From Manoppello

 

The small, very ancient community of Manoppello in Italy sits alone on a sloping hill, some 20 miles from the unseen sea.  My grandparents, Ignazio Severini and Gioconda Iezzi, were born here.  So was my mother.

On the usual map depicting the boot of Italy, Manoppello is located vertically about halfway down, and horizontally near the far right, facing the Adriatic Sea.  If you draw a straight line from Rome on the left side of the map across the country to almost the opposite coast, Manoppello is a little to the north. On the other side of the fairly narrow Adriatic is Bosnia, Croatia and the countries of eastern Europe, so in this sense it is at the border of western Europe.

 The land around Manoppello consists of cultivated fields and woods. A snow-capped mountain formation is visible from the Volto Santo Basilica.  It is the Maiella, a plateau containing the highest peaks in the Appenine mountain range, which extends for much of Italy’s length. Manoppello is bordered by the Pescara River.  

Manoppello is officially called a “commune,” which in Italy is an ordinary classification, the smallest official unit, the equivalent of a township or municipality in the U.S.  Manoppello’s population has remained relatively stable, at between roughly 4,000 and 6,500 inhabitants since the 1860s. 

 Italy is divided into regions, all of them very old, though Italy as an official nation dates only from the 19^th century.  Manoppello is in the province of Pescara, which is in the region of Abruzzo, commonly called “the Abruzzi.”  It extends from the coast inland across mountains, to just 50 miles short of Rome. 

in Maiella National Park

Today Abruzzo calls itself “the greenest region in Europe.”  National parks and nature reserves comprise nearly half of the region, protecting three-quarters of all known species in Europe.  Manoppello today is actually within the Maiella National Park.

 Manoppello’s nearest larger town towards the coast is Chieti, about 12 miles away.  It is one of the most ancient cities in Italy.  Local mythology says it was founded by the Greek hero Achilles more than a thousand years B.C.  There is archeological evidence that it was a settlement by 5000 BC, with some artifacts found in the area that are at least 400,000 years old.  Chieti was a substantial city of the Roman Empire, with some 60,000 inhabitants.  In 1921, Chieti’s population was about 31,000.   

 Another eight or so miles beyond Chieti is the now sprawling city of Pescara.  Together with its suburbs, it’s the largest city in Abruzzo.  But before 1927 it wasn’t even a single muncipality.  For much of its history, also going back before the Roman Empire, it was a fishing village and port.  Because it was a strategically useful seaport, Pescara was invaded and occupied at various times over the centuries, most recently by the French (including Joseph Bonaparte) in the 19^th century. 

 Manoppello also has archeological sites nearby indicating inhabitants three million years ago, literally the Stone Age. It was also settled before Roman times, and was called Pollitrio during the Empire.  It was known even then for the surrounding fertile land.  Eventually (perhaps in the 9^th century) it was renamed in honor of its fields of grain:  “Manoppio” is the amount of grain that can fit in a hand, which is the symbol on its flag and shield.  The name itself unites the Latin “manus” (hand) and “plere” (full), or a handful of grain.

,During medieval times, Manoppello was a fortress on a hill, the scene of battles, especially in the 15^th century. But it was mostly a monastic center, with prominent churches that date back to the 14^th and 15^th centuries. Some of the original architecture survives. 

 Members of the Carl Severini family visited
Manoppello with Gioconda Severini in 1976,
and took this picture of the procession.

Its historic and now contemporary claim to fame is the “Volto Santo” or “The Holy Face” or simply “the Manoppello Image,” an image of Christ’s face on a cloth that is similar to the Shroud of Turin—essentially a positive to Turin’s negative image.  It has been in the possession of the Capuchin friars since the 16^th century, and is housed in the Sautuario del Volto Santo church.  It is taken out for an annual procession.

 

The Capuchin friars themselves arrived shortly after their founding in the neighboring region of Marche, also in the 16^th century. They remain prominent in Manoppello. They are derived from the Franciscan order, and are devoted to returning to the simplicity and contemplative life of its founder, St. Francis of Assisi. The shade of brown robes the Capuchins wear inspired the name of the coffee drink Cappuccino. 

 

With its handfuls of grain, the area around Manoppello is known for producing pasta, including handmade spaghetti. Cheiti and Pescara remain homes to major international pasta manufacturers.  There are many varieties of olives trees grown throughout Italy, and several of them grow in the vicinity of Manoppello.  The area is known today for its excellent extra virgin olive oil.  Grapes and wine are also part of the local economy and culture.  Cheiti province in particular makes the distinctive Montepulciano d’Abruzzo red wines.

 

Along with the monastery and ancient churches built of Manoppello stone, there are a number of palaces that still stand, mostly dating from the 17^th to 19^th centuries.  The town was literally owned by one wealthy family or another for much of its history. 

 Most other families lived in tightly clustered stone dwellings of several floors. It was in this Manoppello, very late in the nineteenth century, that Ignazio Severini and Gioconda Iezzi were born.  They grew up in houses that faced each other across a narrow street.  Later, they married and came to America. I am one of their grandsons.

    

Gioconda Iezzi Severini (l) on her 1976 visit.

According to a genealogy prepared by Carol Vitace Flandro, there were Severinis in Manoppello since at least the 18^th century.  Vincenzo Severini was born there in 1735 and died there in 1800.  For the next 200 years, his descendants were born and lived in Manoppello, and the spouses they married whose birthplace could be documented, were also born in Manoppello.

 I have no genealogy for the Iezzi family, but the first Iezzi turns up in the Severini line in my great grandparent’s generation.  Carlo Severini (my great grandfather) was born in 1850.  In the spring of 1879 he married Maria Antonia Gloria.  Her mother Maria Loreta was a Iezzi. 

Carlo Severini

Carlo Severini was a shoemaker, like his father before him.  Like tailors and other craftsmen or tradesmen, a shoemaker was a cut above field workers and other laborers, probably akin to the difference between what these days are called lower middle class and working class.  Carlo Severini and his wife had three children: Annina (born in 1880), Giovanni (born in 1886) and Ignazio (1893.) All three would eventually wind up in the US. 

 Across the street was the family of Carlo Iezzi and Antonia Zazzara Iezzi.  They had six daughters: Onorina, Gioconda, Stella, Serafina, Clarina and Prosperia (or Prosperina.)  Gioconda was born on September 30, 1896, probably the closest in age to Ignazio Severini. 

 Gioconda was my grandmother and my chief informant on her life and her side of the family.  I will often refer to her from now on simply as G, which can be Gioconda or Grandma.

