Little Falls’ South Side in the 1930s – 1940s: A Remembrance of Time and Place

By Joe Vespasiano

My father, Joe Vespasiano passed away on Friday morning December 1, 2023. He was 98 years old. I am Mike, one of his three children, along with my sister Amy and brother Joe. I had arrived in Little Falls on the day he died, looking forward to spending a week with him. There were no big agendas, other than getting a flu shot the following afternoon and a stop afterward at a favorite “watering hole” for a beer. He loved to sit at the bar, chatting with the bartender, and greeting people he knew. He often ran into former students from Mohawk School or members of their families. He enjoyed striking up conversations with strangers, always seeming to find a connection. His sense of humor was disarming. He would know members of their families be it parents or grandparents, and who they married. Memories were triggered and stories would flow. It was his “sociology lesson”, as he used to call it. Up until his death, my father’s memory continued to be amazing.

My father loved to share his stories

As long as I can remember my father loved to share his stories, and he had a lot of material. Whether it be at the dinner table, a seat in a tavern, morning coffee or in his backyard with a cigar, dad could effortlessly transport us into his past. His stories took us to the Little Falls and South Side of the past, his Italian family, his friends, past and present (he always felt friendships should be cherished), World War II (Utah Beach, Northern France, Ardennes, Central Europe, stories so powerful), college in the late 1940s, his 35 years of teaching at Mohawk School, and of course his life with his wife Beverly, the woman who had his heart for over 60 years.

During the winter of 2022, after many reminders, dad wrote the majority of the text for this piece on the South Side. Through a combination of past recordings, maps of the businesses and homes, hand drawn by dad at the dining room table, and his original text with some minor organization by me, the article came to fruition. Here are my dad’s words.

The other side of the tracks

The Southside, or “the other side of the tracks” was the living ground of the new immigrants who settled in Little Falls: Italians, Poles, Slovaks, Slovenians and some Germans. It was without a doubt one of the greatest places to grow up. One learned bits and pieces of each other’s language and some became proficient at speaking it. I moved to the Northside in 1938 when I was 13, after my father bought a house on Arthur Street, but I spent my “growing up” years at my grandparents’ house on 1 Casler Street. My wonderful grandmother, Concetta Bianca (Lamonte) Lamonda couldn’t read of write but was smarter than one can imagine. She taught me so much and I learned my Italian from her, strictly by association.

The Southside is often described as the area between the Mohawk River and Erie Canal and the cliffs, but to me it began once you crossed the 4 railroad tracks and Mill Street and reached South Ann Street. Across from the old train station was Clinton Park (where Showcase Antique Store is currently located). On one corner of the park was John Macali’s Central Hotel (and bar). One could walk diagonally through the park from South Ann Street to reach the train station. Being located close to the station, people could have a drink at Macali”s while they waited for the train. Petkovsek’s grocery store was around the corner at the current site of the Ann Street Deli.  Walking south on Ann Street there were a couple of small stores, then Henry’s, which is now the Canal Side Inn. Henry’s started as a spaghetti restaurant. Elsie Guisto, Henry’s daughter took over the restaurant during World War II. Due to the suggestions of some well-heeled patrons, she started serving steak which became quite popular and “Saturday night steak” was reservation only. A friend who worked at the restaurant told me long ago that the “secret” was that they put a chunk of butter on the steak before it was served. It was also a great place to go for a drink. Henry Jr. was the bartender and also played guitar and sang. He and my mother’s brother, Uncle Joe used to sing duets and the clientele would often join in. Great Saturday nights.

The Phoenix Knitting Mill was located on the corner of South Ann Street and Mill Street. The Allegro Shoe Company later moved into the building. Tom Giammaria’s soda, then beer distributor business, occupied part of the Phoenix Mill building. Two doors away from Henry’s, as you walked toward the river, was Jane Estenich’s bar (called “Jane’s”), which later became Masle’s Cigar store. On the very end of South Ann Street, just before the bridge was Vallecorsa’s restaurant, which opened after WW II. On the other side of South Ann Street were old factories, later to become Canal Place. Crossing the bridge over the river, one reached Mohawk Street. Bordering the canal, as you made your way to the lift bridge was a fire station (for only 1 truck) and a “Richfield” gas station owned by De Piazzas. On the other side of Mohawk Street across from the gas station was Pettinella’s grocery store, my uncle Tony Lamonda’s barber shop and on the corner was Frank Vespi’s (Vespaziani) bar, all “hanging” over the Mohawk River. Many of the residential homes along the canal are now long gone.

When you crossed the lift bridge you were in the heart of the Southside. This was my “Little Italy”.

On the corner of Flint Avenue and Jefferson Street was Pete Ottaviani’s bar, the Roman Grill. My grandfather Lamonda would often play cards there and my grandmother would send me to get him for dinner. Later, Millie Miko bought it and it went by the name of the Czech Tavern.

