Words by Pat Eggleton
Margo Giovannone is from the Rhondda Valley in Wales, UK and now lives near Cardiff. Here she talks about her Italian family and how she went about finding them.
My parents
I was born in Tonypandy in the Rhondda Valley in Wales. My mother was Welsh-speaking and my father was Italian. His family was from Arpino, Frosinone [Lazio]. They met at an Italian dance and it was love at first sight. They were so different: my mother was very religious, always anxious and “proper” while my father was an atheist and communist. Yet I never heard them quarrel.
We lived with my Welsh grandparents. They loved my father but were very strict: No playing cards were allowed in the house and there was no wine and no electricity – these were considered the devil’s work!
My Italian grandparents
My Italian grandparents were Francesco Giovannone from Arpino and my grandmother was Angelina Gargano from Atrani, on the outskirts of Amalfi [Salerno, Campania]. I suspect that they met in London as they had both arrived there before the 1901 census. They lived in Roman Road in the East End of London before joining relatives in Wales.
Every Sunday night we went to Francesco’s to eat Angelina’s beautiful food and to hear husband and wife shouting at each other. I used to cry and my father would say,
“Don’t cry. They are only arguing about tomorrow’s weather!”
There was a sad time when Nonno wasn’t there and, being little, I kept asking where he was. I was too young to understand that he had been interned on the Isle of Man [as an “enemy alien”]. But I do remember that suddenly he was back, with a jar of shells from the beach for me.
Unfortunately, I didn’t speak Italian. Both my mother and father thought it more important for me to excel in English.
A first trip to Italy
I had a half-sister, Rosina, who was about nine years older than me. She had been brought up by Angelina, who would take her to Arpino for long periods. I was so jealous because my mother would not allow me to go!
One day, towards the end of my college days, a friend and I bought tickets to Rome and that trip marked the beginning of my love for Arpino. My mother was so worried, saying,
“Margo, come back the same as you are!” [I’ll leave you to work out what she meant!]
My friend Elaine and I had the most wonderful time. We went by train and had lots of adventures on the way. That’s when I learned the word “lui” [“him”]. I thought all the soldiers in our carriage were called Louis!
By this time Angelina had died and my grandfather Francesco had returned to Italy to remarry. He was living in Isola del Liri. I went to see him and met lots of relatives, enjoying the Easter celebrations with them.
Return to Arpino
Suddenly it was the 1980s and, with my own two daughters, I decided it was time to visit Arpino and Isola del Liri again. Francesco had died and his second wife’s sister was still living in Arpino. By knocking on doors we found a woman called Gina who was helpful and arranged a taxi for us to go and see Nonno Francesco’s grave. However, she seemed very reluctant to speak about the Giovannone family, saying, “Tutti morti!” [“All dead”]. Looking back, I wonder if she thought I was after family money.
Finding out more
Returning to Arpino the following year I found the “records office” and a little man wrote down some details about my grandfather. During my next visit, having found more people who spoke English, I was able to ask the “ufficiale d’anagrafe” [records officer or registrar] to help me find any Giovannone relatives. This Pro-Loco [tourist office, where records are also held in this case] was in Isola del Liri where most of the Giovannones had lived. My grandfather had had a huge house in Arpino and the official at the Pro-Loco described him to me as “a man of means”. Of course, after his death, his second wife and her sons inherited.
A surprise from Italy
Imagine my surprise when, in December 2003, I received, from the Pro-Loco, a list of the names and addresses of my second cousins in Arpino! They had surnames like Ranaldi and Rea and were the grandchildren of my grandfather’s sister, Serafina. I didn’t have to pay for this information.
Later, I was able to get in touch with the families of my grandfather’s two brothers, in Pennsylvania, USA. I visit them sometimes and some of them have been to Arpino.
I found out about another second cousin who lives in Venezuela and I have met this family, too.
Back in Isola del Liri…
My second cousin Pietro and his wonderful wife, Rita, “adopted” me straightaway and we are now very close. Last May I was invited to their son’s wedding and he is a Wales rugby follower! And Pietro has learned to say “Iechyd da” [Welsh for “good health”, used as a toast] before drinking his wine.
Everybody in Arpino now knows us all, including Fabio, the Mayor.
A long time but worth it
It took me a long time to find my Italian relatives but it has been worth it. Every year I meet up with Arpinati from Newcastle, London, Canada and the USA. By the way, when I got married, I kept my Italian surname - just as Italian women do. And my husband’s name was Louis!
Margo Giovannone’s grandfather was interned on the Isle of Man in World War II, along with Italian men who lost their lives in the Arandora Star tragedy of 2nd July 1940. Margo is a committee member of the Arandora Star Memorial Fund in Wales and, as the seventieth anniversary of the tragedy approaches, she asks us not to forget the Arandora Star.
