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South Seattle has many schools with interesting histories. Our children attend newer, rebuilt schools, such as Muir and Whitworth, or older schools like Columbia (Orca). Once a building is rebuilt much of its history can be lost. The Rainier Valley Historical Society seeks to keep memories of our “goldenrule days” alive. A recent acquisition of the society includes a photo album from Brighton School. The volume includes pictures of championship softball teams from the 1940s and graduation classes, with names, from 1927 through 1945. These priceless photos were protected by a sturdy wooden cover, which prevented their destruction in the fire at Brighton in 1946. Historical society volunteers were able to separate the photographs, make copies of them and add them to our collection. The photograph above is of the Brighton School, built on land donated by Judge Everett Smith, opened on the southeast corner of 51st Avenue and Graham Street on January 1, 1901. It must have been an exciting day when Miss Pearl Groat opened the doors on that winter morn. Students came from all over to attend first through third grades at the new school, while the older children completed their elementary years at Columbia. By 1904-1905 school year it was necessary for the third and fourth graders to attend school in the basement of the Brighton Presbyterian Church, at the corner of Rainier and Brighton. Evidently, over the next few years the population grew, and by the time the area was annexed to the Seattle School District, in 1907, students also attended Dunlap, Van Asselt and Rainier Beach schools. Older students traveled to Broadway High School, known then as Washington High. The number of students necessitated the use of the Franklin grade school for the Rainier Valley students in 1907. This annex site at 18th and Main was used until 1912 when the current Franklin High School was built. Given this set of circumstances a child attend first and second grades at Brighton, third and fourth at the church, finish elementary school at Columbia, attend Washington for two years and finally complete highs school at Franklin. Whew! And we thought life was easier back then! Even if a child stayed at Brighton he or she would have moved around a bit. The first Brighton closed in 1905 when the new school opened at 4425 Holly Street. The post-World War I years saw pupils again fill the old school, affectionately called “Little Brighton,” with first and second-grade classes for a time. The old building was finally sold and moved in 1943, which proved to be unfortunate since the “New” building, now 40 years old, was partially destroyed by fire on Sept. 22, 1946. Nearly 300 students were in need of a classroom that fall. Portables and neighborhood schools absorbed these kids until the school could be rebuilt. At least by the 1940s transportation through Rainier Valley was relatively easy. Parents undoubtedly told their children tales of the “good old days,” trudging through muck and snow to get to school – and their stories probably were stretched only slightly. Prior to 1891 early settlers reached the area by traveling on a corduroy road, a wagon-train trail, which traversed Beacon Hill on its way to the city of Seattle. A trip across the hill would have taken one to two hours to complete. Horses would have been left at the Montana Stables on Washington Street while residents shopped for provisions and socialized with the folks in town. Much of a day would be spent by the time they returned from their excursion. Eager for progress, some of the settlers were happy to see Mr. Edmiston and others invest in a company that platted the Columbia area and sold lots for $10 down and $1 a week for 300 weeks, no interest. But a streetcar line had to be built to get the potential buyers out there.  The line started at the waterfront, up Washington St. by cable car and then out to Columbia City in 1890. The next year to Rainier Beach and then on the Renton. The inaugural run was made on Jan. 1, 1891. The line ran from Seattle to Rainier Beach along what is now Rainier Avenue. The fare was a nickel to travel from downtown to Dunlap’s addition. Turn-of-the-century students at Brighton, and other neighborhood schools, would cross pasture-land and woods on their way to school each day. Wooden fences were constructed around the school, to keep the cows out as much as to keep the children in. Mothers in the community united in a campaign to get the land cleared for a playfield at Brighton. They must have had a time of it, cleaning their children’s clothes and shoes after they had traveled to school and back across the fields, streams, cow pastures and woods. Think of that as you pick your children up in your car after they have been at school! But that is a topic for another story. Days Gone By South District Journal 12/2/1998 By Mary Ann Balch

