, “I guess I am anyway.”

THE TRUMPETER OE KRAKOW
The Polish spirit is the spirit of song, the song of sorrow, of courage, and of an everlasting nature.
And that song which most typifies the Polish spirit is the little hymn called the Heynal, which is sounded
hourly from the tower of the Church of Panna Marja, or the Church of the Trumpeter, in Krakow. Its
sweet notes rise from a trumpet whose brass bell is clearly discernible from the street many hundreds of
feet below. At the end of the little strain is a sudden breaking off of the melody, in what the Poles call the
Broken Note. The story of this song and the Broken Note is known to many people throughout the
world. It is a story of a youthful watchman who played a trumpet in this tower, when the Tartars were
besieging the city, far back in the year 1241. He did not leave when the city was taken and burned,
for he had a Tartar arrow which sped from the hostile bow below him. He was playing at the time he
was shot and he tried to finish the Heynal as he had sworn. His life ebbed slowly away and he sounded
a last note which was broken off when death overtook him. From that day to this, the Krakow trumpet­
ers have finished the Heynal on the Broken Note.
This story had a miraculous sequel in the year 1943, 702 years later. A Polish historian, whose word
cannot be doubted had been a prisoner in Russia and was on his way with other soldiers to Pales­
tine, when they happened to stop for the night in Samarcand. They were approached by a greatly ex­
cited priest from the Mosque of Mahomet which lay on the edge of the city.
“Are you from Lechistan?” (the old name for Poland), asked the holy man. “We are.” “And do
you believe in God, your old God?” “We do. We have priests; we carry the Cross.” “One more ques­
tion. Have you trumpeters among you?” “We have.” The priest grew more and more excited. Finally
he cried out, “Then will you do us a great favor, will you have your trumpeters come to our Rynek
(marketplace) tomorrow evening and play in front of the Mosque, at the place where lies the tomb of
the great Timur Khan?”
“What shall they play?” “The sacred hymn that is played from the balcony of the great church
of your land every hour. I do not know its name . . .”
“Oh, that must be the Heynal,” said one of the soldiers. “Yes, our trumpeters will gladly play
it for you.”
The priest burst into tears and hurried away. The next evening the square was crowded with the
inhabitants, all of them descendants of Tartars. Excitement was visible everywhere. Young and old
fell on their knees before the four Polish trumpeters sent by their commander, kissing their hands and
coats. The trumpeters did not know what it was all about, but they advanced to the tomb of the great
Tartar leader, and played the Heynal. After the first playing they were asked to play it again, and they
complied.
The scene then became indescribable. The whole city went into a transport of joy. The old priest
explaining said to the Poles, “That removes the curse of our race. It happened 702 years ago that one
of the warriors of the Tartars shot a bow and killed a Lech (Polish) trumpeter while he was playing the
sacred song. After that day a curse fell upon our land. We were defeated in battle, enslaved and an old
prophet of that day said that the curse would not be taken away, until soldiers from Lechistan believ­
ing in the old God, and bearing trumpets, should play the same tune before the grave of Timur Khan.
Thus the prophesy is fulfilled.”
The Trumpeter of Krakow who died 702 years ago, for his country and his faith, is still helping to
bring peace to a troubled world.
The following was printed and distributed at the Spring 75 International Folk Festival
in Pittsburgh.

32

33

@eese
c^VIaking...

-

By Mary Conti -

If you look beyond the sauces of the Italian cuisine, you will
find a basic flavor ingredient, cheese. If you wish to find a little
piece of “the old country”, you need not look any further than the
kitchen of Mrs. Arcangela Conti of Sharon, Pennsylvania. At age
Of 73, Mrs. Conti is still making cheese the way her mother taught

An Italian Tradition

her when she was only ten years old.

Basically, Mrs. Conti makes two kinds of cheese. Sweet
Basket and Ricotta. It is very interesting to note that one is
produced from the by-product of the other. Waste is not a part of
the old Italian culture.

During our interview with Mrs. Conti, she busied herself repairing
the baskets she used as molds for her cheese. She then took us into
her kitchen where we witnessed her cheese making.

"Italian Sweet Basket Cheese”
To

make

three,

10

ounce

bas­

After it settles to the bottom of

kets of cheese, Mrs. Conti uses two
gallons of raw milk and two Rennet
tablets.
the

The first step is to dissolve

Rennet

tablets

into lukewarm milk.
forms

one

and

put

the

until

the

milk

is

put

them into

This

When the milk

process

hour.

big curd, you break the

pan

pan, you collect the curds and
the baskets,

pressing

all of the water out of the basket.

them

You

takes

keep

about

turning

one
the

half

cheese

and pressing it until all of the liquid

curds and let them settle to the bottom
of

the

is out.

all

clear.

