Help Return St. Pontaleone Home
Donation protected
Remember the scene from Back To The Future, “Save the clock tower. Save the clock Tower!” This story is just like that. Only,... a little bit different.
Maria Concetta Lomanno and Vincenzo Carito were married in the small southern Italian village of Montauro, on the coast, yet high above the sea in Calabria, Italy on May 4th 1913. Everyone came out to celebrate the couple and the end of Vincenzo’s evening serenades outside his fiancé’s window that kept the neighbors awake. The young romantic Vincenzo and his bride Concetta, settled into a small town, ”happy-ever-after” kind of life. Shortlived! In 1920, in search of the American dream, Vincenzo and Concetta planned to journey to the land of opportunity. Vincenzo travelled alone, exploring the way and finding a place for his young family to live. Concetta, with her four year old son Antonio and her two year old daughter Cecilia arrrived soon after. Another child Vincentina was born in the USA. Full of hope, the young family settled in South Philadelphia where Vincenzo established a small business as a cobbler. Suddenly, and at the age of 34, Vincenzo died, leaving Concetta to raise three very young children alone in a foreign country.
But that's a whole nother story. This story is about an 81-year-old statue. That originated from the same village.
Concetta Carito was my Great Grandmother. She kept in touch with her family and friends in Montauro for the rest of her life. Occasionally she would send clothes and other uniquely American items to family and friends. In 1946 Concetta was visited by friends from her village in Italy. With them, was a beautifully crafted statue of Saint Pontaleon. The statue is the kind you would see in a Church. It’s about 4 feet tall and depicts the young Pontaleon at the moment of his martyrdom at the hand of his father*. At the risk of sounding quite irreverent, it’s really kind of creepy if you look at it too long. The plan was for the friends to take the statue to Boston for a festival and return with the statue to Italy. Needless to say, the Italians returned from Boston with the statue and a plea for Concetta to keep St Pontaleon until they were able to get him back to Italy, and promised they would. They were never heard from again!
Weeks went by. Months went by. She attempted to get the Saint back to Italy but to no avail. She even tried to donate it to churches. No one wanted it. It looked like St Pontaleon wasn’t going anywhere. She said, “I guess he wants to stay with me.” So, she prepared a suitable spot in a walk in closet on the second floor of her three-story home on 10th & Wharton. She arranged it on a small table so it stood about 6 feet high. She placed a candle at the base of the statute to give the figure a soft mystical glow. And then, because she was Italian and it was South Philly, she covered the whole thing in plastic so that it would not deteriorate. But I’ll tell you want it did do. It scared the living daylights out of every kid in four generations that ever walked past... or should I say, ran past that room!
And you know who you are! Four generations of DeBenedetto’s, Carito’s, Costello’s, Criniti’s, Chiolo’s, Weimer’s, Mastronardo’s, Nader’s.
How fast did you run past that little room? It was scary, wasn’t it?
Fast Forward to 2016.
In May of 2016, as we traveled south through the Pollino Mountains of southern Italy the deep blue expanse of the Ionian sea exploded into view. I remember my Great Grandmother telling me “In Italy we lived at the beach”. My aunt, Maria DiCicco, Cecilia's daughter; my cousin Jerry Costello, Vincentina’s son; and myself, along with our spouses, were visiting our ancestral home of Montauro.
Our goal was to meet our cousin Franca and her husband Dominic, who we had only known through Facebook. And to visit our grandmother’s family home. We made a bee-line for City Hall to check the address records and find the house where our Grandmother grew-up. It’s not everyday that the tranquil village of Montauro gets visitors from the US. "Americans are here from Philadelphia, Concetta's family is here!" Word spread so quickly, before we knew it, Mayor Pantaleone Procopio came out to welcome us. Can you beleive that? The mayor's name is Pantaleone! Maybe that is how we got on the subject of the statute.
