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Miss Mary Tomasi
63 Barre St.
Montpelier, Vt.
The Granite Worker
Italian
A GRANITE -SHED OWNER'S SON
1.
He was a tall, broad -shouldered young man. Sparkling
eyes and ruddy cheeks bespoke health and vitality. In gray
canvas trousers and white sweat shirt, clean shaven, he stood
conspicuous among the older group clad carelessly in a motley
assortment of clothing. They were in the shed yard of the
Chioldi Brothers Monumental Works. Guido's father awned a
half of the business, but the young man worked beside the
employees and was one of them. He held a suction hose to a
long slab of granite that was coated a half inch thick with
stone dust. The hose ate slowly over the surface clearing
the gray powder with clean bites. When the slab was clean,
the tiny mica flakes and quartz caught the sunlight and glistened.
Guido surveyed the surface, drew a finger over it and sat down.
Now he turned the hose to his clothing, running it up and down
the pant legs, chest and shoulders.
"The month before Memorial Day is usually our rush season,
but it isn't this year," Guido admitted. "We should be work-
ing 35, but we've had to cut down to 23. Most of the sheds
are working below full capacity. There isn't the demand there
used to be. There's too much competition from southern and
western states. We've tried to make the natives absolutely
Barre -granite minded. People with lots in the Hope Cemetery
are requested to erect no memorial other than of Barre granite.
2.
Not long ago a marble monument was smuggled into the cemetery
and set up at night. The cemetery directors haven't taken
any steps towards having it removed, but they've voiced their
disapproval openly.
"The new work that goes into the cemetery today doesn't
compare with the art of a few years back. That's what the
older fellows say, I don't know. To them Corti, Novellis
Tosi, Bertoli, Corvisi and Abatti are heroes of granite art.
Abatti is alive today, he's well over eighty. They say that
back in 1901 an art school was popular here in Barre. Old s
Abatti was one of the teachers. Classes were held in the
Aqua Pura building on Granite Street. They had as many as
125 students, Scotch, Italian, French, Irish and Swiss. They
paid $.50 a week for three night classes. The young fellows
starting in the granite business those days took advantage of
this opportunity."
Guido continued, no, he wasn't interested in the granite
business except that it was a source of income for the family.
He'd had two years of college after Spaulding High School.
At that time his father and mother separated; it left his
mother alone except for a younger sister. If it hadn't been
for that he'd still be at school or finding employment out of
State. Most of his school friends were out of town. But it
had been easy to slip in here working for his father. Two
days a week he did office work; the remaining days he did
odd, unskilled labor. It was a depressing atmosphere
Three of the group to the right of Guido engaged in
3.
marking off a granite block were discussing Mussolini. "I
see him last year," a gaunt, hollow-cheeked man was saying.
"I see him at the Riva Ricolli. The Riva on the Adriatic
is his favorite beach resort. When I see him he wear just
trunks, ant he look like a gorilla. Hair on his arm and
chest. All the people around there they bow an' smile at
him, but in their hearts they feel different. I have a
girl cousin who is a doctor near Rome, but before she is
allow' to practice she has to say she is a 'black shirt'."
Guido smiled. "That man who is talking is the greatest
grappa drinker in Barre. He won't drink anything else. Says
the grape was mentioned in the Bible as a drink, and if it
was Christ's drink then any of its byproducts were the best
for him. He has a very good recipe for punch. Would you
like to hear it?"
A stubble of dark beard shaded the gaunt granite worker's
face. Yes, he'd be glad of a convert to his favorite drink.
"Put some orange peel in the oven," he said. "When it is dry
ant brittle, crush it to a powder. Boil your grappa with two-
thirds as much water. When it is boiling hard touch a match
to it to burn off the fusel oil. Then add the orange powder.
With fruit juices this will make the best hot or cold punch
you have ever tasted." Somewhere in the shed a four o'clock
whistle blew. The gaunt -faced man touched a hand to his dusty
cap, turned abruptly, and left.
Guido laughed. "They're all the same. When that four
o'clock whistle blows, they like to leave the shed as fast as
they can and as far behind them as they can."