Pressing
and
Turning

Dissolving the Rennet tablets

Mrs. Conti is very particular con­
cerning both the ingredients and the
containers which she uses for cheese
making. The milk, for example must
be raw. The baskets were handmade
in Italy and were brought to this coun­
try by Mrs. Conti shortly after World
War II. All other equipment is spot­
less also.

Breaking the Curds
36

and two cups of raw milk are added
to it.

This mixture is then brought

to a boil. To the boiled milk are added
two tablespoons of vinegar and two
tablespoons
dissolved

in

of salt,

which has been

a cup

of warm water.

Bring this mixture to a second boil
and wait until it gathers and floats
to

the

top.

A spoon with holes is

then used to skim the Ricotta cheese
from the top of the liquid. The Ri­
cotta

SALT AS A CURE!

to
Salt is added to the mixture in
the

basket

and

you

place

is

placed

in

a

cool.

When

it

has

dish

and

cooled

ready to eat.
Buon Appetito!

the bas­

kets in a pan to allow any remain­
ing liquid to drain from them. When

About

it has been in the basket a day or

cheese

two, it is referred to as sweet cheese
and

then

cheese.

it

The

begins
longer

turning
it

ages

into
the

stronger the cheese gets.

When you

take

the basket,

it

is

the

cheese

salted

on

out
both

of

sides

and

is

one

pound

of

Ricotta

made

from

the

leftover

milk

of

the

two

cups

of

basket
raw

cheese,

milk,

two

plus

Italian Proverbs

table­

spoons of salt, and two tablespoons

Where there is pleasure,
there should be prudence.

of vinegar. To make Ricotta cheese,
the

let

whey (the liquid part)

is taken

from the sweet basket cheese recipe

Habits from birth last until death,
make them all good.

dry. The salt preserves the cheese.

Appearance is nothing,
behaviour is all.

\
WW'

Not to think before acting,
is to invite a sigh of regret.

The Cheese Ages

39
38

left
it

is

The Sokol Gymnastic Movement and the Valley’s Role in It

A caTHlBlNG OF I^NS

SOKOL USA
★ ★★★★★★

1

★★★★★★ 1

by Al Krochka
“The author Al Krochka gathered most of his material for the following es­
say through interviews with leaders in the Sokol movement in this area,
who not only gave generously of their time but also supplied him with
the documents and historical information necessary to compile the fol­
lowing account. ’’

On February 14, 1865, ninety-six years before President John F. Kennedy established the Council For
Physical Fitness in the United States, a group of Czech immigrants to St. Louis, Missouri, organized the first
Sokol Unit in America. Only three years previously they were members of the first society of SOKOL in their
native land of Czechoslavakia, embracing the philosophy of its founder that, in order to gain and retain freedom,
a nation must be healthy and strong, physically
and morally. Though strangers in a land where they
were neither understood nor recognized, often ridi­
culed but barely tolerated, they adopted it as their
own. And as has been indelibly branded on the mind
of every Sokol since that day, they were guided by
the idea, “This great land owes you nothing but the
chance to develop to the pinnacle of your ability.
For that opportunity you owe it everything.”
Within a few years Sokol units were formed in
all the cities inhabited by Slovak immigrants, from
the Atlantic to the Pacific, and from Canada to the
Rio Grande.
Early in 1906, a group of Slovak Pioneers in the
Shenango Valley applied for affiliation with the
Sokol organization and on June 10, 1906 they became
members of the Slovak Gymnastic Union Sokol,
Lodge #103. Why would a group of Slavic immigrants
fleeing oppression from a Slavic country form an
ethnic group in another land? These people, re­
garded as “different”, were isolated by the estab­
lished community which looked down upon outsiders
for talking, dressing and behaving “funny”. So the
ethnic fraternal society was invented to meet needs
of immigrant groups. A local lodge was a place where
people could meet with their own kind, wear old
country dress, speak the mother tongue, and follow
Al Krochka
laughed at. The society also provided some measure
of financial security: in the event of illness, death, or other misfortune, all members chipped in to help those
less fortunate than themselves. But why choose the Sokol? More to the point, what is Sokol?
Sokol originated at a time when the Czech nation was recovering from the almost fatal consequence of the
Thirty Years War. Being then one of the most respected nations in Europe, it lost its independence during the
struggle for religious freedom in the 17th century and was subjugated to the Hapsburg Dynasty which endeav­
ored to destroy the Czech national character. The middle of the 19th century saw again a revival of Czech cul­
tural life. However, a young professor of history at Charles University in Prague, Dr. Miroslan Tyrs, realized
that a truly characteristic national life could not be achieved within the Austro-Hungarian empire; that sooner or
later the Czech nation must free itself, even perhaps through the use of arms. But the problem was how to achieve
a union of the people forbidden to form political or social organizations, serve in the army, attend school beyond

