The Original Powerful Gentleman…
Much of my childhood was spent in the company of my Nonno (Italian Grandfather) a great man, teacher, confidant, the original and most Powerful Gentleman.
He was my best friend and I miss him every day.
Although I was born in Newcastle, because of him, my heart is Italian
(I’m often quoting ‘If you’re born in a stable, are you a horse?’)
A man of honour and respect, proud and confident, bold and handsome.
To really get a hold on exactly what makes a Powerful Gentleman like my Nonno, you have to understand the life.
At the turn of the 20th century the paesani in Italy lived by farming the land, living off the live stock, and selling any surplus at the local markets. Whole generations of families shared houses and rooms even. Every time the land was passed down a generation it was divided up between the siblings and so it was became harder and harder to live, as unfortunately land boundaries don’t grow. These were exceptionally hard times and even harder were the men who would endure bitter winters, often sleeping outside under the night sky as they protected their livestock and did what needed to be done to make sure the family was fed.
In 1912, (the year of the Titanic) my Great Grandfather Michele Marzella had to make the difficult and scary decision to stay in an arduous life for himself and his family or to move his growing family (was to become a family of 8 children) from the rural farming mountains of Italy in search of a better life. They had heard stories of America and London and how the Italians were making a life for themselves introducing their way of life to foreign cultures. Although the passage was fraught with danger, the riches that awaited you there were great. However, wise and bold as my great grandfather was he understood that other Italians were doing the same, instead of following the herd he thought to venture further north and made the journey to Scotland.
He felt the FEAR and did it anyway and that is a POWERFUL thing.
My family has had many a business in Shots (a mining village between Glasgow and Edinburgh) dance halls, billiard rooms, cafés, ice cream parlours, and general stores to name a few. All which I’m told were sights to behold from the Terrazza tilings to the shining Mahogany. They had found a better life. Not without difficulty, sacrifice and hard work may I add. No time was more difficult than World War II, an extremely dangerous time for Italians in Britain. Their lives were threatened and livelihood destroyed. But not for the Marzella’s, I’ve been told many a time how my family was no to be touched, they were protected as they lined the streets to feed the soldiers returning home from battle. Just another in a long list of stories that fill me with immense pride as I listen intently to my older relations as the men gather at the increasingly fewer family get togethers.
(I will share more of these another time.)
The more I read about business and growth the more I understand that GIVING freely where possible is the key not only to surviving but to thriving!
My Nonno, Pasquale Marzella, attended a boarding school with Zio (great uncle) Mario and returned to help build the family business’. After losing his parents he emigrated to Canada. His adventures took him from Scotland to Canada and America he lived and thrived in them all and no place did he love more than New York.
It is both comforting and empowering to think of this when I feel the resistance to embark on new projects and new ideas.
In matters of the heart, after only a chance meeting with his future wife (my Nanna) in Scotland years earlier, he decided to write to her from across the pond. He offered support and council, condolences and laughter then after a year of correspondence he proposed to her via letter. This was a lady he had only met once and had never dated, which is quite possibly the most romantic thing I have ever heard. Not only that but he left his beloved America to return to Scotland so my Mamma could be born and Nanna could have the support of her seven sisters.
Whenever mentioned he is always spoken about with the highest of respect and always with a smile — ‘ya see yar uncy Pascae, I mean your grandadae’ is how a story would begin. He was kind and gentle but it was understood that he was a man not to be crossed. Zio Tony told me that Nonno had a boxing ring above the café in Shots and if anyone took quarrel with him then he would take them into the ring and that was it settled.
Part of a Gentleman’s code, standing up for your honour. It mattered not who won or lost but that you were willing to defend your values, no matter the consequence. It doesn’t have to be a physical stance either (although I do sometimes think it is the quickest way). We are all too often afraid to speak out for what we truly believe in and betraying our values and beliefs is a sure fire way to feeling weak.
This same romantic, strong, courageous man was the same man who would ALWAYS make sure to have Bassets Aniseed Imperials or Fruit Pastilles in his glove box especially for me so we could challenge each other to who could keep it the longest. Who would fix any and every toy I ever broke. Who taught me that small cans of Heineken make for perfect pound coin piggy banks when you push the coin in sidewards. The same man who would sneak me a fiver in my pocket whenever Ma and Pa weren’t watching.
The same man who’s wedding ring I wear on the fourth finger of my left hand.
To my Nonno.
