Anthony Casciato

Blumenthal: Judge, could you tell me where your parents originated from?
CASCIATO: Yes, they were both from Italy, of course. The Aurunci Mountains, I guess. Papa always said that was about two days from Rome. They would walk to Rome from the village in the mountains. By car, I imagine that is about five or six hours out of Rome.

Blumenthal: Your mother was born in that vicinity too?
CASCIATO: Yes, and they were married in Italy. 

Blumenthal: Can you tell me something about them?
CASCIATO: Oh, I can tell you a lot.

Blumenthal: You’ve probably heard them speak of their lives in Italy. When did they leave? Where did they go?
CASCIATO: Papa is 91. He is very much alive yet. He comes downtown; we have lunch all the time. We talk about the old times. Seems like they remember more about the old days than they do about yesterday. So I know he came to Portland in 1906. Borrowed the money, landed in New York with a group of other fellows. He was planning to stay in Pittsburgh. He was there about four months, but he had an uncle here in Portland, Nick Casciato, who was a contractor here. He sent Papa the money in Pittsburgh and told him to come to Portland. Papa likes to say he rode the train for four days. He came to Portland, got off the train at Union Station and took a taxicab, a horse and wagon (he rode straight up Fourth Street), to Fourth and Sheridan, where Dunniway Park is. The uncle owned and lived in the house right on the corner. Papa moved right in they’ve lived in South Portland ever since.

Blumenthal: Why did your parents leave Italy?
CASCIATO: For economic reasons. Things were very difficult. He wanted to make a new life here. He left Mama in Italy and my oldest brother was born there. Mama had to wait five years before she joined him. He sent her the money several times before she joined him, but as it turned out, she needed that money and had to spend it to live on. Besides, she couldn’t leave because my father’s grandmother was a blind woman and she… 

Blumenthal: You mean your father’s mother?
CASCIATO: No, my father’s grandmother. They were only 20 years old at the time. My father left his wife with his grandmother, who was getting quite along in years. In Italy in those years, Papa likes to say that, “If you have a dependent, they won’t let you leave that dependent and come to America or to emigrate.” In any event, until either… she could bring the grandmother with her, or if she [the grandmother] should die, of course. And as it happened, that is exactly what did happen. After about five or six years, she did die; and then Mama came over.

Blumenthal: Did your father relate to you the experiences he had in the old country? When I asked you why he came to this country you said, “For economic reasons.”
CASCIATO: That was the principle reason. A lot of his friends had already come. They were sending money home to their families.

Blumenthal: And the reason he came to Portland was because he had an uncle here?
CASCIATO: Yes. He was a contractor. For example: Olds, Wortman & King. You know the store? Nick Casciato dug the basement for that store. They had about 200 men. Papa worked there for Nick, pick and shovel, in a gang of men – other Italian fellows. He likes to tell you how he dug the basement, threw the dirt out on Morrison Street.

Blumenthal: Judge, how did your father come to Portland? By what transportation?
CASCIATO: By ship. He went to Naples and then to Liverpool, England and from there to New York.

Blumenthal: Did he stay any length of time in New York?
CASCIATO: No. He stayed a brief time in Pittsburgh. He only stayed in New York a week or ten days. Like I said, he intended to stay in Pittsburgh. There was quite an Italian community there, as well. But then he got the ticket to go to Portland from Nick. So that’s how he came here. If it weren’t for his uncle, he wouldn’t have come here.

Blumenthal: He came cross-country by train?
CASCIATO: By himself.

Blumenthal: Judge, can you tell me about how your mother came cross-country?
CASCIATO: Oh, yes, Mama talked about it all the time. She came with my older brother, who was five years old at that time. They came alone, in steerage. She likes to say “way down in the bottom of the boat.” They got along fine. She particularly liked the train ride, because people were so nice to her. She was real glad when Papa was there at the station to meet her, because having come so far and having taken so long to get here, she was kind of frightened by her new surroundings. But everything worked out pretty good.

Blumenthal: She went right to the home on Fourth and Sheridan?
CASCIATO: That’s right. Then it wasn’t long, of course, until they rented their first house. That was in the gulch in Dunniway Park, near where Portland State Football field used to be. There used to be a creek running through it; it was a gulch. I’m sure I’ve got pictures of it. They had a trestle, which is Barbur Boulevard now, and the trestle was the red train that ran up and down First street. That’s where I was born, in that home.