40

41

a few years, or in any manner, to serve in an organizational capacity. At the same time, he realized in order to
gain and maintain freedom, a nation must be healthy and strong, physically and morally. To this end he sought
to educate his nation and begin its physical and moral regeneration. He intended to achieve this through physical
education and to attain this goal; he founded in 1862 a society called Sokol. The name means “falcon”, a bird
known for its courage, endurance, speed and its love for soaring high above. It was taken from the old Slav tra­
dition of naming heroes “Sokols”.
When groups of people sprang up around the country, flapping their arms and legs and gyrating their torsos,
they presented no threat in the eyes of their political masters. But Sokol was not to be only a gymnastic society:
physical education was to serve as a means to multiple education. The means, the teaching methods, the organi­
zational principles involved, and the structure — all these were but a part of the overall educational goal. This
goal of Sokol education was for healthy, moral, and efficient men, aware of their responsibilities toward the nation
whose welfare would be paramount. In other words. Education Toward Conscious and Active Citizenship. This
education was aimed at enrolling the largest number of citizens, young and old, and instilling in them the prin­
ciples of democracy and love of country.

Through the physical education system created by Dr. Tyrs, self-confidence, courage and competitiveness
became a byword among the people; teamwork and organizational capabilities were developed. At the height of
the Sokol movement in Czechoslovakia, 8 million out of a population of 13 million men, women and children
were enrolled. Small wonder that toward the close of World War I, organized Sokol groups disarmed the troops
occupying the country and held them for the Allied Forces. When Czechoslovakia was proclaimed a democracy,
the results of Dr. Tyr’s philosophies and efforts quickly manifested themselves. The transition to a democratic
form of government was orderly, without the struggle for power, bloodshed or strife which so often accompanies
the emergence of new nations. The service rendered by Sokol was well recognized by the grateful nation. Sokol
national holidays were established and the Sokol idea became part of the nation’s culture, a living symbol of
democratic and freedom loving forces in the nation.
Cognizant of their influence, the Nazis disbanded Sokol, jailed 20,000 leaders, and put thousands to death.
The Communists also disbanded it in 1948 when they found it impossible to use it for their own purposes. Addi­
tional thousands of Sokols were jailed for refusing to serve the Communists with the Sokol program.
Though Sokol #103 in the Shenango Valley began working together in the ideals of brotherhood in the early
days, the only sources of recreation were dances and plays. The Sokol aim of development of the physical, spir
itual, moral, and cultural enlightenment of its members through active participation of young and old was not
as easily achieved. Occasional gymnastic exhibitions were put on, with a limited number of gymnasts. But ideas
for concentrated gymnastic exhibitions in those early days were not very encouraging. In 1906 there were very
few trained gymnastic instructors. Pittsburgh and Cleveland had trained instructors, but traveling difficulties in
those days restricted movements of these experts from place to place. Membership began to drop and the lodge
was in danger of breaking up.
One of the charter members. Brother Michael Evan, took over as president at this time, and decided that
definite action must be taken. With the assistance of a few other dedicated visionaries such as Andrew Bobby Sr.
and Michael Lucas, a concentrated drive to regain lost membership and enroll new ones was begun. They enrolled
men like Paul Stupka, Paul Krivosh, John Betts, and Michael Bobby in their cause. They secured the services
of Martin Cervenak, an organizer in the Slovak Gymnastic Union Sokol, National Headquarters. Through his
determined efforts the Farrell, Pennsylvania, lodge began to grow in strength and achievement. By 1913, not only
Slovaks but others began to take notice of the Slovak gymnastic Union Sokols. During an exhibition in Cleve­
land, the Farrell gym team met Brother Paul Gallick. Brother Gallick was a wonderful instructor in calisthenics
and a champion instructor in apparatus. In gymnastic circles he was known as “Professor of Gymnastics”. In
1915 he agreed to come to Farrell, and through his tireless efforts Farrell Sokol Lodge won second place in the
men’s division of regional competition. At this point Brother Gallick left the Farrell lodge to return to his
home lodge. But a better example of the brotherhood, and cooperative spirit prevailing through the Sokol
society could not have been found. He boosted and guided the early destinies of the lodge. Farrell Lodge #103
could not repay Brother Gallick or any of its early Sokol Pioneers for the wonderful cooperation and untiring
efforts in helping to put the Slovak Gymnastic Union Sokol in the highly respected position it holds in our
country today.
42