 According to G., her father, Carlo Iezzi, was, like Carlo Severini, a shoemaker.  He worked at home, usually in his backyard, in the mornings.  When he was still unmarried, in the afternoon he frequently went around to a nearby house that ran an informal kind of cafe, for a glass of wine.  He was served by a beautiful and fiery redhead named Antoinette, or Antonia.  He was fascinated, and would sometimes come back for a glass of wine several times a day.  She told him to get a bottle.  Eventually he married her.

Carlo Iezzi

 They apparently had a fiery marriage.  Antonia thought Carlo was lazy, and did not bring in enough money.  While in the backyard where he was supposed to be working, he enjoyed the company of a rooster named Cheechio.  He talked to him as he worked in the morning, and in the evenings he played clarinet for him, and Cheechio danced. One day he came home to find that Cheechio was dinner.  Antonia claimed there was no other food in the house. That was the story.

 Carlo Iezzi was good enough at clarinet to be in an orchestra that played for operas.  He was away performing with the orchestra one night, possibly in Chieti.  When he returned he learned his wife had given birth to a daughter.  He decided to name her after the opera he had just played: La Gioconda by Amilcare Ponchielli.  In Italian, the name means “the joyful one.”  “La Gioconda” is also another name for Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa.

 As almost the oldest, G had family responsibilities and housework.  But she also attended a convent school, probably at the Capuchin convent, where she learned how to do fancy cut work, sewing and embroidery, for bridal linen and tablecloths, for instance, as well as for the altar.  She learned to read and write there as well, and what other sewing and knitting skills she hadn’t learned at home.

 According to G., she and Ignazio were childhood sweethearts. He used to come over to her house in the evenings when they said the rosary, and he would kneel next to her. They had an understanding they would marry, when Ignazio was called to the army in the Great War, or World War I.  Italians lost so many men over the course of that war, that it is likely he was in the army from the beginning of Italy’s involvement until the end, or nearly the end.

Ignazio Severini 1915. New soldiers
often had postcards made in the studio
with standard backgrounds.

 G’s stories about Ignazio in the war and the time they were separated were light-hearted.  He was posted “in the north,” and at one point billeted in a private home.  The family in that home included a daughter who took a fancy to him, and thought she might marry him. She wrote a relative in Manoppello about him. He dressed and talked differently, not like a peasant, she wrote.  But this friend, who couldn’t read, took the letter to G.so she could read it to her, as other girls did.  G. wrote to Ignazio and told him she knew what was going on. So he got in some trouble over that, and G. wouldn’t see him when he returned. He was appropriately contrite, and persistent, so they reconciled.

 Ignazio was already a skilled tailor, and according to G. he was saved from the worst fighting because during his training an officer saw how well his uniform fit him, and so held him back to tailor his uniforms and those of other officers.

 But the reality was probably not so simple or so gentle.  The war “in the north” was where Italy confronted the Austrian forces, supplemented by German forces, in a series of bloody battles between 1915 and the end of 1918.  In the end, 600,000 Italian soldiers were killed in the north, and the Italian nation was virtually bankrupted.

 Though there are photos of him in uniform, I don’t have any information on how or where Ignazio Severini participated.  Possibly the Italian government still has such records.  In general, there were a number of towns where troops were stationed, some near Milan for instance, but especially in the northeastern corner of Italy in the vicinity of Venice, Trieste and the Adriatic Coast.  These towns in the northeast were the targets of artillery fire, and in turn they had gun emplacements firing at the Austrians miles away.  But the main fighting was in the mountains just to the north of these towns.

 The fighting in the mountains was protracted and bloody, and like much of World War I, a back and forth war of attrition over a few miles of territory.  The carnage was so great that the Pope spoke out against it, and several Italian governments fell because of the losses and the military decisions that led to them. There was at times desertion on a large scale.

  Italian forces attacked Austrian forces during the whole of 1915, but were repulsed, losing a quarter of the army—some 60,000 men.  In the spring of 1916, Austrians swept down through the mountains towards the Venetian plains, attempting to encircle the Italian Army.  But on the snowy, rocky Castelletto, Italian troops stopped their advance.  By the end of 1916, losses added up to 130,000.  

Caporetto 1917

Italian forces were unable to advance against the Austrians in 1917, and in the fall, German forces backing the Austrians broke through Italian lines at Caporetto, aided by large-scale use of poison gas.  Some 13,000 Italian soldiers were killed, 30,000 were wounded and roughly a quarter of a million Italians were taken prisoner.  Italy’s Second Army collapsed into retreat in what was described as Italy’s worst defeat in its history. 

 German forces pressed the attack but the Italian forces regrouped at the Piave River.  A battle was joined in December 1917 at Mount Grappa, where Italian soldiers repelled the German attack. If Ignazio Severini was in this part of the north, he may have been part of the Abruzzi Brigade, which fought in this battle. Like other brigades, it suffered terrible losses: half the Brigade was killed.

Mt. Grappa

 By the beginning of 1918 the Italians were engaged in a defensive war. During these months, Ernest Hemingway was an 18 year old ambulance driver, and wrote about the war (Although he described events from the fall of 1917 in his novel A Farewell To Arms, he did not arrive in the area until June of 1918.)  The British writer Rudyard Kipling spent time here as a newspaper correspondent, as did the British writer H.G. Wells.

 In October and November of 1918, Italian forces counterattacked at Mount Grappa, near Vittorio Veneto, supported by contingents of other allied forces including British and American.  They broke through and advanced into Austria, ultimately forcing an armistice.  A week later, the First World War was over. Some Italian troops occupied towns and cities in Austria.

 Having heard G’s stories, I assumed my grandfather had not been under fire, until the 1990s when one of his daughters, my Aunt Toni (Antoinette Severini Wheatley) told me that he had been “gassed,” and suffered the effects for years.  She remembered his digestion was affected, so that for years he could eat spaghetti only without tomato sauce (fortunately he had recovered by the time I sat beside him at family meals in the 1950s.) 

Though the notorious use of poison gas in World War I is most associated with the Western Front (France, Belgium, etc.) I’ve seen mention of it in accounts of fighting in northern Italy.  In general, the British and other allied countries used irritants like tear gas, but poison gases were initially and mostly used by German forces, allied with the Austrian-Hungarian armies.  Beginning in 1915, these gases were chlorine and phosgene, with mustard gas introduced to battlefields in 1917. Eventually some American forces also used mustard gas.  These gases did not invariably kill, but required immediate measures and then a long convalescence to survive.  Poison gases were usually delivered by artillery shells.