Blumenthal: Is the expression paisano a comrade? A person from the same part of the country? Your folks must have had friends, or your father’s uncle must have known – 
CASCIATO: Oh yes, many friends from the village were here. I think literally speaking, a paisano would be one from your own village.

Blumenthal: It would be like a landsman
CASCIATO: Yes, a landsman, like they say among the Jewish folks. On the other hand, you could take two Italians, one from northern Italy, one from way south, and they could call each other paisano just because they are both Italian. But in the true, literal sense, it would be two from the same boat. And there were many of them here. I could name them for you.

Blumenthal: What did your father do for employment?
CASCIATO: Well, he first went to work for Nick Casciato, digging up basements. He was a general contractor. He had horses and wagons and a big crew. It was all pick and shovel work. Papa did that for a year or two, as I remember. Then he went to work for the streetcar company, laying all the track for the streetcars in Portland. Many of the Italian fellows did that. Papa worked there 10 or 15 years, all over the city. Anytime we go for a ride, he always likes to say, [with exaggerated Italian accent] “Tony, this is Glisan Street! I remember when we laid the track!” If we are going up Burnside he says something about that, and if we’re going up Washington street… He has something to say about all the different areas. I’m sure that all the old fellows did that. For example, Don Casciato’s father worked for the city for many years. He was in the water works. I can always remember his father. He was a little guy standing by a water main, digging a ditch or something like that. Each one of these newly arrived Italians, all of them worked.

Blumenthal: I was going to ask you how you came to live where you did, but I see it was because your whole family was there.
CASCIATO: Oh, yes. South Portland – all the Italian and Jewish people were there.

Blumenthal: Now I want you to tell me about your neighborhood. When you say South Portland, how far did that extend?
CASCIATO: That is really a good question. I think South Portland means something different to everyone who lived there, as far as the perameters go. To me it extends from Holman School, which was up towards Fulton on the top of the hill. That would be the southernmost part. And it would go down to about Harrison Street, to the river or to Hood Street to the east, and up to Marquam Hill on the west, where Dunniway Park is, on Sixth street.

Blumenthal: But the hubbub, the real…
CASCIATO: To me, that was right there at Fourth and Sheridan, where Dunniway Park is.

Blumenthal: That’s very interesting.
CASCIATO: Now if you were talking to somebody else, it might be a little bit over. But that’s what it was to me.

Blumenthal: Now, describe your street. Who lived there? What families do you remember?
CASCIATO: I know a lot from what my folks have told me and what my brothers who are older have told me. I was born in Dunniway Park, in the Gulch. We used to call it the “crick” because there was a crick running through it. Now, I don’t recall living there. My first recollection is of living on Sheridan Street. Mama and Papa got out of the gulch and moved onto Sheridan Street between Fourth and Fifth Street. Next door to us were the D’Angelos and the next block from them were the Lambardis. That’s that stucco apartment on Fifth and Sheridan right now. And next to them were the D’Aquestos and next door to them were the Amatos – Mike and Nate Amato. Across the street was Don Casciato. Two houses down was Hank Parisi, who is still living there, down on the corner. Between Don Casciato and Hank Parisi was … Oh, we called him “Andy House,” the Coliezi family. The Gardinelis lived up on Sixth Street.

Blumenthal: It is very interesting because there at Fourth and Sheridan it was mostly Italians whereas down the block was mostly Jewish people. 
CASCIATO: Yes. The Jewish people, for the most part at that time, were just a couple blocks farther south toward Shattuck School. And yet, I remember Sammy Singer lived on Grant Street between Second and Third. Across the street from him was Jack Weinstein. The Rosenfelds and the Levensons lived on Second and Sherman. The Swerdliks lived on the corner [of] Caruthers and Second Street. We used to go to all of their houses because we played together. 

Blumenthal: What did you like most about your neighborhood in those days?
CASCIATO: There is always a tendency to look back at the old days with nostalgia. The farther removed you are from them, you start to think in terms of “they were all good days.” There were many difficult days, too. I would have to say that we just had a great time. Good friends who are still my good friends today. 