During the same year, 1915, the Sokol lodge wa^instrumental and active in the construction of the Slovak,
Home, headquarters of^ Lodge #103 to the present day. During this same year, and after Brother Gallick left,
Brother George Hammrack was named Gymnastic Instructor of the lodge. One of the top instructors of his
day, he came from Pittsburgh, and under his leadership a Juvenile Department was established. Within three
weeks children were doing calisthenics and apparatus drills. Brother Hammrack left Farrell, in 1916, with a great
sense of pride, knowing that he had helped in advancing the aims of Farrell Lodge #103 in the gymnastic and
administrative fields of fraternalism. From that day, the Farrell Sokols were to stand on their own, with instruc­
tors to come from within their own ranks, prepared by schools sponsored by the National Organization.
One of the first home town instructors was Brother Stephen Petrick Jr., who held the position for 5 years.
He was followed by John Kvocak as Director, and Brother John Beca as his assistant. In 1922 John Beca became
Director of the Gymnastic Department, and faithfully served for 12 years. Under his leadership the Farrell
Gym Team took many prizes in competition, and became known, not only in our National Organization, but in
gymnastic circles throughout the country.
Brother Beca’s star pupil, George Zipay, became his successor, and under his leadership and training, was
produced one of the finest gym teams in the Sokol Organization. He had every reason to be proud when his team
placed in the Senior Men’s Division in the National Competition.
Other gymnastics instructors were George Madura, Nick Zipay, Edward Zipay, and Ted Zipay. (You will
note that this Zipay family was very active in the Sokol movement.)
In 1954 under the combined directorship of Stephen (Sinko) Banjak Jr., Stephen Petrick Jr., and Andrew
Churlik, Lodge #103 gymnastic team won honors in National Sokol Competition held in Chicago. In 1955 many
top awards were won in Clevelanfl, Ohio.
In 1962, four male and four female gymnasts of Farrell Sokol Lodge #103, accompanied by instructor Banjak
were members of a team which performed in Hungary. One of the local female gymnasts, Diane Kurtz, received
a long, standing ovation for her “free” exercises.
At the present time Lodge #103 is under leadership of Stephen Banjak Sr., president and supervisor of the
gymnastic and calisthenic training program, a veteran of 45 years in the Sokol movement. Another 40-year
veteran is Treasurer Adam Krukar who also served as an instructor for many years. He also serves the National
Sokol Headquarters on the finance committee and as a trustee.
The aims of the Sokols in the Shenango Valley were the same that guided the development of the movement
in Czechoslovakia. Dr. Tyrs believed that people must be properly brought up, educated and prepared for the
duties of citizenship. Physical education seemed the best way to create a “complete man”, physically, mentally,
and morally fit. By conducting this physical education on a large group basis, the necessity for cooperation, the
need for proper organizational methods, and the spirit of togetherness, were established. The individual identi­
fies with a group on a basis of a truly democratic principle: “One for all and all for one.” He becomes aware
of his responsibility as a person and a member of the team. Self-discipline, so vital in the development of youth,
is achieved early by an active Sokol youth. There were the days when Joe Evan and George and Mike Zipay (as
teenagers) worked all day on the golf course under a boiling sun, then proceeded to walk the three miles toward
their homes. But they walked straight past their homes and another mile to the Slovak Home because it was
drill night on the horse, the parallel bars, and the rings.
In the gymnasiums as well as summer camps, children develop their minds and bodies. They find the stimu­
lating social environment of their equals where they put their imagination to constructive uses, in developing
abilities of leadership and initiative. Their experiences lead to development of self-discipline, self-reliance,
responsibility, awareness of one’s duties to himself and to his fellow men, and, above all, loyalty and patriotism
to his country. Consequently, there have been no delinquents in the ranks of the Sokols. And NO Sokol has
ever been rejected as physically or mentally unfit to serve his country in time of need. Such an outstanding record
for citizenship and patriotism could not have been achieved had not maximum effort been exerted by all Sokols
in a united effort to achieve a main objective of the organization, “A gymnasium for every Sokol Community”.
Though the Sokol fraternity began in Czechoslovakia, and in the United States was also organized by
Czechs, it was later adopted by Americans of their Slavic origin — Poles, Croats, Serbs, Slovenes, Ukranians
43

Competitions on group and individual levels
are held at meets or “Slets”, as the Sokols call them.
There are district, regional and National “Slets”.
Districts or regional Slets are held at the discretion
of local organizations. A National Slet is established
once every year by some branch of Sokol — U.S.A.
when performers gather from all over the country.
These Slets have drawn as many as 30,000 Sokols.
International Slets were held in Czechoslovakia until
1948 after which they were abolished by the Com­
munists. The stadium in Prague, Czechoslovakia,
in 1948, drew a total of one million spectators during
the week’s festivities, to watch 370,000 participants in
group calisthenics and individual gymnastic exer­
cises. Certain parts of the program had over 30,000
participants performing at one time.
In uniting the American heritage and the Sokol
ideals in the hearts and minds of their members, the
Sokol organizations have contributed greatly to the
welfare, safety and freedom of the United States.
The United States Armed Forces adopted the Sokol
Calisthenic method of developing and maintaining
physical fitness. During World War II hundreds of
Sokol Instructors were utilized by the Army to
establish sound physical fitness programs in the train­
ing camps.

