Dad wrote this around 2016 as a tribute to his childhood neighborhood.
The town of Westport has four areas: Westport Center, Greens Farms, Compo and Saugatuck. The Saugatuck area had a few nick names, including Little Italy, Railroad Place, and a few that I won't repeat.
About 1850 Irish immigrants move into Saugatuck, having fled the potato famin. Near the end of the 19th century, Italian immigrants came through Ellis Island. Many settled in the New York City area, but some made their way to Saugatuck seeking open land to farm. They could afford land there and were able to get mortgages from the Westport Bank.
I was told by my parents that the Zeolis and the Valiantes chose this area because they had paisons (neighbors from back in Italy) here and felt more secure. The Zeolis came from a small mountain farming town in Italy called Santa Croce. The Valiantes were from a similar town known as Ielsi. Both towns were in the same region of Italy, Molise, which is south of Rome and north of Naples. Lillian Valiante and my father, Dominick Zeoli, met and were married in Westport. Dad was a fireman.
I was born July first in 1923 on the kitchen table in our home on Saugatuck Avenue under the care of a mid wife. I was the oldest of five kids. I had two brothers, John and Eugene, and two sisters, Helen and Jeanette.
Our neighborhood was clustered around Saugatuck Avenue. Franklin Street, Charles Street, Davenort Avenue, Ketcham Street and Indian Hill Road. Italian culture flourished here. Families were close knit, having the same background and sharing so many of the same immigration experiences. Our grand parents crossed the Atlantic in the least expensive passage, called steerage, which was the lowest level of the ship, well below waterline. Grandma Valiante described to me the hot temperatures and poor bathrooms among the other miserable conditions she experienced on her voyage to America.
These brave people took with them many traditions from their hometowns in the old country. Grandpa Valiante brought with him a grape vine, which he planted in Saugatuck. He made wine from the fruit that vine grew to produce.
Some of the traidtions they brought with them have faded into the past. I recall the Feast of St. Anthony, the patron saint of these Italian immigrants. Every June, Franklin Street would be transformed with colored lights and tents where sausage and peppers, pasta fagoli were served. We played all sorts of games over the four day feast, while bands would play many Neapoliton songs and opera arias were sung.
Young people like me, dress in our blue knickers and white shirts, would follow the band and the St. Anthony Club in their uniforms up Riverside Avenue to the Church of the Assumption. After mass, we would march back to Franklin Street. The climax of the event was a great display of fireworks, often viewed by as many as twenty thousand people who would come from all across Connecticut for the show.
Because there were not a lot of vineyards in the neighborhood, trucks would arrive in the fall from Norwalk with crates of blue and white grapes, mostly Concord, to be pressed into wine. My Grandpa Valiante showed me how the rich liquid flowed from the press.
The wine was put in barrels to ferment, then stored in the wine cellar. When we had visitors, grandpa would draw a bottle for our guests, but request that they return the bottle so it could be reused.
The wine cellar also served as a cool place for storing bottles of fruits and vegetables, canned by my grandmother Valiante, my mother and my aunt Lena. Over the winter, we enjoyed these treats of fruits, peppers, pickles, tomato sauce and many other goodies.
Grandpa's garden provided potatoes, corn, peppers, tomatoes, lettuce, and cabbage. We would gather at the large oak table in my grand parents big cellar kitchen for family meals. After dinner, grandpa Valiante would have all the children sit in a row, and he gave us each a small glass of red wine with a peach slice. We were told this was good for our blood. An old Victrola played during this ritual, serenading us with arias from Puccini and Verdi, or some old Neapolitan folks songs.
Grandpa Zeoli brought another tradition from Italy that helped Saugatuck neighbors. Behind our house on Saugatuck Avenue, he built a large storage barn. Inside he made an oven in which to bake bread. The oven looked much like a wood-fired pizza oven of today. Every Thursday morning, he would lite the fire to bake and many neighbors would come to the oven with their own dough for baking. The resulting large, round loaves would last each family for a week. I loved watching the ladies all dressed in black punching the dough. The first loaf that came out hot and sweet and we kids would eat our slices with all kinds of homemade jams and jellies.