 It’s possible these symptoms Ant described were caused by concentrated exposure to one of the irritant gases, such as tear gas, which was delivered in grenades.  Italy manufactured and used tear gas, and one account mentions Italian soldiers using it in tunnels through the mountains against Austrians at Castelletto. 

 Exactly what horrors Ignazio Severini experienced or witnessed or even heard about are unknown.  Apparently, like most other veterans of that war, he did not talk about it afterwards, at least to members of his family.  The world had seldom seen mass carnage on that scale, and Europe especially would never be the same. 

I have no documentation of anything specific in these years, other than that Ignazio was back in Manoppello to marry Gioconda Iezzi on December 8, 1919, the feast of the Immaculate Conception, a holy day of obligation on the Catholic calendar. 

Gino Severini
Self Portrait 1916

It was probably on the occasion of their marriage that distant members of the Severini family gathered in Manoppello, and G overheard whispers about the family black sheep who ran off to Paris and became a bum.  She remembered this when I told her about the now famous painter, Gino Severini, who was born and raised in Cortona, in Tuscany.  The timing fits—Gino Severini was in Paris as a very young man beginning in 1906.  Though he would have many famous friends, including Picasso, Braque, Matisse, Eric Satie, Apollonaire and Jean Cocteau, and eventually became famous himself, he was very poor at the start and remained so for many years—certainly in 1919. And as he was a painter and not a shoemaker or other paid tradesman or craftsman, he would count as a bum.

 That the Manoppello Severinis were related to the Tuscany Severinis has not been established, though for what it is worth (and it may not be much), my Ancestry DNA profile shows strong genetic origins in the region of Italy that includes Tuscany—as much or more than the region that includes Manoppello. If this suggests anything, it might be that there is a strong Severini connection from Manoppello to Tuscany, and perhaps Cortona.

C. Severini 1976 photo of fields leading to the
Bascilica at Manoppello

 It seems that Ignazio and G planned to live in Manoppello, but would go together to America first, where Ignazio could earn and save enough money to open a tailor shop when they returned.  The war had left Italy impoverished, and Manoppello was poor to begin with. Many of its younger citizens were leaving for America, at least for awhile, to make money to send back and then return to Italy.  These emigrants included several members of the Iezzi and Severini families.  G’s own father had already gone to Canada, though he sent little money back.

 Then Ignazio’s parents both got sick, and wanted G to stay with them.  G was looking forward to escaping from her own mother’s meanness.  But eventually she agreed to stay to take care of Carlo and Maria Antonia Severini.  Also she was pregnant, and the long trip across the ocean might be too much.

 So only a little more than six months after his wedding, Ignazio Severini set off with others from Manoppello to take a chance on the United States.  He boarded the Nieuv Amsterdam steamship on July 24, 1920 at Boulogne-sur-Mer, a port in northern France where the first British troops had landed during World War I.  The New Amsterdam was a ship of the Holland America line built in 1906, when it was the 10^th largest steamship in the world.  In 1920 it was notable for being the last major liner to cross the Atlantic fitted with auxiliary sails.

 

Nieuv Amsterdam 1st Class Hall

The Nieuv Amsterdam was considered a luxury liner, if you were among the 440 in first class on that voyage, or even the 246 in second class.  But the ship made its money from the 2,200 emigrants in third class, otherwise known as steerage.  They spent the voyage in what was essentially the cargo hold.  For the voyage from Europe to America, collapsible wooden bulkheads were installed to create private cabins and dormitories. For the return trip, the bulkheads were removed and the hold would be filled with cargo—often including grain for a war-torn Europe.

 Ignazio arrived at Ellis Island, New York, on August 4.  He was listed as 27 years old, 5 ft. 2 inches tall, with blond hair and gray eyes. Except for his age, how much of that was accurate is questionable.  He carried with him a total of $26.  His destination in the United States was a small town in western Pennsylvania called Greensburg. 

N. Amsterdam 3rd class dining hall

He made his way from Manoppello to New York with several friends, including young Vincenzo Di Pasquale, just 18, who was sponsored by his father, Claudio, already in Greensburg.  They were not the only people from Manoppello on that particular voyage of the New Amsterdam.  They were not even the only ones from there who were on their way to Greensburg. They were going to this otherwise unknown place because members of their families were there. 

 It would be fascinating to know what drew the first Italian or the first citizen of Manoppello to western Pennsylvania, though it was likely the coal mines. But it surely had happened by the turn of the 20^th century.  A bakery established by Dan Morelli was turning out loaves of Italian bread in Greensburg by 1902.  The first of many Italian organizations and lodges was organized in 1906. 

 There were so many Italians in Greensburg by 1910, that when Father Nicola Albanese arrived in Pittsburgh from Italy and told the Bishop that his purpose was to take care of the spiritual needs of Italian immigrants, Pittsburgh Bishop Canevin sent him directly to Greensburg, where he established Our Lady of Grace church that same year.

Manoppello 

 But one church wasn’t enough. In 1916, Father Albanese built St. Anthony’s Church to serve Italians in the area of Greensburg then known as Ludwick.  This church (at Madison and Williams streets) would be just a few blocks away from the house that was Ignazio Severini’s destination.  Many years later it would be the church where one of their grandsons served Mass.

 That destination on Hamilton Avenue in Greensburg was the home of his older sister Anna, and her husband, Raffaele Vitaci.  Raffaele had first come to the US in 1901. Born in Manoppello in 1877, he was the son of a judge who gave him his name, and a maid who gave him up to the Congregazione della Carita of Manoppello, an orphanage.  His father’s name was Adalgiso Vitaci, his mother’s name is unknown.  He was taken into the home of Luigi Cremonese as a baby. 

 At age 18 he worked as a stonemason in Romania, and six years later came to the US with an Antonio Iezzi. He was bound for Philadelphia to rejoin his stepfather Cremonese. By 1903 he was in Greensburg, where he became a naturalized US citizen. Raffaele returned to Italy where he married Annina (Anna) Severini and in 1914 brought her back to Greensburg.

 Raffaele was described as tall and robust, with blond hair and blue eyes.  (His wife Anna also had blue eyes.) He was outgoing, with many friends, including Greensburg’s Republican mayor.  He invited them to eat at his house, where Anna would cook for them.

He and his wife did not go out at night, however, and were asleep at 7 p.m.  Raffaele had several different jobs over the years, including working for a building contractor.  His name in America eventually became Ralph Vitace.