Charlie Fletcher was the last surviving motorman from the Rainier Valley Street car line. Before he passed away in October of 1994 at the age of 93, he wrote of his experiences as a motorman during the years of the early development of the Valley. He presented his story, printed below, to his fellow members of the Pioneers of Columbia City, our predecessor organization, on the occasion of their annual April meeting. The script was then added to the Pioneer's historical archives. The photo below shows car # 106 of the Seattle, Renton and Southern, Rainier Valley Lines, taking time-out on a curve somewhere along Rainier Avenue, waiting for the photographer to capture the moment. This particular car was one of nine cars placed into service in 1910 and was built here in Seattle at the Moran Shipyards. Charlie Fletcher was one of the motormen running those cars back and forth between Renton and downtown Seattle over the route that at one time was considered the longest interurban line in the country. The Seattle City Council ordered the line to cease operations at the end of 1936. Car # 106 was the last car to operate on the line, and it clattered across the switches at the Hudson Street Car-Barns at 1:45 AM, January 1, 1937, to end 45 years of street car service to Rainier Valley and Renton. "Memories of a Rainier Valley Street Car Operator", the talk given by Charlie Fletcher, is printed here. For those of you who knew him, you will remember him for his great sense of humor and the smile that was forever on his face. "Friends, Valleyites and Columbians -- lend me your ears! I come to reminisce a bit, not to bore you. I hope I may be able to bring the past to life for us, just for a little while. First, let me tell you of a family moving here to Rainier Valley in 1915, from a very little town in Southwestern Washington. I was one of that family, and if ever there was a 'hick', I was it, but I didn't know it. My parents had both been school teachers and they taught us to read and write before reaching school age. But I had another advantage. I had memorized the textbooks that my older sisters and brother used so when I entered school, they kept me just one day in the first grade and only four days in the second grade. I'm afraid I was a real smarty-pants on reaching the third grade so easily, but that seemed to pave the way straight to my teacher's heart. Miss Collins adopted our class and stayed with us through the eighth grade. I was to finish my schooling just before my 14th birthday. Thanks to her faith in me, I was allowed to attend high school classes in Math, Latin and English, while I was in seventh grade. We moved to Seattle in 1915 and rented a house at 51st and Lucille St. My brother-in-law was a good friend of the superintendent and got me a job on the S.R.S. Lines, sweeping cars. At seventeen I became night foreman, a position I held until 1927 when I moved to operator. Now let's imagine you are all on my car at 4th and Stewart, about to head to Renton, and let me share some of my memories with you. Ready now - We must wait until the exact second to start. Schedule was all important on the S.R.S. No fudging. Our watches had to be checked daily with the dispatcher's clock. Our first stop is Pine Street, where a group of passengers get on the car. One gentleman asks me, 'Do you stop at Oscar Street?' Taken aback, I ask him, 'Do you mean Orcas Street?' 