I am so proud: copies of my book finally arrived in the mail today! For those of you who have not been following this fascinating and never-ending project of mine, here is the scoop.
Between 1880 and 1914, twenty-seven thousand young men (and some women) from Ticino emigrated to California to escape poverty and hunger. My great-grandfather Silvio Debernardi (14.1.1873-13.7.1954) was one of them. In this book I collected, researched, and translated into English 61 letters that Silvio wrote and received during the ten years he spent abroad. Twenty-one of these, about one third, were written by him, while the others came from his two other brothers in California, from his relatives and friends back home, and also from friends and relatives in California.
The letters reflect the successes, hardships, hopes, disappointments, and homesickness of those who took part in this amazing chapter of Ticino history. The correspondence belongs to my family tapestry, but also to a wider history that only recently has been written and published, mainly through the work of local historian Giorgio Cheda.
One thing that emerges clearly from Silvio’s letters is the resiliency and courageousness of the protagonists: young men barely 18 years of age making their way in a distant foreign country, learning a few words of English, saving a few dollars, and slowly building a better future for themselves and for their families back home; and young women who had never left the village travelling across the world to marry someone who had emigrated years before. In California the emigrants often had relatives or acquaintances to help them get started, but their success depended entirely on their own physical health and on their ability to recognize and seize opportunity.
Another constant theme is that of homesickness and the emigrants’ plans to return home. Already in 1896, Silvio starts talking about returning to Lodano, and until he actually does, four years later, he evaluates the pros and cons, weighing his desire to be reunited with his family against the possibility of earning a few more dollars, guessing how the seasons will be, how the price of butter will fluctuate, and whether the wages will increase or decrease—just like any modern business man would. Especially while talking about such topics, Silvio and the other authors mix dialect, Italian, and English, often Italianizing English words and phrases, in what is a fascinating linguistic pastiche.
And of course, last but not least, all the letters contain news about family members and acquaintances from the valley, whether in California or back home, offering—through snippets of private history—a wider picture of the collective history of the entire community.
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Following is the first letter that Silvio wrote home after arriving in California.

Crescent City, August 10, 1891
Evviva San Lorenzo Martire
My dear friend [Severo Franscioni] ,
We’ve been silent several months and it’s time for me to write with some news from here. I’m in good health, as I hope is the case with you and your wife and family. After my departure, I often thought about you and the other good friends back in Lodano. See what happened to the youth of Lodano? We had a nice gang of seven, we had fun and showed how vivacious youths can be, and then one goes here and the other goes there. Oh, what happened to those nice evenings spent singing playing dancing? They are over. Such things make one’s heart break. I work continually and my job is to look after the livestock. The cows are starting to give less milk now. There are 82 of them and four of us to milk them: myself, Mattia [Pedrotti] , an American, and Davide Pozzi, son of Placido from Giumaglio . This year the price of butter is not very high, 30 cents a pound, which equals about 1.50 francs, but it’s increasing and it will probably go up to 40 cents. Crescent City is rather nice, but there are too many woods here and the ranches are scattered. It’s all larch and fir woods, just like in Switzerland. There are some small hills, but far away. The ocean is close by, about two kilometers, and when the weather is about to change it makes a lot of noise. I recently received a letter from your brother Venanzio [Franscioni]. He says he is in good health and well. We write often and I was very sad to part from him in San Francisco: I shook his hand and we both started crying. We had with us a pretty young woman from Giubiasco who was going to San Luis, and she gave me a kiss. She really liked me. She had left nine days after us and we found her in Le Havre by herself. From San Francisco to Crescent City it’s 300 miles, which equals 450 kilometers. The steamboat travels along the coast, only a few kilometers from shore. I didn’t suffer from Le Havre to New York, but from San Francisco to Crescent City I suffered: it’s a mean shore; you have to try it to know . Crescent City is a small town with houses made entirely from wood. There are fir trees here that are 70 or 80 meters high, hugely out of proportion. I haven’t seen my brother Golia since May 8, but I think we’ll get together soon. We’re distant like from Someo to Locarno. Geremia was over last Sunday and cut my hair and beard. Geremia is about 18 kilometers away and it takes him an hour by horse. I haven’t seen Santino Tunzi yet, but I think I’ll see him in two weeks: he’s not far from here and we’ll play some violin together. I hear he’s very good. California is about the same as back home, and someone who wants to adapt back home can make just as much money as here. A young man is not persuaded until he comes to California, and once he’s here, he wants to return home. Forgive my ill writing. Farewell, you receive a thousand greetings and a handshake from your good friend Silvio.
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The 169-page book is in English, but the original Italian transcription of each letter is also included. Copies are on sale for USD 60 or 62 CHF (a franc/dollar a letter!) If you are interested in buying a copy, please write to me at info@ndb-agency.ch.