Sherry Summersgill, R.D. 3, West Middlesex, Pa., age 11.
member Farrell Sokol Lodge H103, does a Lever on the
beam during gymnastic practice at Slovak Home, Farrell.
Pa.

American interest in gymnastics has increased
ten-fold in the past two decades, chiefly because of
the impact of the Olympic Games. Most colleges and

Tammy Parkany, Sharpsville, Pa., age 14, Farrell Sokol
Lodge 11103. doing a Leg Hold on the beam.

Unidentified man swinging on the parallel bar.

universities as well as high schools have adopted a gymnastic program. A large number of the instructors in our
schools, as well as the trainers for Olympic prospects of the future, have come from the Sokol Organization.
Brother Stephen Banjak Jr., a member of Farrell Lodge #103, is presently the gymnastic instructor at Slippery
Rock State Teacher’s College.

and Russians. The Poles call themselves the “Fal­
cons”. Originally, to qualify for membership, it was
necessary for one to be of Slavic origin. But in order
to truly exemplify the spirit of democracy, member­
ship is now open to anyone irrespective of race, color
or creed. To further demonstrate unity of purpose,
ideals and a true spirit of fraternalism, various branch­
es of Sokol organizations have united as SOKOL
U.S.A.

In 1965, on the lOOth anniversary of the Sokol movement in America, our country, in recognition of the great
contributions the Sokols had made to health and well-being and for their devotion to democracy and human
freedom, honored the movement by issuing a special Sokol Centennial Postage Stamp in Washington, D.C.
Slovak Gymnastic Union Sokol Lodge #103 of Farrell can proudly share in this honor for its contributions
to the Shenango Valley during the past 70 years. Its membership has proved that people can be loyal, patriotic
Americans without forsaking their ethnic heritage.

Participation in calisthenics and gymnastic
events on a National level is the ultimate goal of So­
kol youth. But, as is the case in every worthy endeavor,
much hard work and self-discipline lie ahead of the
aspirant. At least twice a week practice is held at
the Sokol hall. There for a period of at least two hours
children as young as seven years old practice gym­
nastic and calisthenic exercises, individually and in
groups, under the watchful eyes and helping hands of
qualified instructors. Many years may be necessary
before a boy or girl is skillful and confident enough
to perform on apparatus such as the “horse”, “rings”,
“beam”, “parallel and unparallel bars”, etc. Sokol
summer camps have been established, under the su­
pervision of expert instructors, where skills can be
further developed, and ideas and techniques ex­
changed.

Sokol Postage Stamp
44

THE MAORIS STORY

SUCCESS IN CANDY
by Juliana Sofranko

Philadelphia Candies is a familiar name
in the Shenango Valley.
Philadelphia Candies, one of the old­
est and most prosperous businesses of the
Shenango Valley, was started in 1919 by John
Macris’s brothers Steve, who died in 1952,
Jim, who died in the late 40’s, and brother
Louie who died in 1963.
From 1919 to the late 40’s Philadelphia
Candies rented at several locations. One
was located in Farrell and one was located
next to the Dinner Bell in downtown Sharon.
In 1938 John, the youngest of the Macris
brothers, arrived at New York from Greece
and remained there working as a furrier
until 1945 when he joined his brothers
in the candy business in Sharon.
In John Macris’ own words we hear his

brother Louie’s share of the business in
1960. My son Spyros joined the business
in 1970. Then we sold to the A & P. We
also sold to stores in Warren and in New
Castle. We bought our chocolate from Nestle’s Chocolate Company in Fulton, New
York. We buy 40,000 pounds of chocolate
at one time.
“My brother went to New York and
bought a pump to pump the melted choco­
late. Because our business had tripled we
had to buy three more pumps. The question
was how were we going to cool the choco­
late? At first we used a freezer, then we
made a cooler that had three compartments.
At this time we worked from nine to nine.
“The head of the A & P stores wanted to
know if we could handle more business and

the Easter bunnies. It was the chocolate
Easter bunnies that kept us from losing the
business. At this time I said that before
I died I would move my business up the hill.
With God’s help I found a new place. When
the flood came I stayed at the store for
thirty-six hours and went all of this time
without sleep. The water was up to my knees.
We had to keep the store closed another
ten days before we could get everything
cleaned up again.
“In 1960 I found this place that we are
in now, here at 1534 East State Street. We
started to move our Christmas machinery
to the new location. It was too late to move
the Easter ones too. In 1961 we had every­
thing moved and were in full production.
At this time I asked the salesman from
Nestle’s Chocolate to represent Philadelphia

