Police & News Crew

Flood Neighborhood!

Potential Compressor Piracy Initiates Blockade.

by

Wally Lee Parker

—  first published in The Bogwen Report, October 30, 2010 —

© Wallace Lee Parker

 

With our neighborhood shrouded beneath the damp overcast so typical of Spokane’s late October, little stood out to suggest the tense excitement destined to grip this northwestern subdivision by late-afternoon.  Most of Thursday morning’s commuters had left — abandoning the streets and driveways to the scant smattering of remaining cars.  The sodden candy wrappers littering the otherwise barren intersection at Stevens and Wedgewood suggested that District 81’s school bus had already made its pickup of youngsters — youngsters doubtlessly anticipating Sunday’s opportunity to enjoy Trick-or-Treat.

Nowadays — at least for teenagers — Trick-or-Treat seems a much-needed interruption in Halloween’s endless stream of televised slasher movies, as well as a backhanded and self-defeating opportunity to promote anti-obesity exercise by bribing the little hobgoblins to go out and extort candy from the neighbors.  For that intrusion, we’d stocked ample supplies.

With traditionalist values to the forefront, the wife — Patricia — and I, both retired, began our morning by comparing our home’s ratio of decoration to the other houses in the neighborhood.  We’d recently added two strings of illuminated plastic pumpkins along our sidewalk — more to prevent evening Trick-or-Treaters from plunging off the edge of the somewhat elevate sidewalk than anything else.  (Besides which, in Celtic lore pumpkin is a well-known lawyer-repellent.)  Since our sidewalk — the somewhat elevated part at least — is more than two pumpkin-strings long, we decided just after 9 o’clock to drive to Fred Meyer’s and pick up two more strings.  About an hour later we were in the front yard untangling our new plastic pumpkins.

Illuminated plastic pumpkins garnish the entryway to writer’s home.

As per the suggestion on the package, each string of seven small orange pumpkin-shaped orbs was plug into the last string, and then the entire multiple-string was plugged into our outside ground-fault-interrupter outlet.  By time we were done, we were satisfied that we had reached neighborhood parity as far as the displaying of illuminated Chinese plastic was concerned.

While cleaning up the area, I noticed another local resident — this a swing-shift worker who doesn’t leave until afternoon — talking to a rather substantial young fellow standing near a large truck resembling a waste management compactor truck except that this vehicle was painted yellow and lettered with the logo of a local recycling company.  When that conversation seemed over, Patricia yelled at “swing-shift” — telling him he should come over and checkout our new string of pumpkins.

Although it’s true that retirees are always looking for free entertainment, in this instance our plastic pumpkins were just an excuse to gossip with one of our community’s leading social commentators.

“So, what are you having done,” I asked.

Swing-shift, looked back at the truck, replied, “Me?  Nothing.”  As he stepped up on the curb on our side of the street he added, “But something’s likely to happen any minute now.”

He had our attention.

“You see, one of the guys working for the recycling company recently had his pickup and trailer stolen.  There was this huge air compressor on the trailer.  Well, yesterday — or maybe this morning — the owner of the stolen stuff — who happens to be the working partner of the guy I was just talking to — found his truck a few blocks from his house.  Some of the stuff had been stripped from inside the truck — including a toolbox.  The trailer with its compressor was gone.  But there were some black plastic bags full of trash in the back of the pickup, and one of those bags contained paystubs belonging to (a certain neighbor of ours).  The recycling guys drove their company's compactor truck to the address on the sub — that for our (certain) neighbor over there — walked around a bit and spotted the missing toolbox in the alley behind his house.  The guy I was talking to is watching the front of the house, while his partner — the owner of the stolen truck, trailer, and compressor — is watching from the alley.  At least that’s pretty close to what I recall being told.”

Actually, considering our neighborhood's history of break-ins and such, little of this was that much of a surprise — except maybe the really stupid part about the paystubs.

“So, what’s the exciting part,” I asked?

“They’ve called the cops!”

Patricia has an 11:30 appointment with her hairdresser.  Still, that leaves a good hour for the cops to arrive and kick in the door just like they do on television.  Well, maybe not exactly like that since no one appears to be home over there.

