What do people think of when they hear the phrase "historic preservation"? Usually it's buildings, perhaps attractive ones, possibly where something significant occurred, or perhaps the home of a famous person.
But historic preservation held a different meaning for Kay Niemann. Long before she was born, her Italian-American grandfather operated a saloon on Durango's main street. As a child, she lived with her parents in an upstairs apartment above her grandparents' Third Avenue home and spent much of her time with them.
Kay grew up hearing stories about their home and the "Little Italy" neighborhood near the train depot. She especially loved moments when their doorbell would ring and she would run to open the door to the many Italian-American friends who often came to visit her grandparents, John and Katie Baudino.
For many years after she had grown up and moved away, it comforted her during visits to her hometown to find the old saloon building largely unaltered, even the tin ceiling still in place. Then the business changed hands and was remodeled, obliterating much of the old structure's features that reminded her of stories heard in childhood.
"It bothered me when I'd come back to Durango and go to these buildings that had been my family's. I could see that soon there would be no record of what life had been like when they were new," Kay recalled. "I realized something needed to be done to save that history."
And so began a project in which the Animas Museum played a significant part. The story of Kay's research appeared in the 2003 issue of Historic Durango. Each year when she visited Durango - at first coming all the way from Australia - Kay delved into the museum's files and photos. It became a journey into her family's past, and into her heritage.
She learned that relatives in Italy had lovingly preserved original letters sent from Durango between 1903 and 1940. Thankfully, the relatives were able to translate them for her. There also were many photographs that led to interesting discussions over the Internet with those distant relatives.
Kay felt compelled to find out more. So she contacted many local Italian-American families and listened to their stories. She studied census ledgers and directories, and searched through microfilm of old newspapers. It became her obsession to document their history before it was lost.
For many people, learning something about their family history is enough. Questions are answered, gaps filled in, photographs identified. But Kay saw an opportunity, and a responsibility, to do more.
"Sometimes I think I was just destined to do this," she said. "The Italians didn't tell their stories. There's very little in newspapers about them."
And so Kay wrote Salone Italiano to tell the story of her family and other Italian immigrants in Southwest Colorado more than a century ago. She named her book after the bold lettering across the top of her grandfather's saloon and boarding house at 552 Main. Opened for business in 1907, the popular meeting place for Italian immigrants was closed by Prohibition at the end of 1915.
A music teacher by profession, Kay first composed and recorded songs that reflect the story. Writing the book proved more challenging. Her mother, Lena Baudino Babey, wasn't sure she wanted people to know about her simple, immigrant parents. Some relatives resisted the idea of letting all the "skeletons" out of the closet. Kay says she reassured everyone that the story showed great character and strength and needed to be told. At the same time, she knew she would have to explain Italian culture and immigrant life to readers to help them understand some events in the story.
"Whatever was done was for the good of the family," Kay explained. "Italian families are a tight unit, the governing body. You don't go outside the family."
In the course of her research, Kay has realized that life for daughters in immigrant families has changed dramatically in the course of two generations. After graduating from college, she was able to travel to Italy. Infused with a wanderlust, she decided to explore more of the world. So she took a job with the Department of Defense, teaching music to American military dependents in Okinawa and Turkey.
"We forget how fortunate we are that we can go off and find our fortune," Kay said. "Our grandmothers had to struggle to find opportunities and they did not have many options. But life for immigrant men working in the mines was not easy either."
The rewards of publishing her family's story have been many. Recently the Sons of Italy selected her book for its national book list, a conduit to more than 700 chapters throughout the U.S. Kay characterizes that acceptance by the Italian community as "huge, just huge."
"Both the book and the music are important to me," Kay said, "but I am most pleased that my family legacy will now be represented as part of Durango's history."
The doorbell hasn't stopped ringing for her. Kay continues to get calls and letters from people who not only appreciate what she has done by writing Salone Italiano, but also want to share more stories with her. She's made contact with extended family members and started collecting the unique recipes that bind them as family. A cookbook weaving together family stories and recipes may be next on her agenda.
Moving away from Durango may have helped inspire Kay to write her book. From a distance, the stories seemed more special. While home conducting research, she says she had to guard against their becoming too familiar, and thus commonplace.
This may be the ultimate lesson from Kay's experience. Just as the decaying building down the street may appear to be nothing special - and therefore not deserving of preservation - the stories of our families, neighborhoods and communities may seem commonplace. Stepping back and viewing them from a distance - whether literally or figuratively - can help us recognize them for what they are: history. That is the essence of historic preservation.
Salone Italiano - both the book and the CD - are available at the Animas Museum.