Friday, June 29, 2007

IL BUCO - LA CUOCA - LA TORTA











Top photo: What's left of the 'Old Cookahousa' after it burned down. Just a pile of burnt out lumber. Second photo: The 'Old Rancere' talks to the new owners of 'Il Buco' , Jean and Andrew HSU. Next photo: The 'Old Rancere' (back to the camera) looking wistfully at the path 'Bronco' took as he descended into 'Il Buco'. The sheds in the background were there (all-be-it at a different location) when 'Bronco' worked the Gulch Ranch. Bottom photo: 'Il Buco' as viewed from the Coast Road. The old barn can be seen in the foreground. (Photos from the La Nostra Costa Photo Archives.)
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'BLAGGATORI' WHO HAVE READ 'LA NOSTRA COSTA' WILL BE FAMILIAR WITH CHAPTER 8 - "LA CUOCA" (THE COOK). IN THAT CHAPTER I DESCRIBE SOME OF THE DELICIOUS FOOD THAT VALENTINA (MY MOTHER) WOULD COOK FOR THE RANCERI AT THE OLD 'COOKAHOUSA' IN 'IL BUCO' ON THE GULCH RANCH. ONE OF THOSE DISHES WAS 'LA TORTA'. IN HIS E-MAIL BELOW, GINO "D'BAFFI" CAMPIONI REQUESTS THE RECIPE. LaNORMA THEN DISHES UP THE RECIPE THAT HER MOTHER DIANA DINELLI USED.

Dear Ivano:

Once again I have made the mistake of reading from your book at bedtime. Now I know that I won't be able to sleep for a long time. This is not too good, as tomorrow I need to rise earlier than normal. Oh well, I'll get over it.

I just wanted to share a few thoughts brought on by reading chapter 8 about La Cuoca. Any strange spelling you may attribute to what I call "Itanglish", or the Italianizing of American words.

Do you remember the number of il telefone in the cuccausse? It was 6 Y 1 1. (In Itanglish: Sikissy uai wan wan) The number for Herman Mortara's grocery near the plaza on Pacific Avenue was 8 6. (eitte sikissy)

You mentioned the wonderful torta that you mother made. My mother called it "Torta con becchi", (becchi meaning beaks or peaks. The way the crust was pinched into peaks all around the edge of the torta) If you know the recipe for it, I should greatly appreciate your sending it to me. I think that besides the ingredients you mentioned, it sometimes contained bietola. (Swiss chard) My mother also doctored it up with vermouth or something. I was always allowed to sip anything my parents had, and was sometimes served "coffee royals" or acqua calda con vischi e limone. (hot water with bourbon and a bit of lemon peel) I was a happy baby! A wonder that I never took a serious interest in liquor.

Gino, figliolo del famoso Baffi.



TORTA TOSCANA ALA DIANA

(Makes 4 Pies)

Ingredients for filling:
1-1/2 cups cooked rice
½ loaf dried French bread (soaked in water –
then squeezed dry
6 tablespoons cocoa (chocolate baking –
Hershey’s)
½ cup pine nuts
¼ cup grated cheese
5 eggs
½ to 1 cup sugar (to taste)
2 cups chopped cooked Swiss chard
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 bunch chopped parsley
1 cup raisins
1 cup glazed fruit
1 tablespoon of whiskey

Fry chard and parsley in small amount of oil:
Add salt and pepper to this. Put in bowl and
Add rest of ingredients, mix well and let set.
Add whisky to ingredients. (To taste- plus or minus)

CRUST FOR PIES:

Ingredients:
4 cups of flour
4 eggs beaten
2 teaspoons of baking powder
1 cup of sugar and include ½ cup of brown
sugar in it.
1 cup melted Crisco and butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
¼ cup whiskey
½ teaspoon salt

Mix flour, baking powder, salt: add 4 eggs,
Vanilla, whiskey, Crisco and mix well. If
Dough is too soft, add flour until firm. If it
Gets too firm add small amounts of milk.
Roll on floured board, small amount of dough
At a time, enough to fit into one pie dish at a time.