An hour seems enough — or not.  We wait until 11:15, then, reluctantly, go — expecting it to all be over by time we get back.

The wife is in the chair getting her hair clipped and toned, and I’m in the waiting area reading a science fiction novel.  It doesn’t take long for me to become self-conscious.  This is a fairly large beauty parlor — lots of women coming and going.  I’m sure all the incoming patrons are asking what the guy — who obviously has few concerns about his own hair other than an occasional trim around the remaining fringe — is doing sitting in the waiting area reading a SiFi novel by an openly lesbian writer.

I decide to wait in the car.

Seat reclined, shrouded under a blanket.  Two hours later the wife wakes me up tapping on the window.

First Costco, then Perkins, then home.

It’s just after 4 o’clock when we drive through the intersection and see a KHQ news-van parked in front of the Stevens Street side of our corner lot.  Just down the street we see two police cars — one a Sheriff’s patrol, the other unmarked but obvious.

KHQ news team stealthily monitors neighborhood events from inconspicuous location in front of our house.

“Oh crap,” I exclaim!  “It looks like we’ve missed everything!” 

We pull into our garage from the Wedgewood side, hurry through the house, and peek out the front window.  Nothing’s happening.  And none of the resident-in-question’s cars are in front of his house.  I speculate, “I don’t think anyone’s come home yet.”

The TV crew has an empty tripod standing on the sidewalk at the corner of our lot.  The crew themselves are in the van.  Not a bad idea considering that it's just over fifty degrees out there, with an occasional light drizzle to up the misery index.

A little while later a third police car pulls up.  Lots of walking around the street.  Clipboard waving.  Talking on the radio.  Standing.  More walking.

The cameraman remounts his camera on the tripod — as if something might be about to happen.

Pat whispers, “Go out and ask what’s happening.”

“Why don’t you go out and ask?”

“You’re the man of the house.  It’s your job to go ask.”

The old ‘you’re the man of the house’ ploy.

I approach the cameraman.  “Are you allowed to talk to me?”

“Sure.  I just don’t know anything.”  I’m crushed.  Seeing that, he takes pity.  “I think they’re trying to find out if they can break into the place, or if they need to wait until the resident shows up.”

The afternoon drags on.  Somewhere around 5 the resident drives up Stevens and into his driveway.  Within milliseconds the cameraman and the young girl I assumed to be the reporter are on the sidewalk.  The cops swarm.

“Did they shake hands,” I ask?  Pat says she couldn’t tell either.  “I think one of the cops shook the resident’s hand.  That’s not how they do it on television.”

A few seconds later the resident opens the garage, and the cops are in.

The cameraman takes a few minutes of video.  Then, as nothing other than a lot of walking around happens, he takes his camera off the tripod and the news crew heads back to the van.

The police are in the garage, around the yard, and in the house.  Time drags on.

After a day of overcast and drizzle, in typical Spokane fashion the sun drops below the horizon and the sky finally clears to darkening blue.  Meanwhile, the police do their investigation.  The news waits.  We wait.

Our next-door neighbor arrived home from work.  A few minutes later he walks down the street to talk to the news crew.  (Doubtless his wife used ‘the ploy’ on him.)  We nab him on the way back.

“His wife’s car was just behind me as I was coming down the street.  I was wondering what was going on — the cop cars and the TV crew.  I think she already had a pretty good idea because she just kept going straight down the road.  Didn’t stop at all.”

“He’s usually not anywhere this late getting home,” I said.  “Most likely he knew — someone let him know what was waiting for him.”

“And what’s waiting right here isn’t all,” the neighbor added.  “I passed one sheriff’s car parked up the street and could see one parked a block down each way on the other street.  If anything else were going to happen, they were ready.”

The police leave — one patrol car pulling alongside the KHQ van and talking to the crew.  A few minutes after the cops leave, the house-in-question's resident jumps back in his vehicle and leaves.  But the TV crew remains.

It’s approaching 6 o’clock.  I see the antenna array on top of the van has been erected, and a strong light is playing down the sidewalk.  We (this time Pat couldn’t restrain herself) go out to investigate.

KHQ van with antenna extended just prior to live transmission for 6 o’clock news.

