Introduction

A Celebration of Fifty Years

On November 5, 2021, over one hundred alumni, former teachers, administrators, camp counselors, benefactors, and special friends of the original Nativity Mission Center gathered together to celebrate fifty years since the birth of a middle school specifically designed to meet the needs of boys from New York City’s Lower East Side. This middle school was to become the model for other schools across the country. Danny Perez, NMC ’98, the executive director of the NativityMiguel Coalition, served as master of ceremonies. I had a seat of honor.

Several alumni spoke. A member of the first graduating class recalled the early years of the school. The first Nativity alum lawyer recounted his journey from middle school to law school and beyond. A former Graduate Support counselor spoke of his work enabling high school students’ transition to postsecondary career training. A young alum currently finishing his last year of medical school shared his excitement over becoming Nativity’s first MD. The sister of two Nativity grads focused on the growth she observed in her siblings as they turned from the forces of the street and focused on academic and character excellence.

Father Ed Durkin, SJ, one of the founding fathers of Nativity’s middle school, greeted his former students with firm handshakes and welcoming abrazos. Former presidents and principals joined in the celebrations. Former camp directors and counselors shared stories about summers at Camp Monserrate. A number of former board members who guided Nativity through good times and difficult moments also joined in the festivities. Brother Leonard, Nativity’s beloved sixth-grade teacher for nineteen years, could not attend for health issues. He sent a text message that brought laughter and tears to many.

My nineteen years at Nativity were years of delight and satisfaction, and I am proud and honored to have been part of the Nativity story... Nativity Mission Center is a great success story, and thankfully, its legacy lives on throughout this country and even in other parts of the world.

Why begin a book with a story about an event that seemingly brought the Nativity Phenomenon to an end? This fiftieth-anniversary celebration pointed to the future just as its roots were firmly established in the past. The people present at the celebration were some of the dreamers and doers of the last fifty years. Their predecessors go back to the turn of the twentieth century.

The future of the Nativity Phenomenon is now in the hands of graduates from NativityMiguel Coalition schools who are dreamers and doers themselves and want to entrust to future generations what they themselves have received.

Who Should Read This Book?

This book is full of stories of struggles, successes, and failures. I would recommend it to educators, especially to advocates of quality education for all. Persons concerned about the education of youngsters of color from economically challenged families can find proven best practices and success stories within these pages.

Hopefully, persons involved in the schools of the coalition, board members, administrators, teachers, donors, advocates, and volunteers will discover the ancestry and lineage of their schools. Concerned parents will find in these pages best practices for educating their children. Most of all, graduates of Nativity-modeled schools will recognize their own stories, successes, and dreams.

The Nativity Phenomenon

The Nativity Phenomenon did not originate in an educational think tank or in a graduate seminar. None of its founders had doctorates in education. Its goals and objectives did not depend on research or already existing models. No foundations provided start-up funding. No national searches for faculty or staff took place. No demographic studies determined the ideal location. No media-based student recruitment process was in place.

The phenomenon bloomed in the hearts of men and women who found themselves ministering to immigrant communities in need on the Lower East Side of New York City, where poverty and children dominated. It blossomed because risk-takers dared to do the unorthodox. Its classrooms were filled not with the best and the brightest but with the hungry and the thirsty—materially, socially, and spiritually.

It flourished and spread because other risk-takers found in it a vision, a mindset, a process, a model that produced results—not just academically, but in the formation of a next generation of young adults who would become caring parents, faithful spouses, and responsible adults.

In the words of Father Pedro Arrupe, SJ, it nurtured men and women for others (Arrupe and Burke 2004, 173).

The Nativity Phenomenon developed organically: bursting from seeds, setting roots, developing a strong trunk, and spreading its branches. While most histories of Nativity Mission Center begin with the opening of the middle school at 204 Forsyth Street in September 1971, the goal of this book is to bring to light the seeds and roots of the phenomenon that became the essential elements of the Nativity model.

Over the years, committed educators explored, tested, evaluated, adjusted, and redesigned the essential elements to effectively address the needs of the youth population being served, originally on New York’s Lower East Side and now, across the USA, into Canada, and reaching as far as the Czech Republic.

Nativity and Immigration

The Nativity Phenomenon is intimately linked to the story of immigration, especially immigration into the city of New York. In the prologue to his book, City of Dreams: The 400-Year Epic History of Immigrant New York, Tyler Anbinder states:

… Immigrants come with dreams—dreams that hunger might become a thing of the past, dreams that restrictions and discrimination might be replaced by rights, and dreams that poverty might be traded for security and opportunity… if not for oneself, then at least for one’s children or grandchildren… Those same dreams dominate the lives of New York’s newest immigrants, whether they are Chinese or Guyanese, Jamaican or Dominican, Mexican or Ghanaian. The story of immigrant New York is truly a story of dreams. (2016)

The story of the Nativity Phenomenon is a story of dreams.