Allow dough to hang over edge. Roll dough on edge
of dish to make “Becci” (means peaks) cut with knife.
Put dough on a slant all around the rim of pie plate.

TOPPING

Ingredients:
1 egg well beaten
1 teaspoon whiskey
1 teaspoon vanilla
1½ tablespoon sugar
(A little butter to dot rim of crust)

Blend egg, vanilla, whiskey and sugar
Spread about 2 tablespoons over each pie dot
Section of crust rim with butter. Bake at
375 degrees in oven, for 55 minutes, or until
crust is deep golden brown.
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AS LOUIE THE RANCERE WOULD SAY, "HMMMM."BUONO, BUONO, BUONO. SI MANGIA".




Saturday, June 23, 2007

AMICA DELLA COSTA CATHY BROVIA - REMEMBERS


Cathy Brovia (center) with sister-in-law Lena (Brovia)Castiglione and the "Old Rancere" at 'La Nostra Costa Day' held at Jim Cochron's Swanton Berry Farm last year. Small photo in background is of a very young Joe 'Pino' Brovia the 'Davenport Destroyer'. Cathy's husband, Joe Brovia is also photographed (Top Right) in his Cincinnati Reds Uniform circa 1955 (Click on photos for enlarged image.)
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SO SOME OF YOU THINK THAT THE ITALIANS LIVING 'SU PER LA COSTA' HAD IT ROUGH. CHECK OUT CATHY BROVIA'S RECOLLECTION OF THOSE 'HARD TIMES' -AND NOT 'SU PER LA COSTA'.





Hi Ivano,

Thanks for your book and the ‘Blagga’. I understand completely when you say that some Italian people are less interested in their history in Davenport during those times of depression and hard work, than people who are not Italians. I may be a lot older than you, but I came from a very small town in Minnesota, just like Davenport. I worked in a restaurant, doing everything for $12.00 a week (6 days a week).. It was a greyhound stop on the way to Minneapolis. I also shocked grain with my mother for .05 and .10 cents an hour.... 8 hour days... and the canning factories, working along side of prisoners from Germany, Poland and a few other countries...I worked in sweat shops, different jobs, grabbing chickens that had been stabbed in the neck, and dipped in hot water, so that I could grab them steaming hot still alive, and put them on the ruffer to take most of the feathers off (with infection in my eyes from the feathers) and rotating other duties.

These chickens and poultry were frozen and sent to our troops in WW II. I don't remember what I was paid, but not very much. We appreciated any work, and did anything to make a few dollars to buy the rationed things including food and clothing and GASOLINE.. ABOUT .25 cents a gal... I know I could do those things again, but the kids today might laugh at you if they were offered a job like that...

We did not have indoor toilets, or bathrooms. On Saturday night all the kids had to bathe in the same tub, after heating the water from the stove, or getting it from a barrel which collected rain water, and was heated by the sun. I remember every room in that farm house, and when I got scalded on both legs pulling down a tea kettle full of hot water off the pot belly stove that I thought needed changing on a cold winter's night. I remember my uncle Paul, big fisherman,that was playing cards when it happened. I remember standing in the sink, people pumping cold water from the cistern on my legs, only to make big blisters. I remember doctors office,,,, aunt changing dressings on the burns from my hips to the toes. ( My mother could not do it.... Aunt Corrine, did the dressings) I still have scars from the burns on the inside of my knees. Aunt Corrine has long been gone, and husband Peanut succumbed many years before her... Bless her...

I have a beautiful Aunt ‘Snooks’ who is 86; we used to go on wallpaper and paint jobs when other work was not available...Boy, some of those old farm houses had so many layers of wallpaper on them... causing the corners to be rounded. The ceilings were the worse to paper...But when we finished the job, it was perfect...We were probably paid $1.50 a room... My beautiful Aunt "Snooks" and I still talk on the telephone and we just reminisce over those great years.

I also lived in South Dakota with another aunt and uncle during the canning season, Saturday nights were very special. We all went to a nice place on the lake for dinner that had a great band. I recall Lawrence Welk and a three piece band playing there... My uncle was a great dancer, and loved to enjoy himself. He loved to have a great time. What a beautiful man he was...They are both dead now, but I still remember those wonderful times as a young person.