The young girl says, “We’re getting ready to go live.”

We retreat.

But then I think, this would make a great Bogwen Report.  But I need some extra photos for that.  So CyberShot in hand, I sneak out the back door and approach the KHQ van from behind.  A few shots of the van, and then out into the street for a few shots of the reporter standing ready for her cue.

With the light in her eyes, I’m not sure how well she could see me, but I could tell from the way her eyes flickered she knew I was out there.  But what the hell!  I’d waited all day for some excitement, and even if I had to resort to gonzo journalism, something reportable was going to happen.

She hit her cue and as she started talking, I beat a running withdrawal, charging through the back door in time to catch most of her report.

The girl, Kaitlyn Bolduc, is a Gonzaga graduate and has been with KHQ television for just over a year.  She reported that the police informed her that they had found some objects possibly stolen from the pickup.  The resident had explained that he’d paid an unidentified person to haul away some garbage.  He believes that’s how his name ended up in the pickup belonging to the complainant, and how the possibly stolen items ended up being left on his property.  Kaitlyn reported that the police are continuing their investigation and will be talking with the individual the resident indicated was paid to remove the trash from his property.

Kaitlyn Bolduc of KHQ news preparing to report live from in front of our home.

Then the video-lights went off, the transmission antenna came down, and the KHQ van left.  After eight hours of waiting, finally punctuated by a minute or less of airtime, the neighborhood once again settled into its usual state.  The lights from our pumpkin strings outlining the hazardous side of the sidewalk.  The sky eventually turning as black a city skies ever get — and later on clouding over as it began, once again, to rain.

That was our excitement for the rest of this year — and probably next year too.

———  end  ———

 

 

Six Letters:

Translating the Luigi & Caterina Prestini Letters of 1919.

(Part Two of Two)

 —————————

A Group Project

by

Wally Lee Parker

with

Paul Erickson, John & Angela Barbieri, and Christina Percoco.

—————————

First printed in Clayton ♦ Deer Park Historical Society’s newsletter, the Mortarboard — issue #99, July 2016 & issue #100, August 2016.

—————————

For some time, the Clayton/Deer Park Historical Society has had in its possession six letters exchanged between Clayton’s Caterina and Luigi Prestini shortly before Luigi’s death in early 1919.  Following is the story of the letters’ donation to our group, of their translation from cursive Italian into English, and what they have to tell us about the parents of Battista and Leno Prestini.

—————————

… the letters …

The Prestini letters are just a small part of the history of the town of Clayton — just a small fragment of the easily misplaced kinds of bric-a-brac occasionally laid aside for safekeeping due to someone’s sentimentality, and in doing so saved for future generations.  But unlike many such bits of everyday history, these particular mementos, these particular letters, are especially notable for their humanity — a quality most anyone who has had to deal with the degree of loss described in these missives can sense and attest to.

The words captured in the Prestini letters comprise a sad keepsake, a tearful reminder.  The letters comprise a quiet story of life and death — or at least of taking breath after breath while confronting a strong possibility of death. 

Being aware of the hurtful circumstances within which the family was tangled when these letters were written, we anticipated that some deeply emotional moments were likely threaded through them.  But knowing for certain would require translating the letters’ cursive script from Italian to English.  For that we’d need the assistance of individuals literate in both languages and specifically literate in the form of Italian spoken and written in the geopolitical region the Prestini family originally called home — the village of Besano, located in the Province of Varese, itself located on the western edge of the Lombardy administrative district of northwestern Italy.  The objective of the translation would be to extract the original meanings from Luigi and Caterina’s written words, and then recast the essence of those meanings in a way English speakers could appreciate.

This suggests that translating from one language into another is so much more than simple word substitution.  It’s an act of creative composition.  In this case it was accomplished by three knowledgeable individuals working collaboratively — New York’s John and Angela Barbieri, and Philadelphia's Christina Percoco.

After seeing the translated text, our suspicion regarding the expected tone of the letters seems largely confirmed.