Blumenthal: What was missing from that area? Of course, who knew at the time what was missing?
CASCIATO: We really didn’t know at the time. I can remember. I used to run around personally with some of the Swerdlik boys, if we are talking about the Jewish boys. The Swerdliks, Sammy Singer, Larry Mudrick – Dr. Mudrick – oh, there were so many. I think the thing we all had in common was we didn’t have too much money. We also played a lot of ball. We had many, many ball teams and we all played together. It was quite an event, you know, when they got Dunniway Park. As the years went by, they started to fill it in until they had kind of a ball field, and then they got a better and better field. We always had our team right in our own neighborhood. The nicest thing about that was that whenever we played a game, all of the older people would turn out. It was almost like big league game. It was great.

Blumenthal: How close were you to your school or your… I want to say synagogue [laughter]. Did you go to St. Lawrence School or church?
CASCIATO: No, my older brother started at St. Michael School on Fourth and Mill. That was the Italian National Church. That is where we were all expected to go. But by the time it was time for me to go to school, Mama and Papa had just moved from Fourth and Sheridan to Front and Arthur Street, down by the old box factory. We lived between Hood and Water Street on Arthur, below the Labor Temple – where the Labor Temple is now. LaGrande’s Industrial Plant is on First Street. You would go down three blocks from LaGrand, toward the river, on the hill. That’s where Papa still lives. Anyway, that put us just two blocks from Failing School. When it came time for me to go to school, Mama said, “Everybody will go to Failing School.” So that’s where I went to school.

Blumenthal: I want to interrupt you, Judge. Your brother was born in Italy. Now, how many of you were born here and how many children were in the family?
CASCIATO: There were seven boys born here and one in Italy. I was a twin. 

Blumenthal: And you all went to Failing School?
CASCIATO: Yes, we all did. My brother graduated from there because we had made that move. 

Blumenthal: What religious training did you have?
CASCIATO: We went to catechism, to Father Balestra at St. Michael’s. We would go after school.

Blumenthal: That’s quite a walk.
CASCIATO: Oh, yes. We had to go though. It was very important.

Blumenthal: What about hard times in your neighborhood. Were there hard times?
CASCIATO: I don’t think we really even knew that. We had good times because… Really all I can remember (and now I’m talking about when I was 18) is that we were always playing ball. Every season we played football, and if it wasn’t football, it was basketball. If it wasn’t that, it was baseball.

Blumenthal: So your activities revolved around sports.
CASCIATO: Sports and the Manley Community Center and we had the Neighborhood House. 

Blumenthal: What kind of neighbors did you have?
CASCIATO: Very good, of course. I actually grew up on Arthur Street because I was only eight years old when we moved there. Down there we had the Marinellis, the Heimawitzes, the Etlingers (very nice family), the Alphonos, Polandres. Around the corner was Billy Rogoway and his family. The Robertis, the Jombalowskis, a real mixture. 

Blumenthal: In your growing up, then, who did you spend most of your time with? You come from a large family. Was it your friends, relatives, neighbors? Who made up your social life?
CASCIATO: Oh, I’d say it was friends. Everybody in the neighborhood was a friend in one way or another. It was either playing ball with the children or visiting back and forth.

Blumenthal: Tell me about your education after Failing School.
CASCIATO: Well, because my brother went to Commerce High across the river, at 26th and Powell, it was very common in those days to go where your brother went before you, so I followed right along. I went to Commerce. My brothers all followed along. We all went to Commerce High School. I graduated and then went to the University of Portland, and then, after the war, to law school. 

Blumenthal: Why were these activities so important to you? This baseball and other sports?
CASCIATO: I don’t know. We just all seemed to gravitate toward the sports. Everybody did. Maybe it was our lack of anything else to do. There were no cars, of course, and nobody had any money. There were a lot of empty lots. They had some very good programs in the city with regard to playing ball and we just seemed to naturally turn to that. We found good friends and a good time.

Blumenthal: Did you use the facilities at the Neighborhood House?
CASCIATO: [laughing] That is a good question. You know, we used to get kicked out of the Neighborhood House as kids. If I remember right, it cost $1 a year to have a membership ticket. My good friend Louis Stern – who has since passed away; he was my law partner – I used to kid him about this. His very first job was at the Neighborhood House. His job was to warn us, oversee the activities, and make sure that only members were admitted. He used to kick us goyims out because he knew we weren’t members, but we would sneak in and watch the AZA basketball games. They had a good basketball team. Also the South Parkway teams. Once in a while, if we played our cards right, we could sneak in and swim. But Mr. Tate, he knew all of us guys, and if we didn’t swim underwater, he would know who we were and would throw us out. In later years, we all joined at one time or another, and played handball and basketball. For the most part, the Italian boys were at the Manley Center. That was a Methodist center two blocks from the Neighborhood House. We would play basketball there and a lot of other activities, too. 

