THE ENGLISH GENERATIONS

Raffaella Fraulo

Nicola rejoined his wife on the 19th of June 1947.  The war safely behind him, Nicola went back to Pontone to see the family.

Cousins of dad's whom I was to meet much later remember him - zio Nicola (uncle Nick). While there he took ill and was taken to hospital in Salerno. The story goes that the doctors told him there was nothing wrong with him and sent him home. A couple of days later he died.

My grampa was convinced that Nicola knew he was going to die and that's why he went back to Pontone. I'd like to believe that that's right.

A couple of days after he died, Tony and Lou went over to collect him and bring him 'home'. From that point on, contact between the Criscuolos in Pontone and those in St Pancras was lost.

By the time Nicola died, all but Andrea (remember Bob) had done their bit to carry on the bloodline of the Criscuolos of Pontone di Scala.

Giolina (prosaically known as Julie) had had three gorgeous children (Iolanda, Andrea and Rita Maria). Iolanda came to be known as Nonnie (an anglicization of the Italian word for grandmother, Nonna) because she was what might have been called an 'old fashioned woman'. Andrea was generally known as Boysie (for reasons that escape me) and Rita managed to keep her given name.

Marie had brought a daughter, June, into the world. Amelia (Millie) had also had a daughter whom she called Sylvia.

Tony, despite marrying twice, never had kids. He'd sent his first wife Helen to America during the war to protect her from the Blitz. Unfortunately, she died in the States during childbirth and the child died with her.

Alfred (grampa) had sired his only son (my father) Tony and Lou and Ann had brought their only son Robert into the light.

Bob, following his siblings' example restricted himself to one child - Rachel - in 1948. The only grandchild that Nicola never lived to see.

I find it kind of strange that, coming from a large family as they did, all but Giolina resisted the temptation to have any more than one child. Fortunately, as you will see eventually, the next generation redeemed themselves on this score.

It also strikes me that Julie was the only one that upheld the Italian traditions. She married a nice Italian boy. She gave her kids Italian names. The kids had nicknames (that's important). She and Giovanni never changed their surname. I like to think that that was born out of stubbornness but more of that later.

For all of these people, Pontone had become a word. A place that existed only in history. A place that had no real exitence except in connection with their father. Their world now lie in London ... and the home counties.

On the 10th of January 1954, a British Overseas Airways Corporation Comet airliner crashed a few minutes after having taken off from Rome. The plane had started in Singapore but Antonio Criscuolo (now known as Tony Crisp) had boarded the plane at Rome.

The plane crashed off the coast of Elba and all on board were lost ... my grand-uncle included. He had married for a second time after the tragic death of his first wife. He'd married Cicely Rose Wiltshire in 1950 and I imagine they'd both done so with hope in their hearts.  Four years later he was lying at the bottom of the Mediterranean in the wreck of a jerry-built English passenger aircraft.

Like Pasqualino, he acquired a legendary status after his death. However, in his case, it may have been justified. When he died he left rather a lot of money to his siblings - Grampa was named as the executor (so far as I know).

Nine months earlier Tony and his second wife, Cicely, had spent an unknown period of time on Madeira.  I found him returning to Southampton on board the Venus on the 10th of April 1953.  Another marriage brought to a premature end.

By the end of the '70s, all of the second generation of Criscuolos had themselves done their bit to continue the family name ... or at least the bloodline.

I'm almost ashamed to admit that I have no idea whether any of Giolina's kids got married or had kids. I have no memory of ever meeting them and nobody that I've spoken to has any idea what Nonnie (Iolanda), Boysy (Andrea) or Rita (Rita) did or are doing - they'd be about 86, 79 and 71 if they're still around.

Marie's only daughter June, who'd married Dennis Thear in 1965, died a little over 20 years later - barely 10 years after her father. Marie kept going strong until she died in 1983. I liked Marie. I used to pop round to see her every week when I was studying in London in the late '70s and early '80s. She was a lovely lady who couldn't let you leave without eating something and was fascinated in your love life.

Amelia's daughter Sylvia took a leaf out of her aunty Julie's book and married a nice Italian boy - Nello Bertinelli - in 1952. They had two sons (Robert and Dean). Robert settled in Kingston, Surrey, married twice and had six kids - Paul, Jamie, Nicola, Michelle, Francesca and Leanne.

Paul was killed at the age of 24 (my memory is that it was no accident). Jamie married Chelsea

Dean went with his parents when they moved to Parma in Emilia-Romagna.

Luigi (Lou or Lionel - whichever you prefer) and Ann's only son Robert married a Palestinian girl called Polly (for short) and they had a son and a daughter. Lou and Ann had long since settled near Slough and Robert and his new family set up home there too.

Andrea and Giovannina's (Bob and Ginny) only daughter Rachel married an antipodean gentleman called Ray in 1975 and went with back down under where they brought a daughter and a son into the world.

Finally, there was Alfred and Elizabeth (Fred & Betty - sounds like a cartoon infidelity). Their only son Tony married Brenda in Buckinghamshire in 1958 and went on to have five kids of which I am the eldest. We moved down to North Devon in the late '60s and Nan and Grampa followed us down in the early '70s.

The picture postcard of Amalfi

With representatives in Italy, Australia, Buckinghamshire, Devon and Surrey, the Criscuolos of Pontone di Scala had begun the creation of their very own diaspora. For my generation (the third outside the Sorrento Peninsula) Pontone had acquired a mythical status. Unreal and magical. Nobody had been back since Nicola died there in 1947 and there was no suggestion that any of us would get back there.