Cappiello + Golden + Paterno Genealogy & Paterno Architecture
Michael Christopher LaBarbera (1949-) is my third cousin and is a retired Army helicopter pilot. Enjoy his Veterans Day 2020 video below.
Michael Christopher LaBarbera (1949-) is the son of Lisa Joan Paterno (1928-2007) who was the daughter of Charles Vincent Paterno (1903-unknown) who was the son of Saverio Francesco Paterno (1876-1950) who was the oldest brother of my great grandfather Dr. Charles Vincent Paterno (1878-1946).
Columbia I: Castles, Skyscrapers, and the Charles V. Paterno Library (source) by Paul Cohen
Italian Americana Vol. 8, No. 1 (FALL/WINTER 1986), pp. 9-14 (6 pages)
The massive retaining walls of Dr. Charles V. Paterno’s fortress-like residence can still be seen on Riverside Drive between 181st and 186th Streets. There on the bluffs above the Hudson River, the Paterno family lived from 1907 to 1938 like feudal lords with Washington Heights below as though it were their fief. Seeing the turrets and tower in the distance, one might have thought the home, which rose from masonry walls 25 feet thick at the base, resembled a medieval castle on the Rhine. The white marble interior included an enormous swimming pool surrounded by bird cages, as well as an organ with 3,097 pipes (intended to be played by three people and valued during the depression at $60,000).
This singular structure was actually one of the more modest buildings erected by Charles Paterno who as a boy dreamed of dwelling in a castle along the Hudson. Soon after completing “The Castle” in 1907, he went on to build New York’s first elevator apartment. Then, in 1914, he began work on the largest apartment building in the world. “The Marguery” at Park Avenue and 47th Street, which he could not finish until 1919 because of shortages during the war. Paterno astonished New Yorkers in 1927 by proclaiming that he would next construct the tallest building in the world. The plan, which eventually had to be abandoned, called for a 90-story apartment tower in Bergen, New Jersey: it would have been 100 feet higher than the Eiffel Tower, then the world’s tallest structure.
Dr. Paterno, a small, dapper man who wore a precise, narrow goatee and a daintily curled mustache, was call the “Napoleon of the Manhattan Skyscraper Builder” by the newspapermen who delighted in his grandiose announcements. The son of a builder, Paterno was born in Castelmezzano, Italy in 1878. He came to New York in 1883 after an earthquake collapsed a block of houses his father had just completed in Naples, ruining the family financially. [CARLA’S CORRECTION: Father Giovanni “John” Paterno departed Castelmezzano alone in 1880 for New York City. His wife and first four children followed in 1885.] Charles’ first ambition was to become a doctor; he was graduated from Cornell Medical School in 1899 and was on the verge of beginning a medical practice that year when his father suddenly died. At the time of the death, John Paterno had been engaged in constructing an apartment building on 112th Street near the Cathedral, and Charles and his elder brother Joseph [CORRECTION: Charles is older and was born in 1878. Joseph was born in 1881.] were obligated to finish their father’s half-built apartments.
Paterno Brothers, the name of the firm they later formed, soon found itself constructing larger and larger apartments throughout the Morningside Heights area, and many of the most distinctive apartment buildings along Morningside Park and especially Riverside Drive were built by them. Columbia University, then in the midst of building its new campus, was creating lucrative opportunities for ambitious builders like Charles Paterno. As a result of his success, he was soon making too much money to return to medicine.
The Paterno family’s participating in the development of the University community led to their involvement in the establishment of Casa Italiana. In 1925, when serious planning of this Italo-American project began, Charles’ brother Joseph became one of the chief fund raisers. And when Paterno Brothers began construction of the McKim, Mead & White building in 1926, Joseph Paterno personally oversaw the work from start to finish.
Joseph Paterno interrupted his supervision at least once, however, when he accompanied President [of Columbia University] Nicholas Murray Butler to Italy in 1927 where they were lavishly entertained by Benito Mussolini. The Italian premier expressed great enthusiasm for the Casa Italiana and gave his visitors a magnificent party at the Villa d’Este outside of Rome. He opened the gates of the Villa for the first time in forty years and had its hundred of fountains turned on to honor his guests from Columbia University. Joseph Paterno and Nicholas Murray Butler each triumphantly returned to New York with inscribed photographs of Il Duce; the photograph to Joseph read: “A Guiseppe Paterno, della buona razza Italian” (To Joseph Paterno, of the best Italian stock), quite a prize for an immigrant Italian who had been selling newspapers on the streets of New York not too many years before.
Dr. Charles Paterno, unlike his brother, did not take an active role in the construction of Casa Italiana, but in 1925 he made a pledge in an undetermined amount to purchase books for a library which would bear his name; it would occupy one floor of the new building and consist of about 10,000 volumes. With money promised, representatives of the Casa had gone to Italy in the summer of 1925 on their first book-buying mission. After a warm reception from Mussolini, they talked with Ciro Trabalza, the Director General of Italian Schools abroad, who offered to help them assemble a nucleus of Italian books for the library. Also that summer, Count Giuseppe Volpi di Misurata, Minister of Finance, made a gift of some of the first books for the collection. Soon thereafter, Charles Paterno decided that his gift would be in the amount of $15,000 and the offer was quickly accepted.
Books started arriving from Italy even before the building was dedicated on Columbus Day, 1927, coming slowly at first but by 1928 some 3,000 had already arrived and about 3,000 more were on order. Many were coming as gifts but most had been ordered with Paterno’s money by Professor John Gerig of the Italian department. In 1930 the books were arriving at an alarming rate. According to Charles Paterno, “There are five or six thousand or more volumes that should be placed on the shelves which are now in boxes, unpacked and unbound and several thousand still to arrive and there is no place to put them.”
The shortage of space, always a problem at the Charles V. Paterno Library, became apparent during its first years of existences, and even Paterno complained to President Butler about that problem in 1930: “I have criticized those who are responsible [for he purchase of books] because I did not wish to have them order any more books than the number that would be required to fill the shelves available in the present Paterno Library.” As the donor of the library, he proposed adding another floor of the building to accomodate the swelling quantity of books he was paying for, but the new director of the Casa, Giuseppe Prezzolini, discouraged that plan, fearing that the library would soon swallow up the Casa if allowed to expand. He argued that the library should be “an implement of the Casa Italiana and not the Casa an implement of the Library.”
