The Organ Grinder

• 1908 Oxford, England

  
  

  He was an organ grinder, grinding away to brighten the day of pedestrians within earshot. He wasn't playing the organ, but turning the wheel projecting the music. This was not accompanied by a monkey in diminutive sequined vest and fez, just the man and his organ grinder. Appreciative passersby would toss a coin into his box. He was Domenico Tedesco.

  
  

  The man made a living for himself. Not elegantly, but effectively. Ten hours of day enduring this same roster of songs. Nine hours if he'd had a good day knocking off an hour early. How many times had he heard each song? So many times, in fact, that the organ music had come to dominate his aural ambiance, even after hours when there was quiet. He heard it.

  
  

  Late at night concluding the evening meal dipping bread into his tomato sauce residue. A favorite part of the meal enjoying the bread crusts. The organ, meanwhile, had been put away hours earlier. Yet there it was, clear as if still playing, he heard the organ music. Some evenings the phantom ambience was so clear in his head that he was impelled to look at the organ in the corner of the room, just to make sure it was still put away and box closed. It was. Like it always was. But the organ music played on in his head from incessant repetition. An unwanted continuous serenade tempering his meal's otherwise enthusiastic denouement.

  
  

  The next morning he'd be back at it again. Organ grinding to earn one's daily bread. Only this morning, a grand proposal would displace the mendacity for the first time in many months. 

  
  

  
  

  A gentleman approached. He was nicely dressed in his Sunday best, but not well dressed. A friendly interloper to dispel a small portion of the day's tedium. They'd spoken on several occasions. Never deep, but friendly. Two paisans sharing an opportunity to speak in their own native Italian tongue. The gentleman had circumstances that needed addressing and he'd come to the possibility that the organ grinder could be a factor in seeking resolution. With pleasantries exchanged the opening salvo was delivered.

  
  

  "Domenic, we have known each other for a few months now. I have something to ask you," started the gentleman. "You see, I have a daughter, she is unmarried." 

  
  

  "Ah, you are a lucky man to have family," replied Domenico seeing where this was heading and not yet knowing how he felt about it.

  
  

  "You, too, are unmarried, no," getting to the point. The directness was disorienting and Domenic stopped grinding out the organ music. "You see, I have a parcel of land in Italy, in Cassino. If you marry my daughter the land will be yours." 

  
  

  "I know Cassino, to the south of Rome," artfully dodging commitment volleying for extra time to think. This was a lot to digest all at once. He thought how nice it would be to continue brainlessly grinding away with the organ instead of trying to maneuver this tenuous situation.

  
  

  The conversation thankfully wound down without any immediate decision making. The one not wanting to press too firmly on the other. The other uncertain as to whether the proposal would be a burden or a blessing. But Domenico did know that a more meaningful existence awaited ahead for him. The two parted on friendly terms to follow up in a day or so.

  
  

  That evening, for a pleasant change, he enjoyed his bread dipping without the organ's phantom ambience cluttering his head, now that there was something worthy of thought. His head was clear. And so was his decision. A wife and family will be mine. When they next met it was agreed that he would marry the gentleman's daughter, Rosa.

  
  

  With that Domenic and Rosa would soon be married. They both lived in Oxford, separately, while making arrangements and planning their future. He met her family, the gentleman introducing the organ grinder as the man who would marry his daughter. They liked each other, the two affianced, but still to be talking marriage without knowing each other beyond these superficial greetings was a scary prospect. But not as scary as the prospect of loneliness. 

  
  

  They married February 1909 and got along well, the bride and groom, as evidenced by a baby boy being born before a year had passed. Lodovico was born December 1909. With children come a new, more serious reality. People to care for, little people who are totally dependent on your day's success.

  
  

  The time had come to depart from Oxford to see what awaited them in Cassino, Italy. The land with a home, acreage and olive trees. It was wonderful. He also met Rosa's mother, Teresa, who lived in the home with them. His bride by this time had their second child. Germano was born, another little boy, and her mother was of help with the two children.

  
  

  Domenic's burden grew, and he embraced it. A man has to do what he must to support his family, was his belief. Life was hard, but opportunities present themselves. You must be able to recognize these opportunities and be ready to take action, even if they were in the New World.

  
  

  The organ grinder went abroad to America leaving his family behind in Cassino. This short-term separation so that they might be together in the long-term. The organ had long-ago gone fallow for a more constructive existence for his family. He would work in the land of opportunity, live there meagerly and send money back to Rosa. The plan was to save up enough money to buy passage for the family.