Our assumption has been that the Prestini’s — Luigi and Caterina — were not well educated in the formal sense.  The economics of small-town Italy during the era in which they were schooled made primary education beyond the most basic a luxury.  However, after reading the translations our impression is that there’s an innate intelligence evident in both our letter writers.  Though their formal education may have been limited, they seem to have made the most of it, and then endeavored to continue their education on their own.

As a practical matter, if you wanted to communicate over any distance in late 19th century Italy (and most everywhere else, for that matter), you had to write — or have someone write for you.  And as most any struggling writer will confirm, clarity is a skill that tends to improve with practice.  Looking at their compositions, our translators concluded that both Luigi and Caterina — but especially Caterina — were well practiced in the art of stringing written words into meaningful sentences.  And on top of that, both were good at writing in a formal form of cursive that also requires practice — though once again, Caterina was especially good.  Which is to say that Christina’s composition, as well as her handwriting, appears generally crisp.  Luigi’s less so.  As to what degree Luigi’s physical condition at the time his letters were written may have played into that, we can’t really say.

The six letters, both Caterina’s and Luigi’s, were all posted in duplicate envelopes — envelopes similar enough to suggest that all were from the same company, if not the same box.  Each is six inches wide by three and a half high.  The shapes of the sealing flaps are all the same.  All have a return address written on the back flap — those from Caterina to be returned to Box 154, Clayton, those from Luigi to be returned to what we believe to have been his brother Ferdinando's address, East 316 Sprague, Spokane. 

All the envelopes, and the letters they contain, are naturally aged to something of a sepia tone — just as one would expect for correspondence posted nearly a hundred years ago.  Our intent going forward is to file these materials inside archival plastic sleeves, hopefully preserving them for many more years.  

The only editorial changes made to the translations received from our volunteer translators has been the occasional addition of punctuation and paragraph indentations — and this only when it appears as if such would make the translations easier to understand.  Anywhere notations or further discussions have been added to the stream of text, they are separated from the translated text either by parenthesis or by placing the discussions in their own paragraphs.  These inclusions are further differentiated from the text of the letters by printing all the translated words in italics, and all the added material in standard typeface. 

… the first envelope … 

We don’t know when Luigi first entered the Lewis & Clark Sanatorium, but expect it wasn’t too long before Caterina sent him the following letter. 

This letter’s envelope contained three pieces of paper.  One appeared to be a receipt written on a physician’s prescription pad, another appears to be a physician’s address written on the back of a bank deposit form.  It’s not clear whether these items were original to the letter or added later for safekeeping.  Scans of both can be found in part one of this article (Mortarboard #99, page 1305), along with a discussion of their possible significance.

Caterina’s letter — just a short note — was penned in ink on one side of an unlined, five by eight-inch piece of better-quality writing paper.

In the upper margin at the beginning, this first letter carries the date “21-2-19” — February 21st, 1919. 

“My dear husband,

“Pardon my saying, but you know very well my personality.  I can’t find peace, day or night.  I beg you, if you can, to write a few lines on a white piece of paper on how you are.  I embrace you dearly together with the children.

“Your Caterina.”

And this postscript.

“If you don’t wish that I write to you, let me know and I will stop.  Be strong.  Everything will pass.  Goodbye.”

… the second envelope ...

Dated “26-2-19” — February 26th, 1919 — this letter was again written with ink, but this time on both sides of a ten inch by eight-inch piece of lined though much lower quality writing paper. 

“My dear husband,

“Immediately I reply to your note with deep anxiety (this alluded to “note” is not among the six Prestini letters in the society’s collection and is currently presumed lost).  Tell me why you let yourself become depressed and discouraged.  You don’t know how long it took the sickness to worsen, and it is impossible to know how fast you will get better.

“Maybe you don’t have faith in the doctor.  Didn’t he tell you to stay for a month there, and so it is still early.  Maybe later on you will get better.

“Cheer up.  Don’t lose faith.  The way instead is to get courage and try to eat as much as you can.  You need to get strong.  You will see that by getting strong things will get better.

“I don’t say that it won’t take long.  Poor thing.  You have suffered a lot and you find yourself also very tired.  But if you let yourself get depressed from the pain, everything you have gained until now will be worth nothing.

“Have courage for us three and our companionship.  God knows how much I would pay to see you cured.  Even I would give up my life.  The worst thing is that I can’t be near you.