 By the time Ignazio arrived, Anna and Raffaele had two small children: Mary (born in 1916) and Louis (born in 1917.) The family had just moved into their new house on Hamilton Avenue the year before, in 1919. 

Gioconda age 17

Almost immediately upon arriving, Ignazio wrote to G and asked for a photograph of her and his parents.  Neither of them was getting better.  She wrote back that she was too big with the baby.  He answered that he didn’t care, he wanted the picture.  So they went to a photographer in Chieti.  Years later, that photo would hang on a wall of their living room, next to a picture of G. at age 17, made from a small photograph that Ignazio had carried with him during the war.

 It was little more than a month after Ignazio arrived in Greensburg that he became a father.  Back in Manoppello, his wife gave birth to a baby girl.  G had been reading romance novels during her pregnancy, and the heroine of the one she was reading the night before she gave birth was named Flora. Ignazio’s mother, who was near death, was named Maria.  So the birth certificate would read: Maria Flora Severini, born September 13, 1920.

Walter Kowinski and His Family

 

Walter Kowinski 1944

According to Walter Kowinski and his brother William C. Kowinski, their family in America began with their grandfather, John Kowinsky.

 At least he was known to them as John Kowinsky, and their father calls him that in his 1942 draft registration, in naming him next of kin.  But there are various spellings in a trail of documents—not too unusual in reference to immigrants with long names, especially when customs agents and even hurried Census workers were less than sympathetic.  There’s also the problem of translating names from another language.

 But judging by facts and relationships in common, he is probably the “John Kowicusky” in the 1920 Census, “John Korvensky” in the 1930 Census, and John Kowensk (or John Kowensky) in the 1940 Census.  He is even John Kowinski in an Ohio marriage record, and John Kolacinski on his death certificate.

 In these records, various facts—including birth date and year of immigration—also change slightly.  But based on extensive cross-referencing, supported by facts recollected by his grandson, William C. Kowinski, this is the best profile I can construct:

 He probably came to America, recorded as John Kolacinski, in the late 1880s, though I could find no record of his entry.  This is not unusual, as New York immigration records from the 1850s to 1897 were destroyed in a massive fire at the Ellis Island facility.  Many Polish immigrants of this era docked in Baltimore, and some of those records also haven’t survived.   He may have been born as early at 1863 but at the time of his death his family settled on the date June 17, 1870.  So he was perhaps 18 when he arrived.

 He may have gone directly to the coal mines and coke ovens of Scottdale, Pennsylvania.  He may even have been recruited, as so many eastern Europeans were in the late 19^th century. American industries advertised for workers in Poland, and paid their fare to the U.S.  Western Pennsylvania was a major destination.  Pennsylvania as a whole had a higher number of Polish immigrant coal miners than any other state.

Frick Coal & Coke workers and families in Scottdale 1890

 In any case, he was in Scottdale by 1891, for the birth of his first child, John Joseph Kowinsky on May 12.  (He was probably calling himself John Kowinsky by then.)  He was working in the coke-making process in 1920, so he may have started here. Scottdale at that time was headquarters for the H.C. Frick Coke Company.  Coke was a prime substance used in manufacturing steel, made by heating bituminous coal in very hot ovens.  The process was pioneered in Fayette County, and the western Pennsylvania coal fields produced the most coke in the world, beginning in the late 19^th century. 

Mammoth Memorial in Mt. Pleasant PA

 John may well have been in Scottdale when an explosion in the nearby Mammoth mines in 1891 killed more than a hundred miners, mostly Polish, Hungarian and Italian immigrants.  It was one of the worst mining accidents in American history. Mammoth also included coke ovens, though not yet owned by Frick. 

 In March 1894, his daughter Anna (also called Anna Stacia or Anastasia) Kowinsky was born.  Her birthplace was either Scottdale or the nearby town of Everson, or in the Frick coal and coke company town of Mutual, Pa.   Her mother was Madeline Vishnovsky, listed as John Kowinsky’s spouse.

 John’s son, Frank Edward Kowinsky, was born on May 4, 1899—he would become Walter (and William C.) Kowinski’s father.  I could find no direct evidence of the name of Frank’s mother.

 William C.—my Uncle Bill-- believes his grandfather John was married twice.  At some point he married a woman named Josephine (she is attributed several last names, including Vozniak and Lujack) and with her he had at least two children: Agnes Louise in 1905 and Marie Elizabeth in 1906. 

(Josephine’s name of Lujack may explain the family connection my father was told we had to Johnny Lujack, the star quarterback for Notre Dame and the Chicago Bears in the 1940s and 50s, and later a sports announcer. He grew up in Connellsville, PA.)

 The history of John Kowinsky's fatherhood gets more complicated, however.  In 1891, in addition to John Joseph Kowinsky (born in May), he is recorded as the father of Frank Godzinsky (or Gedzinsky), born in August.  He is father to Anna (born March 1894) and Victoria (November 1894.)  Then he is the father to Rose Gedzinsky in 1896.

So either he fathered several of these children by different mothers in the same year, or there are adoptions involved, possibly of the offspring of other family members still in Eastern Europe.

  There is some circumstantial evidence for adoption, at least of Frank Alex Godzinsky, who on several forms claims to have been born in Poland (or Russia) and to have arrived in America in 1892. One document names his father as Joseph Godzinsky.  But at other times he is said to have been born in the U.S. Most forms name August 26, 1891 as his birth date. In any case, John Kowinsky evidently claimed him as a son, and in the newspaper death notice of Frank Godzinsky in 1965, John’s other surviving children were listed as his sisters and brothers. The same was true of Victoria's obituary; her married name was Rosky.

 However, William C. believes that Rose Gedenski-- born in August 1896 in Connellsville--was John’s daughter, and his father Frank Kowinsky’s half-sister.  

   

John’s 1920 Census form states he was a coke drawer (the person who draws the coke out of the ovens) at the Frick Coke Company’s coke works in United, Pa., and lived in rented company housing.  He is a naturalized U.S. citizen, able to read and write.  His native tongue is Polish.  By this time, he is married to Josephine. 

 By the 1930 Census he is in his 60s and essentially retired, living with his wife in the household of his son-in-law Mike Kochis, and daughter Marie.  They had married in 1910. (Rose married Mike’s brother, Steve Kochis, a miner.)  The Mike Kochis home was in United, Pennsylvania, a coal patch company town near Mt. Pleasant. John and Josephine are still in the Kochis home in 1940.  Their census form adds that John can speak English and that he had a partial elementary school education.