Blumenthal: So you used the facilities at Manley House. Did you use the library that was near Neighborhood House?
CASCIATO: I’m glad you asked that. Personally, I used the library a lot. I was just one of those fellows who did, from a very early age.

Blumenthal: Do you remember the librarian there?
CASCIATO: I think it was Ms. Loewenberg. She was very stern. I can’t say that as a kid we liked her. She was very strict. She ran a very tight ship. She was worried about us turning the corners on the books, hanging our wet clothes up in the closet as we came in. I liked the way she wrote her ‘4’s. Real square and nicely done, almost like it was printed from a machine. I guess librarians can all do that. I had a lot of pleasure at the library.

Blumenthal: Living as you did, in such close proximity to the Jewish families in South Portland, you must have become very well versed in their religious customs. Can you tell me something about them?
CASCIATO: We were very close. It seems to me that I’ve known Morrie and Al Gilbert all of my life. Sammy Singer, the Rogoways, the Sterns, the Ribaks, the Spinskys, Enkelis, Londons – we all went to school together. I knew a lot about their families and they knew a lot about Italian folks – our mannerisms. My earliest recollection is that I used to go light the fires on the Sabbath for the Jewish folks in our neighborhood. Many is the time I lit the fire for the Heimelwitz family and the Evilator family who lived right up the block. There were several others. We used to get a nickel for it. I used to like Saturdays because it was the Jewish Sabbath. They were all dressed up going to shul. It seemed like, since we had Sundays and they had Saturdays, that we had two holidays every week. More than that I remember the Jewish Holidays when we were in school. We, the goyims, the Italian kids, used to love the Jewish holidays, because half or three quarters of the kids would be gone in every class and the teachers let us draw or have spelling bees. In other words, it wouldn’t be “business as usual.” They would have their holiday out and we would have our holiday in. So we were all for the Jewish holidays.

Blumenthal: What do you remember about Failing School?
CASCIATO: Oh, who could ever forget Miss Fanny Porter, the principal? And Kate Porter, her sister? Fanny Porter, she ran a tight ship. Everything we did, we did by the numbers. When we went to recess, every class lined up two by two. When we were dismissed for lunch or at the end of the day, we would march out of school. Dorothy [Cornb__?] was the pianist. She would play all these marching tunes as we would march out. I’ve seen Dorothy at the Multnomah club. We would talk. Could she play the piano, even to this day! Oh, I remember Failing School very well.

Blumenthal: You went to Failing School, and the Commerce High, and then University of Portland. Were you still living in the neighborhood?
CASCIATO: Oh yes, I lived with Mama and Papa. I didn’t get married until I was 32. I lived with them until I did. I was the last one left at home. They never moved from that house. 

Blumenthal: Will you tell me what happened after you graduated from the University of Portland?
CASCIATO: Well, that was 1941. It wasn’t long before Pearl Harbor. Then I was drafted along with everyone else. I was in the Army for four years. I came out when I was 28. I decided to go to law school. Oh, I went back the University of Portland for one year to do some graduate work. That was in 1946.

Blumenthal: Why did people start to move away? Why did they desert South Portland?
CASCIATO: I don’t know if it was so much a “desertion.”

Blumenthal: Well, there was an exodus, wasn’t there?
CASCIATO: Yes, there was, but quite a few of us remained. I remember quite a few of the Jewish folks moved to Irvington. Quite a few of the Italians moved to Ladd’s Addition. Some went to the Richmond area on 42nd and Division. Some went to Woodstock. Strangely enough, now that you mention it, nobody moved to St. Johns. Nobody moved to Albina or Lents. There was a dispersal.

Blumenthal: But they all dispersed to one region?
CASCIATO: Right, and then they had their little communities within those regions. Quite a few Jewish people went to Irvington and stayed there. They raised their families there. Many Italian kids grew up in Ladd’s Addition. 

