Born on August 5, 1899, Vincenzo was the son of Carlo and Ortensia Tonitto.
He came into the world in the tiny rural village of Toppo, in the northeastern Italian region of Friuli-Venezia Giulia.
A rural beginning
Toppo is found in the province of Pordenone, 3.3 kilometres from the larger municipality of Travesio.
Sitting at 251 metres above sea level, the village currently has around 422 people living there.
The area is known to be an old way of travel which connected the Venetian plain with the Alpine passes.
Permanent meadows of barley, corn and potatoes grew on that wide alluvial plain, enclosed on each side by the river Meduna and the torrent Cosa, and to the south, by a row of hills which lead onto the high Spilimbergo plain.
The original nucleus of the village developed in a feudal countryside, with links to the noble castle lying on the slopes of Mount Ciaurlec, at the foot of the Camic Pre-Alp mountains.
Toppo Castle is thought to have originated in the Roman era, as indicated by ancient ruins found on site.
It was first mentioned historically in 1186, and is known to have changed hands many times, as a site of strategic importance for the Counts of the region.
The castle fell into decay after the Venetian conquest of Friuli, in 1420.
In 1567, Count Girolamo di Porcia described the site as “ruins of a castle on the other side of the River Tagliamento, standing on the first foothills of the mountains, 21 miles from Udine”.
Vincenzo Crovatto, the soldier
In this historic region, Vincenzo was born and raised.
He was indentured to a brickworks in Germany when he was just 12 years old.
He fought in the Alpini – the Italian mountain infantry – in snow-capped mountains towards the end of World War I.
He escaped captivity by hiding under a dead horse, but was recaptured by the Germans after suffering frostbite to his toes.
Vincenzo’s heroic efforts in World War I were recognised more than 50 years after the war, when he was awarded the Cavaliere dell’Ordine di Vittorio Veneto in 1970.
He had been officially knighted.
When the war ended, it is said that he walked back to Italy, where he met his wife-to-be, Maria Pellarin.
Maria Pellarin, a seamstress
Maria Crovatto (née Pellarin) was born in Toppo in 1898.
She was known as “Miuta la sarta”, meaning “Miuta the dressmaker”, with “Miuta” being a nickname derived from Maria.
She left Toppo for Venice when she was 14, to work as a servant for a professor and his wife.
It was there that she learned the importantissimo skill of dressmaking, which was vital to the family’s later survival in Australia.
Maria and her husband had their first child, Lena Crovatto, in Toppo, on Wednesday, November 21, 1923.
In an interview with Christine Flannery, granddaughter of Vincenzo and Maria and daughter of Lena, Maria was said to be “very clever”.
Migration to Sydney
Lena was five years old when her mother brought her to Australia in 1928.
Vincenzo had arrived in 1926, and was already working in the terrazzo business in town.
Maria wanted to join her husband, as well as her sister Severina and brother-in-law Jack Melocco.
In a transcript of some of Lena’s memories, documented by Dominic Flannery, Lena recounts the journey to Australia, which begun in Venice while waiting for the ship.
“I vividly remember being told by my mother to wait on the Rialto Bridge while she got a haircut,” Lena says.
“It was my first time to Venice and I waited on the bridge until my mother returned.
“The journey by ship to Australia was long.
“On the way from Italy, we stopped in Bombay, India, and I was amazed at all the people cooking on their rooves and remember seeing a lovely pearl shop.
“In my village there were no shops – we had to walk to the next village.
“Unfortunately after India I got chicken pox and I was sick and in quarantine for the rest of the trip.
“The ship stopped in Perth on the way to Sydney.
“We arrived in Australia in 1928.
“My only toy, a doll from Toppo, was stolen during the trip to my dismay.”
Early years in Sydney
In the early years, the family moved to Newtown where they lived down the road from Aunty Severina and Uncle Jack.
Maria was a savvy dressmaker, famous for her skill, speed and the exquisite quality of her dresses.
She sold them to stores in the CBD, as well as displaying them behind glass on King Street, in Newtown.
It was Maria who kept the family financially afloat in those years.
Her English improved throughout business negotiations, buying fabrics, and so on.
It was the Depression, and Vincenzo was out of work for seven years.
The family grows, and the suburban garden
Lena’s little sister Lorna was born on April 20, 1930.
