The Queen of the Big Time (34 page)

Adriana:
Tell me about your hometown.

Chettie:
I wish everyone could have the experience of being raised in a town like Roseto. It was very safe—we never locked our doors! Our parents worked hard, but they gave us a hundred percent of themselves. They tried very hard to show us the world. We’d go to Philadelphia and up to Connecticut, places that were close by but different.
I loved when we went to the shore in New Jersey. Atlantic City is one of my favorite places.

Adriana:
Did your mother remarry after the loss of your father?

Chettie:
Never. She didn’t even go out on a date. She said she had the best and there would be no topping that. So, no, she didn’t. But that wasn’t uncommon. Her friends who were widowed young didn’t remarry either. Maybe it’s just our culture.

Adriana:
So many readers have asked me about the Roseto Heart Study led by Dr. Stewart Wolf of Tott’s Gap. Can you tell me about it?

Chettie:
Well, it was a known fact that our people lived to be very old and didn’t die of heart attacks at the same numbers as the general population. In fact, our little Italian community in northeastern Pennsylvania had the lowest mortality rate for heart attacks in the country. And if you stepped across Division Street—just a few feet outside of Roseto proper into Bangor—the numbers shot up.

Adriana:
Just a few steps?

Chettie:
Literally, just a few! Dr. Wolf came with a team of doctors in the late fifties and early sixties and studied all of us, from the very old to the very young. At first they thought it was the food we ate—fresh from our gardens. Then they thought maybe it was the homemade wine that made us live so long, then the olive oil … Well, there were so many theories. But after the study was completed, Dr. Wolf said that it was our sense of community that made us live long. In Roseto, we had no fear, only a sense of family and community to sustain us. We knew that we would never go hungry, that we were safe from crime, and that when we were old we would not be put away somewhere,
but rather would be taken care of in our own homes—so we didn’t have stress.

Adriana:
I’ve heard stress can lead to heart attacks.

Chettie:
Evidently. Stress can break your heart.

Adriana:
And the women in your community worked.

Chettie:
Of course. So many times, society’s ills are blamed on the working women, but we all worked, all our lives—in the factories, on the farm—and the men in the slate quarries. We did this while we raised our families! No one talks about that, but it’s true. We were traditional, and yet we had, as women, a sense of purpose outside our family structure. But you see, we had built-in day care. These two-family houses in Roseto were often home to grandparents, parents, and their children—so when I went to work, my mother watched my children. But the whole community participated. All the children felt safe, and the adults surely felt they could look after the children. It was like one big family, if you will.

Adriana:
What was the best part of growing up in Roseto?

Chettie:
Oh, how can I pick one thing? Fall brought the hog killing—we all shared the bacon and the hams and cured our own prosciutto. Winter was wonderful because many families had horses and the fathers would hitch them up to a sleigh and take us for rides down Dewey Street and then on to Garibaldi. Spring brought Easter and the planting of the gardens. Summer meant the Our Lady of Mount Carmel Feast would come at the end of July. Main Street would be lined with stands selling candy and local delicacies, and there were games and rides and fireworks—

Adriana:
So many folks remember the fireworks!

Chettie:
They always went off at midnight on the Saturday night of the Feast. Then the next day was the Solemn Procession, where we would walk and say the rosary in thanksgiving. The Queen of the Big Time led the rosary procession, by the way.

Adriana:
So religion played a big part in the life of the town?

Chettie:
Oh yes. There’s our Catholic Church, but then, of course, the Presbyterian Church, too.

Adriana:
On Garibaldi Avenue?

Chettie:
Right. When the Italians first arrived here from Roseto Val Fortore, the diocese of Philadelphia would not send a priest to the immigrants here. The Presbyterians came, and saw a need for a church, so some of our forefathers converted.

Adriana:
I noticed that there are two cemeteries in Roseto.

Chettie:
Right. One for the Catholics and one for the Presbyterians.

Adriana:
Is there anything else you’d like me to tell the readers about your town?