Candies. He was director of sales, and with
his help we increased our sales again. We
sold to Sparkle Markets, Grant’s, A & P
stores.
“In 1965 or 1966, there was a carpet
cleaning business next to us. We bought this
property to add space to our business.
“We have used the same formulas since
1929 and we have used the same grade of
chocolate since 1932. We never changed
this and I will never change. We still use
the old ways. At Easter time we employ
about fifty people and at Christmas time we
employ about twenty to twenty-five.”
Thus customers come from near and far
to purchase Christmas candies and Easter
bunnies at Philadelphia Candies.

our answer was, ‘Yes we could.’ They patron­
ized us because they knew that we used the
best chocolate and at this time we were sell­
ing to the Cleveland division. One year later

story:
“At Philadelphia Candies we have kept
the old way. We have used the same kind of
chocolate since 1932. In 1919 we rented the
store that is now King’s Music on State
Street. In 1920 one of my brothers came here,
and it was then that he developed some of
his own candy recipes. He experimented
with these recipes for about eighteen months.
Little by little we learned about the candy
business. In 1929 during the crash, we lost
everything and then we had to start from

they came to us again and asked if we could
handle more stores. We again said ‘yes’
and this time they gave us the Pittsburgh
stores.
“Our store at 138 State Street was be­
coming too small and I was looking for a
new location that was bigger. In 1959 we
almost lost everything because on January
18 or 19 in 1959 it started to rain and then we
had the big flood. We lost 5,000 pounds of
chocolate. This was just delivered the day
before the flood. We also lost 3,000 pounds
of finished chocolate products and Easter
eggs. The only candies that were saved were

scratch. It was a lot of hard work. In 1939,
I was 36 years old and I decided that if I
was to succeed in life I would have to work
no less than sixteen hours a day. In 1945
I entered the business and bought out my
48

ri

A PICTORIAL ESSAY OF MACRIS CANDY MAKING

Anna Tzotis—Feeding Conveyor

Angie Karavolias—Feeding Conveyor

Victoria Muraca—Feeding Conveyor

Conveyor with Candy to be Chocolate Covered
50

51

Minnie Whiteman—Feeding Nuts to Conveyor

Carmela Spadafora—Removing Nuts from Conveyor

Anastasia Kladitis—Designing Candy

Cheryl Graham—Removing Candy from Conveyor

Carmela Spadafora—Removing Candy from Conveyor

Minnie Whiteman, Helen Gutowski-Hand Coating Nuts

52

Candy on Conveyor being Designed

Chocolate Molds Returning from Cooler
53

P Touch of Quaint blonclronno
by Sue Kerins and Corinne Ant ley

“POLENTA, AH POLENTA”
by Corinne Antley and Sue Kerins

To be invited to share polenta is quite
an honor. As one Northern Italian lady said
warmly, “If you are invited in this way, you
can be sure that you are special and truly
wanted.” She added that she often thinks
of polenta as “the love food.”

When a Northern Italian murmurs,
“Polenta, ah polenta . .
with a deep sigh
of appreciation, don’t be misled. He is not
reflecting on the beauty of a sleek racehorse,
a clear blue mountain lake, or even a buxom
young thing. Not at all. To put it in plain
terms, the subject of his admiration is corn-

The 53-year-old Daverio kettle — and
the Daverios — hail from “a quaint little vil­
lage” called Biandronno, nestled among the
beautiful lakes of Northern Italy — Lakes
Como, Varese, and Maggiore, at the foot of
the magnificent Alps. Biandronno, which is
near Milano, is the home of many copper­
smiths. One of them produced the Daverio’s
handmade kettle. The reason it is copper
rather than steel or tin or silver is to insure
that the one-and-a-half gallon kettle will
hold the heat without burning the cornmeal.

meal mush. *
The cornmeal, like the kettle, is special.
And, in the words of John Daverio,
blue-eyed, snowy-haired descendant of a
long line of Northern Italians: “It all starts
with this copper kettle.”

What a hamburger is to the United
States, sauerkraut is to Germany, and
crumpets are to England, polenta is to
Northern Italy. That is, it’s both a staple and
a delicacy. It’s the bread, the pancake fod­
der, and the raw material for a multiplicity
of other fine fare.

