The Kindness of America: How I Went From a Penniless Italian Immigrant To Living the Dream

When I came to America in 1949, it was a land of freedom, opportunity — and great kindness. I was a penniless boy of 14, fleeing Italy in the aftermath of Mussolini’s fascism and World War II. Our Sicilian seaside farm had been wrecked by bombs, our villages and cities pillaged by German soldiers who were supposed to be our allies. The fascists and Nazis were gone now, but so were the wealth and infrastructure of our country.

We were so poor that I had to catch birds for dinner with a fishing line and a hook. We dined on sparrows in tomato sauce. One time I realized the meat we had eaten for dinner was the family cat. That’s how hungry and needy we were.

At the earliest opportunity, I sailed for the promised land of America. New York City rose up like a beacon before me. I lived there, then in Chicago, then in San Francisco where I attended high school, but at one point found myself homeless.

That’s when America’s great kindness became real to me. A man took pity on me and rented me a room when I was 15 years old and had no place to go. Soon, an Orthodox Jew who owned the corner store hired me after his son was drafted to serve in the Korean War. His paycheck allowed me to pay rent for that room. His wife took a liking to me and made sandwiches for me, knowing I had next to nothing to eat.

Then there was the Catholic priest who, along with his brother, sister and parents, made me part of their family, a lonely foreigner trying to graduate from high school.

“We don’t have long to change course and get back to the principles that made this country a beacon of freedom and opportunity for people like me.”

And I can’t forget that bittersweet day when I graduated but had nobody to celebrate with while other students took photos and celebrated with their families. I cried in the corner, totally alone. Immigrating has its share of pain as well.

America then became my land of opportunity. Newly married, my wife and I moved to Los Angeles, where I got my first real job, driving a Jewel Tea Co. truck all over the San Fernando Valley to deliver coffee, tea and cookies.

Mickey Rooney’s house was on that route, and his wife always insisted I sit down and eat a homemade breakfast when I should have been delivering. She and Mickey were so kind to a young man just getting started. It encouraged me to keep going.

Then there was Mr. Guy, who, learning we had moved into a bare, one-bedroom apartment, donated a houseful of new furniture. I wept with thanks, and he just said, “Don’t mention it. Enjoy.” It was a beautiful act of generosity.

One day, a businessman I delivered to on my route took me to the bank and told the loan officer to give me a loan to buy a small apartment complex — something I had never contemplated doing. On his recommendation, the bank loaned me 100 percent of the purchase cost. Real estate became a big part of my future — all because of a man’s unexpected kindness to me. I went from making a little commission selling coffee, tea and cookies to having five rentals.

Then in the 1980s, I went bankrupt and was about to lose my house. I cried out to God for help and had this idea to go ask the bank for a loan. They’d be crazy to give me one, I thought — but they did and saved me from losing everything. Soon, I was able to gain back all I had lost, plus some.

Every time I was in trouble, Jesus opened doors for me. He gave me a room, a job, friends, furniture and a financial future. Many times I cried out in a desperate situation, “Jesus, please help me!” And he always did. I knew I had a Friend.

Today in America, I don’t see the kindness I once did. People don’t reach out to lend a helping hand like they used to. They expect the government to step in and meet everybody’s needs. Generous people who are inclined to help may instead withhold their kindness and say, “The government will do it.” This destroys the natural expression of kindness.

I came to America without a penny, and it wasn’t the government that helped me — it was the good people along the way. Their generosity shaped my life — but today, America is becoming more like Mussolini’s Italy. Government puts its hand in everything, dictates people’s choices and crowds out kindness and opportunity. To put it bluntly, we’re in serious trouble.

We don’t have long to change course and get back to the principles that made this country a beacon of freedom and opportunity for people like me. The great men and women of my generation fought the evils of communism, Nazism and fascism that devastated Europe. Our job today is to restore the Land of Kindness and Opportunity that America was — and can be again.