The director recommended another solution, one wich would reduce the number of incoming books and narrow the scope of acquisitions. He suggested that Dr. Paterno make his library “a center of information on contemporary Italy (1860 to the present day).” It would then become, in addition to its value for students of Italian literature and history, “a center which would also attract men of politics and business who wished to study and understand contemporary Italy.” Prezzolini’s motives in wanting the collection more political than literary and more contemporary than historical had to do with his own interests in politics which had won him the friendship of Benito Mussolini and led him to the conclusion that “Facism is the best [form of government] Italy could have under the circumstances.”
Prezzolini’s views were not generally shared by people outside of the Casa Italiana, and his political activities often got him into trouble. In the early 1930’s charges were made that the Casa had become a propaganda center, and after The Nation ran a series of articles on “Fascism at Columbia” in 1934, Prezzolini was picketed by Columbia students. “At Columbia University’s Casa Italiana,” one recent historian has written, “Fascism found a vertiable home in America.” Undoubetedly Prezzolini wanted to give the Paterno Library a direction which would serve, among others, those especially interested in learning a great deal about Mussolini.
In fact, Prezzolini had befriended Mussolini in 1905, written a book on him in 1924, and, while serving as Director of the Casa Italiana, kept Mussolini informed about the activities here. “I am following with interest the work done by the Casa Italiana of Columbia University,” Mussolini wrote to Prezzolini shortly after the Italian government had sent a sum of money to the Casa in 1934, “and I am pleased with what is being accomplished in favor of our culture.” Prezzolini forwarded this letter to Dr. Butler, along with a letter of his own, “I thank you cordially for your letter,” replied Butler, “with its charming message from Mussolini. It is pleasant indeed to know that he is following our work and appreciates it.” The Columbia President went on, perhaps recollecting Il Duce’s splendid party at the Villa d’Este, “I hope sometime to get back to Italy, in which case I should wish to of course to pay my respects to him at once.”
Charles Paterno does not seem to have gotten involved in this political fuss which centered on the Casa Italiana, but his brother Joseph once wrote to President Butler expressing his displeasure when he learned that Count Carlo Sforza, the famous anti-Fascist and exile, had been invited to speak at the Casa. During the years when the Casa Italiana was being attacked in the press, Paterno Library was actually singled out as an oasis in the Casa free of Fascist influence. Even though Prezzolini was the referring to the Paterno Library as “the heart of the Casa Italiana,” the authors of “An Academic Scandal at Columbia,” The Nation, 1934, forlornly pointed out that “all the splended resources” of the Casa Italiana have been, “with the exception of the Paterno Library which is part of the university library system, exclusively controlled by the fascist group.”
In the midst of the political scandal, Charles Paterno continued to give money to his library, even though the depression had stripped him of a dozen buildings and million of dollars; during the deepest years of the great depression, his contributions sometimes only amounted to a few hundred dollars to be used for binding. By 1936, however, the library had grown to the point where it was being called “The finest collection of Italian books outside of Italy,” and Charles Paterno was well on his way to recovering his real estate fortune. In 1937, he and his son Carlo established the endowment fund of $30,000 which has provided the source for purchasing books ever since.
And in the late 1930’s, Charles’ creative mind was once again coming up with sensational building projects. In 1938, he demolished his wonderful castle to make way for a spectacular group of five 14-story apartment towers, each one in cruciform shape. Called Castle Village, the 600-suite complex, which featured New York’s first ramp garage, was dedicated in 1939 by Mayor La Guardia who praised it builder for creating “this magnificent housing unit, which will afford the sunshine, scenery and comforts of a millionaire’s living quarters to those without a millionaire’s income.”
To replace “The Castle,” in 1938 Paterno built himself a 26 room Chateau on the highest point of land between New York and Boston. Considered one of the costliest residences ever constructed in Greenwich, Connecticut, “Chateau Lafayette” was a mixture of pre-Renaissance Anglican and French styles of architecture. Paterno divided his time between this new home and a 1,700 acre estate called Windmill Manor, located in North Castle, New York. He had purchased the estate in 1922 and that year had planted 1,500,000 pine and cedar trees on which he hoped to do grafting experiments with the aim of producing a perfect Christmas tree. Quantities of these trees were sold each year at enormous profits until they grew too large to be marketable. Because of Paterno’s love of Christmas, another one of this ambitions was to train four of the 25 deer which roamed about Windmill Manor so that one snowy Christmas Eve they might be hitched to a sleigh and, with Dr. Paterno at the helm, driven down 5th Avenue.
He died before the deer could be properly domesticated and without having improved the Christmas tree to perfection. On May 30, 1946, while playing golf with his brother-in-law [Anthony Campagna] at the Westchester Country Club, Paterno had a heart attack at the Xth [tenth] hole. He left two enormous unfinished projects. He had hoped to build “the finest cemetery east of Los Angeles” in Armonk, New York, a $4,000,000 memorial park which would employ 300 men and provide facilities for baptisms and marriages as well as burials. But the horrified residents of Armonk had been giving him as many zoning problems that Paterno had withdrawn his application shortly before his death. His other plan, the conversion of Windmill Manor into a sportsman’s paradise, was moving along more smoothly. Two-and-a-half golf courses had already been built; artificial lakes were being formed (one had been stocked with 50,000 brown and speckled trout); magnificent bridle paths had been created by rearranging the remaining pine and cedar trees; and runways had been laid. The special feature of this club was to be blimp taxi service to and from Manhattan with a ship departing from each end every fifteen minutes and a landing field somewhere near 50th Street.