My father continued this tradition for a few years after grandpa died.
I had to pass Mrs. Benneti's house to and from the park on Franklin Street. If I forgot to say hello (ciao, in Italian), Grandma Valiante would grab me by the ear when I got home and give me a lecture for not being neighborly. Hillary Clinton said it takes a village to raise kids. We knew that in Saugatuck all those years ago. Our neighbors watched over us and all the children, and held us accountable for our actions. Rather than resent this, we knew we were part of a tight-knit group, and I am sure we grew to be better adults because of this.
Though we had little money, no cars, no TVs or computers, we felt like we had it all. We were surrounded by practical and loving people. We could roam the streets in safety, and never worried about locking our homes. We could walk into a neighbor's home for a drink of water, if we got thirsty from our continual games. We were trusted because everyone knew there would be consequences if we betrayed that trust.
When a new family moved into Saugatuck, any help they might need was given freely by all the neighbors.
We all went to Saugatuck Elementary School on Bridge Street. It had grades one through six. There were no busses, so we walked to school every day. I never doubted that this was a great school with outstanding teachers ready to help us at any time. Our principal was Miss Dorothy Adams.
First grade: Miss Keene
Second grade: Miss King
Third grade: Miss Coyal
Fourth grade: Miss McNerney
When I returned from [how many?] years in the Navy in 1946, I called Mis McNerney and we had dinner and danced in the best restaurant in Stamford. She has been a great influence on my life.
At Kings Highway Junior High, we had more wonderful teachers. Mr. Roland Wacob [is this right?] was my physical ed teach and a coach who inspired me to get my degree in Physica Education.
Many of my classmates didn't go on to high school, because they started workin to help support their families. I was fortunate to continue my education at Staples High School, then located on Riverside Avenue. I was an average student, and played football, basketball and baseball. I graduated in 1942. Our class had 94 students.
I was planning to go to college, but with America entering World War II six months earlier, I joined the Navy. I was sent to Goat Island in Rhode Island for basic training. Six weeks later, I joined my ship, the U.S.S. Boston. We traveled through the Panama Canal on the way to the Pacific theater. I was assigned to the radar division. We were in twelve major battles, including Sipan, Iwo Jima, Enowitok, and the Philipines.
Both of my brothers, John and Eugene, were also in the Navy. One day, at port in the middle of the Pacific, I saw John's ship and received permission to visit him. We spent a few short hours sharing our homesickness, tears in our eyes.
Another time we were getting some R & R at the Givert Islands. I had just finished a softball game and was sitting on a log. Suddenly I heard my name called, "Hey Zee!" I looked around and saw John Vento, my best friend from back home. We hugged and cried and talked of home, reminiscing about football games we'd played together.
I was discharged from the Navy in 1946. I received my bachelor's degree in physical education from Arnold College (which is now part of the University of Bridgeport). I got a master's degree at Columbia University, where one of my professors was the noted anthropologists Margaret Mead. I earned a second master's at the University of Bridgeport.
In 1952, I married Ruth Joanne Scott (Jody). We have three children: Stephen, Christopher and Nikki. Nikki and her husband Bert have three children, our grand children, Jennifer, Charlotte and Nicholas.
Jody and I never lived in Saugatuck, but would make Westport our home for the next 46 years.
In 1953 I was hired by the town of Wilton as a phys ed teacher and coach. I earned my way up to the position of athletic director. Over 40,000 students passed through my 41 year tenure with the Wilton school system.
I am also proud of my association with the Special Olympics. In 1991, I was asked to go to Pakistan to teach teachers of handicapped children to be coaches of soccer and trak and field. I returned again two years later to continue that work, and also went on to do the same work in Bangladesh.
Westport was my home throughout all those years, until 1998 when Joday and I retired to our log home on Lake Beebe in Vermont. I remained busy teaching a course in coaching at nearby Castleton State College for several years. I play as many rounds of golf as I can fit in each season -- usually well over 100. Twice I shot better than my age. We love to swim in the summer. While I miss Westport and Wilton very much, I don't miss the traffic or the spralling shopping malls. Our town in Vermont doesn't even have any businesses.