Blumenthal: Did you regret some of these changes? You actually stayed in South Portland.
CASCIATO: When I got married I left. My wife’s family was from Ladd’s Addition. Her parents had grown up in South Portland, but they moved. When I got married, I moved to the eastside. That was a big move for me. I was from South Portland and here I was living off of Division Street! I had a hard time adjusting. I was an old cocker South Portlander. It was as if I had moved to a new town,. I had lived there so long. 

Blumenthal: What was the happiest memory that you had about growing up in South Portland?
CASCIATO: Golly, there are so many, I couldn’t tell you. Being there with all of my friends. If we weren’t playing ball, we were going to watch a ball game or going swimming. I didn’t have any bad moments in South Portland. I can almost say that for a certainty. 

Blumenthal: Then do you have any unhappy memories of your life in the neighborhood?
CASCIATO: No, I don’t.

Blumenthal: Did the Depression, which was in 1929, affect you and your family? Where were you at the time?
CASCIATO: Well, it really didn’t. Papa was working for the Union Pacific as a laborer. He even likes to talk about it now. He worked right through the Depression. He never made much money, but we always had the necessities. Nothing fancy, but always the spaghetti and the wine. We never had pocket money, but we made our fun in different ways. I remember the Depression. I remember “Hooverville” under the Ross Island Bridge. I used to go down there all the time and visit with the fellows living there in the huts. I remember, many times, men coming to our door looking for food. Mama would always invite them onto the patio and feed them leftovers. They might do some work, but most of them didn’t. 

Blumenthal: Did World War II affect your family?
CASCIATO: Oh, sure. Of course, I was drafted. Two of my brothers were. Three of us were in the Army, but just three of us. One of us, my older brother, was too old (the one who came here as a five year old). One was a policeman, so he was needed here at home. My brother Ralph had two children. I don’t know why; they just didn’t get to him, I guess. But three of us went and we all came out of it. 

Blumenthal: Do you remember the activities that went on in South Portland proper? Do you remember the stores there?
CASCIATO: Oh, yes. As you can tell, I have a very good memory. I still go to Harry Jaffe for my haircuts. I have been going to Harry Jaffe ever since I can remember. In my earliest recollection, he was over on First Street and Sheridan or Caruthers – right across the street from Mosler’s Bakery. He’s been cutting my hair since I first started having sideburns, maybe at 12 or 13. He and his brother had a shop. 

Right next door to them was Zohn’s Shoe Repair. On the other side of them was Calistro and Halperin, and across the street was Mosler’s Bakery, of course. Forman’s Saloon was down the block. Next door, on First and Caruthers, there was Levitt’s. Gefilte fish was sold across the street – you could always get that on Caruthers, right next door to the D’Orios’ house. Then they had the Jewish shul across the street. 

That’s just First Street. I remember Wolf’s Barbershop [and] the Berg’s Theater. We used to go for a nickel. My earliest recollection in the theater was Jackie Coogan in “Buttons.” He was a little Italian guy, of course. He was a bus boy on a boat in New Orleans and they called him Buttons. And of course Calistro and Halperin, that was quite a combination: nice Jewish fellow and nice Italian fellow. The Mount Hood Soda Works up on Second Street, the Star Bakery, and up at the corner there was a grocery…

Blumenthal: There was a lot of activity going on there.
CASCIATO: The Lincoln Theater. I think Rabel had a tune shop, and La Grande’s place, and Mishke – he used to pluck the chickens at the meat market. I remember even before that, he used to live in the gulch on Second Street. His mother had apple trees in the yard and we used to go swipe them all the time. They used to get so mad about that. We used to call them “Mishke’s Golden Apples” because they wouldn’t let us steal them.

Blumenthal: How did you meet your wife?
CASCIATO: Blind date, believe it or not.

Blumenthal: Who was instrumental?
CASCIATO: Oh, her cousin. It wasn’t really a blind date. I knew who she was, but I had never gone out with her before.

Blumenthal: Did you know her when she lived in South Portland?
CASCIATO: No, she never lived in South Portland. Her mother and father moved out of South Portland. She grew up in Ladd’s Addition. I knew who she was when they asked me to go out with her.

Blumenthal: What year were you married?
CASCIATO: Hmm, I can’t remember. We just had our anniversary last month. It was 26 years ago. When was that? 1951.

Blumenthal: You graduated law school and then married. Can you tell me something about your practice?
CASCIATO: Oh, there isn’t much to tell. I practiced 16 years in Portland. The last three or four, Louis Stern and I practiced together. That was just great. I was the lawyer for a lot of my old friends from South Portland, and then I became a judge.