Chettie:
We love where we come from. And we are so proud to be Italian American. In fact, when we built this town, we modeled it after our hometown in Italy. Many of us have visited it over in Italy, and we’re amazed at the similarities.

Adriana:
So you’ve come so far and yet …

Chettie:
Nothing has changed. We still hold each other close, even though the world has changed, and try to hold on to our traditions. It’s not easy. But there’s nothing more wonderful than making fresh pasta with the grandchildren and the great-grandchildren. I love to teach them everything I know and tell them all the stories I remember. It just seems right.

R
EADING
G
ROUP
Q
UESTIONS AND
T
OPICS FOR
D
ISCUSSION

1. Describe the relationships within the Castelluca family. Do you think families today possess similar values? How does Nella relate to her sisters, in particular Assunta and Elena?

2. When Nella first meets Renato Lanzara, she thinks, “I’m afraid if I look at the blue-eyed boy again I might cry. I have never been overwhelmed by a boy. This must be what love at first sight feels like.” Do you think Nella’s first encounter with Renato Lanzara is really love at first sight? What is it about him that is so attractive to her? Do her feelings signify more than simply an adolescent crush?

3. By setting up an arranged marriage between Assunta and Alessandro, Nella’s parents are employing a tradition from their past in Italy. Does this practice gel with their new existence in America? How does Nella’s generation view this arranged marriage? How does Alessandro’s arrival change the dynamics within the Castelluca family? How does Allesandro regard his sisters-in-law?

4. Upon meeting at the Columbus School, Nella and Chettie quickly become friends. How does their relationship compare to those that Nella has with her sisters? What qualities does Chettie have that differ from the Castelluca girls’? How does the quarry accident affect their friendship?

5. In the 1920s, it was rare for a woman to receive admiration and respect in the workplace, especially from a man. What is it about Nella that impresses Mr. Jenkins? Is it possible today for a woman to receive a similar promotion in such a short amount of time?

6. How are issues of class and race explored in
The Queen of the Big Time
? How do you think the Castellucas’ lives would differ if they didn’t live in their transplanted Italian enclave?

7. When tragedy hits, how do the Castellucas deal with change and adjust their roles within the family? How do the ways they rely on one another change?

8. Why isn’t Nella interested in Franco at first? What are the qualities she’s looking for in a man? How do Franco and Renato differ, and why do you think she ends up choosing Franco over someone like Renato?

9. Religion plays a large role in the townspeople of Bari. How big a part does it play in Nella’s life? When does she turn toward her religious values? Did your view of clergy members change after Nella and Renato’s encounter in Italy?

10. In many of her novels, Trigiani has explored the complicated dynamics of the mother-daughter relationship. How would you characterize the relationship between Nella and her mother, compared to that of Nella and Celeste? How does Nella and Celeste’s relationship change as Celeste grows older?

11. Do you think it is possible for one to find true love more than once in a lifetime? How is Nella’s love for Renato different from her love for Franco? Are both loves “true”?

12. In what ways can Nella be considered a “Queen of the Big Time”?

Read on for an exciting
preview of

R
OCOCO

by Adriana Trigiani

Available now from
The Random House Publishing Group

CHAPTER 1
THE DUKE OF DECOR ON THE JERSEY SHORE
1970

I want you to imagine my house. It’s a classic English country cottage, nestled on an inlet overlooking the Atlantic Ocean in the borough of Our Lady of Fatima, New Jersey, about five miles north of Interlaken. The fieldstone exterior gives the illusion of a small fortress, so I softened the overall effect with white hyacinth shrubs and a blanket of sky-blue morning glories cascading over the dormers like loose curls on a cherub. After all, a man’s home must first be inviting.