We told Steve, our interpreter, how we came to possess the sculpture of St Pontaleon. When Steve started talking to the Mayor about the statue, the cadence and tone of the conversation was ratcheted up! The Italian was flying back and forth faster than it could be interpreted. We couldn’t get a word in edgewise, Italian or English! The mayor knew of this statue. There is a St Pontaleon Society dedicated to the veneration of the saint. And Saint Pontaleon is the patron saint of Montauro. If you’ve ever spent anytime in southern Italy or you know the culture, you know this is a huge deal! It turns out the Society sent people to the United States to look for the statue in 2015. I can’t even imagine where they looked! We told them how the statue belonged to my great grandmother then my grandmother, then my mother, and now my generation of cousins; the descendants of Concetta and Vincenzo. We told of how the statue moved from Philadelphia, to New Jersey to Florida and back again to Pennsylvania, keeping him with us wherever we moved. The village folks were so excited about the prospect of having the long lost Patron Saint returned, they gave us a tour of the town and showed us where the statue had resided, and where it will reside again after so many years. That is, if we could find a way to get St Pontaleon back up the mountain. The town’s folks were ecstatic with the prospect.
The village of Montauro is in Calabria. For those of you who are not Calabrese, Calabria is situated on the arch of the Italian boot. The Village of Montauro was founded in 1096 and sits atop a mountain 1285 feet high, just a mile from the Ionian Sea Coast.
Any idea how much it costs to get a 70 pound, 54’ statue out of the United States, shipped 4600 miles and trucked to a small village at the top of a mountain? $2475.14 (We got it down from $6000). People on two continents need your help. We invite you to have a part in this effort. Every small amount contributes. If your family name ends in a vowel, or "tu sei calabrese", or you were one of those 4 generations of frightened children, we invite you to have a part in this effort to send St Pontaleon back home. Once the Saint is safely returned, the names of those who made it possible will be memorialized in the village of Montauro. Maybe you could visit someday and tell the locals at "il bar", over an espresso, your part in the story.
Thank you for your contribution.
-Ed Nader
*Matt 10:21
Maria Concetta Lomanno and Vincenzo Carito were married in the small southern Italian village of Montauro, on the coast, yet high above the sea in Calabria, Italy on May 4th 1913. Everyone came out to celebrate the couple and the end of Vincenzo’s evening serenades outside his fiancé’s window that kept the neighbors awake. The young romantic Vincenzo and his bride Concetta, settled into a small town, ”happy-ever-after” kind of life. Shortlived! In 1920, in search of the American dream, Vincenzo and Concetta planned to journey to the land of opportunity. Vincenzo travelled alone, exploring the way and finding a place for his young family to live. Concetta, with her four year old son Antonio and her two year old daughter Cecilia arrrived soon after. Another child Vincentina was born in the USA. Full of hope, the young family settled in South Philadelphia where Vincenzo established a small business as a cobbler. Suddenly, and at the age of 34, Vincenzo died, leaving Concetta to raise three very young children alone in a foreign country.
But that's a whole nother story. This story is about an 81-year-old statue. That originated from the same village.
Concetta Carito was my Great Grandmother. She kept in touch with her family and friends in Montauro for the rest of her life. Occasionally she would send clothes and other uniquely American items to family and friends. In 1946 Concetta was visited by friends from her village in Italy. With them, was a beautifully crafted statue of Saint Pontaleon. The statue is the kind you would see in a Church. It’s about 4 feet tall and depicts the young Pontaleon at the moment of his martyrdom at the hand of his father*. At the risk of sounding quite irreverent, it’s really kind of creepy if you look at it too long. The plan was for the friends to take the statue to Boston for a festival and return with the statue to Italy. Needless to say, the Italians returned from Boston with the statue and a plea for Concetta to keep St Pontaleon until they were able to get him back to Italy, and promised they would. They were never heard from again!
