Discovering Staten Island Roots Through Family Storytelling

This is the second story from my dad, Tony Fiore. If you missed the first one, Family Storytelling Tradition With Papa Fiore, it became a fan favorite. Below, my dad shares a bit about growing up in Staten Island along with his days in college.

Staten Island Roots

I would like to give a bit of a prelude, to my second story by telling about my family life growing up (Staten Island Roots). I was born and raised in Staten Island, New York. The smallest of the five boroughs of New York City, Staten Island is most known for its scenic ferry ride with views of the Statue of Liberty and the Manhattan skyline.

Fiore Bros (you can see the name on the two pillars) circa 1950 maybe. If you have a relative from Staten Island that is older than 60, they will know of Fiore Brothers and the orange trucks.

I was raised in a modest home in Mariners Harbor... known for its shipyards. My house on Van Pelt Avenue had more visitors than the local diner because my mom, Flo, always had something cooking that was homemade.

My younger brother Ray was a great billiards player, and he and his friends headed to our basement where an old-fashioned pool table was located.

The Rooted & Refined Living Expert Tip: 

"Sitting around the kitchen table, smelling the scents of home cooking and great conversations, can elevate the sensory experience."

My dad, Louis, was known as Louie the Bookkeeper. He was one of five Louis Fiore’s, all with different nicknames to distinguish them from one another... Louie the Oilman, Louie the Salesman, Louie the Dispatcher and Louie the Bossman. All worked for Fiore Brothers Fuel Oil Company, a firm established in the 1920’s by my grandfather Anthony and his two brothers... Ferdinand and Michael. They also had a sister Rose who was not involved in the business. Rose's husband Frank drove an oil truck for Fiore Bros for 30 years. This was not an easy job as many of the roads in Staten Island are narrow, winding, and have lots of hills.

Page 4 of 6 from my dad's handwritten story

Fiore Brothers survived the Great Depression of the early 1930’s by becoming a barter company and eventually rose to be the largest fuel oil company on Staten Island with 12 large oil trucks, a few coal trucks and 40 employees, mostly family. Anyone who married into the Fiore family was guaranteed a job which was a testament to the family values of the company. My dad preferred to be called Louie the Accountant, but Bookkeeper stuck for his entire life.

When Fiore Brothers customers received their oil deliveries, they usually preferred to pay the Fiore Brothers delivery man after the oil was pumped into their tank. Some preferred to pay at the company office in Elm Park.

One of those people was a Mr. P. His son was a Big Man on Campus at the local Staten Island college called Wagner College. His son, Al, was captain of the football team and President of one of the larger fraternities—Alpha Sigma Phi.

So one in the early summer of 1959 Mr. P came into Fiore Brothers to pay his bill and he and my dad started chatting. My dad told him that his son Tony had just graduated Port Richmond High School and was enrolled to go to Wagner College. "Great" said Mr. P, "I'll tell my son Al about him, and he will get him into his fraternity." Sounded good but unfortunately it doesn't work that way. Fraternities and sororities have membership drives the beginning of each semester and then the members vote on who should get a bid to join.

The President cannot dictate who becomes a member, so I am sure that when Al was told about me, he let his father know the procedure. However, Al's father never said another word about it, and I walked onto campus thinking I was a lock for Alpha Sigma Phi brotherhood. Alpha was one of 7 campus fraternities and what distinguished it from the rest was that 90% of its members were on the Wagner football team—I was a baseball player.

The Wagner College Experience

The other fraternities, Phi Sigma Kappa was for the brainy guys; Delta Nu was our Animal House, etc.

So Al, with the pressure of his dad, tried to sell me to the Alpha brotherhood. It wasn't easy but he didn't want his dad to have to face my dad and say "I'm sorry your son doesn't have what it takes to be Alpha Sig."

Al took on the challenge and somehow persuaded the Alpha brotherhood of 70 members to vote me in. I proudly accepted my membership and made some lifelong friends because of it. More about my friends in future writings.

This was the winning fraternity, Phi Sigma Kappa, which is not the one my dad joined. Even Delta Nu, which was considered the Animal House of the college fraternities, came in second place with barely any practice.

The biggest day of the year for fraternities and sororities is Songfest... a big singing event that is held every May and it packs the Field House and is a worthy fundraiser for various Staten Island charities.

Winning is a big, prestigious deal and I couldn't believe how many practices would be held before the big, nighttime event with an orchestra and spotlights.

Each participating fraternity was assigned a professor from the music department to coach and mentor us. The song we chose was "Carolina in the Morning" originally sung by Al Jolson. It was a catchy upbeat song, and our fraternity was confident we could win with it.

So we are having our first practice and the music professor assigned to us, a stern bespeckled man in his late 50's Mr. Denby, summons me to talk privately with him.

He says, "Mr. Fiore I know this means a lot to you to sing at Songfest, but your singing is throwing others off. I am requesting you get up on stage with the rest of the group but please only mouth the words."

I protest to no avail, and I sheepishly get back to practice, and lip sync this fun song. Mr. Denby, after a few weeks of practices feels we are ready to go and that we have a chance of winning.

The night of Songfest arrives. I didn't have the heart to tell my parents who were attending that I was banished from letting a sound come from my mouth, so I put on my tuxedo and stuck my carnation in my lapel and went off to the big event.

The crowd is at capacity, and the orchestra starts playing the prelude and all of a sudden, they start singing:

"Nothing could be finer than to be in Carolina in the morning.

No one could be sweeter than my sweetie when I meet her in the morning."

I can't take it. All of a sudden, I start singing the words and I see looks of dismay from my brothers next to me on stage.

I can't believe I defiantly disobeyed our conductor's request. Neither can my fraternity brothers who look like they lost a football game on a last second pass.

We wind up finishing 3rd and I became the scapegoat. For years after that at every fraternity reunion someone greets me and brings it up. "I can't believe you would do that Fiore. It is so unlike you. We hardly knew you existed until that night."

Oh well, I'm not going to let a bunch of sore losers ruin what could have been a great singing career.

Till the next episode, Childhood Lessons and Family Storytelling: A Papa Fiore Memory, which is now posted.