'No, Oscar Street, taking an envelope out of his pocket and showing me. It was clearly Orcas, but he was still calling me dumb when he left the car. We move on to Jackson Street. Here a lady, accompanied by a Red-Cap, placed a dozen pieces of luggage on the car, then called to me, 'What streets do you cross?' I guess I was a little dumbfounded and asked what street she wanted? She said she would know when she heard it. I told her I always call out the names so she decided to get on board. She got off, luggage and all, when she heard 'Oregon'.Further along we are at Atlantic Street. A well-dressed little Italian man asks me, 'what is you name?' When I tell him, he says his wife wants to name their baby after me because I was so careful when she rode in my car in her delicate condition. Gee Whiz! I never did find out who she was. Now we arrive at Columbia. Passing the car-barn we see 'old 300', the freight locomotive. I will share a quick remembrance of when I still worked in the shop. One evening the boss went with the crew to deliver a load of lumber to Dugdale Park. When the delivery was completed they checked in and went home. Later I gave it my usual inspection and to my surprise I found a very, very frightened and a very warm young lady locked in the control chamber where the temperature was over 100 degrees. I took her home and all was well. This is the first time I have revealed this incident and I'm not mentioning names. Continuing our trip, we come to Rainier Beach, Taylor's Mill and the city limits, where I must collect an additional fare. Then we ride along the lake shore to Bryn :Mawr. Here in 1917, one of the cars ran over a cougar. My crew had to clean up the trucks, and believe me it was a mess. Buffalo station is next. Earlington and we make a sharp turn east and head into Renton, the end of the line. At the end of the line is where a lady got on my car and went quickly to the back seat. Before I could send for a doctor, we had an extra passenger, a bouncing baby boy. As we head back to Seattle we have one more story. We had a wild, stormy Sunday in 1934. The wind was recorded at 66 mph. At the 51st Avenue stop, two lovely sisters are waiting for my car. Aghast, I ask, 'where are you girls going in this storm?' 'Oh, just to see what's happening downtown'. What they saw downtown in just a few minutes was enough and they returned with me on the way back.Now, one of the girls is here today and last week she and I celebrated our 53rd wedding anniversary" Charlie ended his talk with this message: "Now if there is going to be a life hereafter and, faith, I know there's going to be, I will ask my God to let me make my heaven In that dear land in Rainier Valley." Days Gone By South District Journal 2/10/1999 By Buzz Anderson

A hundred years ago, women's roles in the public sphere often grew out of their experience as wives and mothers at home: women worked as leaders in the temperance movement, advocated international peace, and raised money to help the needy. Even in their paid work women were limited to "feminine" jobs like nursing and teaching- though they generally had to forgo marriage and motherhood if they wanted to keep these jobs. Unable to pursue careers, mothers often contributed their energy, skills, and leadership through volunteer work. But without the vote, their efforts to affect public policy were easily thwarted. The women of Columbia City made this discovery in 1905 when 83 of them petitioned the all-male City Council to close the local pool hall on Sundays, and at 11 pm the rest of the week. Their petition was followed immediately by another one, signed by 90 men, requesting that the Council ignore " a certain petition presented at your last meeting." The pool hall remained open on Sunday. The women could berate their husbands over this incident-- and surely some of them did-- but as they could not vote for City Council, their voices did not carry beyond the dining room table. Their kind of experience showed many women that they would never have the power to address the issues they cared about until they got the right to vote. This exhibit was created in 2009 in conjunction with the Washington State History Society's Exhibit, "Women's Votes, Women's Voices". Rainier Valley Historical Society celebrates Rainier Valley's many women leaders and their varied avenues of public life and commitment to improving their communities and beyond. Explore other articles in this exhibit: Beyond the Laundry: Women Changing the World Mothers Club Leads the Way Marion Southard West

