St. Paul Pioneer Press
Posted on Tue, Sep. 26, 2006
I traveled to my great-grandfather's homeland with a stuffed suitcase, a blank journal and a "2006 Italy" guidebook. It was 1906 Italy from which Nonno emigrated, a 17-year-old with loads of courage and not a lick of English. His mother scrawled "10 Settembre 1906" on a piece of paper, slipped it in his pocket and kissed him goodbye. This would be a day to remember.
To discover Florence one century after Nonno left it, to see the Renaissance art and rolling vistas that shaped the ancestor whose life overlapped just one year with mine, this was my undertaking. I was ready to inhale every detail, to hold it up to the Tuscan light and extract new insights into my identity.
I tucked a picture of Nonno into the outer pocket of my pink Champion travel bag. My dutiful boyfriend carried it often, and when our trek turned tense or crowded, I followed Nonno's face, a focal point in the sea of chaos. He was the patron saint of my pilgrimage.
It quickly became clear how the birthplace of Michelangelo inspired Nonno to be a painter and sculptor. He was christened beneath the dazzling gold ceiling of the Baptistery of St. John. He played at the foot of the David. And if his mind wandered during Mass, he could gaze at "The Last Judgment" painted inside the Duomo or study its innovative structure.
Nonno left Florence to work as a sculptor at the Giuliani Statuary Co. in downtown St. Paul. The teenager lived above the studio with Italian co-workers, and he studied English at night school.
Though he never found fortune or fame, Nonno was an active artisan. He carved the Stations of the Cross that line the walls at the Cathedral of St. Paul. He also painted and gilded the interior of the dome. His son and grandsons — including my dad — helped him renovate it in the mid '70s.
Nonno's work adorns many churches and chapels throughout the state, from the University of St. Thomas in St. Paul to the Basilica of St. Mary in Minneapolis. He carved a stunningly lifelike sculpture of James J. Hill, builder of the Great Northern Railway. He also sculpted a bust of Al Smith, the 1928 Democratic presidential candidate. When Herbert Hoover won, Nonno smashed the sculpture in a fit of Italian fury.
The following year, Nonno became head of the statuary (later called the St. Paul Statuary Co.), a position he eked through the Great Depression and maintained until his retirement. His lastborn, Paul, my grandfather, continued the business.
Grandpa Paul's fingerprints are scattered across St. Paul, including the gilded horses frolicking on the Capitol. Now his fingers dance across a clarinet, breathing life into the melodies of Gioacchino Rossini and Niccolò Paganini.
The Florentine spirit pulses in his veins. It is his fountain of youth.
That spirit animates all the Capecchis in St. Paul and its suburbs, infusing in us a love of art and music, literature and learning. Many artists, musicians, writers and teachers were born in the four generations following Nonno. We have painted churches, directed bands, written articles and taught children here.
Maria writes poetry and designs costumes. Gina dances, sings and acts. And Dan is teaching his 1-year-old Luca how to hold drumsticks.
Though Florence has influenced us, St. Paul has sustained us. The city has been an incubator, cultivating our growth. It has provided ample opportunity to study and perform the arts. And it has surrounded us with folks who appreciate a string quartet, a lifelike sculpture and the written word.
St. Paul is a melting pot of artists and immigrants, a city that embraces diverse people and enables them to thrive.
It has enabled us to follow our great-grandfather's footsteps, carving our own piece from Nonno's handiwork. I hope the pieces we've carved give shape to the promise he saw, a century ago, when he left Florence for St. Paul.
Christina Capecchi grew up in Inver Grove Heights. She is studying journalism at Northwestern University in Evanston, Ill.