 John Kowinsky died at home in United in January 1949, leaving 26 grandchildren and 19 great grandchildren, of which I am one.  His death certificate called him John Kolacinski, age 79. He had been a member of the nearby St. Stanislaus Catholic Church; his funeral Mass was held there, and he was buried in the church cemetery.  His wife Josephine had died in 1941.

 But where was John born?  As our Severini family came from Manoppello, where did our Kowinski family come from?

 John spoke Polish, and on most forms, Poland is designated as his birthplace.  But where in Poland?  The question is complicated by the fact that in the late 19^th century, in the midst of large-scale immigration to the U.S., there was no actual nation of Poland anymore.  Its lands had been divided by more powerful nations and empires, namely Austria, Prussia and Germany. Eventually some of Poland was absorbed by Russia as well.  Even when Poland became a country again, borders kept changing, so that cities and towns could have been within different countries at different times. 

Many Poles who fled to North America in these decades came from the region of Galacia in the Austrian partition of what is now southern Poland, where poverty and oppression were particularly severe.  An estimated 800,000 Poles from this region came to the United States.  (U.S. Census records show a different John Kowinski, who emigrated in 1913 from Galicia, and was a laborer in the Chicago stock yards.)

 But the few clues in available records point in a different direction.  John’s birthplace in the 1920 Census is named as “Germany, Poland.”  John gave that same answer to the birthplaces of his parents (elsewhere he indicates that his father’s name was also John.)  Several of his children provide that same combination of Germany/Poland when asked about their father’s origins.

 The German Empire in the late 19^th century included East Prussia in northern Poland, with its Polish population.  The German Empire also encompassed the Prussian Province of Silesia in southern Poland, which had been (and is again) part of Poland. German-controlled Silesia produced the earliest mass emigration.  Prussia had gone to war with France, and the Poles supported the French.  In retaliation, Prussia began “Germanization” of the region.  Poles were being deliberately driven out, while there was widespread poverty and starvation among the Polish peasants. Large-scale emigration from Silesia began in the 1870s.  

Darker area is Silesia in today's Poland

Silesia also is notable for its coal industry, first exploited by the German occupiers.  The oppression continued and even worsened in the region’s later history.  Polish Silesia was the first area entered by Nazi German troops that began World War II, and it was where the Nazis began their program of genocide, targeting Jews and ethnic Poles, all of whom they considered inferior.

 There are a few other tantalizing clues that suggest either Silesia or East Prussia as the origin point. One is the inclusion on John’s 1920 Census form of “Johan Kawiecki” as an alternate name.  The name Johann Kawicki turns up as a resident of the “Eastern Prussian Province, Germany (Poland.)”  There may be no direct connection, but it is suggestive.

 Then there’s John’s daughter, Anna (Anna Stacia, Anastacia) Kowinsky, who filled out a Social Security form (when she was married to Andy Sulkowsky after 1911) using the name “Annastacia Cowiinsky.” It could  be a misspelling, but the Ancestry robot brings up another name:  Casmira Anastasia Cywinski, of East Prussia.  That in turn could be a coincidence, but if Anastasia is an old family name—and first names tend to get repeated within families through these years—it could suggest another possible origin point, especially as Anna was John’s eldest daughter, perhaps with more knowledge of family history.

 These speculations don’t narrow things down very much, especially since East Prussia in the north (with its ports and cities) and Silesia in the south of Poland are very different kinds of places.  In historical terms, Silesia seems the more likely origin point, but there may be more to be discovered.

 Regardless of where the Polish ancestors came from,  the family that came to be known as Kowinski began in America in the coal mining communities of western Pennsylvania.  This was true for John Kowinsky’s generation, as it would be for the generation of his son, Frank Edward Kowinsky.

 Many of these mining towns were within what’s called the Connellsville Coal Field in Westmoreland County.  These were “coal patch” towns, worker housing built and owned by the coal company. 

 Coal mining was a brutal occupation, and depended on the vagaries of production, price and demand.  Mines could suddenly cut back or close for a period, and miners were forced to move on to another mine to work.  Eventually mines and coke ovens would close permanently (beginning as early as the 1920s), and that town would lose its major source of livelihood.  So it was not unusual for miners to move from town to town.

 According to William C. Kowinski, his father Frank was born in the coal and coke town of Tarrs, Pennsylvania, an unincorporated coal mining and coke- producing town near Mt. Pleasant in Westmoreland County.   On his 1942 draft registration, Frank named another coal patch—Mutual, Pa.—as his birthplace.  He also gave his birth year as 1900 (and in the 1940 Census, as around 1901), but on his death certificate, his birth date reads May 2, 1899.

Humphreys

 For both the 1930 and 1940 Census, Frank named his occupation as miner.  In his 1942 draft registration he wrote that he was employed by the Humphreys Coal and Coke Company.  His older brother, John Joseph Kowinsky, also worked at the Humphreys mine, and lived in the mining town of Marguerite.

 Back in 1920, on December 29, Frank Kowinsky had married Catherine Cecilia Ellis ( her name was sometimes spelled Katharine or Kathyrn.)  She was Walter’s mother, and the mother of his siblings.  Thanks to the research compiled by William W. Smith (an Ellis descendant), a little more is known about Catherine’s prior family than is known about her husband’s.

 Catherine’s father was John Illas, born in 1867 somewhere in the Austria-Hungary empire.   He married a woman from Romania named Mary Tkracz in 1891. (The Tkracz family name “can be traced back many centuries,” Smith wrote, “to its origin in the city of L’vov, in Western Ukraine.”  The Illas name is more elusive, but it may be a variation of other Slovak or Hungarian names.) According to a granddaughter, John Illas could speak Hungarian, Slovak and Polish, at least well enough to teach her to count in each language. 

John Illas arrived in America through the port of Baltimore in 1893, probably on a ship from a German port. He also may have been approached by a coal company recruiter, either in Europe or upon arrival.  In any case, he soon began work at a Hecla mine in Trauger, which is in Mt Pleasant Township, Pennsylvania. The Hecla mines were operated by the Thaw and Dorsey Coal and Coke Company until 1906, when they were taken over by the H.C. Frick Coal and Coke Company.

  By 1896, he had made enough money to send for his wife and two children, John and Christine. Their subsequent four children were born in the US, including Catherine Cecilia, who was born in Trauger on March 21, 1902.  By this time the family had changed its name to Ellis.

 (This would not be the last time John Illas/Ellis changed his name.  After his wife Mary died in 1928, John answered an advertisement for a handyman at a Michigan farm, and started a new life, complete with a new name.  In 1930 he married the daughter of the farm’s owner, Johanna Kutney, using the name of John Aller.  His last child, Antonia, was born in 1931, when he was 64.  He died three years later, as John Aller.)