When Marion Southard married Phillip Weiss in 1926, she gave up her career as a social worker in order to raise her children. Back then, there wasn't much of a choice. But Mrs. Weiss used her professional knowledge in her volunteer activities throughout her marriage, serving with the Council on Aging, Health and Welfare, Planned Parenthood, the League of Women Voters, and the Seattle Housing Authority and many others. In 1964 society columnist Dorothy Brant Braizer described Mrs. Weiss's work in the public sector as an extension of her traditional homemaking role: at the lovely Weiss home near Lake Washington she says, "No wonder, with such pleasant surroundings, Mrs. Weiss is particularly interested in comfortable adequate housing for others." But Marion Weiss's service to her community clearly grew out of her professional role as well. Seattle was lucky that this accomplished, compassionate woman found a place to use her talents, education, and experience in public service. She died in 1971 after a four-year fight with cancer. This exhibit was created in 2009 in conjunction with Washington State History Society's Exhibit, "Women's Votes, Women's Voices". Rainier Valley Historical Society celebrates Rainier Valley's many women leaders and their varied avenues of public life and commitment to improving their communities and beyond. Explore other articles in this exhibit: Beyond Laundry: Women Changing the World Working for Change without the Vote Mothers Club Leads the Way

In 1909 the Washington State Legislature voted to put women's suffrage on the ballot. Washington's male voters passed the measure in 1910, making Washington the 5th state in the Union to acknowledge women's right to vote. Women were not given the vote; they earned it. Across the state, professional women and middle-class club ladies joined with women from unions and granges, working for years to win over male voters. They gave speeches, put up posters, dropped flyers out of biplanes, and delivered “Votes for Women” pies to Old Soldiers’ Homes. Our corner of Seattle did not produce any prominent leaders in the suffrage movement. But the women of Rainier Valley have been active in public life in many ways- from the Rainier Beach Women's Club, which founded the first kindergarten in Seattle in 1910, to Denise Gloster who organized the first March for Youth to protest youth violence in 2008. Marion Southard Weiss used her social work training with the Seattle Housing Authority among other worthy causes. Ruby Chow defied stereotypes to emerge as a leader in the Chinese community and beyond. And Dawn Mason has worked tirelessly on behalf of women, people of color and other marginalized members of the community. This exhibit was created in 2009 in conjunction with the Washington State History Society's Exhibit, "Women's Votes, Women's Voices". Rainier Valley Historical Society celebrates Rainier Valley's many women leaders and their varied avenues of public life and commitment to improving their communities and beyond. Explore other articles in this exhibit: Working for Change without the Vote Mothers Club Leads the Way Marion Southard West

Children's issues were deemed an appropriate arena for women: Washington Women started voting in school elections in 1890. The Rainier Beach Women's Club began in 1908 as the "Mother's Club". In 1910 they established a public kindergarten at Emerson School. According to club records "The Board of Education supplied heat, light, and janitorial service; the Mothers supplied...furniture and equipment, and paid the salary of a teacher. A small fee was charged each child, but underprivileged children were there at the expense of the Mothers." Kindergartens allowed children to make friends, develop social skills, and learn through play. They also ave mothers a few child-free hours each week and they showed the women who organized them that they had the power to change the work in their own way. By the 1930s the Emerson mothers had created a preschool as well. Today Mothers' Clubs have evolved into PTAs, many of which still subsidize the salaries of kindergarten teachers. This exhibit was created in 2009 in conjunction with Washington Sate History Society's Exhibit, "Women's Votes, Women's Voices". Rainier Valley Historical Society celebrates Rainier Valley's many women leaders and their varied avenues of public life and commitment to improving their communities and beyond. Explore other articles in this exhibit: Beyond the Laundry: Women Changing the World Working for Change without the Vote Marion Southard West

Please join us for an online talk with David J. Jepsen, author of “Contested Boundaries: A New Pacific Northwest History” on the primary themes of exclusion, racial issues, and the disproportionate impact of the Covid-19 pandemic on communities of color.

