Papa and The Gypsies, an Italian American Tale

My Papa Joe

     In 1915, Papa was five years old.  He lived on Eddy Street on the west end of Warren, Pa.  In those days, gypies would ride with their caravans through Warren, but they were not allowed to stay and take up root.

     On one of the early Spring days, when Warren was in bloom with pretty flowers, budding trees, and emerald green grass, Papa was playing in the front yard. He saw a colorful wagon drive by the house.  A gypsy lady got out of her wagon and walked toward Papa.  She thought he was a cute little boy with dark shining eyes, and black, curly hair.  There were old wives tales about gypsies stealing children, and it was to become a reality with Papa.  He looked up at, and smiled at the woman with the gold jewelry and hair scarf.  Before Papa could finish playing in the yard, the lady snatched Papa up in her arms and brought him to the wagon.  She tied him up lightly so he couldn't fall out of the wagon.

     Three miles down the road, in Starbrick, Pa, just outside of Warren, the wagon stopped.  Papa managed, somehow, to get loose from the rope.  He jumped out of the gypsy wagon and ran fast as he could to the nearest house.  A man was on the front porch.

     "Mister? would you take me home?  I live on Eddy Street in Warren. I was stolen by a gypsy lady and I got away," said Papa, as he tugged at the man's sleeve.  The man was impressed with Papa's ordeal and decided to take Papa back to Warren.  Meanwhile, Grandpa and Grandma Rocco were pacing the floors, wondering where Papa was.  Hed could not understand that Papa could just banish from the yard.  The man pulled up in front of the house on Eddy Street, and let Papa out.  Papa ran up on the porch and yelled to Grandpa and Grandma.

     "I was stolen gypsies, honest!"

     "Figlio Mia, Guiseppe, why did you leave the yard?" said Grandpa Rocco.

     "Don't you ever scare us that way again," said Grandma, "from now on, your sister Mary will see to it that you never leave the back yard.

      Aunt Mary watched Papa pretty thoroughly.  Every morning she walked Papa to school at the McClintock Kindergarten Class.  Aunt Mary went to third grade.  After school Aunt Mary walked Papa home.

     News had spread that Papa was stolen by the gypsies.  From that day on, throughout the west end of Warren, Papa was known as "Gypsie Joe."