“In fact, I got sick on Sunday after I returned home.  I got a fever with chills followed for three days with high fever followed by a strong cough.  It was worse than when I thought I had the influenza, and I was sick for the entire week.  Now I can assure you in spite of the sickness I feel much better together with the children.  Only if you lose courage, I will lose it too.

“Stay strong.  On Saturday I will visit and bring with me everything you requested.  I would like to write to you more, but at present I don’t know what to say, except to tell you again to have courage.  I kiss you many times passionately together with the children.  Always your affectionate wife.

“Caterina.”

And again, a postscript.

“If you continue to get discouraged, I will be forced to come and stay in Spokane and bring the children.  But if it is necessary, I will come willingly.

“Goodbye again and kisses.” 

… the third envelope …

Caterina’s letter, again scribed on an eight by ten-inch sheet of common lined writing paper, is dated “3-3-19” — March 3rd, 1919.

“My dear husband,

“It is a short time since I have been there, but I thought of writing often.  This way the time will seem shorter.  What are your thoughts?  I am sorry if on Saturday I didn’t bring you the valise.  I saw that you got upset and you received me a little cold, but Fred (Ferdinando Prestini, Luigi’s brother) had just arrived.  He always has something to do.  I was waiting and at that moment heard the wagon.  He had to run out to stop it.  (We’re assuming this occurred while Caterina was staying at Ferdinando’s Spokane residence, and that the “wagon” referred to was some form of public transportation.  We know Ferdinando’s address since it was written on the back of Luigi’s two envelopes to Caterina.)  Giovannina (Ferdinando’s wife) called me in a hurry because I was in the other room.  I had the valise ready in the kitchen and in the confusion, I forgot it.” 

“You will know better this time to let the barber visit.  This way he can do your hair.  It is too much work for you to even shave.  When you have less it’s not so bad.  Give the dirty clothes to them and when I come there, I will wash them there.  Remember that the underwear and the undershirt are in a paper bag there.

“How are you now?  Does the head still hurt?  Have patience.  If the pain doesn't advance, I don't think you will have to stay there until you are fully cured.  Make sacrifices.”

Caterina’s scripting moves from the front of the paper to the back at this point.  Upside-down in the top margin of the back page, she adds the apologetic notation “Sorry for my sloppy writing.  I have a bad nib that goes wherever it wants.”  Our assumption here is that she was using a dip pen, wetted in a bottle of ink, to scribe this letter — as well as the others.  The deepening and dwindling of the intensity of the black ink traced across the paper would seem to confirm that this classic type of pen, rather than a fountain pen — the latter being very expensive at the time — was being used.

On the back page the body of the letter continues, “... like I am making sacrifices.  I ask you to do the same because I also suffer not having you near.  But I live in the hope to see you someday not suffering anymore.  It will be long, but don’t give up.  You need patience and try to eat slowly.  Take the time to chew the food well before you swallow, and it will be better.

“Be strong.  I will write to you immediately.  And don’t worry even though I am far away.  Day and night my thoughts and my heart are always with you.

“We are all well.  If it isn’t bad, the next time I come I will bring with me the children.  I repeat again for you to be strong.  Having the children all home I only do minimal shopping.  Pretty soon the summer comes, the kids are growing, and we will all three try to do something.  Don’t let yourself cry and don’t think of us.  Try to be strong if you want to get better.  Do it for us.

“Goodbye.  I kiss you dearly twice even for the time that I came, and I couldn’t kiss you.  Also, our kids send you kisses.

“Always your affectionate Caterina.”

… the fourth envelope ...

The fourth letter, dated “3-6-19” — March 6th, 1919 — is from Luigi and addressed to “Mrs. Caterina Prestini, Clayton, Wash., Box 154.”  This is the only letter in the group with an exterior postmark that is legible as regards the date.

“Dear wife,

“I reply to your letter, received with great pleasure, hoping that it will find you in good health together with the children.”

Leno had turned 13 on February 4th, 1919, and Battista would be turning 15 on the 24th of September.

“Regarding my headache, I always have it very strong like Saturday night.  I had it all night till Sunday morning, then they gave me a powder to drink and then it went away.