Change is now. The video documenting George Floyd’s murder has shaken the world. America’s silence has been broken and voices have been heard loud and clear across the country. In support of ending anti-Black racism, RVHS is committed to the voices of Black Lives Matter. As we dig deep into our mission statement to find how history connects us, we are ready to improve how we collect, preserve, interpret, and share African American heritage. We are committed to hosting the Dismantling Racism series, sharing educational resources, supporting Black owned- businesses, and exhibiting Rainier Valley's Black American history. We stand in solidarity for justice and equality for Black Americans and for the changes needed now. RVHS Board of Directors and Archives and Programs Manager

Watch a presentation on voting rights, voter suppression, and disenfranchisement that results from institutional racism and racist policymaking. Our presenter is Maya Manus the Advocacy and Civic Engagement Coordinator of the Urban League of Metropolitan Seattle Watch Here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TGFUpM8GjqQ

This project was completed in 2011 and was founded by a special project grant from King County 4Culture. John Hoole and I began our exploration of community activism in the Rainier Valley with a simple question: How do ordinary people affect positive change in their communities? The Rainier Valley has a long tradition of civic activism, dating back at least as far as the petition filed by the ladies of Columbia City in 1905, urging the Town Council to close the local pool room on Sundays and at 11 pm the rest of the week. We were particularly curious about the period from 1970 to 1990, when many of the issues facing the Rainier Valley today came to the force, and man of the people and organizations now at work in the community got their start. Our research began with a treasure trove of slides, minutes, correspondence, and other materials documenting the activists of SESCO, the South End Seattle Community Organization, which was founded in 1975. The materials were donated to the RVHS by Rodney Herold, one of SESCO’s founders. We knew SESCO represented a specific approach to community activism, inspired by the work of Chicago organizer Saul Alinsky, author of the classic “Rules for Radicals.” We were curious to understand SESCO’s philosophy, goals, and strategies, to compare them to the work done by other community activists during the same period, and to see what lessons we could glean from the mix. As we read through documents and conducted oral history interviews, we learned many interesting connections (and a few conflicts) among the people and groups that were at work in the Rainier Valley in the 1970s, ‘80s, and ‘90s. We saw successes and failures, flashy media-savvy campaigns and long hard slogs behind the scenes. We saw people were empowered by small victories, and good intentions that lead to unintended consequences. The threads are complicated; it would take years of research to fully untangle them. We hope to continue our research in the future, and we encourage those of you with stories we failed to capture, to share them with RVHS. (2021 note: We would still love to hear your stories please email us at office@rainiervalleyhistory.org) Meanwhile, we would like to share a few of the lessons we drew from the various stories people told us over the course of the project. First of all, we learned that experts can be wrong. As the story of Greenwood Gardens shows, bureaucrats and planners do not always make decisions that benefit individual communities. They may have self-serving motives, like maintaining their jobs or perpetuating their organizations. Or they may have broader goals—from ending homelessness to balancing the state budget—that may not align with the priorities or needs of local residents. Or they may be under the say of a new trend in city planning or education reform that will prove to be deeply flawed. That large government entities often wield massive resources only make their blunders bigger. Second, social capital is powerful. People who live and work together over a long period of time—like the members of the Rainier Chamber in the 1970s —develop a network of mutual trust and reciprocal responsibility that can be called upon when they want to make a change in their community. Small acts of neighborly generosity can help build that network. Never underestimate the power of a shared lawnmower! Alinsky- style campaigns can be extremely effective. A narrowly defined issue with a clear target, and escalating tactics designed to hold that target accountable, will almost certainly produce action on that narrowly defined issue. The story of the Dunlap Dump demonstrates this, as does the tale of the Lucile Street Bridge. (The Lucile Street Bridge story also shows us the necessity of vigilance in the endgame!) Focusing on small, achievable goals, can prevent activists from seeing the bigger picture. Now, the bigger picture can be overwhelming, confusing, discouraging, and paralyzing; there generally isn’t a simple, obvious solution—this is why Alinksy advised organizers to focus on small, achievable goals. But sometimes the problems are bigger than that, and the solutions have to be bigger too. In the case