Of a rougher consistency than ordinary storebought cornmeal, it is purchased at a bakery.
“It has more of the corn oil in it”, John as­
sured me.
Tasting Polenta for Salt

As for the recipe: says John, “We put
the cornmeal in before the water starts to
boil. That way you eliminate a lot of lumps.”
He continued, “Many of our folks pour
the cornmeal in when the water’s cold. That

cornmeal in here and we may have to add a

The “little extra” can be saved to be
eaten later instead of bread or fried in butter
and topped with maple syrup. John’s sister,
Caroline, adds, “The polenta can be used as
another breakfast food also. We sometimes
eat polenta with milk as a hot cereal by mix­

little more,” says John.

ing it to a thinner consistency than usual”.

way you get no lumps whatsoever.”
How much cornmeal?

Yet, most non-Italians have never
heard of “polenta”. Whereas spaghetti,
pizza or even lasagne are popular entree’s

“Oh, we have about three pounds of

at many restaurants, polenta is rarely if
ever served in them — perhaps because it
would be difficult to serve it fresh and hot,

As the mush is cooking it must be stirred
continuously. “You have to stir constantly
so that it doesn’t get lumpy”, says John,
“and so that it cooks equally”. Endurance is

Three pounds! Isn’t that an awful lot

in a restaurant, because of its long prepara­
tion time. To experience polenta (and it is

of cornmeal?

an experience) one must be invited to the
home of a Northern Italian.

John admits it is. “Oh this could serve
. . . oh, we’ve served 20, as high as 22 people

The Copper Kettle with Polenta
56

with this amount of cornmeal. We always

a key factor in polenta-making because the
entire process takes at least 45 minutes of

try to make a little extra.”

this constant stirring.
57

“We cook this until it forms a crust all
around the sides about an l/8th inch thick,”
comments John. “Then you know it’s done.”
Another interesting point is that the dried
layer of mush that forms on the sides of the
kettle is traditionally pried away by little
Italian children (and some not so little ones,
too) and consumed as a sort of “Italian corn
chip.”
Other ingredients of the polenta include
salt “to taste” and a quarter pound of butter
added 10 minutes before the cook thinks
the polenta is done.

A particularly rich polenta can be made
by adding cheese soon before the mush is
cooked. “Brick cheese, swiss cheese or one
of the Italian cheeses” are recommended
by Mr. Daverio who notes that people from
the province of Brescia are fond of polenta
this way.

Finally the polenta feels firm to the
touch. It is done. John’s sister, Caroline,
has spread a large white napkin over a
plate. With a satisfied grunt John lifts the ket­
tle over the cloth and pours. Nestled inside

“Our family prefers the polenta plain,”
says John. They eat it with chicken or veal
or sausage. Caroline reminisces, “When we
were children we would eat the hot polenta
with milk first and then with meat.”

When everything from the mushrooms
to wine is ready at the table, Joe Daverio,

the cloth, which has been folded over, the
polenta will stay warm until it is served.

John’s younger brother, climaxes the ritual

by uncovering and slicing the polenta with
a string into “man-sized pieces.”
Eaten under a meaty sauce it is as all
expected — superb!
“Polenta, polenta.
La bocca si contenta!”*
♦Polenta, polenta,
The mouth-watering anticipation
is satisfied.”

Italian men as well as Italian women are
fine cooks. In fact, it is almost traditional
that the gentlemen make the polenta. In
the words of Caroline Daverio: “Although
women can and do make polenta, the men
of the family are usually elected to make it
— especially large amounts since the kettle
is very heavy.” (With 1-1/2 gallons of water
plus three pounds of cornmeal plus the ket­
tle’s own weight, it is not surprising.)

John Daverio cautions that Northern
Italians favor a “white” sauce for their
polenta, rather than the tomato sauce so
commonly associated with Italian cuisine.
Mushrooms, butter, and wine are a few of the
sauce ingredients. (So who’s to miss a few
tomatoes?)

The Polenta is Poured
58

Corn Chips . . . and Satisfaction

Tt^
TAMBURITZA
by
AI Suchy
Pearl Ann Longietti
Frank Egercic of Farrell, Pennsylvania, accompanied us on our trip to Aliquippa,
Pennsylvania, to interview his good friend Nick Hayden on the making of a Tamburitza. It was Frank who supplied us with our general information about the Tamburitzans. He founded a local Tamburitza group in Farrell in 1954, a group which

T
n
Frank and Nick Examining a Work of Art

today consists of some seventy members who perform on various occasions in their
brightly colored native costumes.
Referring to the type of Tamburitza known
as a prim, Hayden states, “A friend of mine who
had been making them for years told me what to
do, so I made oneD-primand one G-prim.After
that I took a liking to it. I’ve worked with wood
all my life.”

a

%

n

Hayden can only play the prim a little, by
ear. However, he does not see this as a handicap.
“If I played, I wouldn’t have time to work on
them.” When we learned he has distributed the
instruments in California, Chicago, New York,
Quebec, Canada, and Youngstown, as well as
Farrell, we agreed he needs all his time for
manufacturing.

