New York - The Novel

had been cut short, and he’d grown a mustache. His face, thinner than those of his brothers, no longer looked delicate but fine, manly and strikingly handsome. When he came to greet Salvatore, he seemed to move with the grace and confidence of a dancer.
    And once again, with force, but with awful justice, it struck him that Teresa and her family had shown their wisdom. They had picked the one person in the family who was out of the ordinary, the one who had the capacity to grow. And, in their own humble way, they were going tohelp him succeed. He felt jealous, but he recognized the truth for what it was.
    “I am so proud of you,” he whispered to Angelo as he embraced him. And he meant it.
    Following the wedding Mass, they all walked back to Teresa’s family’s house. This being an Italian wedding, the best man was waiting at the door of the house, with a huge tray of drinks, so that everyone could toast the bride and groom. After that, they walked past the table where their mothers were sitting just behind the women helpers who were recording the presents people brought.
    Of course, the family had already given gifts to the couple. Teresa’s extended family had showered them with gifts, and although Angelo’s family could not quite keep up with this, their honor was preserved by Uncle Luigi’s fine set of china, and the gift, together with a big signed photograph, sent by the great Caruso himself. These were displayed for all to see. Salvatore had thought long and hard about what present he should give, and a beautiful crystal vase from him stood beside Uncle Luigi’s china.
    During the dancing, the bride would also wear a silk purse into which the men would stuff money.
    But the table was something different. Here, the guests who had obligations toward the family would present their gifts for all to see, and the helpers would write them down with a note of their value. Woe betide the guest who failed in his obligations. Everyone would know they were cheap—they’d have made a
brutta figura
indeed.
    Since he was one of the family, they were not expecting him to pause at the table. When he reached it, however, he stopped and gave the helpers his name.
    “I wish to add a further present to the one I have given,” he said quietly. “This is for my brother Angelo, that I love, on his wedding day.” And drawing from his pocket a slip of paper, he laid it on the table in front of the helpers, who gasped. It was a check, made out for five thousand dollars.

    On the second Monday of June 1927, a great event took place in New York City. In the first half of May, searches had been made for the two gallantFrench aviators who had vanished in their plane after setting out across the Atlantic. No one had seen them again, but rumors that an aircraft engine had been heard over Newfoundland and Maine had raised hopes. Nothing had been found, however, and whatever had become of them, they certainly hadn’t reached New York.
    On May 20, however, a young American that few people had ever heard of managed to take off from Roosevelt Field, Long Island, in a single-seater, single-engine monoplane that he called the
Spirit of St. Louis
. By the night of the next day, after flying through rain, wind and fog, sometimes above the clouds and sometimes only feet above the Atlantic waves, the young fellow arrived at Paris’s Le Bourget airport, where a night-time crowd of 150,000 had gathered to meet him. From that moment young Charles Lindbergh became an international sensation. Despite losing two of their own national heroes that month, the French took the young American to their hearts. Breaking all protocol, the Foreign Ministry at the Quai d’Orsay flew the Stars and Stripes from its flagpole. The President of France gave Lindbergh the Légion d’honneur.
    Now Lindbergh was back in America, and it was not an opportunity that sporting Mayor Walker of New York was going to miss. On Monday, June 13, Charles A. Lindbergh was honored with a ticker-tape parade.
    Salvatore and Uncle Luigi watched it together, as it passed down Fifth Avenue. As the ticker tape rained down like confetti, the huge crowds roared. Uncle Luigi was especially excited.
    “Do you know when the first ticker-tape parade was given?” he shouted to Salvatore.
    “No,” said Salvatore, “but I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
    “In 1886, to celebrate the dedication of the Statue of Liberty. You see? The statue was a gift from France, Lindbergh