Two years ago, my brother John and I drove back to Minn. for a graduation. We had a wonderful time together, as we had not been together for many years.... We drove to our family farm, which is now property of the state. As I remembered, it was such a beautiful place in a valley. The old school house is still standing, as well as a few unoccupied old homes. Our home has been torn down, however; the barn is still standing.... the barn that my father borrowed money to build for $1000.00. Later, after my father died, the bank foreclosed. I think about 365 acres of ground along a beautiful falls and creek, is now a state park.

My grandmother on my fathers side managed a boarding house at one time. My grandparents on my mother’s side are long gone, but the old house is still..... barely.... standing... no one tore it down... I have pictures of these buildings, and it breaks my heart to think, I stayed in that house so many times, sleeping on the feather mattresses between my aunts, that my grandmother had made from the goose down... and eating the food that my grandmother cooked on the old small dark and dreary kitchen wood stove... all by kerosene light... The table was made by my grandfather...He had a beautiful library that he built, and had so many books, along with the beautiful family bible, containing all the family births and deaths. (I remember the damn geese would chase us kids every time we would go outside... but grandma finally cooked their goose at Thanksgiving time.


Ivano, you have certainly brought back so many memories to me, but I have no one to share them with.... I guess that is why I respect you for doing your beautiful book, and the love that you showed of your parents and aunts etc... I have so many thoughts that go through my mind at times.


My home town had a 100th anniversary quite a few years back, but I did not know about it... I took my husband Joe (Brovia) back in 1971. Joe wanted to know what kind of town I lived in after we left the beautiful farm. I said(kidding), “ Oh, its just a small town like Davenport”. Not quite. I didn’t tell him that at that time we had several gas stations, a bank, several groceries, barber shop, pool hall, butcher shop, post office, merchandise store, liquor store, hardware store, bowling alley, and many other businesses. In fact, it really was a great lively, beautiful town when I lived there.

Well, after not being back in my home town of Morton, Minnesota for so many years, I was so shocked to see that so many businesses had left....... including the restaurant, where I worked and the greyhound bus station. I was amazed that NOW, it really did look like DAVENPORT.!!

.... Bless you Ivano..... Thanks for the good job!!!! Cathy


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To view comments on this article, 'clicca' on ‘comments’ below -- which will take you to the “Comments” page. Then if you wish to add a comment, write your comment in space provided. When done, check off ‘Other’ or ‘Anonymous’ ( NOT 'google/blogger -- and IGNORE ‘Goggle Password Section’). If you check off ‘Other’ write your name in space provided and then click on ‘Publish’. (Note: ‘Other’ must be checked off BEFORE you write your name. ‘Anonymous’ writer: Leave name space blank --just click on Publish.) Ivn0

Thursday, June 21, 2007

LOUSY - COP - UNTIL YOU NEED ME - BY AL WILSON




THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ ‘LA NOSTRA COSTA’ KNOW THAT CHP OFFICERS PATROLLING THE OLD COAST ROAD HAD A GREAT INFLUENCE ON ME CROSSING OVER TO THE POLICE PROFESSION.

THE ARTICLE BELOW WAS SUBMITTED BY CHP OFFICER AL WILSON (LaNorma’s Husband), WHO APPEARS IN THE PHOTO ON THE LEFT. THE PHOTO ON THE RIGHT IS OF CHP SERGEANT AL VOIGHT, WHO STARTED HIS POLICE CAREER WITH ME AT THE SAN JOSE POLICE DEPARTMENT. BOTH OF THESE OFFICERS SERVED MANY YEARS IN THE SANTA CRUZ AREA. THEY ARE RETIRED NOW AND LIVE IN SANTA CRUZ COUNTY.



ALL OF US WHO HAVE SERVED THEIR TIME IN THE 'MURKY WORLD' OF THE POLICE, HAVE HAD, AT ONE TIME OR ANOTHER, THE THOUGHTS THAT ARE EXPRESSED IN THE ARTICLE.

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LOUSY COP – UNTIL YOU NEED ME



Well, Mr. Citizen, I guess you have figured me out. I seem to fit neatly into the category you place me in. I’m stereotyped, characterized, standardized, classified, grouped, and always typical. I’m the Lousy Cop.