Blumenthal: That is an elected office?
CASCIATO: I was appointed first, then elected. 

Blumenthal: How many children do you have?
CASCIATO: Four. I just talked to the oldest. We’re going out for lunch tomorrow. Mary Jo will be 26. She’s unmarried yet. She works for Portland Metro Health – that’s a new health program. She is the director in charge of advertising. My son Pete is one year younger and graduated Stanford two years ago. Now he is going to Boston University Law School. He’s in his second year there. Nancy went to Stanford for about a year and a half and now she is going to Portland State. Tom just started Stanford this year.

Blumenthal: So it’s just you and your wife at home now?
CASCIATO: Yep, I’m chasing her around now. 

Blumenthal: Where do you live now?
CASCIATO: We live in the Bridlemile neighborhood now, about three miles from Dunniway Park. 

Blumenthal: What happened to the people that left South Portland? Did they all move to different areas and have they all lost contact over the years?
CASCIATO: It’s a strange thing – a lot of people have stayed in Portland. You’ve probably heard of our South Portland Party, haven’t you? We’re not having it this year, but we’ve had it five years in a row. We don’t have any trouble at all selling three or four hundred tickets, having 500 Old South Portlanders there. Not all of us have moved away. Don’t you find that to be true?

Blumenthal: Yes, yes. 
CASCIATO: Some people have commented that… one day when I was still in practice, a fellow came in and wanted to see me. The receptionist sent him right in. I looked at him and, doggone it, I knew him right away. His name was Mason. He was one of my professors in college. I hadn’t seen him for 25 years. We got to talking. By this time, I was with Louis Stern. Our office was in the Jackson Building. He said, “You know, it’s a crazy thing. Here it is, 25 years since I’ve seen you. I come back to town and it’s almost as if you are sitting in the same spot.” By this time, he was a professor at Penn State. He says, “Didn’t you move? I never figured you would still be here.” 

I says, “It’s a funny thing you should ask me that. I never moved and you know, I’ve got six brothers and none of them have ever moved. I live within five minutes of all my brothers.” You know that’s a strange thing. So many people move around – go to Texas or New York – but we’re all here. 

Blumenthal: That is unusual.
CASCIATO: I think it says something for the area.

Blumenthal: I think so, too. When you look back now, was there any antisemitism in the area you grew up in?
CASCIATO: My feeling now is that all of us were kind of in the same boat. We were always playing ball and we were always together. If we went to another neighborhood, somebody might say, “Let’s kill that little kike. Let’s get that guy! Hit that bagel!” But that’s between ourselves. Somebody might kiddingly say, “Oh, you’re sure a dumb little bagel.” Or call him a kike or something. But I didn’t sense ever, in our own neighborhood, it being like that. Growing up it was very definite that we were a community. I’m talking about in the larger Portland. Italian people weren’t too accepted, and neither were the Jews, so we had each other. 

Blumenthal: As an Italian, did you feel any anti-Italian…?
CASCIATO: Oh, yes. As an Italian, you weren’t an American. You weren’t accepted. Now it’s fine. Now it’s popular to be an ethnic – the most popular thing there is. Of course, we always felt that way. We thought we really had something going. People didn’t accept it for a long time. I remember when my brothers were going with so-called “American” girls. That wasn’t too good, going with a “little bagel.” I’m sure that the Jewish boys ran into the same thing. But between ourselves, I don’t think we felt that way.

Blumenthal: Did you think that the Urban Renewal was a good project for South Portland?
CASCIATO: Of course, you know I’m kind of a nostalgia buff anyway, but more than that, I hated to see that. All of the old Jewish homes, for example, on Fourth Street and Fifth street, down from the Lincoln Theater. There was always a nice Jewish fellow or two or three sitting out on the porch with his long beard. Nice little old ladies. It was always such a pleasant place. The Saltzmans lived across the street. 

When they brought the Urban Renewal, there were still a lot of people there. A lot of older folks were still there. I felt pretty bad about it. I really did. I suppose in the name of progress, it had to come. But I regretted it. I walk through that neighborhood every day. I park my car there purposefully, right by the library. It’s there right now. That forces me to walk through South Portland. And I walk up at night. I really haven’t lost any ties at all. As I walk through it, I can see it all in my mind. 