“When you married me, and on Saturday, I weighed 131 lbs.  Sunday instead only 130½, went down only ½ lb.  Monday, I weighted 131½.  Tuesday didn’t go up.  Wednesday, I weighted 132½.  Thursday 132¾, only ¼ more.”

The original Italian text also used numerical symbols as opposed to the written form.

“I still have the pain in the stomach like before when I was home.  Like ants below, I still feel them.  The headache is my company.  I don’t have too much appetite to eat.  I don’t write this to make you feel sad nor to hide it.  I don’t have other persons in this world other than you to write about it and tell you how I am.  Nobody would believe that I am sick.  I look better in the face because I look fat and have beautiful color.  But below, I know how I feel.

“Don’t despair dear wife, at present I can’t console you regarding any improvement.  I myself breathe day and night always with the hope to feel better someday.  I don’t pretend to be cured, but at least to have a little improvement.  To be able to write to you and give you courage together with the children.  Who knows when I will start to feel better.  But as soon as I start to feel better, I will immediately write it to you.

“Yesterday the doctor came.  He told me that I don’t look any more like the men of before.  He didn’t say anything else.  He will return Sunday to see me.

“They see me with a good color and a weight gain, but my beautiful color fools everybody and who suffers is me poor dog.  Believe poor wife, I write to you exactly how I feel.  Writing how I am is better than when you are here in person and talk, because when you are here I can’t talk how you want to.  Write to me whenever you want to, and I will respond right away.  And I will tell you the truth on how I feel. 

“I don’t have anything else to tell you at the moment.  I send you a kiss together with the children.

“Yours, Luigi Prestini.

And the P.S.: “Bye.  Give yourself courage more than me.” 

… the fifth envelope …

The fifth envelope contains three sheets of paper.  The first, Caterina’s letter to Luigi, is written on both sides of a lined, eight inch wide by ten inches high sheet of common writing paper.  The second, signed either N. Seal or N. Leal, is on one side of a five and a half inch by eight-inch lined paper.  And the last, with a few scribbles in pencil on an otherwise blank, unlined surface, is a five and a half by eight-and-a-half-inch piece of paper torn from a larger sheet.  The only words scribbled on this otherwise blank sheet — in English and without punctuation — are “Spokane March the 5 1919.”

As regards the above noted piece of mostly blank paper, our current assumption is that it was either intended as writing paper for Luigi or was a scrap of some sort that found its way into the envelope in the intervening years.  Whichever, the whereabouts of the other half of the torn paper is clarified when discussing the contents of the sixth envelope.

The reason for the second missive — the one signed either N. Seal or N. Leal — is outlined after the conclusion of Caterina’s message.

Like Luigi’s letter from the fourth envelope, Caterina’s missive in this fifth envelope was dated March 6th.  Although Caterina’s letter appears to be a reply to Luigi’s letter of the same day, if we assume the dates attached to both letters are correct, that seems problematic — unless, of course, Caterina obtained Luigi’s letter the same day it was postmarked, and then replied immediately.

While considering the above, we can’t rule out the possibility that Caterina was replying to one of Luigi’s letters posted prior to March 6th, and since lost.

Of all the letters, Luigi’s missive of March 6th is inside the only envelope with a legible postmark.  Therefore, it’s the only one we can reasonably confirm as having been sent the same day the letter inside was dated.

It’s something of a puzzle.  Though, considering that all the letters Luigi and Caterina exchanged were dated in the upper margin, most certainly not as large a puzzle as we could have been left with if those dates had not been applied by the writers.

And here, dated “3-6-19” — March 6th, 1919 — is Caterina’s last letter.

“My dear husband,

“I am quickly replying to your letter, which was received with much pleasure.  While it doesn’t bring me comfort, it at least gives me the pleasure of feeling close to you.  Tell me, do you always have strong and continuous pain?  I am sorry to hear that you always have the headache.  Maybe it is because you are always in bed.  Can you stay up a little bit after you have eaten?

“I beg you not to be taken by doubt.  You should try to act as if not ill.