  But in 1918, John Ellis was working at the nearby Calumet mine. The family was listed in the 1920 census as living in the United District of Mt. Pleasant Township. The Calumet and United, PA mines were working in conjunction. 

Though coal and coke dominated this landscape, the area also had an earlier history. Indian paths crisscrossed Pennsylvania by the 1700s, and the town of Mt. Pleasant grew at the crossroads of two of them: Glades Path (which later became Route 31) and Nemacolin’s Path (widened and extended by the Delaware Nation chief Nemacolin and then used by British General Braddock to build the Braddock Road during the French and Indian War of 1755.)  This early history is probably reflected in the name of Calumet, which is a French word that came to denote the Indian peace pipe.

 This also was the area visited by the preeminent geologist Charles Lyle from England in 1826 to examine fossils found on a farm near Marguerite, proving that air-breathing reptiles had existed much earlier than previously believed.

 Frank and Catherine’s 1920 marriage was officially registered in Cumberland, Maryland.  Walter, their first child, was born on December 10, 1921 in Boswell, PA, a coal town in Somerset County, now part of the Johnstown metropolitan area.  His official name was given as Walter Xavier Kowinski.  He was baptized at St. Stanislaus church in Boswell as Ladislaus Kowinski on December 18 by Rev. W. Finke, with J. Kridasik and Elizabeth Dedyk listed as sponsors. “Laudislaus” is a Slavic name, used in Hungary, Poland and Austria, for example.

 Walter’s birth and baptism in Boswell suggests the family was living there at the time, and the nature of the town suggests that Frank Kowinsky was employed there.  The mine at Boswell, Orenda Mine #1, was large and productive at the time.  In 1920, it had the largest coal tipple (a structure used to load coal onto railroad cars) in the world.

  Frank Kowinsky, his wife and son were likely in Boswell during the coal strikes of 1922.  With harsh conditions, long hours, bad pay, no benefits, and miners forced to rent company housing and buy from the company store, unionization and strikes had previously occurred in separate mining areas throughout in the country since the late 19^th century. 

The Westmoreland County coal strike of 1910-1911—also known as the Slovak Strike because more than two-thirds of the miners were Slovak—involved 65 mines and 15,000 coal miners.  As would happen again, mine owners used private police and thugs as well as the state and local police and courts to break the strike, which they did, with defeat for the miners. Sixteen miners or members of their family were killed.

 The miners were more successful when the United Mine Workers called a national strike in 1919, in which approximately 100,000 Pennsylvania miners participated.  The strike resulted in a 14% wage increase for miners.

 When owners threatened to reduce wages in 1922, United Mine Workers called for strikes by union members on April 1.  Non-union mines continued to operate, but miners in Jerome in Somerset County also went on strike, to unionize.  This strike spread to Boswell on April 17, and lasted for 16 months.

strikers in Scranton PA 1922

 Meanwhile, John Illas/Ellis was working in the Hecla Number 3 mine, apparently a union mine when the United Mine Workers 1922 strike was called.  William Smith interviewed members of Catherine Ellis’ family who recalled this strike, or heard stories from their parents.  When the strike began, miners families—including theirs—were evicted from their company-owned homes.  The union supplied tents and some financial support.  They subsisted on garden vegetables, soup and noodles.  When winter came and the tents were too cold, the Ellis family moved into an abandoned pool room, which they shared with another family. 

 Violence also accompanied this strike.  Company towns were considered private property, and company police prevented residents from leaving, and screened others who wanted to get in.  The union settled in the spring, but this only prevented wages from being cut.

 In that spring of 1923, John Ellis found work at the Calumet mine, and the family moved there.  Also in 1923, the Frank Kowinsky family moved to United, PA,  another coal patch town in Mt. Pleasant Township near the Calumet mine.  The United mine had been opened and the worker housing and general store built by the United Coal and Coke Company, formed by a group of Greensburg businessmen in 1881.  By 1895, the H.C. Frick company had taken control of the operations at United, as it did in Calumet and elsewhere in the Connellsville Coalfield.  Walter grew up in United.

 Also in 1923, Frank and Catherine Kowinsky had their second child, son Frank Edward Kowinski Jr., born in United.  He became known there by the nickname “Bugs.” Their third son, William Charles Kowinski, was born in United in 1925, and their fourth child and only daughter, Beatrice, was born in 1928.  They all grew up in United.

 The 1930 U.S. Census lists Frank Kowinsky as a coal miner, living in a rented house with his wife (listed as Kathyrn) and four children: Walter, Frank, William and Beatrice. 

Post Office at United, PA 1935

The Depression years of the 1930s were particularly harsh in the coal patches of western PA.  A study by the American Friends Service Committee estimated that in “mining counties” of Pennsylvania, almost everyone suffered from malnutrition--nearly 90%.  The hardships were compounded by many of the Connellsville Coalfields mines closing in the years just before and during the Depression (Hecla mines in 1925, United in 1930 and the Calumet mines in the early 1930s.) 

 I know of only one aspect of Walter’s childhood: he built a crystal radio set using an old cigar box, although this might have been later, when he was a young man.  Building radios and otherwise tinkering with electronics remained a keen interest for much of his life. (The 1930 Census asked whether the household had a radio, and the answer was yes.) 

Walt is top row, second from left

Walter Kowinsky became one of 222 first year students at Hurst High School in September 1935.  He is pictured with the 1936-37 sophomore class in the 1937 Colophon yearbook.  This makes it likely that he graduated in 1939, the first in his family to finish high school.

 Shortly after that, Walt joined the Civil Conservation Corps, the CCCs: one of the first of FDR’s New Deal programs, eventually sending hundreds of thousands of young men (and some young women) to work in forests and parks, and on projects to stop soil erosion and prevent floods.  As governor of New York, President Roosevelt had instituted a similar but smaller-scaled program, and the federal program appears to have been his own idea.

 The first CCC camps opened in the spring of 1933. They were supervised by the Labor Department, but because of the need to organize and equip them in a short time, they were run by the U.S. Army.  Eventually there were some 300,000 CCC workers each year, for a total over 9 years of some three million participants in some 4,000 camps.

 Single young men between the ages of 18 and 25 (later expanded to 17-28) were eligible to be selected. (Later there were provisions for women, and as customary at the time, separate camps for Black members.  Contrary to some war movies, the U.S. Armed Forces were also segregated throughout World War II.)  Each member was provided with free food, clothing, shelter and medical care, and a monthly wage, most of which was sent home to their families.  Members served six month terms, and could re-enroll for up to a total of two years.