Unfortunately, the reverse isn’t true. I can never figure you out.

From birth you teach your children that I am a person to be wary of ….and then you’re shocked when they identify me with my traditional enemy, the criminal.

You accuse me of coddling juvenile criminals, until I catch your kid.

You may take an hour for lunch and several coffee breaks each day, but point me out as a loafer if you see me having just one cup.

You pride yourself on your polished manners, but think nothing of interrupting my meals with your troubles.

You raise Hell about the guy who cuts you off in traffic, but let me catch you doing the same thing and I’m picking on you.

You know all the traffic laws, but never got one ticket you deserved.

You shout “FOUL!” if you observe me driving fast enroute to an emergency call, but literally raise Hell if I take more than ten seconds responding to your call.

You call it “part of my job” if someone strikes me. But it’s “Police Brutality” if I strike back.

You wouldn’t think of telling your dentist how to pull a badly decayed tooth, or your doctor how to take out your appendix, but you are always willing to give me pointers on law enforcement.

You talk to me in a manner and use language that would assure a bloody nose from anyone else, but you expect me to stand there and take it without batting and eye.

You cry, “Something has to be done about all the crime!” but you can’t be bothered with getting involved.

You’ve got no use for me at all, but, of course, it’s OK if I change a tire for your wife, deliver your baby in the back seat of my patrol car on the way to the hospital, save your son’s life with mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, or work many hours overtime to find your lost daughter.

So, Dear Citizen, you stand there on your soapbox and rant and rave about the way I do my job, calling me every name in the book, but never stop for a moment to think that your property, your family, or maybe your life might depend on one thing – Me, or one of my Buddies.

Yes, Me, The Lousy Cop.
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Wish to comment on this article??? Click on ‘comments’ below -- which will take you to the “Comments” page. Then write your comments in space provided. When done, check off ‘Other’ or ‘Anonymous’ ( NOT 'google/blogger -- and IGNORE ‘Goggle Password Section’). If you check off ‘Other’ write your name in space provided and then click on ‘Publish’. (Note: ‘Other’ must be checked off BEFORE you write your name. ‘Anonymous’ writer: Leave name space blank --just click on Publish.) Ivn0


Sunday, June 10, 2007

PVT, AMEDEO LUCCHESI - INFORMATION REQUESTED ON WWII VETERAN KILLED IN ACTION













Photo above is of 'Figlio Della Costa" Attilio Dogliottie who also was killed in World War II. Please see related article in December 2006 archives. Photo courtesy of Gino Campioni.

Photos of Nomandy Beach Head, Memorial, Map and Graveyard, courtesy of Norma and Al Wilson. (Click on Photos for enlarged image.)
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Alverda Orlando forwards a request from Robert and Joan Nelson, seeking information on 'Figlio Della Costa' Amedeo Lucchesi who was killed inWWII.


Hi Ivan.

Do you know where this soldier was buried. I was not aware of this man living in Davenport. I have an incomplete list of coastside men killed in WW 2 and he is not among them.
Thanks for any information you can give me and I will pass it on to the inquirer.
Alverda

From: Robert and Joan Nelson

Sent: Saturday, June 09, 2007 3:22 PM
Subject: Amadeo Lucchesi

Good Afternoon Alverda, Below you will find the main source of information which I have on Amedeo Lucchesi, the soldier from Davenport who was killed at Normandy.
If you are able to locate any additional information on Lucchesi, his burial location and hopefully a photograph (ideally in uniform) that would be of great assistance. This information is being accumulated for a project I am working on in conjunction with the Central Library. Thanks in advance for any information which you migh provide.
nels


(Santa Cruz, Sentinel August 10, 1944 1:3)



Amadeo Lucchesi Killed in Action on Normandy Front
Pvt. Amadeo Lucchesi, a member of the 314th infantry, was killed in action in France June 20, his widow, Mrs. Mary Lucchesi of Davenport, learned in a telegram from the war department this week.