“I will write to you more often.  If I would know that it wouldn’t annoy you, I would even write to you every day.  Receiving a letter is as if you are here.

“Be strong.  I believe the pain that you must feel, and that I would willingly carry your pain if I could take it away a little. But that is impossible my dear husband.  I am unfortunately convinced that it will take a long time, and therefore you can’t give up.

“There are illnesses that last for years and then get cured.

“Again, I beg you to be strong.  It is worth more than anything.  Don’t try to think of anything else other than getting better.  There is a remedy for everything.

“Legrezia has written to me.  (Though rare, this apparently Italian name is sometimes used as a feminine first or middle name.  It also seems to occasionally appear as a surname.)   She tells me that as soon as you feel better, to pack my bags and come to them.  This way we will share both happiness and misery together.  She also sent a note from her husband that I will include in this letter.  Let me know how I should answer her.

“Stefano (appears written as Stefane in the Italian script) sent her a registered letter.  A red postcard signed by Enori (appears as Enni in the Italian script), a sign that they have received it, was returned to me.  But I haven’t had a reply from home.  Till now I haven’t received anything.  

“Josephine writes to me almost every week.  She always asks how you are.

“Everybody asks about you here (apparently speaking of Clayton), especially the Americans.  The people that you know and even the people that don’t work in the factory always ask the boys about you.

“I would write to you a lot of things, but at present I don’t know what else to write.  I kiss and hug you many times together with the children.  Regards from Carlo and Lena.  Again, be strong, and remember me as I remember you.

“Always your affectionate wife, Caterina.”

In the above letter Caterina writes that, “Legrezia ... sent a note from her husband that I will include in this letter.”  The note was indeed enclosed and has been translated as follows.

“Following Ella’s letter (which was not enclosed — and which seems to suggest that the above Legrezia was also known as Ella), I add some words myself, hoping to give you comfort in the sad times that you are going through.  Putting the suffering aside, and taking into consideration our meager circumstances, we could still help you in some way.  We don’t have anything else to write.

“Wishing you a speedy recovery followed by a lot of courage, that only us poor people can understand.  I leave you my cordial regards together with my family.

“Yours, N. Seal (or N. Leal).”

Evidence on hand tends to suggest that the Prestini’s were communicating by post with friends and family in Barre, Vermont, and also the old country — as well as others more local.  At some point in the future the society may be able to sort this out.  But as of now, we’ll have to leave things as is.

… the sixth envelope ...

This last letter, from Luigi to Caterina, covers two pieces of paper.  The first piece is eight and a half by eleven inches, unlined, and covered on both sides with script.  The second, an eight and a half by five-and-a-half-inch piece of unlined paper and with the appearance of having been torn from a larger sheet of paper.  This sheet was only written on one side.  It appears that the missive on this second piece of paper is a continuation of the missive written on the larger piece of paper — such reinforced by the fact that Luigi’s signature appears only at the end of the script on the smaller piece of paper.

And yes.  The torn edge of this half sheet matches the torn edge of the nearly blank half sheet found in what we’ve designated the fifth envelope — Catarina’s letter.

Like Luigi’s March 6th letter, his March 9th letter appears to be written in pencil.

Comparing Luigi’s handwriting between these two letters suggests a few things.  For one thing, the handwriting in his first letter appears much more controlled.  Part of that is doubtless due to the fact that the March 6th letter was written on lined paper — therefore the size of the scripting was contained.  And on the fact that it appears to have been written using a pencil containing a fairly hard graphite.  The March 9th letter was on unlined paper — so the lines drifted to a degree, and the size of the lettering was not as contained.  It’s also possible the softer graphite pencil used in the second letter necessitated larger curves in the cursive in order to keep the lettering clear.

All the above considered, it’s also notable that Luigi’s handwriting became progressively worse in both letters as the missives continue.  While that’s not uncommon in longer cursive letters, we can’t rule out the possibility that the growing weariness of his deteriorating condition is showing.

That said, what follows — dated “3-9-19” — March 9th, 1919 — is a translation of what we currently believe to have been Luigi Prestini’s last recorded words.

“My dear wife,

“I am late answering your letter for the reason that I wanted to see what the doctor had to say.