Every morning at sunrise a honeyed pink light fills the front room, throwing a rosy glaze on the walls that cannot be achieved with paint. Believe me, I’ve tried. I settled instead for a neutral shade on the walls, a delicate beige I call flan. When the walls are tame, the furnishings need to pop. So I found the perfect chintz, with giant, jewel-toned flowers of turquoise, coral, and jade bursting on a butter-yellow background, to cover my Louis Quatorze sofa and chairs. The upholstery soaks up the light and warms the room better than a fire blazing in the hearth. Anyone who says you will tire of a bold pattern on your furniture is a fool. The right fabric will give you years of joy; it can become your signature. Scalamandre’s Triomphe #26301 has my name on it.

My day begins at dawn as I take my cup of strong black espresso
outside. I learned this ritual from my mother, who worked in a bread shop. Bakers are the great philosophers of the world, mostly because they have to get up early. When the world is quiet, great art is created—or, at the very least, conceptualized. Now is the moment to sketch, make notes, and dream.

From my front porch, a dignified, simple portal with a slate floor (I laid the charcoal-gray, dusty-mauve and smoky-blue slabs myself), I watch the colors of the sky and sea change at the whims of the wind. Sometimes the ocean crashes in foamy white waves that look like ruffles. Then, suddenly, the light is gone and everything turns to gray satin. When the sun returns, the charcoal clouds lift away, and the world becomes as tranquil as a library, the water as flat as a page in a book, Venetian glass under a blue cloudless sky.

What a boon to live on the water! Such delicious shades and hues! This is a template worthy of the greatest painters. The textures of sand and stone could inspire incomparable sculptures, and the sounds—the steady lapping of the waves, the sweet chirping of the birds—make this a sanctuary. I soak up the view in all its detail and translate this glorious palette to the interiors of local homes. You see, I am the Town Decorator.

Many have compared our little borough to the village my family emigrated from, the enchanting Santa Margherita nestled in the Gulf of Genoa on the Mediterranean coast of Italy. I’ve been there, but I favor my hometown over the original. Italy, despite its earthiness and charm, can never be New Jersey. Here we value evolution and change; Italy, while it warms the heart, is a monument to the past. In America, we change our rooms as often as our fashions. In Italy you’re likely to find throw pillows older than the Shroud of Turin. It’s just a different way to live.

Part of my job is to convince my clients that change is good, then guide them to the right choices. I remember when I installed a velvet headboard on my cousin Tiki Matera’s double bed (she was plagued by insomnia from the cradle) and she told me that, for the first time
in her life, she felt so secure that she slept through the night. That Art Deco touch changed her room and her life—not a small thing. That’s the business I’m really in: creating appropriate surroundings to provide comfort and that essential touch of glamour. I built my company, the House of B, and my reputation on it. HOB stands for the eye of Bartolomeo di Crespi and the guts of beauty itself: truth, color, and dramatic sweep, from slipcover to oven mitt. I don’t fool around.

My work can’t be defined by one particular style. The Rococo period, when French design and Italian flair came together, makes my heart leap for joy. But I love them all: Chinese Modern, Regency English, French Norman, Prairie Nouveau, Victorian (without the precious), Early American (with the precious), all the Louises from I through V (Vuitton of course), postwar, prewar, bungalow, foxhole, and even the occasional log cabin. I can go big and I can do small.

I work from the inside out. Truly great interior design includes the rooms you live in and everything your eye can see from your windows. I often bring the colors from outside indoors, which soothes the eye and creates harmony. I may install a reflecting pool outside your living room to catch the moonlight, or plant a garden of wildflowers with a rose arbor anchored over a flowing fountain beyond your kitchen window, or perhaps place a wrought-iron loveseat surrounded by lilac bushes outside your bedroom for a midnight rendezvous.

Your home should inspire you to greater heights of emotion. It should crackle with color and pizzazz. Every detail is important; every tassel, tieback, and sheer should say something. Under my trained eye stale corners become Roman baths, while bland entryways become magnificent foyers and crappy pasteboard ceilings become frescoes. Let’s face it, I can take a ranch and turn it into a villa. In fact, I did that very thing right on Vittorio Drive, three blocks away.