Pvt. Lucchesi entered the army June 15, 1943. He got his training at Camp Gruber, Oklahoma, and Camp Phillips, Kansas, and was first assigned to the 42nd or Rainbow division. He later was transferred to the 314th infantry, Mrs. Lucchesi told the Sentinel-News today.
He lived in Sunnyvale before going into the service. His parents still reside there. Mrs. Lucchesi is the daughter of Mr. and Mrs. Frank Modolo of Davenport.


The telegram gave no details, but it is presumed he died on the Normandy battlefront.

LNC: I don't have any information on Pvt. Lucchesi although the last name is very familiar. Perhaps some of our 'Blaggatori" do. I know that the Modolo name mentioned in the article was/is well known 'su per la costa.' Please write any information you might have in the space provide after clicking on "comments" below. Mille Grazie. ivn0
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Wish to comment on this article??? Click on ‘comments’ below -- which will take you to the “Comments” page. Then write your comments in space provided. When done, check off ‘Other’ or ‘Anonymous’ ( NOT 'google/blogger -- and IGNORE ‘Goggle Password Section’). If you check off ‘Other’ write your name in space provided and then click on ‘Publish’. (Note: ‘Other’ must be checked off BEFORE you write your name. ‘Anonymous’ writer: Leave name space blank --just click on Publish.) Ivn0

Wednesday, June 06, 2007

LaNORMA REMEMBERS THE SCARONIS









The Scaroni’s – The Dairy and Family – BEFORE it was the Red, White and Blue Nudie Beach – when it was hard working and Fun people.
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Photos of Scaroni House Courtesy of Al and Norma Wilson. TOP PHOTO 'LA NOSTRA COSTA ARCHIVES': 'BEACH PARTY AT THE SCARONI BEACH' [C.1956]. (From Left to Right: Shirley Wilson(?), Florence Bianco,Unknown, Esther Frizza,Jerrill ('The Old Professor' Kerrick, Alan Cornick (deceased), Jim (FA)Ceragioli, Christine Roen and Jerry Mungai at the extreme right hand edge. )


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Katie, Bill, Johnny and Arnold were the neatest and most unique people. None of them every married. Who remembers?! I know that Dee Murray (Dolores Viviani) does and I am sure many many others. Here are some 0f the things I remember:

They loved company and accommodated so many – in summer I remember Ted Templeton (and some friends) spending time at the Dairy and helping bring down the hay in big wagons (with horses) from the north side of the Old Hwy l. Also Bill and John would stop cars and the cement trucks on the Hwy in the morning and afternoon in order to cross their cows from the north side to the south by their house and where the milking barn was. (The Borges - Arvelas Dairy was the next one
Going to Santa Cruz – when Vera and Della Borges Dad was not feeling well – we girls stopped the cars and crossed the cows from one side to the other – then their brother Frank would milk the cows – this was the old Annand property by the Dal Porto Ranch)


Bill was rather quiet and very nice and kind of the head of the family. I remember him going to Holy Cross Church for Easter and Christmas.

John the youngest (most of us called him Johnny), was short and was full of pep and a real jokster – but had a good heart. Took his family matters very seriously, though he was always joking around.


Katie had been a school teacher but I do not remember where she taught. When her parents passed she took over caring for her brother Arnold who was blind and the rest of the family. She cooked, washed, etc for all the brothers.

Arnold (I believe) was the oldest and a real sweetheart. He was an inspiration and had a way of not making you feel sorry for him because he was blind.




He was so talented – he did some wood carvings, chopped and stacked firewood and many other things. His job with the dairy was to go to the milking barn and pick up two buckets full of milk (that were always placed in a certain place by the door); then walk l50 feet and up about 20 stairs to the “cheese house” and dump the buckets in a trough that then pasteurized the milk. He kept doing this until the milking was done – quite a job! It seems he never even spilled a drop of milk.




Arnold knew his way by feeling around and always going the same exact way. From the house to the barn there was a white picket fence with a gate always open. No one ever parked in front of the gate because that was his path. One day one of the neighbors accidentally parked at the gate and Arnold walked straight into into the car . (The neighbor felt really bad about this.)