of  Whitworth School, there were systemic, fundamental problems underlying Whitworth’s situation—systemic problems that pitted school against school, parents against neighbors. What might have happened with everyone had worked together to address those systemic issues? Finally, and perhaps most importantly: ordinary people can change the world. Despite the cautionary principles listed above, we have found ourselves inspired again and again by the stories we heard and the people we talked to during this project. Kay Godefroy; the PTA President who went from founding an afternoon Kindergarten at Whitworth to heading up the Rainier Chamber’s anti-crime work in the 1980s, told us: “If you can organize a PTA spaghetti dinner, you can do anything. You don’t need professionals, you don’t need funding, you can make changes with the force of your will.” Many other people embodied this spirit, Pauline Wilson, Brighton resident, and mother of seven, whose talent and passion were brought out by SESCO organizers and who became a powerful voice in the fight to tear down Greenwood Gardens. Jean Vel Dwyk, whose tireless advocacy on behalf of Rainier Valley businesses and residents has wrong positive change out of the worst situations. B.J. Santos, who at the age of eleven organized a talent show at Whitworth that raised $135 to paint the boys' bathrooms, and who told the School Board that the students “could not take care of all such problems” without their help. Jim Diers, who started out as a SESCO organizer, and went on to take Saul Alinksy’s principles of community empowerment and build them into the city government, as the first director of the Department of Neighborhoods. It was an ironic idea, city hall training people to fight city hall, but the DON—particularly the Neighborhood Matching Fund—has been a powerful force for improvement and citizen empowerment in neighborhoods across the city. We see a lot of hope even in the most contentious arguments in the Rainier Valley—over density, light rail, school closures, and so on—even though they sometimes weaken the social capital that gives neighborhood activists their true power. These conflicts are the result of a necessary tension among different people, institutions, and perspectives in our community. Conflicts also show us that people here care what happens in their community. They know its past (thanks to the work for the RVHS) and they have a stake in its future. And time and again they have fought passionately for the kind of future they want to see.

Garlic Gulch Legacy by Mikala Woodward, Excerpted from Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook Many Italian families – like many other Rainier Valley residents at that time -- raised their own vegetables and fruits in their gardens. Vincent’s grandmother “raised garlic, onions, peppers, tomatoes. Round the edge of the garden there was a big fence, and in that fence was raspberries. Oh man! In the middle of that there garden was a pear tree. And oh! It used to produce pears, I’m gonna tell you that. Then she had five great big cherry trees. Oh man! And one great big Italian prune tree. They would pick the prunes and they’d bring them down to the store and they’d sell them for a pretty good price. Real tasty.” Many of those prune trees – Italian plums -- are still there: the living heritage of the old “Garlic Gulch” neighborhood. And they are still feeding Rainier Valley neighbors. Phyllis Macay moved to Mount Baker in 1994 and bought a house with seven Italian plum trees in the yard. She came up with a delicious way to enjoy the fruit: “There seems to be no bugs that attack ‘em. I don’t even water ‘em or anything, and they’re really, really pretty, and very, very sweet. Two years ago, I got a million plums and I had no idea what to do with them. I gave them away to everybody. I mean, what am I going to do with these plums? I didn’t just wanna let them rot. I made a Chinese plum sauce. I tried to make plum pies, but that didn’t work – they’re too moist. Plum with pork is really good, but how many times can you make a pork roast? “I had already been experimenting with this bread. I called it my Soon To Be Famous Plum Bread, and now all my friends, when I go to a party they say “Bring your plum bread!” There is no fat at all in it. Yet it’s rich and it’s good. You can make it sweet and not so sweet. If I don’t put any sugar in it at all, it’s still really sweet ‘cause the plums are so sweet. It’s a great dessert; it’s a great breakfast.” RECIPE: NOW FAMOUS PLUM BREAD Phyllis Macay 1/2 cup sugar 1 1/2 cup plums, chopped 1/2 cup dried fruit – cranberries or raisins 1 cup whole wheat flour 1/2 cup unbleached flour 2 Tbsp Wheat germ 1 tsp each baking soda, salt, and nutmeg 1 1/2 tsp each baking powder and ground fresh ginger 1 cup shredded raw carrots 1 cup chopped nuts 1 Tbsp vanilla 2 eggs Mix sugar, plums, and dried fruit. Set aside. Mix flours, wheat germ, soda, salt, nutmeg, baking powder, and ginger. Set aside. Lightly coat 2 bread pans with cooking spray. Dust with flour. Mix plums into flour mixture well; add carrots and nuts; add vanilla and eggs. Stir well. Pour into pans. Top with whole halves of nuts. Sprinkle with sugar. Bake at 350° for 50 minutes. Cool, then wrap in wax paper. Wait for 24 hours, enjoy or freeze.