Next to the bar was Macali’s cigar store which later became Staffo’s cigar store. (John Macali went on to run the Central Hotel on Clinton Park). Continuing along Flint Avenue, you came to Zambri’s Italian Bread Bakery (great bread), Jimmy DeLouis’s Restaurant and Bar, Rock Lamanna’sbarber shop and the Scarano Brothers’ grocery store and bakery (also great bread). I remember the baccala (dried codfish) hanging in the window. Luciano Scarano was the primary bread maker. Rocco tended the grocery line and made deliveries in his red truck, usually parking right in the middle of the street when he made a delivery. Luciano played accordion and serenaded at night from out in front of the store. I think he knew only three songs, including, “Three O’Clock in the Morning” (very popular song in the 1920s). I could hear him singing while sitting on my grandmother’sfrom porch on Casler Street. This is when Natarelli Cecconi would pass by, tip his hat and say, “Buonasera signorina” to my grandmother. During the day, Luciano sat inside and napped while we kids knicked something to eat. With one eye opened, I’m sure, he knew. Outside was a shelf in front of the large store window with different food stuffs on it, including pizza slices. Sure we knicked a slice or two in my day. And who cared about the flies? Scarano’s large bread oven was used to roast turkey, capons or chickens for the holidays for a price. Turkey was not a thing for Italians in those days, so it was usually capons or chickens.

Next door to Scarano’s was a little dry goods store run by a Syrian or Lebanese family, and then Tommy Yanno’s cigar store.

On the other side of Flint Avenue, as you headed towards the West Shore railroad tracks was Gasper’s store on the corner of Flint and Jefferson. Gaspers sold meat and groceries and was later bought by (Sue) Lamanna. I remember buying soup bones there for five cents and my grandma reminding me to make sure there was meat on them! The Scarano’s lived in the next group of houses which included a small grocery store of Louie Scarano, brother to Luciano and Rocco. Louie delivered 100 pound sacks of flour to my grandmother and many others. Homemade bread was the norm. My grandmother would send me to Louie’s for anise oil to make anisette rosolio, an anise flavored liqueur. On cold winter mornings she would give me some anisette in a small amount of coffee before my walk to Benton Hall school. I remember it was nice and warm! Perhaps as a hobby, Louie also made violins outside his store.

Continuing up the hill to the railroad tracks were the Ruffo, Fainter, and Taverni homes followed by Colangelo’s little candy store, known as the Mastramateo. You then came to the West Shore railroad crossing where there was a small crossing guard and a guard house at the spring water site on Flint Avenue.

My grandparents lived at 1 Casler Street (green colored house, still standing), at the corner of West Casler Street and Flint Avenue. The Chizzoneti’s, Basinas and Denitos lived nearby. Mr Denito was a fish salesman, or fish monger some would say. He wore a bowler derby hat and I can hear him calling out, “O Pesce!”. On the same side of Flint Avenue, across from my grandparents’ house was an abandoned junk yard which still had some scrap iron in it. We used to dig some up for a nickel or two.

From 1 Casler Street, heading west on Flint Avenue lived the Ferris, Compolos and Fredericks. You then had the Slovak Hall gymnastics, run by talented Slovak people. Next was the Litto’s home and the spring water. Everyone went there with jugs for the water. Apparently, it was considered better than the city water. From there to the end of Flint Avenue were homes and a couple of apartment houses, all occupied by Italians. Many people, including my grandmother, tended their own gardens which were located near Little Falls Lumber, where Route 167 now runs. Story has it that a person living at the end of Flint Avenue built a plane in his cellar, but then realized he couldn’t get it out and had a mental breakdown – how true we will never know.

The city dump was on land now occupied by Little Falls Lumber on Southern Avenue. There was an ice house on Southern Avenue where one could buy 25 – 100 pound blocks of ice. Near the ice house, someone operated a bar out of their home, probably to serve the neighborhood. Vincent’s original mattress factory was located on this street. At the end of Southern Avenue was a playground and across from it was Columbus Park. There was a small bandstand in the park where the city band would give a concert once a year.

As you continued to the lift bridge (long gone) and went up East Jefferson Street, most of the homes towards the top of the hill were owned by Slovenians. They had their own (Slovenian) Hall where I enjoyed many a dance and their twice a year roast beef dinner. We also loved to fill up on Potica, a traditional Slovenian nut roll. Further up the hill was what people called “Lovers Leap”, probably named after “Drums Along the Mohawk”. The view of Mohawk Valley was incredible.

There is so much more to remember about this area. Such fond memories. I can still hear my grandmother singing ‘O Sole Mio’ while she washed the clothes. It was a fantastic place to grow up.

Dr. Michael Vespasiano is a member of the Little Falls Historical Society.