Dr. Paterno’s endowment continues to serve the Paterno Library and almost all of the acquisitions for the Library to this day come from that fund. The Library, which now has about 20,000 volumes, still occupies its original cramped quarters on the fourth floor of the Casa Italiana. From time to time books have had to be transferred to Butler Library to make room for new acquisitions. In 1972, the largest of these moves occurred when all of the Italian history books (about 5,000 volumes) were removed from the Paterno shelves; the emphasis of the remaining collection is literature. Robert Connolly, who has been in charge there since 1962, thinks the Charles V. Paterno Library is still “one of the largest libraries of Italian books outside Italy.”
EXTERNAL LINKS:
The Fascist Building in Upper Manhattan – The Casa Italiana has a complicated history on Columbia University’s campus. By Caroline Wazer May 2, 2016
A Portrait of Carlo [Charles Vincent] Paterno by Giuseppe Prezzolini, Head of Casa Italia at Columbia University 1955
Joseph Paterno (21 April 1881 Castelmezzano, Italy – 13 June 1939 Manhattan, NY, USA)
Newsboy’s Dreams Become Realities • The Sun • Sunday, September 29, 1912 (source)
Joseph Paterno, Starting With Nothing, the Creator at 31 of Flat Houses Assessed at $22,000,00
“Papa, why do they make the building so high?”
A poor little Italian newsboy stood shivering at his post in Park row one raw, gusty day late in November in 1889. He looked sharply at his father as he asked the question. Across Park row a derrick on the topmost steel girders of a new building was just hoisting a huge block of stone into place.
The elder Italian buttoned his overcoat more tightly about him.
“Because it pays, my son,” he explained. “The higher they make the building the more rent it brings in to the owner. That is the American way. It would not do in Naples, where I was a building contractor before you were born.”
The bright eyed lad pocketed a coin from a cutomer. Then he wrinkled his brow and frowned.
“But, papa,” he protested, “if that is so why don’t they make the houses and the tenements high too, so they will bring in more rent?”
The father smiled sadly.
“You have an eye for business, I see, my son,” he said, patting the matted curls of the youthful newsboy. “Perhaps some day when you are a grown man you may build some high houses and then we shall see.”
A decade and more was to pass before the shivering little newsboy, whose father four years before had come to America a broken spirited foreigner, was to take the first steps in the realization of the idea first conceived on that wintry afternoon of November 1889. But never during that time was the determination to carry into execution his youthful dream put aside for something which seemed to promise greater returns. And like every man who has an idea combined with the proper amount of sticktoitiveness the little Italian newsboy arrived.
Today in his luxuriously furnished private office in one of his latest build apartments just off Riverside Drive the former newsboy can show you pictures of forty-two skyscraper apartment houses built by him whose total value is computed in the tax list of the city of New York at $22,000,000 and whose actual value in the real estate market is estimated at from four to five million more. This, briefly, is the story of Joseph Paterno. You have heard of the Paterno apartments? You have seen the Coliseum [sic]? If you live on Morningside Heights you may be reading this in one of the apartment houses that Joseph Paterno erected.
Don’t think, however, that the newsboy of the 1889 bounded at once into his millions. Only in the pages of Horatio Alger do newsboys do such things. The early 90’s found him working afternoons in a dentist’s office. Then there came an end to school days. He found that he couldn’t attend school in the morning and work until late at night helping the dentist to make artificial teeth. In order that he might keep his health and still earn his share of the household expenses of a family of ten he gave up school.
Then through his father came his first opportunity. Back in Naples the elder Paterno had been in the building business. Fortune had smiled upon him for a few years, but an unfortunate contract on a public building in Castelmezzano near Naples, which was all but finished when an earthquake shook the city and destroyed Paterno’s work of a year, ruined the gray haired contractor and first turned his eye toward America.
One Sunday morning John Paterno took Joseph to mass in a little Italian church. There the elder man met “Signor” McIntosh, a well to do Irish American building contractor. An acquaintance sprang up, and from it resulted the partnership of McIntosh & Paterno. The combination of the man from southern Europe and the son of Bonnie Scot – and proved a happy one. The firm put up its first building at 151 West 106th street. So favorably did the work of the partnership impress the corporation for which the building was erected that contracts for four more buildings were given the firm of McIntosh & Paterno. Then John Paterno took sick and began to pine for a sight of the vineyards of his native Naples before he died.
“Joe,” said the old man, as he was being helped aboard ship to sail for a last glimpse of his native land. “I have left you a fair start. You have worked by my side and proved yourself a good boy and a hard worker. I don’t think I’ll ever come back to America again, my son, and so I take this last opportunity to speak to you.
“Do you remember that cold winter afternoon about ten years ago when we were fours years in the country – one afternoon down on Park row – when you asked me why they didn’t build high houses and tenements? Well, my son, your childish suggestion has recurred to me often. It was a child’s idea, but nevertheless a good one, and my advice to you now is: Take up where I have left off; pick out a good neighborhood, one that has a future, and no matter whether you have to beg or borrow the money build, build, build.
John Paterno died and is buried in a little cemetery in the suburbs of Naples. Over his grave is a handsome marble tomb built by his son. The wild grapes twine around the cross over the tomb and Neapolitans point to it with pride.
Joseph Paterno found it hard sledding at first. He had not his father’s experience; he was young. In stature he was not perhaps so impressive as some of the burly contractors of the period. But one thing he could do: he could work. Any one who enters his office today senses the spirit of the man the moment he hears the clicking typewriters. Each clerk seems imbued with a feverish spirit which brooks no delay. The place fairly breathes energy. The visitor feels as if he too should get up, rush to a telephone, close contracts, bang a typewriter, jump through the window – anything just so he may be doing something.
Another thing. He found in the early years that those Park row days had not been without their lessons. Human nature, faces – they were as open books to the young Italian. It is said of Paterno that never since he put up the first of his forty-two apartment houses has he ever been cheated on even so much as a contract for brass tacks.
The first step young Paterno took in the carrying out of his ambition was to select the neighborhood in which he should put up his first apartment. In the late 90’s Morningside Heights was the scene of four great building projects. The Cathedral of St. John the Divine had been started, Grant’s Tomb had assumed shape, Columbia University and a half dozen modern dormitories and halls were being rushed to completion, St. Luke’s Hospital promised soon to be a reality.