 Walt’s CCC unit worked in the Big Spring state park in central Pennsylvania, but it’s not clear how much he participated in the outdoor toil.  His 1940 Census form notes that his area of occupation is “reforestation,” but his job is “clerk.” 

Walt at his CCC camp 1940

Three surviving letters to Walter at his camp—two from his mother in United, one from a buddy in another CCC camp in the Laurel Highlands—tell us that he was near the end of a term in the spring of 1940.  He was posted near Blain in Perry County, central Pennsylvania.  His camp was designated as Company1382 S-111. This CCC camp of 200 young men (known as Sundy Place and also as Camp Lorenzo Pryor) opened in 1933, and closed in July 1941.

 Like other CCC camps, S-111 had its own baseball and basketball teams that played teams from other camps or local communities.  There was a camp newspaper.  Typically CCC camps offered an array of classes and instruction, ranging from basic literacy and math skills to forestry, bookkeeping and mechanical drafting.  Social skills and job-hunting skills were also taught. 

 Walter’s friend, evidently from United, was at Kooser Camp, S-99 in Somerset, PA.  His letter was mostly about young women he met and dated in Somerset, where he was careful to appear only in “civilian” clothes as there evidently some prejudice against CCC members. “You know ‘woodpeckers’ don’t rate in Somerset,” he wrote.  He mentions that his camp was hosting monthly dances, and that the camp had a lot of visitors, some to use their recreation hall.  He asks Walt if there had been forest fires in his area. He said they had six in one day, and he was one of the camp’s volunteers to fight one of them.

 Judging from his mother’s first letter in April, Walt was due to come home for a six day leave, and had to decide if he was remaining in Blain for the summer. His father said they would miss the money, which they were saving.  He was working (evidently at the Humphreys mine), but there were layoffs because of “dirty coal.”  “He’s so proud of you,” she wrote.  

Big Spring State Park

The second letter in May suggests Walt had made up his mind and was returning.  (The letter also says Walt’s father Frank was celebrating his 40^th birthday on May 4, which would make his year of birth 1900 rather than 1899.)

 Catherine’s affectionate letters had news of people they knew in United.  She mentions a “Crolick boy,” evidently also in the CCCs, who came home and visited the Humphreys mine in Unity Township, which was one of the few still operating (it closed in 1946.)  She writes that her husband Frank saw him there. 

She also passes along the address of “Uncle Steve” Ellis (her brother) in Holidays Cove, West Virginia. 

But much of the news in her letters is about housing. Evidently the homes in United owned by the company were being sold.  She names those buying their own house or the house of neighbors.  She worries that they may have to move out if someone buys their house.

 There are also references to “daddy’s dad”—John Kowinsky-- buying his house, though this is likely the house of his son-in-law Mike Kochis, with whom he had been living since at least 1930.  There’s also a reference to “Mother,” who might have been John’s wife Josephine. 

 Catherine also mentions “the homestead” and the houses there up for sale.  This is the nearby New Deal project originally called the Westmoreland Homestead.  In 1934 the federal government bought up about 1500 acres of farmland and built a small community of  homes with attached land, a cooperative dairy, a building for a small factory that made clothing, and farmland held in common. Local families, usually with an unemployed head of household, applied for one of these homes. Some 250 were accepted, broadly representing the diversity of the area.  They got a house with a garden and chicken coop, and a job, often at the cooperative farm or their garment factory.

 In 1937, when Eleanor Roosevelt visited, this had become the largest of 92 subsistence homesteads created by the New Deal.  Mrs. Roosevelt was reputedly a strong supporter who insisted that the homes include running water and indoor toilets, which the nearby coal patch housing didn’t have.  After her visit the community voted to name itself after her, combining the last syllables of her first and last names to create Norvelt.

 The homesteaders paid a small rent, and apparently beginning in 1940 were given the opportunity to buy their homes.  Eventually most of them did.  The name of Norvelt still exists as an official community for the U.S. Census, alongside its neighbor Calumet. 

 After federal support was withdrawn, the garment factory at Norvelt continued in business for some years.  When it closed, other businesses moved into the building, including one that employed Deborah Kowinski Boice, one of Frank Kowinsky’s granddaughters.

 Had Frank Kowinsky unsuccessfully applied for a place in the Westmoreland Homestead? This is another unanswered question.  Eventually however, the family did buy their house in United.

 In the 1940 Census form, Frank listed his occupation as “miner,” but he had worked only 13 weeks in 1939. 

 If Walter did leave the CCCs in 1940 when he was 19, he was soon accepted into another but lesser-known New Deal program, a work experience project under the National Youth Administration. Some 155,000 young men and women got job training and paid work.

 Walter was assigned to a project in South Charleston, West Virginia called Armor City.  The work and training were evidently more for industrial jobs than work in the woods.  The name itself suggests that it became work in national defense.  At the time, South Charleston had a large naval munitions plant, once visited by President Roosevelt.

 (Also living in Charleston at the time was his father’s older sister, Anna.  She was married to Alex Squirts, and according to my Uncle Bill Kowinski, they ran the Edwards Hotel there.) 

 A group photo shows Walt in an army-style uniform, with his tie tucked into his shirt, similar to his CCC photo. Like the CCC camp, Armor City had its own newspaper, the Armonian, but this time Walter Kowinski was its editor. 

One mimeographed and stapled edition survived. It described Armor City as a “self-governing community.” The newspaper had news, sports and humor, with pen and ink illustrations and cartoons.  In the news was the fund drive held by the Youth Government of Armor City to benefit the British War Relief Society. They collected enough money to buy a hospital bed and all its equipment, including blankets, water and instrument sterilizers, bedpans, wash basins, ether blankets, towels and medicine glasses. 

 On Flag Day in June 1941, the young people at Armor City heard a group of debaters from nearby Marshall college hold a panel discussion on the topic, "Shall We Enter the War?"  Six months later, they had an answer.  Japanese forces attacked the American naval base at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii on December 7, destroying much of the Pacific fleet, and the US was shortly at war with the Axis powers of Japan, Germany and Italy.

 Walter registered for the draft in February of 1942.  By then he was living in Maryland, and working at the Middle River Aircraft plant in Baltimore.  He listed Glenn Martin as his employer.  Martin began the plant and is famous as the founder of Martin Aviation.  At the height of World War II, this aircraft manufacturer had 53,000 employees.