Chapter 1:

Italian Immigration

From my first days on the Lower East Side, I enjoyed walking the streets in the neighborhood, especially those south of Houston streets that had real names like Mulberry, Christie, and Orchard. I admired the different architectural styles, the variety of ethnic restaurants, and the multilingual cacophony on the streets. I became intrigued by a plaque on a building on Elizabeth Street that read: Site of the first church for Sicilian Immigrants in New York. As a Jesuit priest, I wanted to learn more. What I learned, I wish to share with you, for whom I wrote this book.

The first Italians to arrive in New York settled primarily in Lower Manhattan, west of the Bowery, in what New Yorkers refer to today as the West Village or SoHo. Like the Irish, Germans, and east European Jews who preceded them, Italian immigrants did not settle haphazardly across the city. One’s Italian region of birth seemed especially consequential.

As reported in The New York Times in 1910, The Sicilians are strongly fortified in Elizabeth Street. A colony of Neapolitans and Calabrians is on Mulberry Street, and Genoese are around Five Points. The northern Italians are not found there, their nearest colony being the neighborhood of Bleecker Street, west of Broadway (Anbinder 2016, 390).

Journalists mainly focused on the negative.

Ramshackle structures… with every kind of abomination.

A seat of iniquity, poverty, and dirt. It’s one of the danger-spots of the town.

The most vicious, ignorant, and degraded of all the immigrants who come to our shores are the Italian inhabitants of Mulberry Bend and the surrounding region of tenements.

A vast human pigsty (Anbinder 2016, 391).

Others argued that the press exaggerated. Journalist Charlotte Adams found that while some apartments were neglected and squalid, others were clean and picturesque, with bright patchwork counterpanes on the beds, rows of gay plates on shelves against the walls, mantels and shelves fringed with colored paper, red and blue prints of the saints against the white plaster, and a big nosegay of lilacs on the dresser among the earthen pots (Anbinder 2016, 391).

Little Italy was terribly overcrowded. Italians tended to share their apartments with at least one other family. In a typical three-room apartment, one family might occupy one room while the boarding family slept in the second. The third room—the kitchen—would be shared by both. In one tenement on Elizabeth Street, forty-three families inhabited sixteen apartments. In 1905, the Italian-dominated block bounded by Houston, Mott, Prince, and Elizabeth Streets housed 1,107 people per acre (Anbinder 2016, 393–394).

One truly awful aspect of the living conditions in Little Italy was the mortality rate, especially for children. Youngsters living in cramped, dirty tenements became especially susceptible to such deadly contagious diseases as tuberculosis, measles, and diphtheria. The overall death rate was about 50 percent higher than the citywide average, and for children aged five, it was about three times the citywide rate (Anbinder 2016, 391).

Italians and the Archdiocese of New York

Most Italian immigrants were baptized Catholics, but their ways of expressing their faith were quite different from that of the Catholic Archdiocese of New York, a largely Irish-American institution. Pastor after pastor complained that Italians seldom came to church, never received the sacraments or contributed to the collection. Nor did they assimilate with the American portion of the congregation. This characterization was biased and did not take into account the Italians’ circumstances in Italy or in their new home, but it was true that the Italians kept their distance. This affected the established parishes, cutting into their income and making them less useful in their communities (Brown 1987, 195-196).

In the 1880s, Archbishop Corrigan, head of the Archdiocese of New York, began soliciting Italian-based religious orders to establish parishes specifically for Italian immigrants. It was logical that he would turn to the Society of Jesus (Jesuits), who already ministered to the indigent in the penitentiary, the poor house, and the insane asylums on Welfare Island. Corrigan asked the Jesuit provincial to open a mission for the Sicilian immigrants. He thought if they had a church of their own, they might feel interested in it, patronize it, and perhaps support it financially (DiGiovanni 1994).

The Jesuit provincial missioned Father Nicolas Russo, SJ, a native Italian, to carry out what he considered the great work of his life. Along with his former classmate Father Aloysius Romano, SJ, the two set about establishing a Missione for the Sicilians.

In a personal letter to the provincial, Father Russo described the origin and progress of the new Italian Mission in New York, the Missione Italiana della Madonna di Loreto. The letter provided details and descriptions that radiate the faith, commitment, creativity, and joy of those first years.

