Each spring there was an announcement of the junior-class boys who had been chosen to represent the city high school in the events of Buckeye Boys’ State. This year, the BBS would meet for a week at Camp Perry near Port Clinton, Ohio. The five selected by the local American Legion to represent Niles McKinley High School included: Scott Garrett, son of leading educator; Bob Wick, son of newspaper editor; Bill Trimber, son of City auditor; Dick Rader, son of American Legion officer; Bob Billig, son of councilman and industrialist; and Frank Mills, son of another leading industrialist. Dick Rashilla and Al Salerno, who were part of the same popular group of juniors, were conspicuously absent from the list. I, too, was not among the representatives for the “honor” of learning, first-hand, about state government. As “Rash” said to me: “We’re nothing but two little Dagos from the wrong side of the tracks.”
Martha Smith, who worked on the Niles High Crier, the school newspaper, heard this viewpoint indirectly confirmed by our Principal, Mr. Sharp, when she interviewed him about Buckeye Boys’ State. He maintained he had nothing to do with the decision made by the American Legion. I should not have been surprised.
Niles was home for three major ethnic groups: Italians, Irish and WASPs. The Italian Catholics of Mt. Carmel and the Irish Catholics of St. Stephen counterbalance the WASPs. I had not really appreciated the existence of the groups before my experience with BBS. During the school day and among fellow students, no ethnic distinctions were evident. My personal realization of such differences came from adults in the community in a strange way.
I was frequently surprised by the response I received when I was being introduced to an adult hearing my last name, for the first time. “Camerino? But you don’t look Italian.” I often felt they thought I was trying to deceive them in some way. This was not like the case with the two football players who were the only black students in Niles. They did not depend upon any deception to cover up our distinctions.
My only response to the statements given by these adults was one which I later thought was really insufficient, but I could never think of a better one, no matter how hard and often I tried. My usual reply was: “And neither does Wish-Bone Dressing.”
I still don’t have a rebuttal to the comment about my ethnicity, identified by name but not by appearance. At least the reaction people had was not as demonstrative as the one my mother experienced in high school. When the KKK learned, in the early 1900’s, that she was a Polish Catholic, they tried to throw her out the school window, at least that’s what family legend says. The Wikipedia entry for Niles confirms the stories of the religious riots led by the nativists that occurred there following the First World War.
However, politics have changed. My cousin, Fremont Camerino, served for 34 years as the President of the Niles City Council, and Mayor. Thirty-year intervals may allow for cultural and political changes. Wish-Bone Dressing may, indeed, be more than just Italian.