Lipari - Ellis Island - Brooklyn - San Francisco

@2009 Rexino Mondo


A tall, handsome sixteen year old Italian immigrant, Gaetano Miräbito III, son of the Duke and Duchess of Palermo, arrived at Ellis Island on the twenty-fifth of March in 1902 with only a dime in his pocket, after being stiffed by one of the ship’s passengers.



Gaetano started his first job at a Brooklyn meatpacking company. His papa, the Duke, had taken a low profile job at a lumber company as a laborer, while he secretly laid plans for the rest of his royal family to reach America. Ironically, his son Gaetano III, started working at that same lumber company after leaving his previous job. In a short time, they made him the foreman. One morning Gaetano stacking lumber from a high advantage point, noticed a man sleeping below. He threw a two by four down next to the man and yelled, "No sleepa on de joba." The man turned, looked up and gave foreman Gaetano one of those well known Italian gestures, turned over and went back to sleep.


It was the Duke. He had been up all night making final plans with relatives for his journey back to Italy. They both couldn't stop laughing and hugging when they recognized each other. The following week, the Duke, incognito, was aboard a ship to Italy, stationed in the third class section. May 15, 1902, the Duke, Gaetano II, returned to Ellis Island on the ship Regina Elena from Naples with his thirteen year old daughter, Caterina Mirabito. Then the Duke’s son, Bartolomeo, left from Naples and arrived at Ellis Island on the ship Palatia at age sixteen. Shortly after, Gaetano III was ready. He had earned enough money for train fare that would take him to San Francisco in search of the American dream.


His train slowly pulled into the station, stopped with a jerk, backed up and then came to a final stop. The engine’s bell ringing, hissing from the steam lines, little platforms placed under each of the steps’ exits and red caps ready to take the passengers’ luggage. It was nighttime in the city by the bay. Gaetano’s face and shirt were covered with soot from the coal burning locomotive as he briskly walked through the crowd with his duffle bag slung over his shoulder. The sharp sounds from his clicking heals holding a steady gait, was briefly interrupted when a lady of the night came up from behind, wrapped her arm around his waist and started to unbutton his shirt. “Hey, big guy, you want some tonight?” He returned to his steady pace, tried to ward her off, but she persisted. When he reached the doorway to a saloon, he gave her a hard bump with his hip and said, “Scusami,” ducked into the doorway, went to the men’s room, took his shirt off, washed up, reached into his duffle bag, changed, then over to the bar and had a beer that came with a “free bigga sandwicha” - his dinner. He slept under the pier for days until he located one of his relatives. They told him he could stay in their garage and gave him an old mattress to sleep on. He made his furniture from orange crates that he found in the yard. From an affluent family, son of a Duke and Duchess, to his new home, a cold garage, was quite an extreme change of ambiance. But he was humble and grateful and strong.



Each day, the Duke’s son would buy a large loaf of Italian bread, slice it down the middle, pack it with slices of salami, ham, beef, cheeses, garlic, tomatoes, chicken, hot peppers, lettuce, drown it in olive oil, close it up and then cut it in three equal parts. One part was his breakfast, another, his lunch, and the last part was his dinner, of course, with a little wine. This is how he lived, in search of the American Dream, determined to find it.