Reverend and Dear Father, PC,

I can, at last, comply with your wishes and send you an account of the origin and progress of our mission among the Italians…

We (Father Romano and I) rented an old bar-room, turned ourselves into carpenters, painters, and decorators, made an altar and two confessionals, cleaned the walls, painted the inside doors, etc.—in a word, gave the appearance of a chapel to the interior of the place and put up a big sign on the outside, ‘Missione Italiana della Madonna di Loreto.’

The chapel opened on the 16th of August 1891. The Mass was to begin at eleven o’clock, but the doors of the new Basilica opened around nine. It was near time, and none had come but about a dozen rather troublesome children. Not that we had neglected to advertise our work. Many flying sheets telling of the event had been spread round about, and a man had been hired to do some drumming. This apathy was not unexpected, and in anticipation of it, I had taken a measure that proved effective.

A certain association had been established among the Italians of this quarter and named after St. Rocco. It is a society of mutual help, counting about one hundred members. They honor their patron saint in their own way: banners, music, parades, and fireworks are considered the essentials of the feast. They go to Mass in a body, if they can; for many of them, it is perhaps the only time of the year when they put their foot in the church.

I made arrangements with the president of the association to come to our place with his men. It would be a grand affair, said I, to open our chapel under the auspices of their great favorite San Rocco. Toward eleven o’clock, about fifty men in full regalia, preceded by two policemen and cheered on by hundreds of people on the sidewalks, accompanied and followed by many children, made their solemn entrance into my new Basilica. The chapel was filled. It could contain one hundred fifty people. I spoke in Italian, and Rev. Father Provincial said a few touching words in English at the end of Mass. The opening was pronounced a success, but I could not help looking with dread to the following Sunday.

We did not wait for the people to come to us; we went to them. We were oftentimes received with the coldest indifference, not seldom avoided, at times greeted with insulting remarks. Yet good souls were not altogether wanting, and we began to feel that our chapel was not to be empty on the following Sunday. We had indeed a nice little crowd. We spoke kindly to them, told them that we were not after their money, that we had come to be their friends and look after their souls. Finally, we begged them to send their children to us in the afternoon and come with them if possible.

Well, dear Father, our mission began to be appreciated; the children especially became so many little apostles, and thanks be to God, continue to be such. Our work progressed. Our regular congregation at last numbered about five hundred. It became necessary to look for other quarters. Two tenement houses opposite our chapel seemed to answer our purpose. If altered, they would make a chapel with a little residence in the upper front part of the church. The new church was dedicated by Archbishop Corrigan on September 27, 1892, under the title of our Lady of Loretto… It is worth recalling that the dedication of the new church took place just thirteen months after the first mass was celebrated on the feast of St. Rocco in 1891. (1896)

Ministry to Italian Youth

The Missione was doing a great deal for older people. Father Russo knew something had to be done to save the children. The youth was the hope of the Catholic flock. Unless he could win them and educate them, his work would be a failure. In 1895, the Missione bought two houses adjoining the church for $35,500 and undertook extensive alterations to convert them to school buildings. In January 1896, the school contained about five hundred children. The register of students for the academic year 1901–02 counted a total of seven hundred pupils (Jesuit Archives 1896).

Nor did the school satisfy Father Russo’s zeal. He realized that if he wished to win over his youth, he must look after them outside of school hours. He organized The St. Aloysius Club for young boys under fourteen who had made their first communion and qualified for membership. Father Russo supplied them with a variety of games and a clubroom in the basement of the church. He devoted his evenings to monitoring their play and instilling in them values and correct behavior. Over the years, Father Russo introduced new activities, such as dramatics and debate. In 1904, the boys presented an adaptation of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream. In 1908, the club drafted a constitution in which the purpose of the club was clearly set forth: The moral, intellectual, and social welfare of Catholic young men (Jesuit Archives 1917).

During the spring of 1902, Father Russo’s health deteriorated rapidly. He took part in the Holy Week services with great difficulty. On Easter Sunday morning, an ambulance took him to St. Vincent’s Hospital just as the people were leaving the church. At the hospital, he was diagnosed with a severe case of pneumonia, complicated with other diseases. The doctors pronounced his condition hopeless. Father Russo received the last sacraments and renewed his vows with great piety and devotion. On the morning of April 1, 1902, Father Nicholas Russo, SJ, died at the age of fifty-seven (Jesuit Archives 1902). He had been a Jesuit for forty years and pastor of Missione Italiana della Madonna di Loreto for almost twelve. Father Russo’s body was laid to rest in the small cemetery on the campus of Fordham University, where it can be visited today (Jesuit Archives 1917).

Father Walsh and Italian Youth

After Father Russo’s death, New York-born Father William H. Walsh, SJ, became pastor of