  
  

  It took three years of hard manual labor. Domenic had no trade, but he was strong and could manage any job should brute force be the fuel by which to tame it. He was employed as a ditch digger. Not a well paying job, but so committed was he, that even at this wage he was able to save money. The immense feeling of victory with that final savings installment to Rosa in Cassino. He felt heroic and joyful, having come so far from those lonely days in Oxford to living in America with his family to soon join him. It would now be only months before reuniting.

  
  

  Tickets for passage had been purchased for Rosa and the boys. The day had come to board ship. June 1913 on the SS San Giovanni from Cassino. Rosa carried her one year old, plus all the luggage. A big load to handle by herself. Her mother offered to help by bringing the older boy, now three-years old, to the ship to rendezvous with them. 

  
  

  Rosa was early and waited, reluctant to board the ship until her mother arrived with the older boy. Where is momma? Where is my boy? The ship's steward occasionally asking, "Are you ready to board, miss? The ship will be departing soon." But her mother never arrived, nor did Lodovico.

  
  

  The ship's whistle let out an enormous blast. The finality of her life's divergence from her son struck hard. Tears streaming down both cheeks, Rosa cried out and hugged Germano tightly who started to cry in frightened solidarity with his mother.

  
  

  "Miss, I'm sorry. Please, you must board now. The ship will be leaving presently," said the steward with sympathetically upraised eyebrows.

  
  

  "My baby boy, my Lodovico," she cried while boarding ship, but board she must. It was later surmised that her mother didn’t bring the older boy because she didn’t want to be left alone in Italy.

  
  

  Arriving at Ellis Island brought commotion trying to disembark the ship. The manifest listed Rosa traveling with two children. Yet, here she was arriving in America with only one. There was suspicion that she possibly tossed the other child overboard. That was eventually settled with the outlandish explanation of her son being left back in Italy. Rosa again weeping for her lost son.

  
  

  She arrived in Detroit reuniting with her husband. Her joyful reunion with her Domenic stifled by their lost boy. But life goes on. And so must the Tedescos. His work continued as there were forever ditches needed digging. He was a strong man and threw himself into it with renewed vigor. With each shovelful of dirt and gravel, he thought of his lost son. He'd arrive home each evening to his wife and son with physical exhaustion matched equally with rejuvenated spirit, for they were his motivation.

  
  

  He continued working and they saved money, but now, providing for three. This was a different dynamic than living for only one and saving everything above the bare minimum. The bare minimum was to be endured by himself alone, but his family deserved better. Then there were more children, and the needs of a growing family.

  
  

  Rosa was also constantly at work. All day in the kitchen, cleaning up after one meal, then preparing and cooking the next. Even still, there was more to be done. Instead of striving to fulfill the needs of a family of six, they must find a way to earn more to save up for their lost boy. To help make ends meet Rosa took in boarders. There was room for two. She was industrious and also made beer in the basement of their home on Cardoni Street during the Prohibition years, 1920-1933. Amongst her customers were two kindly police officers, occasionally stopping by to buy a bottle of the latest brew, or tipping her off if a search was forthcoming.

  
  

  In July 1927, the family had finally saved enough. The money was given to a godfather who traveled from the U.S. to Italy and returned with Lodovico. He was 17 when he arrived in America aboard the SS Conte Biancamano. He didn't remember his parents or baby brother. He had grown up thinking his grandmother had been his mom. In addition to his little brother, he now also had four American-born siblings, another brother and three sisters.

  
  

  
  

  [This is the true story of my great maternal grandparents as remembered by their granddaughter, my Mom. Lodovico is my Grandpa Tedesco. -wdk 3/2023]

  
  

  
  

  • Domenico Tedesco, 12/7/1884 (Cassino, Frosinone, Italy) - 7/29/1956 (Los Angeles, CA).
  • Rosa Lanni, 12/16/1891 (Cassino, Frosinone, Italy) - 2/27/1936 (Detroit, Michigan).
  • They were married 2/14/1909 in Banbury, Oxfordshire, England. It is unknown why they were in England, for how long, or for what purpose.
  • Rosa's father was Felix Lanni, the gentleman who made the proposal.
  • Teresa Nieri, Rosa's mother, was left behind in Cassino after Lodovico [my grandfather] emigrated to America. She passed away one month later, August 1927.
  • Lodovico 'David' Tedesco, 12/22/1909 (Oxford, England) - 4/21/2000 (Burbank, CA).
  • To read about Lodovico, my Grandpa Tedesco, click here [https://wdklem.blogspot.com/2020/06/lodovico.html].