That was enough for young Paterno. Telegraphing to his brother, Dr. Charles V. Paterno, who was just taking his degree at Cornell, to come to New York at once. Joseph Paterno put the proposition of a partnership up to him in very few words. The young medical student at first thought his brother had gone mad when he suggested a ten, fifteen or if possible a twenty story apartment house for the Heights. Finally Joseph’s enthusiasm carried the conservative brother off his feet. Both young men scurried about town trying to raise every dollar they could get to put into the fraternal partnership.
Now what to do? Joseph looked about him for an angel, a backer. And while doing so the enthusiastic young contractor came into contact with his first good sized bucket of cold water.
“A ten story building away up there in the woods?” repeated one downtown real estate operator. “Pooh! Come down to earth, young man. Why, there isn’t a real estate plunger of the most reckless type in this city whom you could get to back you in such a harebrained scheme as that.
“You’re a visionary – like all the rest of your Latin race. Now, young man, you’ve got a good head on your shoulders as your father had before you, and once you have the rough edges shaved off you’ll make an excellent business man. Tell you what I’ll do with you. Put up a block and a half of six story buildings on the Heights and I’ll back you.
“If I do say it mayself, I’m making you an offer you won’t get in many a moon for there isn’t another man downtown here who’d take a chance on building up there for ten years yet. What do you say? Will you put me up five story apartments or not?”
Young Paterno considered. It was true; he might not get such financial backing for some time again; he had been the round; and then, too, it would only be putting off his boyhood dream for a few years at the most.
“You’re on,” he said. “I formally accept your offer. But remember this, sir, before twenty years have passed you will be tearing down your five story apartments to put eighteen and twenty story buildings in their places.”
“You will have your dreams, won’t you, son? Well, go ahead. Let’s see what you can do.”
With what Paterno did do every real estate man in New York is familiar. The block and a half of six story apartments on Morningside Avenue West are today a paying investment, but hardly anything more. The man who furnished young Paterno with the money to build them has admitted time and time again his regret that he did not put in a substructure capable of sustaining five or ten more stories or that provision had not been made in the first place for more elevators, etc.
One of young Paterno’s first buildings was the San Marino, at 509 West 112th street, near the new Cathedral of St. John the Divine. When the San Marino was built there was no subway tapping the Heights, the 110th street elevated station had not been erected; even the street car service was poor. The San Marino paid, however, and with its six stories it was one story nearer young Paterno’s ideal.
There followed a host of apartments of similar size, which young Paterno erected in such rapid succession that he could hardly keep tab on his own success. And then, in 1904, with the signing of a sheet of foolscap came the realization of the dream. In that year Joseph Paterno signed a contract to erect the Broadview, a ten story building at 616 and 620 West 116th street.
[CARLA’S CORRECTION: The 1907 12-story Broadview is located at 606 West 116th Street. The building at 616 West 116th Street is the 1906 10-story Altora Residence Club and the building at 620 West 116th Street is the 1906 10-story Porter Arms.]
The realization of the boyhood dream on Park row was at hand. Paterno ordered his first carload of steel with an exuberant air of a child placing the crowning pyramid on his house of building blocks. Proud? That he was. Pleased? As pleased as Punch.
And once Paterno started the ball rolling how the other real estate operators who had trailed him in his success on the Heights fell all over themselves in their efforts to keep pace with the latest skyscraper apartment idea! Paterno, with a twinkle in his eye, saw them and went them one better in the Paterno and the Coliseum [sic], which he rushed to completion.
To celebrate his thrity-first birthday young Paterno – he will always be “young” among the real estate men – gave a party the other night in his twelve story block of apartments deluxe between 115th and 116th streets. The block includes the Lexor [CORRECTION: Rexor], the Regnor, and the Luxor. A friend who attended that party gave this explanation of why Paterno had succeeded where others have failed:
“You often have heard it said of an executive that he should turn the details of his work over to subordinates. Joe doesn’t believe in that. He has subordinates, plenty of them, but he knows every detail of their work just as well as they do themselves and he could step into their shoes at a moment’s notice. He believes that ‘If you want a thing done, do it yourself.’ is a motto that still holds good. He frequently says that if a workman sees that you notice the little thing he won’t be so apt to slight the really important ones.
“I have often smiled at Joe because of another little trait. He will never assent to a proposition at once, but generally puts it off for a day or even for forty-eight hours before he makes his decision. He believes that decisions made on the spur of the moment often come back like white cats to haunt you in your sleep. He places more confidence in the judgement of the ‘cold, gray dawn’ than he does in the snap decisions made when the lights are rosy around the dinner table and the perfume of a good cigar makes every proposition seem fair and perfectly feasible.”
In personal appearance Mr. Paterno is slightly under medium height and of swarthy complexion. He has a positive manner in talking which seems to get instant results from his clerks. He gesticulates freely and has a quick, penetrating side glance which misses nothing in the expression of his auditor’s face. He talks quite as freely while putting up a window as while pulling it down and is the only contractor operator in New York who can put on his coat, interject an order to one of his renting agents and answer a telephone call at the same time he carries on a conversation. He combines the Latin volubility with the financial shrewdness which his youth on the East Side evidently instilled deep in his nature and is reputed among those in his own line of business to be the only man in New York who can talk a woman into believing that she is positively panting after an apartment she sometimes doesn’t want.
Mr. Paterno says that his motto is “quick construction.” He keeps after his workmen so there is no lagging and buildings are finished promptly. Also he never tries to be “smarter” than the other fellow.
“All I ask for,” he says, “is a fair deal, not the best of a deal.”
Ruth Middaugh Brown (30 Jul 1924 – 2 Jul 2009) was the eldest daughter of Lyndon Middaugh Brown (1892-1977) and Ruth Marie Welsh (1898-1952) and is my 1st cousin one time removed. These are her wonderful recollections provided to me by her son William “Bill” Effingham Lawrence III, my second cousin and steward of so many special family mementoes.
“I was born at home – 26 Haven Avenue, New York City – in an apartment house that had to be torn down in order to build the George Washington Bridge that spans the Hudson River.