“He came to see me today and asked if I feel better than when I came here.  I said the truth that I feel the same as before.  Then he said to tell my brother to go to his office at 2:30 today.  Then I telephoned my brother. Ferdinando, and told him to go to the doctor, to see what he has to say.

“Ferdinando went, then he came back to me at 4 o’clock.  He said that the doctor didn’t think it was good for me to remain here to gain weight because the stomach doesn’t improve at all.  He showed him facts and said that the operation wouldn’t be difficult.

“After I leave here to go to the hospital, I want you to be here.  Come as fast as you can.  This way I will see if you are also happy, and then take me away from here.  We will go for the operation.  Don’t be scared!  I can’t continue to live any longer this way with the stomachache day and night.  If you come, have a good attitude.”

The following two paragraphs are a puzzle.  We’ve no idea who the below mentioned Carlos or Carlo is.  The line “See if you want to leave Battista or not in the house because Carlo has school” almost seems to suggest that Luigi is referencing Leno as Carlo.  Be that as it may, currently we’re at a loss to explain it.

“Take away from Carlos all the papers of value in the trunk in case of fire or loss.

“Because I believe you want to stay for a week to see how the operation will go.  You can do whatever you want when I will be out of danger.  See what is better for you.  See if you want to leave Battista or not in the house because Carlo has school, etc.

“Do as you think best.”

The letter continues, “I repeat again, don’t be afraid of this letter of mine.  I wrote to you the real truth of how things are.  I still have to believe it myself.

“I am happy of what Legrezzia (assumed to be same Legrezia mentioned in Caterina’s March 6th letter, though spelled somewhat differently) wrote to you, not everybody hates me.  There are also others that love me.  I have that as soon as we find ourselves feeling better, we should go to Legrezzia.

“At present I don’t feel bad except of the stomachache.  Now I weigh 135½, but the doctor said that the four-pound gain is not enough.  The stomach doesn’t improve.

“Come as soon as you can.  The sooner you take me away from this place the better; to have to eat like a pig and always watched.

“Ferdinando won’t take me away unless you are here.

“I think that Ferdinando will write to you.  I send you kisses together with the children.

“I hope to see you soon.

“Remember to bring the bank book to take out money.  Take out three hundred.  You will keep it on you.  It makes it easier for you when you are here.  You will be busy here.

“I repeat again to have courage and don’t cry because I have cried for a month, and it didn’t do any good.

“Again, I leave you with a big hug together with the children.

“Always your Luigi.”

This concludes the translations of the six Prestini letters.  However, it doesn’t exhaust the small trove of Prestini family postcards and such donated to the society by John and Pat Colliver.  Translating all those will doubtless take some time yet.

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Addendum: 

Opening Date for Lewis & Clark Sanatorium Found

— another layer of puzzlement for the sanatorium story —

In the first part of this article (issue #99), we noted that we had yet to find an opening date for the medical facility to which four of the Prestini letters were addressed.  Since then, the following short announcement was located in the March 1917 issue of ‘The Modern Hospital’ — at that time a national monthly magazine with editorial offices in Chicago, and publishing facilities in St. Louis, Missouri. 

The announcement read, “The Lewis and Clark Sanatorium was opened at W. 2404 Second Avenue, Spokane, Wash., in February, by Drs. N. L. DeLong and Lucy Maurer.  Dr. DeLong is a graduate of medical colleges in Philadelphia, Pa., and Naubeim, Germany. 

Dr. Maurer received her medical education at Ann Arbor, Mich.  The new institution will accommodate 35 patients.”

An online search for further information regarding Dr. N. L. DeLong and Dr. Lucy Maurer proved unproductive.  We’ll continue to check on this going forward. 

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Link to Part One of this article

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2022/08/six-letters-translating-luigi-caterina.html

Prior Articles Regarding Prestini Letters.

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2011/11/leno-prestini-files-1-letters-looking.html

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2011/11/leno-prestini-files-2-letters-looking.html

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2011/11/leno-prestini-files-3-letters-looking.html

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2011/11/leno-prestini-files-4-several-lost.html

http://thebogwenreport.blogspot.com/2011/12/leno-prestini-files-5-letter-for.html