TONY LOFURBO

On a train approaching Chicago, in one of the many suburbs that surround the city, travelers can notice a tower as high as the YMCA or the buildings of local banks. On the tower a sign glows: Tony Lofurbo Ware House [sic]. Lofurbo[1] arrived here when he was three years old. Thanks to his father’s hard work and the help of the American system, he received the kind of education that in Italy he couldn’t have even dreamt about. His natural intelligence allowed him to discover that without an education in America one cannot go very far. He also understood that Americans have a migratory instinct and move easily from place to place, from neighborhood to neighborhood, chasing opportunities. He thus concluded that a warehouse where people could store their stuff temporarily would be a good way to make money. He did it the right way because he also understood that in this country, in order to make money, you have to do things well. And, in fact, his warehouse can store anything safely and is well protected from humidity and thieves: from furniture to merchandise to a grandmother’s jewels to a wardrobe. He has a fleet of vans to move all the various items in and out; and a small army of certified, experienced movers that can be trusted with anything; all with a clean record.

Never has one of his trucks been hijacked and the merchandise stolen. Lofurbo is a really talented man, with lots of nice relationships with organized-crime figures. To use an American expression, he is worth a million dollars. Often it happens that people who move away stop paying rent or don’t retrieve their stuff from the warehouse when the contract expires. Then, thanks to a contract clause prepared by his astute lawyers, all the abandoned goods become his possession. Tony Lofurbo has a good reputation: he befriended a local senator; congressmen visit with him and he has lunch with the mayor once a week. He is strong and stocky, with oily skin and pale lips. In his dark eyes lurks the mark of a tremendous will that knows how to command respect and fear. Yet, he is always happy to help whenever he can. Indeed, the greatest pleasure of his life is to show and use his influence and power. If you got a ticket and want to have it fixed, most likely he can take care of it. And if he can do it, he will show that he is happy to do it and he will love you more after he took care of it for you.

Since he has become a rich person he has learned that in America a prominent social position comes with obligations toward society. He supports Catholic charities at the direction of the bishop who honors him with spiritual guidance and who celebrated his daughter’s marriage in the biggest Madonna-of-Pompeii-style church in town. He also founded a small Casa della Cultura Italiana in a building in his neighborhood with a large room for parties and gatherings. He is always invited to baptisms, weddings, twenty-five-year wedding anniversaries or birthdays by barbers, contractors, restaurant owners, shipping agents, bankers, storekeepers, doctors, lawyers and other people from all professions that distinguish the Italian community. In the main room of the Casa are the portraits of Dante, Puccini, Marconi and Lofurbo. Sometimes the Casa organizes cultural meetings, sandwiched between a girl who sings Neapolitan and Hollywood songs and a pianist who takes a chance with Béla Bartók.[2]

Two forces exist in Tony Lofurbo’s mind: great gratitude for America for the opportunity it gave him to become what he has become; and great admiration for Italy, about which he ignores practically everything but that, as he sort of understands; represents something honorable in America. For people like him, it is like a certificate of noble origins.

New York, January 27, 1956.