Blumenthal: How did you feel, as an Italian, growing up in Portland? In Oregon? Was it a healthy atmosphere?
CASCIATO: I do think so. There were the little things we just spoke about, but for the most part, it was. Although, maybe that’s the reason we stuck together. All of our activities were right here in our own neighborhood. I suppose for a while there was a danger we would become too provincial. But somehow it all worked out; we all branched out as we got older.

Blumenthal: When I leave here, I will think of a million questions I should have asked you and you will think of a million things you should have told me. Is there any anecdote or vignette that you would like to share?
CASCIATO: Two things come to mind. Cottell Drugs on First and Sherman – I think you’d almost have to say was an institution. Charlie Cottell was a real human being. He was more than a druggist; he was almost a doctor. Mama didn’t read or write, but she could go in there and she always came out with what she needed. He was very understanding and he had a real feel for it. He was neither Jewish nor Italian. He was just great. On the other side, Mr. Wentler of Wentler Drug. He was really great. As a matter of fact, we had him out at a reunion. He was 92 years old. We went up and got him and brought him home. He stayed until 2:00 in the morning and had a great time. The other thing I wanted to mention was those two, because they were part of the neighborhood. More than a store. You could also say that of Mosler’s Bakery. They were institutions. 

There were several like that. I remember Mr. Cottell. One day my mother had sent me to the store for something. It was 1928, in November. It was election night. There was no TV. I was about seven or eight years old. I stopped outside of Cottells because there was a crowd of people on the Sherman Street side of the store. They were all clustered and looking across the street at Geller’s Grocery. They were showing slides against the store of the election results as they were coming in. I was standing among all of these grown-ups. The D’Orios had a big police dog. As a little kid, that dog must have looked like a horse to me. Anyway, the dog came along and I started to pet him and he didn’t like it and he bit me – took a piece out of the inside of my wrist. I was screaming bloody murder. They took me into old Charlie Cottell. He laid me down and he doctored me. Then he took me home. It was a pretty bad ride. The thing I remember most about it is one day, when I was feeling better, Mama said, “Tony, now we got to go and see Charlie.” She wanted to make it very special. She took me by the hand and we went up to thank Charlie Cottell. 

Blumenthal: You say your father is still living at the age of 91?
CASCIATO: He’ll be 92 in January. 

Blumenthal: And your mother? How old was she when she passed?
CASCIATO: Mama died about two years ago. She was 90. Papa still goes to football games with me. Or we’ll go see the Trailblazers. He says [with Italian accent], “Tony, you calla me, I go!” He comes here twice a week. We have salami and cheese sandwiches – we buy ‘em down here at the Greek’s.

Blumenthal: Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?
CASCIATO: [laughs] I don’t think you have enough tape. I could keep talking for a while. I could say this: all of these people that I grew up with are still my very good friends today. We have a game we play every year. We’ve been playing it for 40 years. We play a softball game. One day a year, we have a picnic and play a softball game.

Blumenthal: Where do you play?
CASCIATO: We pick a park each year. We used to play at Dunniway Park, but things have changed there. In recent years we’ve been playing in Sellwood Park. Usually around the first of August or the very end of July. Many years ago we chose sides. Originally it was the younger boys against the older boys. Now we are all old. But the point I’m making is that, for example on my team, for many years its been Dr. Mudrick, all the Fazalare boys, and Mutzy Enkelis. On the other team is Morrie Gilbert, Sammy Singer, Norman Berlant (we call him “the Eskimo”). All Jewish boys and all Italian boys and we are still playing together. The friendships have been very real and are still very strong. Mutzy Enkelis and I went out to lunch together this week. I went to camp this week! They invited me down to the B’nai B’rith Camp. 

Blumenthal: Did you enjoy it?
CASCIATO: I had a ball! All the guys I grew up with were there.

Blumenthal: This was your first experience down there?
CASCIATO: First time down there. I saw old friends like Leonard Subotnik and Julie Fleck from Las Vegas. Jack Weinstein was there and … Harry Jaffe’s brother. Gene Nudelman was there, too. It was great. I wrote them a letter telling them how much I enjoyed being there. I hope they ask me again. 

Blumenthal: This has been delightful, Judge. I hope you have enjoyed the interview.
CASCIATO: I think you can tell I did.