Excerpted from Rainier Valley Food Stories Cookbook The greatest love stories all feature a seemingly insurmountable obstacle, overcome by a devoted couple – think Romeo and Juliet, Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson. This first in our series of Rainier Valley Love Stories has all the elements of a classic tale: a handsome soldier, a pretty girl, a chain link fence furtively climbed in the dead of night, a journey across the Atlantic to bring the beloved home. This tale, worthy of Hollywood, is the love story of Mike and Mary Prontera. Mary died in 2002, but Mike still operates his barber shop on McClellan Street, as he has for 56 years. The story begins during World War Two when the United States was fighting the original Axis powers, Germany, Italy, and Japan. After Italy surrendered, the Americans began to send Italian prisoners of war back to the States. The P.O.W. camp was located down by Boeing Field, at the southern end of the Rainier Valley. The area was mostly farmland, and some of the nearby farms were owned by Italian Americans. Rose Isernio Vacca remembers: “That was not far from my mom’s and dad’s home, it was really almost across the street, where there used to be a big cow pasture, they built barracks there in order to house the prisoners.” Mike Prontera was one of those Italian prisoners, captured in North Africa. According to Rose, who would become his sister-in-law, “when [Mike] came here, as a prisoner of war, he was so peaked and so skinny. During the war there [in Italy] they had hardly anything to eat. He says, it got so that they almost had to eat snakes, he said, some of them did kill snakes and eat snakes.” The Italian P.O.W.s spent their days working in the shipyards, where wartime workers were in short supply. In the evenings they entertained their neighbors. Says Rose: “They used to have dances. They used to have music. They used to have everything. So all the girls used to flock there, on Saturdays and Sundays, to the prison.” With so many men away to war, the chance to meet some eligible bachelors must have been quite a draw. The dances became quite the rage among Italian Americans all up and down the Rainier Valley, and all over Seattle. Mary Vacca, whose father owned the farm behind Sicks Seattle Stadium on McClellan Street, met Mike at one of these dances. They fell in love, and Mike began to sneak out of the prison camp at night to go have dinner with Mary’s family. Apparently he wasn’t the only one – some men swam or rowed across the Duwamish River to visit girls in South Park. Rose’s parents hosted a huge gathering every Sunday. Ralph Vacca, Mary’s nephew, was a child at the time, but he remembers the scene vividly: the prisoners “couldn’t even speak English, but I remember they would go over to my grandparent’s farm, and my mother had nine brothers and sisters in her family. So it was this big “My Big Greek Wedding” kind of a thing. Every Sunday everyone went over to the farm. They would play bocce ball and my God, at dinnertime, the table was from here to there. There might be twenty, thirty people. And they would come over and they’d spend a day with Italian families and they would talk Italian and have spaghetti and whatever else was on the table.” Ralph goes on: “Well, the war ended and my to-be uncle Mike went back to Italy. [Laughs] My aunt chased him—went over to Italy and married him, brought him back.” Mike was from the town of Lecce, in the boot-heel of Italy. Rose recalls, “[Mary] and another gal, she was a blond that fell in love with [a] prisoner, too. So the two of them went to Italy, if you can imagine. When they got to Italy, Italy was a war-torn thing.” The trains were broken down, buildings and bridges destroyed by the war. Mary and her friend finally arrived in Lecce and found Mike. Rose recalls, “So she came back with him. They got married there, and then they came here. They lived with her folks for a while, and then [her] dad built them a house there on 30th. And that was the story.” Ralph: He was a barber by trade, and I remember as a kid, we’d sit in the big pantry and he’d cut all of our hair. Then he got that place [Mike’s Barber Shop on McClelland]. Been there ever since.