The Tamburitza, the favorite
instrument of the Creation people, origi­
nated as a one-stringed instrument sometime
during the fifteenth century. The original
instrument resembled a pear cut in half and
its original name was Samica meaning “by
itself’ or “lonesome”. This name came about
because a shepherd played the instrument while
he tended his flocks. Later on it became known
as a Dangobica, meaning “passing of the day”.

Hayden invited us into his workshop to
witness the making of a Tamburitza, which
proved not only very informative, but also very
interesting.
When someone orders a Tamburitza,
Hayden makes several. This gives the purchaser
some selection. This we believe is a unique
service in that most manufacturers would make
just the one instrument. He explained, “Now
if you came here and told me to pick out an
instrument for you, I wouldn’t do it. You
pick out what you like, nobody else. As long
as the instrument is good for your ears
that’s all that counts. You may like it and
another guy does not.”

Nick Hayden, of Aliquippa, not only
makes Tamburitzas, but also repairs them. “I
would rather repair them than make them,” he
says. Hayden is employed elsewhere and does
this as a hobby, a very enjoyable hobby. He
became interested when his daughters were in a
junior Tamburitzan group. It soon became
evident that the group needed someone to
see that the young musician’s instruments
were ready to play.
61

Hayden puts butterflies or flowers on
the scratchboard inlays before he glues it on
the top. He has special home-made clamps he
uses to hold the parts while the glue is drying.

Some people bend them on a pipe, a brass
pipe, and then they work on a form, but that
maybe takes two or three hours to get what you
want. This system here, which I like, I get them
done in no time. The wood I bend is called the
box. Once I get it bent, I glue the box on the bot­
tom and on the top. After gluing the box I glue
a cork ring on the inside. That is to strengthen
the sides and to glue the top and bottom on”.
Braces are glued on the backs before putting the
body of the instrument together.

Using a jig to cut micarta

Hayden does not waste time. While glue
dries, he goes on to other areas of the instrument.
This time he began showing us how he shapes
the neck of the Tamburitza:

Putting butterflies or flowers on the scratchboard

The first step when ordering a custom made
Tamburitza is to select the type of wood you
prefer.

Bending the Box

He next begins to work on fingerboards.
Fingerboards are usually made from ebony or
rosewood, but Hayden uniquely uses micarta.
He says, “It’s a beautiful material. I use a jig to
cut it and it only takes two minutes. The tops
have to be trimmed out to fit this in. Then I put
the fingerboards in and sand it and position
belts on the sides.” He then drills holes for the
sound and fills them with rosewood.

The tops are all made from spruce, either
Bohemian or Yugoslav Spruce. However,
the purchaser has a choice of rosewood,
mahogany, maple, or zebra wood for the
sides of the instrument. Hayden explains,
“Spruce gives it resonance; it throws out the
sound. The wood is cut according to the size of
the instrument the customer wants. What I
usually do is sand it down to the thickness I
want. I have a bender that works on a gas flame.
It’s easy to bend, it is done in ten minutes.

**My necks are made out of maple, birch,
mahogany, or walnut. I cut the neck out and
run the vibrator to get the shape I want. Then
everything is glued together.’"
62

63

When the instrument is finished, Hayden
lacquers it. “I lacquer, then I sand. I use a water
sand paper. After a couple of coats I use a
pumice rock.” Hayden estimates it takes him
about six hours to complete a small instrument
and about twelve hours for the large instrument.
The instruments vary in selling price, the prims
range from $110 upward, braes from $165, and
the bugarita and cellos from $190.
We would have to agree with Frank Egercic
that Nick Hayden is a master at his craft.
Although Nick states he could teach anyone
how to make one — “Anyone of you people.
Repair them, that’s where the trick is”.

Setting the bridge

SETTING THE BRIDGE
Setting a bridge in the right position on a
Tamburitza is very important to the sound of
the instrument. Scales are made to insure the
proper placing of the bridges: “ make the G
prim 12-1/2 inches, the D prim from 14-7/8 to
16-7/8 scale, and the braes a 21 inch scale.
Frank Egercic’s son, Dave, I believe is one of the
best to get an instrument in octave. When I get
mine done he usually comes over, sets them all.
Sometimes you ha>)^ to move the bridge back.
Sometimes you have to drill more holes to get a
deeper tone. You would be surprised how that
brings out the tone. Now prims, I make with
long holes. These are dug out.”

—we hesitate to believe we could construct
a Tamburitza as uniquely beautiful and well
done as Nick Hayden's.

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SPECIAL RECOGNITION

We recognize in a special way Mrs. Carl Valerius, librarian,
and Corinne Antley and Thomas Wilds, student photographers
whose tireless, expert work enabled us to publish Shenango at
this particular time.