The family lived for a period in Beverley Hills, which was renowned for its Friulan population, in particular people who originated in the village of Toppo.
Vincenzo and Uncle Jack grew a farm-like vegetable garden, with lettuce, tomatoes, cabbage, raddichio, beans and peas.
On the same grounds, they constructed an Italian bowling alley (bocce) and people would come on Sundays to play and drink beer.
Selling beers provided a little more money for the family.
In Dominic’s transcript, Lena recalls that “we never had a penny to spare”.
“I used to sit on the bumper bar of the bus to get a lift home from school because it was a big hill and I couldn’t afford the fare,” she says.
“I had a pair of shoes but I carried them to and from school, so I didn’t wear them out!”
After this period, Vincenzo recommenced work in the trade of mosaics and terrazzo, at Terrazzo and Company with his brother-in-law Jack.
According to Christine Flannery, he went on to make “practically all the terrazzo floors in every hospital in NSW”.
Buying their first home
It was Maria who bought the first family home in Holmwood Street, in Newtown, in the late ‘30s.
“That was unheard of,” Christine says.
“In those days, women just didn’t do that!
“It just goes to show you what a brain she was.”
“We thought we were in heaven with our new house, and Mum was still working hard,” Lena recalls in the transcript.
By that time, Maria’s mother Anna had come over from Toppo, to join her sisters and her daughter’s family.
There was no one left in Toppo, although Aunty Tina lived on in Venice and Vincenzo would return sporadically to visit her.
Experiences of racism, a universal struggle
Lena’s memories from childhood reflect a struggle with integration that all migration groups experience at some time in Australia.
“One day, a boy called me ‘dago’ and I got his boots and threw them in the creek,” Lena says.
“In those days, shoes were very expensive.
“The next day, his mother came up to the school and told the headmaster in front of all the class.
“The headmaster stood up for me and said nobody should be called that.
“He said when people call me names, I should say, ‘Sticks and stones will break my bones but names will never hurt me’... ‘When I’m dead and in my grave, you’ll think of the names you call me’.”
Lena also recalls getting involved in a physical scuffle with a girl after another name-calling incident.
Lena was “bashed”, and had a long walk home from the Sydney Harbour Bridge to Newtown while wearing her badly ripped dress.
Maria falls ill
Maria began working for several dress shops in Liverpool Street, Sydney, near Mark Foys and a boutique in the Strand Arcade.
She rented a workshop in King Street to expand the business, and Lorna was helping her.
But she began to get sick with high blood pressure.
In 1946, when Maria was 48, she had a serious stroke.
Lena was already married at this time, and living in Brighton-Le-Sands.
Life changed for everyone after the stroke; Lorna and Lena had to help Maria at home while Vincenzo was at work, and Maria was left paralysed, with little speech and unable to take care of herself.
But she lived on a good long while, and only passed in 1964.
Vincenzo worked until he was 80 years old.
He died in 1989, at 90 years of age.
Looking back on the move
Despite some struggles with language and integration, Christine says that Vincenzo, Maria, and her mother Lena never expressed regret about moving to Australia, or a desire to go back permanently to Italy.
“They never wanted to go back,” she says.
“Both families integrated.
“They had Australian and Italian friends, and mixed both ways.
“They all learned English; Lena learnt it to go to school, while Maria spoke it for her dressmaking business, and Vincenzo as well as he worked on the terrazzo floors.
“Lorna was of course born in Australia.”
Vincenzo never spoke about his time in the war.
According to Christine, “a lot of people didn’t talk about it”.
She wonders if it’s some kind of post-traumatic stress effect.
When asked on whether she thinks it’s important for people to know their family history, Christine responds by saying that our roots form our identities.
“I think our roots are very, very strong,” she emphasises.
The struggle and wisdom of our forefathers and foremothers is passed on in the blood.
It’s indicative in a family’s history.
The story continues
As with any family history, it’s impossible to find a beginning or an end.
Lena married Joseph Taranto when she was 17 years old, and their life as Italo-Australians in Sydney is a similarly fascinating story.
It includes five children, a few fruit shops, a string of jobs in catering, at the ABC canteen, as a bookkeeper and in a nursing home, and a housing legacy not to be sneezed at.
But the story of Lena and her next family must be continued another time, because the end of this page has been reached.
