“My mother’s maiden name was Gloria Arcolli and our household had a decidedly Italian flavour, especially at mealtimes. I grew up in Monroeville, a borough near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.
“My maternal grandfather was Salvatore Mario Arcolli, who was born in Italy on 15 February 1895. He emigrated to the USA in 1921 and went to live in Wilmerding, a suburb on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
“Salvatore married my grandmother Pearl Brunori and they had two daughters, Gloria and Norma. When asked about his life in Italy, all Salvatore would say was that he was an orphan raised by nuns.
“After my grandparents died, I was given a booklet that belonged to him. I was told that it was an Italian passport, but I didn’t speak the language and couldn’t understand it.
“A few years later, I began learning Italian and was able to decipher the wording. I was shocked to see that it wasn’t a passport but a legal document from a ‘Home for Foundlings’.
“Salvatore was not an orphan after all. He was taken in by the foundling home the day he was born, and assigned the number 523. Five days later, he was fostered by a local couple Giovanni and Domenica Guibellino. I wept as I read of the nappies, cot and clothes that were sent with him. What was the story behind Salvatore’s birth, and why had he told us he was an orphan?
“In 2010, my husband Fran and I decided to visit Italy and take a trip to the small town where Salvatore grew up. Before we left, I noticed that there was a winery nearby called Giubellini. The name was so similar to Salvatore’s foster family that I decided to email them and explain my interest in the area.
“The owner said she was from Milan originally, but knew a local carpenter called Signor Giubellino. I wrote to him, but didn’t get a reply before we left.
“To visit Salvatore’s hometown we hired a driver who brought his English-speaking friend Monica to translate. As I explained the story, they got excited and took it on as a challenge.
“The town is very rural, and we had to ask for directions to the Guibellinos’ house. I felt nervous and reluctant to intrude on them, but everyone convinced me that I should keep going.
“Signora Giubellino answered the door and said that her husband would be back later for lunch. We returned in the afternoon, and were greeted warmly by all of the family who had gathered to meet the ‘American visitors’.
“Sr Guibellino had received my letter and done some research. He hadn’t posted his reply because he wanted to type it out. He explained that his great grandmother Domenica had fostered and later adopted a foundling boy who left the family when he was a teenager. Years later, he returned to say goodbye before emigrating to the USA. Domenica was heartbroken.
“Salvatore went to live with Giovanni and Domenica’s son Sabino in Wilmerding. I knew Sabino as zio – ‘uncle’ – when I was young, but I had never understood the connection.
“The house where Salvatore grew up is no longer there, but Sr Giubellino showed me its location. I’ll never forget that afternoon and the sense of connection that it gave me. We have stayed in touch with the Guibellinos, and exchange Christmas cards every year.
“In 2017, I had another eureka moment when I discovered an archive of records from the foundling home. I emailed the archivist, and was astonished when she sent me a copy of a note written in 1895 by the director of the home. This explained the circumstances of Salvatore’s birth.
“The local midwife Assunta Gatti had brought a baby boy to him, which she had just delivered at her home. The mother refused to give her name, and didn’t want to keep the baby.
“The director couldn’t get the midwife to divulge the mother’s identity, and even interviewed the neighbours to see who had visited. He learnt nothing, so was eventually forced to admit the baby to the foundling home.
“Perhaps Salvatore said he was an orphan because he was ashamed that his mother didn’t want him. But he had nothing to be ashamed of – he was a kind, loving, hardworking man who helped many other Italians. I hope that uncovering his story honours him in some small way. “
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