My mom and dad and I moved when I was one year old to a brand new stretched out apartment in a very modern apartment complex overlooking “The Castle” and the Hudson River and the New Jersey Palisades. The apartment complex was called “Hudson View Gardens” and was built by my grandfather Dr. Charles V. Paterno [1878-1946]. There were a dozen apartments attached with cellar ways connecting so one could walk from one to another in bad weather. An A&P drug store, restaurant and radio station were in the complex. Also a large rose garden and a separate children’s park with a sand box large enough for all the children to play in.
Our apartment was designed for us – two apartments connected. It was stretched out with the large dining room in the center, a kitchen (with dishwasher and other appliances) and a large laundry room, the same size as the kitchen were to the side. A foyer ran along the back of the apartment where the front door was (we were a flight below street level) with a telephone in the outer foyer of the building for security. At one end of the dining room was the living room and beyond that a large bedroom and bath and just the opposite on the other side of the dining room was a “nursery” (like a family room) with a murphy bed. A large master bedroom and bath were at this end and screened porch and path, garden and stairs going down to the street below. It was a wonderful apartment with beautiful views from all the window (large foot deep window sills). There was a second murphy bed under the large tapestry in the living room. We had a grand player piano in the living room where our parents entertained frequently.
My sister Marilyn [Gertrude Middaugh Brown 1927-2007] arrived three years after me and then brother Charles three years later.
Our grandparents living across the street in the Castle. It was wonderful having them so near and being invited for Sunday dinner almost every Sunday.
The Castle was built of white marble set on 20 acres high above the Hudson with a three-foot thick grey stone supporting wall all along the side above the river. The front side had a decorative iron fence with three automobile entrances and three pedestrian entrances spaced along Northern Avenue. At the end of the property were the seven garages which housed the limousines and above which the two chauffeurs and families lived in their own apartments. The driveways ran so that it would be convenient for the cars to leave the garages, drive out onto Northern Avenue up the street to the third entrance and drive down the driveway and stop at the front door of the Castle under the porte-cochere.
The front door had red carpeting running out under the double grill covered glass doors down the two steps to the driveway. Inside the foyer were two “knights of armor” and chairs and tables of Italian design. On the right side was the Japanese room. All done in Japanese style with a constantly glaring ember fire in a Japanese hibachi. Further down the foyer one entered an octagonal shaped center room in the middle of the castle with a fountain and goldfish pond in the middle with Italian furniture on the outer walls. To the left was the dining room very formal done in dark wood to the left of that the large pantry. Off the dining room doors opened into a long tiled floor (heated) three sectioned green house with flowers growing on each side at waist level. At the end of this one entered a huge solarium with a glass roof, carpets over tile floors, a large stone fireplace and a dozen hanging bird cages with canaries and potted plants everywhere. This was a favorite room to entertain in always bright compared especially to the darker rooms of the castle.
Off of this room one opened double glass doors and went down three steps into the billiard room which was fitted out with a very heavy pool table, dome lights, cues, racks, etc. and high stools to watch the game. Once again another set of glass doors and you walked down three steps into a series of greenhouses one after the other [rows?] of flowers but specializing in different kinds of orchids. Our grandmother [Minnie Minton Middaugh Paterno 1868-1943] wore a fresh orchid everyday on mink, sable or chinchilla coats. The greenhouses ended at the engineers house which faced houses for some of the servants.
Back again in the billiard room a small stairway led to the exercise room with a large mechanical horse and another one called the elephant. These exercise machines were great fun for us children. They went from slow, medium to fast.
A dozen steps down from this room was the pool. The pool was surrounded by rattan furniture along one long windowed wall and the other wall had goldfish set in four glass aquariums in the wall. The pool had a diving board at one end, ropes for swinging on in the middle overhead and had a beautiful blue tile bottom.
Beyond the pool there were dressing rooms on each side, six for the ladies and six for the men with an assortment of bathing suits for their use. Bathrooms for each of course and beyond this a very large health room with Turkish bath, massage table and water hoses all supervised by the engineer Mr. Tagalieri.
Now we go back upstairs to the grand octagonal foyer. And turn left after we come out of the dining room. We go into the library. The library has a circular glass window at one end and in front of the furniture lies the head and body of a beautiful tiger stretched out on the floor. An open area with long windows separates the library from the music room. Here the grand piano, the French furniture and the beautiful lion on this floor.
We leave this room and turn left. Walk past the grand staircase and further left to a ladies sitting room and adjoining powder room which is next to the Japanese room. Turn back to the grand staircase and you will see that you can look straight up to the glass roof. The second story has a red velvet balustrade running around the entire second floor and also the third floor. Back to the stairway you walk up three red carpeted stairs and continue as the stairs turn right for the full flight to the second floor or else take the elevator up to the second or third floor. As we reach the second floor we will notice organ pipes in the left corner. We walk to the first door and we enter a large foyer. A closet on the left houses my grandmothers shoes – dozens of them in all colors. The next door in the foyer area leads into my grandfather’s room – dark masculine with a large fireplace. Leaving that room and going into the doorway across from the foyer door is a very large white bathroom with sunbathing deck outside which is above the porte-cochere. All of the commodes in the bathrooms in the castle are covered with white wicker chairs.
The next room off the foyer area is my grandmother’s “boudoir.” With bed, day bed, chairs, small piano, fireplace and a room for the family to gather in. And for me to sleep on the day bed whenever I spent the night when I was little. A second door from the boudoir led into a little hall with a back stairway going down to the pantry. And through the hall was a good sized sewing room. Beyond that a large bathroom belonging to my Uncle Carlo [Carlo Middaugh Paterno 1907-1995] and then his room which had a circular area surrounded by glass windows. This room also had entrance by a door from around the second floor balcony. We walk a little further to a large walk-in cedar closet and then a few feet further, open the door into a small foyer area. And there are two guest rooms with small fireplaces, a bath to share, all lovely with balconies overlooking the Hudson.
