It was on February 19, 1942 that the Second World War came for Italian Americans.  President Franklin D. Roosevelt issued Executive Order 9066 making many in our community “enemy aliens.”

The order primarily targeted Japanese Americans who lived on the West Coast.  Pearl Harbor had been attacked only a month before, and later on February 23rd a Japanese submarine shelled a California refinery.  You can imagine the panic that gripped the nation.  Did Japanese Americans in Hawaii and California secretly communicate with the enemy?  Were Italian and German aliens in California aiding an Axis partner?

History somehow skipped over the punitive measures taken against Italian and German aliens.  Only a few hundred of them were actually interned compared to over 100,000 Japanese men, women, and children.  The later narrative was that E.O. 9066 was a racist act, so historians clammed up about simultaneous Italian and German persecutions.  Racist?  Maybe.  But, why were Japanese Americans in Hawaii who made up 40% of the population not sent to concentration camps as were those in California?  Clearly, Hawaii couldn’t function with so many residents locked up.

But economics didn’t seem to bother authorities in California.  E.O. 9066 allowed the military to cripple the Sicilian-dominated fishing industry by impounding all Italian American fishing vessels and evicting 10,000 Italic residents – aliens and citizens alike – from within 10 miles of the coast.  These unsuspecting residents weren’t given anything except eviction notices.  They had to fend for themselves, finding places to live and work, forbidden to have radios, flashlights, or cameras – including the Joe DiMaggio family.   Actually, the Executive Order wasn’t supposed to leave them in the lurch: “The Secretary of War is hereby authorized to provide for residents of any such area who are excluded therefrom, such transportation, food, shelter, and other accommodations as may be necessary…” 

Unlike other American groups, the Italic people of California didn’t memorialize this persecution or seek reparations.  Many felt the shame was on them not the United States.  Four elderly Italian Americans even committed suicide.  It wasn’t until the 1990s that this “storia segreta” was made public.  To date, despite Congressional hearings and lobbying, the federal government has yet to apologize for the 1942 persecution.

That’s been our sad story for more than a century – running a gauntlet of suspicion and acrimony with little regard by others for our image and contributions.

After the war, America was beset by organized crime, which had its roots in the pre-war Prohibition era and black marketeering during the war.  Hollywood produced lots of B-movies on post-war corruption and gangs – mostly multi-ethnic.  In 1949, Congress got the message and a senator from Arkansas, Estes Kefauver, launched a special committee to expose crime syndicates.  They were televised for added sensation with notorious witnesses of all ethnicities.  According to one source “…the hearings were aimed at proving that a Sicilian-Italian organization … centrally controlled a vast organized crime conspiracy in the United States, but the committee never came close to justifying such a claim. Rather, the committee uncovered extensive evidence that people of all nationalities, ethnicities, and religions operated locally controlled, loosely organized crime syndicates at the local level.”

By 1957, Kefauver’s misdirection was pointing to only Italian gangsters.  Worse, it was the year of the sensational Albert Anastasia barber chair rub-out. Even as a 10-year-old I recall that murder and the later Apalachin raid in upstate New York.  More like a comedy skit, police got wind of a gangland barbecue and raided the rural venue.  Gangsters scrambled to escape but 20 men were collared and charged with obstruction and lying.  Despite being convicted in 1959, all convictions were overturned the next year on appeal.  But the raid got J. Edgar Hoover’s attention and America’s as well.

The FBI and Hollywood now had an ethnic target.  The 1959 comedy hit Some Like It Hot, amusingly featured a Prohibition-era Capone gathering in Florida couched as an Italian American “charity” event.  In 1964, Congress hit pay dirt with the Valachi Hearings starring a minor gangland canary named Joe Valachi – I watched them every day after school.  That same year Italian journalist Luigi Barzini glorified the Mafia in his U.S. bestseller The Italians.  That book, as well as the Apalachin raid and the Valachi Hearings inspired a down and out writer named Mario Puzo to pen The Godfather in 1968.  You know where all this went.

It has been quite a chore to run this gauntlet.  And it isn’t over yet. -JLM