The Shoemaker's Wife(48)

Signor Anderson leaned back in his chair. He fixed his eyeglasses on his prominent nose. His thick eyebrows arched as he asked, “Who is your sponsor?”

“Remo Zanetti of Thirty-six Mulberry Street.”

“And your trade?”

“I’m a shoemaker’s apprentice.”

“How old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

The officer stamped Ciro’s documents for entry into the United States. The name Lazzari remained on Ciro’s paperwork. “You may go. Return to the ferry line on the slip, and it will take you across to Manhattan.”

Ciro held his paperwork in his hand, stamped with fresh midnight blue ink. He had everything he needed to start his new life. Part of gratitude is sharing one’s good fortune, and Ciro felt compelled to do so. “Signor Anderson, I don’t want to be any trouble,” he began.

The officer looked up at Ciro with a look of bemused irritation. Didn’t this young man understand that he was lucky? He had gotten through Ellis Island without a hitch, even his Italian surname was intact.

“Could you help my friend? His name is Luigi Latini. He worked in the furnace room with me. He’s a good man. His parents made a match, and he needs to catch the train to Ohio to meet the girl. He’s afraid if he doesn’t get there in time, she’ll marry someone else.”

Anderson rolled his eyes. “Where is he?”

“Line three. In the back.”

“Wait here,” Anderson said. He took the file and left Ciro alone in the room.

Ciro reached into his pocket and pulled out the medal Sister Teresa had given him as a parting gift. He kissed the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Ciro hadn’t found religion, but he knew to be grateful. Ciro sat back and inhaled the sweet scent of the polished oak of the walls. This room was ten times the size of his cell in steerage. Space, square footage, width and height, these were the things Ciro would remember about the passage from Italy to America.

Luigi Latini entered with Officer Anderson, his face the same pale gray hue as their immigration papers.

“Don’t worry, Luigi. Officer Anderson is here to help us,” Ciro said to Luigi as he took a seat next to him.

“Are you a good Catholic too, Signor Latini?” Officer Anderson smiled.

“Si, si,” Luigi said, looking at Ciro.

“I’m glad you didn’t ask me that question, Officer Anderson.” Ciro grinned.

When the officer concluded his line of questions, Ciro said, “Luigi doesn’t want to be a Lewis either.”

“You want to keep your name too?” Signor Anderson asked.

“May I?” Luigi looked at Ciro and then at the officer.

Officer Anderson stamped Luigi’s papers. “You boys behave yourselves,” he said, reaching into his pocket and handing them each a stick of gum.

“What is this, sir?” Ciro asked.

“Chewing gum.”

Luigi and Ciro looked at one another, then down at the small foil-covered rectangles.

“You never had it?”

The boys shook their heads. Ciro remembered Massimo Zito said that redheads chewed gum.

“It’s very American. Like hot dogs and cigarettes. Try it.”

The boys unwrapped the gum, placing the pink slices in their mouths.

“Now chew.”

The boys commenced chewing. Sweet bursts of clove filled their mouths. “Don’t swallow the gum. You’ll get worms. That’s what my wife says, anyhow.” He laughed.

Ciro took one last look at the registry hall as he left with Luigi. For the rest of his life, Ciro would admire the classic lines and grand scale of American architecture. Beyond the buildings, beyond this port city, he imagined there were acres to farm, plenty of coal to mine, steel to weld, tracks to lay, and roads to build. There was a job for every man who wanted to work. Luckily for Ciro, every one of those men would need a pair of shoes. Ciro was beginning to understand the concept of America, and it was changing his view of the world and of himself. A man could think clearly in a place that gave breadth to his dreams.

There were all manners of souvenirs and trinkets for sale when Ciro and Luigi disembarked from the ferry into the port of lower Manhattan. Signs advertising Sherman Turner cigars, Zilita Black tobacco, and Roisin’s Doughnuts graced rolling carts selling Sally Dally Notions and Flowers by Yvonne Benne. The stands competed for the immigrant business. Ciro and Luigi came face to face with the engine of American life: You work, and then you spend.

Luigi purchased a small rhinestone heart brooch for his bride-to-be, while Ciro bought a bouquet of yellow roses for Mrs. Zanetti. Then they were funneled through a walkway and under an arch with a sign that read,

Welcome to New York

Luigi turned to Ciro. “I go to Grand Central Station to take the train to Chicago and then Ohio.”

“I’m going to Mulberry Street,” Ciro said.

“I’m going to learn English on the way to Chicago.”

“And I’m going to learn it when I get to Little Italy. Can you believe it, Luigi? I have to go to a place called Italy to learn English,” Ciro joked as they shook hands.

“You take care of yourself,” Luigi said.

“Good luck with Alberta. I know she will be more beautiful than her photograph.”

Luigi whistled. “Buona fortuna,” he said before he disappeared into the crowd headed for the el train.