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HomeMy WebLinkAboutSteele's Store 120803bAging children of Italian immigrants keep ancient family traditions alive By SHELLEY SMITHSON Eagle staff writer F or Sam Fachorn, raising cotton near the Brazos River bottom seemed a natural career choice. His father, a Sicilian peasant fanner, travelled to America in the mid 1890s in the hope of someday owning a farm. "When I was growing up, my father was a ten- ant farmer," says Fachorn. "We worked in the cotton fields all day, not eight hours, but from sun up until sun down." Now >e oldest man living irr &gale Stork an Italian farming community 12 hires west of Bryan. More than 100 years ago, thousands of Sicilian immigrants came to the Brazos Valley seeking a better life for their fami- lies. They found it in the fertile soil and lush land- scape near the Brazos River. Today, their agri- cultural legacy thrives still. Many families still work on the land, selling or buying cotton. Others, like Fachorn, have reaped financial rewards from oil found on the land that made their ancestors prosperous farmers. Like more than 4 million other Italian immi- grants who came to the United States between 1870 and 1912, Fachorn's father, Ignazio Fachorn, sought to break free of the high taxes,and class - bound society of his homeland. With ie li d 'or slay , the _United States :ii, .1865, Southern plantation owners facing a labor shortage adver- tised for farmers throughout Europe. In Sicily, farming another man's land for a sub- sistence wage was all these peasant farmers could ever expect. But in America, these immi- grants knew that years of hard work would pay off when they finally owned their own land. Corn and cotton planters in the Brazos Valley offered generous sharecropping terms to Europeans who would move to the area sur- rounding the Brazos River. The moist soil and humid climate created ideal growing conditions for these farmers who were used to toiling tired and stubborn land. Fachorn's father settled in Smetana, a farming community six miles west of Bryan. Until he was able to buy the land, he gave a portion of the crop to the land's owner and sold a portion himself. Vegetables and fruits were also grown to feed the family, Fachorn says. "We didn't have any money, and some people don't believe that, but I mean we were poor," he says. "We ate anything that was eatable." Fachorn worked with his father until age 25. Then, in 1926, he moved from the cotton fields of Smetana to Steele Store, another Italian agricul- tural community named for a general store owned by Henry B. Steele. At the time, Steele Store was one of the largest rural Italian settle- ment in the country. Residents call the area "the bottoms," becaure it is located along the second and third banks-of the Brazos Rivet. Although the soil was rich, the immigrants who moved here knew they were taking a gamble living on the flood -prone land. But the fertile soil yielded bountiful cotton crops. When Fachorn moved there, cotton rows were Please see STEELE, page D3 Photo courtesy/Penny De Los Santos First generation Americans Sarah and Sam Fachorn of Steele Store visit the Catholic San Salvador Mission. Built by Italian immigrants in 1908, several families donated cotton from their crops to buy construction materials. The mission is named after the patron saint of Cefalu, Sicily. Reunion From D1 they see of one another nowadays, Patranella said. He spent nearly a year planning the event held May 20 at St. Anthony's Catholic Church. Intricately decorated Sicillian cookies, pastries with names like pignolatti and faccia la vecchia lined the tables. But there was no spaghetti or lasagna, even though Patranella said his family does ;:. serve Italian dishes at Thanks- giving and Christmas. "Everyone voted on barbecue," Patranella said. "Frankly, having spaghetti didn't cross my mind. Plus, everybody would say their = meatballs are better." Many of those attending were cousins and nephews had moved • Steele From D1 still tilled using mules and crops were still harvested by hand. (Josephine Angonia, who at 91 is *he oldest woman living in Steele -*tore, remembers that farmland was still being cleared of trees when she moved here with her husband Tony in 1920. "The roads were all mud then," she says. "I remember travelling through Steele Store in a horse drawn buggy with my parents on our way (from Hearne) to St. Anthony's Catholic Church in Bryan." One old Italian tradition that lingered for several generations in America was arranged mar- riages. Angonia married her hus- band Tony in 1920 after her par- ents intervened on her behalf. "I was 16 -years old and it hadn't even crossed my mind to get mar- ried," Angonia says. "Tony's par- ents had land here, and my par - `'ents thought his family was good. As far as I'm concerned my par- ents didn't do wrong because he was a good husband." Other Italian traditions regarding food, faith and family also persevered. But because their parents wanted their chil- dren to learn English only, first - generation Americans like Fachorn and Angonia never learned Italian. away from the Brazos Valley many years ago. And although many had played together at their relative's farms in Steele Store, most had not seen each other in years. Today, the Perrone - DePuma family tree includes last names like Browning and McCrady. But, still, the Italian influence is strong. Patrick Gendron of the Perrone clan learned to speak Italian and has traveled to the regions of Sicily where his ances- tors farmed. He said he found it disap- pointing that none of his first generation American grandpar- ents spoke their parents' native tongue. "Now, I understand," Gendron said. "They were forced to assimi- late because they were discrimi- nated against, and they didn't want their children to be discrim- inated against." Names like Fachorn, Angonia, Patranella and Bonano fill mem- bership roles of Catholic churches in Brazos, Burleson and Robertson counties. Each year Italian families still honor an ancient Sicilian religious tradi- tion called the feast to St. Joseph, in which recipes passed down from original settlers are pre- pared. Angonia's daughter -in -law is not Italian, but she still has taught her the Sicilian recipes given to her by her mother so many years ago. Although many modern Italian- Americans have married people from other cul- tures in the last three decades, a commitment to family life remains. "Family was always important, always," Angonia says. Some modern Italian - Americans, like Angonia's son Don, and her grandson Donny, have carried on the family tradi- tion of farming, but most have moved from the rural community to take professional jobs in the city. "Farming's a hard life," Fachorn says. "But with the machinery they have now, it's a lot easier for these younger men. But you have to have land and you have to have capital to farm these days." And even those who no longer work on the land still hold a love for the beautiful farm communi- ties where they grew up hearing stories of ancestors who achieved the American Dream.