We now leave the second floor and go up to the third floor. We now enter the grand ballroom area with grand piano. The ceiling and walls covered with al frescos and velvet chairs and mirrors covering the sides of the rooms. Besides the ballroom there is a full dining room, kitchen and powder rooms.
We go back downstairs to the pantry and see the dumb waiter that brings the food up from the kitchen and can also bring food up to the send or third floor if necessary. There are heating ovens, china cabinets, sink, etc. with a door to outside and terrace.
We take the back servant’s stairway and go downstairs all underground to the kitchen, servants lounge, servant dining room and servant sleeping quarters all. Beyond these bedrooms do have windows. [Not certain of transcription on last sentence.]
Once as a teenager my cousin Gladys [Gladys Middaugh Hazeltine 1897-1994] and her daughter who was my age, cousin Harriett [Harriet Hazeltine 1924-1989] from Pasadena, California, came to visit. My grandmother’s chauffeur Glen [Glenn Lybarger] took us down through the servants quarters to a secret door. There we went through on unfinished part of the cellar where we walked on gang planks and walked out to the stone wall overhanging Riverside Drive and looked out over the small cars below. It was very scary. Above the stone wall was a white pergola which ran the length of the property.
The castle was built in [1907] by my grandfather whom we always called “Doctor.” He came to the United States as a small boy. [This sentence is crossed out in the original.]
My grandmother “Nana” was very blonde, tall, and statuesque, while my grandfather “Doctor” was shorter in height and he had a waxed mustache and goatee. They were wonderful grandparents. I have many memories of going with them in the chauffeured driver Rolls Royce covered with five blankets and not feeling too well. They had two chauffeurs Glen and Albert, two cooks, three or four house maids, a personal maid, butler, etc. When they entertained they needed extra help. Old Glen and Albert’s wives would pitch in from the time I was a baby.
In the summer Nana and Doctor would go to their farm in North Castle, New York. They would bring all the servants with them and the chauffeurs would take turns.
The barns were mostly down by the road running along Route 22. The bull was tied with a chain through his nose near the barns and as I walked down to the barns from the Big House through the arbor, the bull was always there. I was petrified of him and had been told never to wear a red dress because then he would go crazy and try to break loose. It was in the area where they butchered the chickens, etc.
There was a 9-hole golf course across the street from the Big House and tennis courts down by the barns and an ice house plus several other houses on the property.
When I was about 8 years old and “they” did over the farm: built beautiful barns and stables and cottages way in the back of the Big House. An enormous garden the size of a football field, a polo field, a very large artificial lake with boat house and dressing rooms and bathrooms attached. And upstair was the living room. There were seven artificial lakes and windmills to pump the water if needed. The farm was renamed “Windmill Manor.” [Later to be called Windmill Farm.]
There were miles of bridle paths and large deer pens in the woods. There were ten horses, four work horses, cows, sheep, goats, chickens, pigs, my pony named “Mickey” and several peacocks.
There was a dairy where they made the cream and butter. This farm supplied everything: meat, fish (the lakes were full of fish), vegetables and fruits from the garden, eggs, butter, milk, etc. from the dairy.
With the new farm they did away with the golf course and the tennis courts.
I had a lovely play yard with play horse, swing, wading pool, roller coaster, etc.
I was also given a pony “Mickey” and pony cart besides having “Laddie” my old circus horse to ride.
My grandmother rode her horse “Gloria” every day side saddle. The groom would bring the horses up to the Big House every morning. A permanent mount was always there to help one get on the horses.”
Thank you Ruth for capturing your memories and thank you Bill for preserving and sharing your mother’s delightful writing.
Minnie Minton Middaugh Paterno (11 Oct 1868 – 29 Mar 1943) made application to the Fort Washington Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution which was approved and accepted on 25 Oct 1933. She applied while living at 182 Northern Avenue which was the address of Paterno Castle. The scans of this document were graciously provided to me by William “Bill” Effingham Lawrence III (1946-) who is a great-grandson of Minnie and is my second cousin.
Minnie Minton Middaugh Paterno (1868 – 1943) was the daughter of Charlotte E. Wolcott (1847-1903) who was the daughter of John Wolcott, Jr. (1793-1851) who was the son of John H. Wolcott (1759-1824) who was the son of Josiah Wolcott (1713-1784) who was the son of George Wolcott, Jr. (1652-1726) who was the son of George Wolcott (1612-1662) whose younger brother was Simon Wolcott (1625-1687) whose son was Roger Wolcott (1679-1767) whose son was Oliver Wolcott, Sr. (1726-1797) who was a signer of the Declaration of Independence in 1776. Oliver Wolcott is my second cousin seven times removed.
Minnie’s great-grandfather John H. Wolcott (1759-1824) – great uncle of Oliver Wolcott – served in the American Revolution. He enlisted the latter part of summer 1779 as a Private in Captain James Wilson’s Company in Colonel Chamber’s First Pennsylvania Regiment. He was captured by the British near Fort Montgomery in the winter of 1779. He remained in captivity about six months when he was exchanged and rejoined the American Army in the summer of 1780. He was discharged in the fall of 1780 as a Captain. On 1 July 1820, John Walcott, age 61, residing in Bath Co. Kentucky, gave a statement at Aureysville, Bath County KY Courthouse, stating his occupation as farrier or farmer, and that he had war injuries of one ball through right leg, one ball through left thigh, and one ball that broke the left wrist. John H. Wolcott is my 4th great-grandfather.
This amazing piece of family history was provided to me by my second cousin William “Bill” Effingham Lawrence III (1946-) whose mother Ruth Middaugh Brown (30 Jul 1924 – 2 Jul 2009) was the daughter of Lyndon Middaugh Brown (11 May 1892 – 18 Apr 1977). Orville Wright certified Lyndon as a pilot when he was 37 years old.
This article was written for the Auburn Citizen Newspaper on 17 September 2007 by Carmelo Signorelli (1921-2012), first cousin twice removed of Carla Ann Cappiello Golden.
Writing again, with thoughts of childhood By Carmelo Signorelli Sep 17, 2007
Hi folks. Surprise! I’m back. I’ve had to quit writing my column for a while because of a health problem. I do hope to get back to my regular four-week schedule – at least I’m going to give it a good try. Advanced age sure does pose problems, as I’ve learned only too well.