One Sunday my mother (Diana Dinelli) and I walked to the Scaronis. No one was home except Arnold. With Arnold, we started to walk around the front yard – talking and looking at the flowers (this was an unfamiliar part of the yard for Arnold). Arnold felt the fence and plants and then cautiously found the clothesline and walked holding onto the line until it stopped – there was still a little ways to go around the house to where he was familiar so he called me over and said, "Let's see how tall you’ve gotten". He kind of held onto me until we walked to the house again and onto familiar territory. He never asked for help and I did not even notice he was using me as a guidance.



In the summer , Katie would pick me up once or twice a week and I would help clean her house. She would then fix lunch. After lunch we did the the dishes and then we would walk down to the beach (no nudies then). At times Katie would do something special with me tagging along. After putting on her straw hat, we would take a drive to Santa Cruz to get meat out of the meat lockers (where Lenz Art store is now) or drive up to Scotts Valley to visit the Don Santos family or the English family that ran a dairy where Nob Hill is now (at the time it was all pasture and cows – their House was where Walgreens now is located).

The Scaronis were a wonderful family. -As Ivano (The Gran Blaggatore) said, Katie
always counted heads coming and going to her beach. She wanted to make sure everyone was safe. I miss you Katie. I miss all of you. Thanks for giving us such wonderful memories. ****Norma (Dinelli) Wilson
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Wish to comment on this article??? Click on ‘comments’ below -- which will take you to the “Comments” page. Then write your comments in space provided. When done, check off ‘Other’ or ‘Anonymous’ ( NOT 'google/blogger -- and IGNORE ‘Goggle Password Section’). If you check off ‘Other’ write your name in space provided and then click on ‘Publish’. (Note: ‘Other’ must be checked off BEFORE you write your name. ‘Anonymous’ writer: Leave name space blank --just click on Publish.) Ivn0














Friday, June 01, 2007

HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIOVANNI PRIMO














TODAY IS MY BROTHER’S BIRTHDAY. GIOVANNI PRIMO COMELLI (JOHN),WAS BORN ON JUNE 4. SOME 73 YEARS AGO IN SANTA CRUZ. THE PHOTOS (Directly Above) ARE PROBABLY HIS FOURTH GRADE PICTURES. THE PHOTO AT THE TOP IS HIS FIRST COMMUNION PICTURE. THE GOOD LOOKING LAD ON HIS LEFT IS YOUR FUTURE 'GRAN BLAGGATORE'. (OF COURSE YOU ALL KNEW THAT I WOULD FIND SOME WAY TO 'WORM' MYSELF INTO AT LEAST ONE OF THESE PHOTOS.) VALENTINA, OUR MOTHER, ALWAYS MADE JOHN WAIT FOR ME TO CATCH UP. THUS, WE BOTH RECEIVED FIRST COMMUNION AT HOLY CROSS CHUCH IN SANTA CRUZ ON THE SAME DAY.

I have told this story several times during my presentations and I also have written about it in “La Nostra Costa” (Pgs. 89-90). In the year that my brother was born (1934), Primo Carnera was the Heavyweight Boxing Champion of the World. Primo, who stood 6 foot 6 inches tall and weighted approximately 260 pounds, was born in the Friuli Region in Italy. This was the same Region that Bronco, my father, was born. Thus, Primo Carnera was a source of great pride for my father.

In 1934, Primo Carnera was scheduled to defend his Championship against a most formidable challenger, Max Baer. Bronco went out on a limb and vowed that if Primo successfully defended his Title, he would name his first born son, Primo Giovanni. Those of you, who by chance, might have seen the movie “Cinderella Man”, know that Max Baer floored Primo some twelve times and went on to win that fight.

Bronco was extremely disappointed, however; he still felt honor bound (somewhat)to his fellow Friulano. Primo became my brother’s middle name. Later when my brother was able to comprehend what might have been, he thanked Max Baer many times for beating the “Ambling Alp”, as Carnera was known in boxing circles. He did not relish the idea of being called Primo for the rest of his life. On the other hand Carnera’s defeat deprived me 0f a great ‘war cry’ when attacking my brother. ‘CREAM DA PREEM’ was not to be heard ‘su per la costa’....... at least not by me. ivn0