I thought little as a child of the fact that I really had only one grandparent in my life. The culture of family secrets were so inculcated in me that it was unthinkable to inquire about, for example, Edward Kessler, about whom there was no information in our house. Only as an adult did I learn that Edward Kessler was not my grandfather and that my actual maternal grandfather was Michael Ferrone. I did know, as I mentioned in an earlier entry, that Andrew Resti was my grandfather but accepted that we had nothing to do with him. I also knew that my paternal grandmother, Maria Palermo, had died at an early age, but knew nothing about her. The only evidence that I had of her existence was a faded commercial photo of her, although my brother Gary recalls that he went with my father to visit her grave at Calvary Cemetery. The only grandparent that I knew was my maternal grandmother, Kate Munsey, who was a force in all of our lives.
She was a survivor in the truest sense. Born in 1901 to James P. Munsey and Delia Cashin Munsey, she married to Michael Ferrone in 1920, and raised five children, much of the time by herself. She returned to the work force as a machine operator sometime in the 1940's and was able to purchase two houses over the next 40 years, providing a home for the families of two of her children. She was the center of our family life until her death in 1973.
In the five years after her marriage, she had the first two of her five children, my mother Connie and my Aunt Cappy. The 1925 New York City Census shows that the family lived in Brooklyn, at 618 Atlantic Avenue, in Flatbush with Michael Ferrone, whose occupation in the Census was listed as a Chauffeur. At the time of the census on June 1, 1925, she was also pregnant with my Uncle Larry, who was born on November 25, 1925. Between 1925 and 1930, she separated from and/ or divorced Michael Ferrone and had two more children, Edward and John, this time with Edward Kessler. At the time of the 1930 Census, the family was living at 52-13 43rd Street, in Laurel Hill.
Curiously, a Michael Ferrone appears in the same 1930 Census, listed as a lodger at 120/122 West 47th Street in Manhattan, which was apparently some sort of residential hotel. There is no way to establish conclusively from that census document that this person was, in fact, my grandfather. However, he is the only Michael Ferrrone listed in that census in New York and his age matches other records. The entry under his name is Katherine Ferrone, his wife, who was 22 at the time, and married for two years. His occupation is listed as Dance Hall Manager, and hers as a Chorine, or chorus girl, in the theater. Apparently both of my grandparents moved on with their lives, although I am not sure that this is the right Michael Ferrone.
By 1940, the family (without Edward Kessler) was living at 46-04 Borden Avenue in Maspeth. My mother Connie, the oldest, was a Senior at Newtown High School. All of the other siblings were in school. My grandmother went to work as a machine operator at the Crinkle Cup Factory in Long Island City, a job she kept all of her working life. The prevailing rate of pay (advertised in the Long Island Press) was $30.50 per week. Somehow she was able to support her family and save enough money to purchase a house in St. Albans in 1953 at 194-17 116th Road. This was the house I grew up in.
My grandmother and Uncle Larry lived on the first floor and the Resti family moved to the second and the attic. Five of the Resti's moved in: My father and mother, me and my brothers Gary and Lawrence. Robert, Patrick and Catherine were born there. When my Uncle Larry married and had four children, the 1st floor kitchen and dining room was moved to the basement to accommodate the growing family. There were three generations living in that house numbering five adults and ten children, all in a house that was probably no more than 2000 square feet.
I often wonder what the neighbors thought, with this horde moving into what was at the time a middle -class neighborhood. I am sure that the Cowans, a older family who lived next door in a meticulously kept brick house, felt invaded by this family that not only kept growing but expanding exponentially. That house was the center of our extended family's life. On holidays, all of Kesslers came to celebrate. Thanksgiving, for example, saw as many as 45 or 50 people for dinner, scattered all over the house. I know we struggled financially but I was only marginally aware of our meager resources. Only as the neighborhood changed and my friends began to move to more suburban neighborhoods did I realize that we had little resources and were not in a position to move from St. Albans.
My grandmother provided a home for all of us and a presence that kept us all together. We were constantly surrounded by family, including much extended family ("fake" cousins as my wife calls them). Our house was raucous, crowded and often messy, but a place I recall as filled with much joy and happiness, all as a result of my grandmother's presence.
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