Today’s column is going to be somewhat different, as it will cover my early childhood years. It might ring a bell with some of you seniors.
I was born in a large house on Hulburt Street when it was a residential area. The house was originally the convent for the nuns of St. Mary’s Church, most of whom were teachers at St. Mary’s School. The school was on Clark Street, next to the rectory.
An uncle of mine, Joseph Carnicelli (1874-1952), bought the house when a new convent was built on the corner of Clark and James streets. Many is the time I saw the nuns walking to or from the convent, always in twos.
My uncle converted the old convent into apartments which he rented to his in-laws. Five siblings lived in the house, including my father (Luciano Louis Signorelli 1889-1977), who was the only one who was not yet married. He lived with his parents. When he did marry, he continued with them in the apartment and there is where I was born.
My uncle Joseph moved to Rochester and opened up a grocery store. I remember that we used to buy some of our groceries from him and they would be shipped to us in a barrel.
After several years, he decided to move back to Auburn so my parents gave up their apartment and moved into one on Green Avenue, a short street behind Hulbert Street.
There were quite a few Italian families in that neighborhood, but it was not primarily Italian as were some of those in the western part of the city. In addition to Hulbert Street, the area included McMaster Street, Pine Street, Church Street, Green Street, Green Avenue and about a block of Clark Street.
An uncle of mine by marriage was Salvatore Cappiello (1884-1975) who, with his brother Angelo (1888-1946), ran an Italian bakery. They had emigrated to America from a town in Italy called Biccari. Their bakery was originally located on Garden Street but later they had a masonry building erected behind Angelo’s on Hulbert Street. It was a two-story building with the bakery on the first floor and a multi-purpose hall on the second floor, which was rented out for various reasons.
The Cappiello Bakery produced an excellent variety of Italian bread that you can’t buy anymore. The bakery had a panel truck with which bread was delivered to the many family-owned Italian grocery stores in Auburn at the time. My uncle Salvatore would also fill a large basket with bread every day and make deliveries to the relatives in the area. I remember that my mother would purchase two loaves a day.
The Cappiello Bakery was across the street from where we lived on Hulbert Street and, occasionally, as a young child, I would go to the bakery and watch bread being made. I guess it was something to do.
I also attended social functions, such as wedding receptions, in the upstairs hall with my parents. I enjoyed the food that was served and had fun watching the dancing, which included the tarantella and other Italian dances. People in those days certainly knew how to have a good time.
The Italian Band of Auburn rehearsed in Cappiello Hall during its early years when nearly all of the members were Italian immigrants. My father was a member and played the clarinet. I remember that we had a large photograph of the band in their uniforms marching in formation on Hulbert Street.
The Iacovino Grocery was on Clark Street, near the Hulbert Street intersection. Many of the Italian immigrants in the area shopped at Iacovino’s because the proprietor could speak Italian. My mother bought groceries there, but it wasn’t long before she did most of her grocery shopping at the downtown stores because of their lower prices. Those stores were the forerunners of today’s supermarkets.
(Maria Cappiello 1874-1930, sister of Salvatore Cappiello, married John B. Iacovino 1867-1953.)
Hulbert Street was only a block from downtown and very handy as most people in our neighborhood didn’t have cars. Occasionally my father would take the family to Drake’s Confectionery on Genesee Street for a treat, usually sundaes. Drake’s was located where the Boyle Center is today, and was just a short walk from where we lived.
I started going to school at the age of five and went to James Street School, which was just two blocks away. On my first day of school, I was taken there by one of my older girl cousins, who also attended James Street School. She took me to the kindergarten teacher, who asked in a very friendly manner, “Is this the new boy?”
Going to James Street School was a great educational and social experience and I truly enjoyed it. The teachers were not only very competent, but also had pleasant dispositions and treated us as if we were their own children. How fortunate I was to be able to spend my first seven school years there.
Well, I guess I’ve rambled on long enough. I plan to be back next time right on schedule, the good Lord willing.
Arrivederci.
Carmelo Signorelli is an Auburn resident who enjoys reminiscing about the good ol’ days.
I learned while reading Anthony Campagna’s Autobiography that my great grandmother Maria Carolina Trivigno (1853-1925) and his grandmother Maria Arcangela Trivigno (1839-1880) were sisters. It was only then did I realize that the Campagnas and Paternos do not just share just a long history by marriage but also by birth.
Maria Arcangela Trivigno (1839-1880) and Maria Carolina Trivigno (1853-1925) were sisters and shared several other siblings. They were daughters of Vito Canio Trivigno (1815-1898) and Maria Vittoria D’Amico (1818-1885).
Maria Arcangela Trivigno (1839-1880) married Michele Arcangelo Campagna (1830-1916) in 1857 and were the parents of Giuseppe Campagna (1857-1917) and other children.
Maria Carolina Trivigno (1853-1925) married Giovanni Mario Paterno (1851-1899) in 1872 and were the parents of Celestina Paterno (1873-1939), Maria Paterno (1886-1967), Christina Paterno (1899-1959), and seven other children.
Giuseppe Campagna (1857-1917) married Agata Maria Taddei (1862-1951) before 1884 and were the parents of Anthony Campagna (1884-1969), Michael Angelo Campagna (1895-1964), Armino Albert Campagna (1898-1985), and other children.
Anthony Campagna (1884-1969) married Maria Paterno (1886-1967) in 1909. They were second cousins once removed and spouses.
Armino Albert Campagna (1898-1985) married Christina Paterno (1899-1959) in 1923. They were second cousins once removed and spouses.
Celestina Paterno (1873-1939) married Victor Angelo Cerabone (1868-1954) and were the parents of Carolina Helene Cerabone (1900-1996) and other children.
Carolina Helene Cerabone (1900-1996) married Michael Angelo Campagna (1895-1964) in 1922. They were 2nd cousins and spouses.
The Campagnas and Paternos are related by birth and by marriage.
