A Yong Immigrant Meets Theodore Roosevelt: Little Stories That History Often Forgets

[UnderMiner]

While at work today I met an elderly man. While he was waiting for his appointment I had a conversation with him and soon learned he had a love for history. I told him that I was a historian myself and if he had any stories to share I would love to hear them. That's when he told me a personal story. Long ago when he was a little boy his grandfather had told him a story of the day he met Theodore Roosevelt.

His grandfather had arrived in the United States from Italy in 1896. He could barely speak English and fresh off the boat he began to make his living on Long Island peddling household goods door to door with a pushcart.

Eventually he soon made enough money to buy his first horse and wagon. He used the horse and wagon to expand his small business to the wealthier parts of Long Island on the North Shore - Glen Cove and Oyster Bay.

He mostly sold inexpensive items such as gloves and tools to staff members who worked the lands of luxury estates. One day the young man brought his horse and wagon to Theodore Roosevelt's house at Sagamore Hill. While he was selling things to Roosevelt's house staff his horse wandered a few steps into the flower garden and ate/trampled many of the flowers. One of Roosevelt's servants told the young immigrant to leave before 'the owner' found out.

Before the young man could do anything however Theodore Roosevelt, the owner, walked by. The future president approached and seeing the damage asked the young man if he was responsible for it. The newly arrived immigrant said in broken English that his horse had indeed eaten the flowers and it was his fault for the damage. He told Roosevelt that he would never again enter the property and only wished not to be thought a criminal for the incident. Roosevelt told the man he respected his honesty and sincerity and that he was welcome to sell goods to the staff at Sagamore Hill when ever he wished, there would be no punishment. And so Roosevelt let him go on his way. At the time, the young man didn't realize he just had a run in with the soon-to-be 26th president of the United States.

I was very fascinated by this little story that the old gentleman told me about his grandfather's early years in New York. I feel it is a tiny part of history that would have otherwise been forgotten had I not written it down here on T-net. There must be countless little stories like this out there that will never be written in books, and as time passes most will simply fade away. So if anyone has little tales like this to tell, please write them down and share them so they may be preserved for the sake of history and lover's of history.

 

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[Keith Jackson]

I love history, especially personal history. I remember in the past I would spend time talking to older people. They always seem to be full of stories and glad to have someone want to hear them. At my grandfather's viewing before his funeral, I was sitting there talking to an older gentleman for a while. When my parents finally rounded me up and we headed back to where we were staying, I was told that I had been talking to my great-uncle John and during WWII he had worked as a draftsman on the Manhattan Project. Another time, I was taking part in a fund raising walk-a-thon and wound up walking beside an older gentleman. A lot of people didn't like to talk to him because he was slow and what some would call mentally challenged. However, I enjoyed talking to him while we walked and he told me all about how the town was 50 years ago and he told be all about the proper way to crank start a car so that you didn't break your arm. One last story to bore you with. My wife and I had just moved to a new apartment building and there was an older gentleman who would spend his afternoons sitting on the front stoop with his seat cushion and portable radio. I would wind up talking to him whenever I had the chance. He told me about how the area had changed over the years and he told me some of his stories about playing baseball in the Negro Leagues. It was a common occurrence for me to talk half an hour to take the trash to the Dumpster. I would finally make it back into the house and apologize to my wife with my standard, "Sorry, I got talking to Mr. Brooks." That was all the explanation that was needed since my wife felt the same way. We still have the $5 that he gave us shortly after we moved in the building to give to our granddaughter who was just a couple moths old at the time. Sadly, he passed away a year or so later.

 

[favored papa]

WWII my dad was a tail gunner in a B17 stations on Attu island Alaska. that is the last island in the chain to far from any where to bomb anything. So there war effort was to hunt the Japanese fishing fleet. They would find them all lined up in a row. So they flew right down the row and lit up all their 50cal machine guns aimed at the center of the boats. My Dad being the tail gunner would see the effect. The boats would split in half. Their biggest threat was the weather it could close in making it hard to find there way home.

 

[favored papa]

interesting topic for thread but too long of a title, most people missed it the idea, i think.