 Walt was called up at some point but failed the physical. The family story is it was because of color blindness.  But he also may have had a spinal deformity related to a bad fall as an infant. After growing up in the Depression, many young men failed the physical because of the effects of malnutrition or lack of needed medical care--especially those from coal mining areas.  Walt's brother Bugs also failed his physical.  

Walt either inquired about or unsuccessfully applied to join the Merchant Marines. The Merchant Marines were a vital component of the war effort, transporting cargo and passengers.  Under the direction of the US Navy, their ships were a vital supply line, especially across the Atlantic and later the Pacific to war zones.  Members of the Merchant Marines traveled on armed vessels, but Navy personnel manned the guns.  It was a dangerous assignment aboard these ships, which were prime targets for German U-Boats and other enemy warships: Merchant Marines casualties had the highest rates of all US services during World War II. (Being denied because of color blindness is also a plausible reason for this service.) 

 Walter was not alone in registering for the draft in early 1942: all American males ages 18-64 were required to do so by an Act of Congress on December 19,1941. Walt’s brother Bugs (Frank, Jr.) registered on June 30, 1942, when he was living in Braddock, PA, and working at the Edgar Thompson works, a steel mill owned by Carnegie Illinois Steel. Even Walter’s father Frank Kowinsky registered on February 10 in United.  

Kowinski family in 1943. Top left 2nd row is Catherine Ellis Kowinsky.  Squatting lower right in 
white shirt is her husband Frank Kowinsky.  Their son Walter Kowinski is sprawled at bottom.  His
sister Beatty is directly down from Catherine, in a similar dress.  Next to her with arms around
youngsters is their brother Bugs (Frank, Jr.).  Others in the photo include Catherine's brother
Charles and sister Ann next to her, and Margerie Ellis.

Walter was in Maryland in August 1943, when he was called home for the funeral of his mother. She had received treatments at Pittsburgh Women's Hospital for cancer resulting from poor medical care during childbirth.  Catherine Ellis Kowinsky died at home at the age of 41.  I recall my Uncle Bugs  saying that it hit Walter particularly hard.  But it would be Bugs who years later would fondly remember the aroma of his mother’s pies cooling in the window.

Walt's brother Bill suggests that it was Walt as a young adult who began spelling his last name with an "i" at the end instead of a "y."  His brothers then did the same. Bill didn't recall why, and when I had asked my father about the reason for this difference in spelling, his answer was vague and possibly evasive.  But from then on, it was Kowinski.   

 

Bill Kowinski, Seaman

Earlier in 1943, Walter’s youngest brother Bill Kowinski finished his second year of high school and joined the Navy in July, at the age of 17.   Bill told me that since both of his older brothers were found medically unfit for the armed services, he felt it was up to him.  He wanted to serve his country.

 After basic training at Great Lakes Naval Training Station in Illinois and further training at Pearl Harbor, he joined the crew of 2700 aboard the battleship USS Pennsylvania in September 1943. The Pennsylvania was classified as a super-dreadnought battleship, built in the first decade of the 20^th century.  It was too advanced to see action in World War I (it ran on scarce diesel fuel instead of coal) and by the time World War II began, it was limited by older technology, particularly radar.  But the Pennsylvania was used heavily to support troop landings, recon and other activities in the war in the Pacific with suppressing fire. It’s probably why, as Bill told me, this ship fired more rounds than any other in the history of war.  

Walt wasn't the only Kowinski boy interested in radios.  Bill had learned to fix radio sets, and on weekends in high school he made some extra cash repairing radios.  When he passed on this information to his superiors in the Navy, they put him to work fixing radio equipment on the Pennsylvania.

Bill had barely a month to get used to the ship when the Pennsylvania began shelling Makin Atoll, where it was under fire from Japanese planes, and shaken by an explosion on a smaller vessel nearby.  In January and February 1944, the Pennsylvania bombarded several of the Marshall Islands. After a memorable liberty in Australia in April, the ship began weeks of shelling various targets in Guam and other islands.

 In October 1944, the Pennsylvania was tasked with providing covering fire for activities in preparation for the assault on Leyte in the Phillippines. It was there, in the Suriago Strait, that the Pennsylvania was present and tangentially involved (chiefly anti- aircraft) in one of the decisive naval battles of the war, where US forces defeated and mostly destroyed the remnants of the Imperial Japanese Navy.

 The Pennsylvania returned to San Francisco in February for overhaul and training, probably preparing for the expected final assault on Japan itself, and didn’t leave again until July 1945.  After bombarding Wake Island, the ship arrived at Okinawa on August 12, as the flagship of Task Force 95.  Fighting had been going on for that island just 400 miles from Japan since April.  However, by the time the Pennsylvania arrived, the first atomic bomb had destroyed the city of Hiroshima in Japan on August 6, and another atom bomb obliterated Nagasaki on August 8.  Afterwards the US had communicated its terms for Japan’s surrender. 

 But the war was not officially over when a torpedo from a Japanese airplane ripped into the Pennsylvania at about 8 p.m. on its first night at Okinawa.  The explosions awoke seaman Bill Kowinski, catching a few hours of sleep before his midnight watch.  “From that moment on it was chaos,” he told a newspaper reporter in 2020.  He followed his orders—“You just wanted to do what you could to save the ship.” 

 There was a huge hole in the ship’s side, but that area was sealed off (at the cost of 20 lives, including those killed in the explosion) and the ship survived. Three days later, the war was officially over, so the Pennsylvania became the last major ship to be damaged by enemy fire in World War II.

 Temporary repairs began there and later in Guam, before the ship sailed for port in the state of Washington, USA. Meanwhile, a young communications officer was tasked with organizing the burial at sea of those who’d died.  His name was Johnny Carson, known until then for doing magic tricks and telling jokes to entertain the crew.  He was a funny guy, who claimed he once pranked an admiral.

 Bill was honorably discharged in February 1946.  That summer, the Pennsylvania was back in the Pacific (without him) as a floating guinea pig in the first postwar atomic bomb tests called Operation Crossroads, which began on the day I was born.

 Other members of both the extended Severini and Kowinski families were involved in the war effort.  For example, Jenny Romasco, daughter of Gioconda’s sister Pearl, was a secretary for the Quartermaster General at the Pentagon.  And as factory workers at Robershaw, Walter Kowinski and Flora Severini were doing war work.

 It was probably after his mother’s death in 1943 that Walter found a job at the Robertshaw plant in Youngwood, and met the dark haired Italian girl who shared her lunch with him.  

Walter Kowinski and Flora Severini 1945