Additionally a sister of Maria Arcangela Trivigno (1839-1880) and Maria Carolina Trivigno (1853-1925) named Maria Giuseppina Trivigno (1862- unknown) married Michele Arcangelo Paterno (1860-1917) who was the brother of Giovanni Mario Paterno (1851-1899). So Maria Carolina Trivigno and Maria J. Giuseppina Trivigno were both sisters and sisters-in-law.
Maria Giuseppina Trivigno (1862-unknown) and Michele Arcangelo Paterno (1860-1917) were the parents of Francis S. Paterno who lived in Manhattan and was an apartment house builder like his cousins. His buildings are not included in the Paterno Family Architecture Catalog.
Maria Giuseppina Trivigno (1862-unknown) and Michele Arcangelo Paterno (1860-1917) were also the parents of Maria Celestina Paterno who married Louis Sciubba who worked with Francis S. Paterno on a project or more.
Another Trivigno sister, Maria Luigia Trivigno (1859-1942) married Domenic Pellettieri (1855-1901). Together they had a son John A. Pellettieri (1886-1945) who helped build 25 Sutton Place, 820 West End Avenue, 800 West End Avenue, and the Wellston, all with Anthony Paterno.
The building construction business was a family and extended-family enterprise!
Additionally grandson of Maria Carolina Trivigno (1853-1925) named Michael Jeremiah Paterno (1909-1992) and granddaughter of Maria Luigia Trivigno (1859-1942) named Louise M. Massari (1909-1995) were married making them second cousins and spouses.
Ormie King’s Legends • A Friend Remembers Joe Cappiello
Post-Standard, The (Newspaper) – August 10, 2006, Syracuse, New York Page 12
Today’s Legends of Auburn story was written by Renee Campbell, a longtime friend of Joe Cappiello. Ormie King says, “I had the good fortune to play football, with his son, David Cappiello [1938-], and he was truly a ‘chip off the old block’ as he mirrored his dad’s career. Dave was an outstanding halfback on our undefeated football team and also was a gifted musician who played at many of our reunions over the years as well as an outstanding sports orthopedic surgeon in Asheville. N.C.. Joe Jr. [1944-] is vice president of JCAHO, a national hospital organization.”
Life was good in so many ways for Joe Cappiello [1912-2006]. He lived a long and productive life, he raised two successful sons. He was loved and cared for by friends and family, and he ended his 94 years just as he wished, living at home with his dog, Bianca. But Joe Cappiello had a gift and a passion that defined his life – his love of music and his ability to share it with others. Weaving his musical tapestry through so many generations, Joe Cappiello touched so many in a manner that only a master musician can do. He brought to life the magic of music through the ivory keys of the piano. He opened the minds of the young and old to appreciate the wonders of music. The joy, the discipline, the hard work and the persistence that music demands were shared with so many over the decades. He could not traverse the aisles of Wegman’s without someone coming up to him to remind him that they were a former student or that he played at their wedding. And he remembered them all.
Joseph Lawrence Cappiello was the son of Salvatore “Sam” [1884-1975] and Gilda [1893-1980] Cappiello, born February 16, 1912, at 7 Hulbert Street, Auburn. His parents built and co-owned the Cappiello Bakery located behind their residence on Hulbert Street with Salvatore’s brother, Angelo Cappiello [1888-1946]. During the Depression years, young Joe worked with the city street department and carried out family responsibilities in the bakery, cutting and weighing dough for bread. The Cappiello Bakery prospered and was rivaled by the Antonacci Bakery as the premiere Italian bakery in Auburn. Joe attended Auburn Academic High in the Class of 1931. He was a left halfback on the football team as well as captain of the track team. The Y-Field Reunion in 2002 proved to be a special occasion for Joe and provided the opportunity to reminisce about his former teammates and adversaries. Joe was proud to be part of the colorful past of sports in Auburn and to be in the company of so many well-known athletes.
Joe met Mary Colella [1916-1962], his future wife, at a dance hall above the bakery. Her brother, Louie [Lucian Milton Colella 1916-2006], had brought her to the dance and introduced them. Joe asked Louie if he could take Mary home that evening, under his watchful eye, of course. Following that night, when the couple started seeing each other exclusively, Mary’s mother [Antonetta Perillo Colella 1892-1998] directed that her brother must accompany them as a chaperone. In those days, Italian girls didn’t go on dates that were not chaperoned. Joe married Mary on November 23, 1935 in St. Francis Church. They lived at 6 Adams Avenue beginning in 1946, and together raised two sons, David and Joe.
Joe first took piano lessons from his cousin, Concetta lacovino [1900-1997]. His second teacher was Mrs. Vanderhoof, whose studio was located on William Street in a home that was converted into a parking lot for Westminster Church. Shortly thereafter, Joe became a founding member of the Joe Manzone Orchestra, an Auburn landmark throughout the late ’30s and early ’40s. Joe later started his own band with Mike Cervo (trumpet), Louie Scala (clarinet and sax), Herbie LaHood (drums), Bruce Doan (sax) and Mike Signorelli (sax). Joe played the piano, did the arranging, and the band stayed together for many years, even though the membership would change. Many notable musicians would come and go and return again. For Joe, the band was a bunch of good friends doing what they loved to do – entertain and make music.
At the height of his teaching career, Joe carried a roster of more than 100 students. Long into the evenings, on Saturdays and even on Sundays, the sounds of music would pour from Joe’s studio on the second floor of the house on Adams Avenue. No one really knows the number of students who passed through the studio on Adams Avenue. The number is irrelevant. What is important is the impact the music made on so many.
The house is quiet now. Music no longer wafts through the neighborhood. The maestro is gone. Joe Cappiello died with dignity and peace on May 31. You just know there is a hell of a jam session going on in heaven!
Post note: Ormie King’s Local History Room, with its several thousand photos and news clips, is open for your pleasure and reminiscing at the Cayuga Community College Library. For further information and library house, call 255-1743 ext. 2296.
EXTERNAL LINKS:
Look Back at Some Legendary Auburn Musicians by Ormie King 29 November 2015
Ormie King: Memories of Legendary Auburn Bands 27 September 2018