Weeks went by. Months went by. She attempted to get the Saint back to Italy but to no avail. She even tried to donate it to churches. No one wanted it. It looked like St Pontaleon wasn’t going anywhere. She said, “I guess he wants to stay with me.” So, she prepared a suitable spot in a walk in closet on the second floor of her three-story home on 10th & Wharton. She arranged it on a small table so it stood about 6 feet high. She placed a candle at the base of the statute to give the figure a soft mystical glow. And then, because she was Italian and it was South Philly, she covered the whole thing in plastic so that it would not deteriorate. But I’ll tell you want it did do. It scared the living daylights out of every kid in four generations that ever walked past... or should I say, ran past that room!
And you know who you are! Four generations of DeBenedetto’s, Carito’s, Costello’s, Criniti’s, Chiolo’s, Weimer’s, Mastronardo’s, Nader’s.
How fast did you run past that little room? It was scary, wasn’t it?
Fast Forward to 2016.
In May of 2016, as we traveled south through the Pollino Mountains of southern Italy the deep blue expanse of the Ionian sea exploded into view. I remember my Great Grandmother telling me “In Italy we lived at the beach”. My aunt, Maria DiCicco, Cecilia's daughter; my cousin Jerry Costello, Vincentina’s son; and myself, along with our spouses, were visiting our ancestral home of Montauro.
Our goal was to meet our cousin Franca and her husband Dominic, who we had only known through Facebook. And to visit our grandmother’s family home. We made a bee-line for City Hall to check the address records and find the house where our Grandmother grew-up. It’s not everyday that the tranquil village of Montauro gets visitors from the US. "Americans are here from Philadelphia, Concetta's family is here!" Word spread so quickly, before we knew it, Mayor Pantaleone Procopio came out to welcome us. Can you beleive that? The mayor's name is Pantaleone! Maybe that is how we got on the subject of the statute.
We told Steve, our interpreter, how we came to possess the sculpture of St Pontaleon. When Steve started talking to the Mayor about the statue, the cadence and tone of the conversation was ratcheted up! The Italian was flying back and forth faster than it could be interpreted. We couldn’t get a word in edgewise, Italian or English! The mayor knew of this statue. There is a St Pontaleon Society dedicated to the veneration of the saint. And Saint Pontaleon is the patron saint of Montauro. If you’ve ever spent anytime in southern Italy or you know the culture, you know this is a huge deal! It turns out the Society sent people to the United States to look for the statue in 2015. I can’t even imagine where they looked! We told them how the statue belonged to my great grandmother then my grandmother, then my mother, and now my generation of cousins; the descendants of Concetta and Vincenzo. We told of how the statue moved from Philadelphia, to New Jersey to Florida and back again to Pennsylvania, keeping him with us wherever we moved. The village folks were so excited about the prospect of having the long lost Patron Saint returned, they gave us a tour of the town and showed us where the statue had resided, and where it will reside again after so many years. That is, if we could find a way to get St Pontaleon back up the mountain. The town’s folks were ecstatic with the prospect.
The village of Montauro is in Calabria. For those of you who are not Calabrese, Calabria is situated on the arch of the Italian boot. The Village of Montauro was founded in 1096 and sits atop a mountain 1285 feet high, just a mile from the Ionian Sea Coast.
Any idea how much it costs to get a 70 pound, 54’ statue out of the United States, shipped 4600 miles and trucked to a small village at the top of a mountain? $2475.14 (We got it down from $6000). People on two continents need your help. We invite you to have a part in this effort. Every small amount contributes. If your family name ends in a vowel, or "tu sei calabrese", or you were one of those 4 generations of frightened children, we invite you to have a part in this effort to send St Pontaleon back home. Once the Saint is safely returned, the names of those who made it possible will be memorialized in the village of Montauro. Maybe you could visit someday and tell the locals at "il bar", over an espresso, your part in the story.
Thank you for your contribution.
-Ed Nader
*Matt 10:21
Organizer
Ed Nader
Organizer
Philadelphia, PA
