What Happened to Little Italy?

Growing up in the United States, my image of New York was invariably shaped by its portrayal in mass media. Movies like Goodfellas and the canonical macho Frat classic that is the Godfather (take nothing away from its cinematic brilliance) portray a side of New York seeped in Italian American culture; traditional, urban and with an Old World underworld ever-present. This was my expectation when I arrived in Manhattan’s Little Italy.

I envisioned old Italian nonninas picking out vegetables for their home restaurant at the local market; scornful lovers shouting out from the window to the street; gentlemen’s clubs spewing chain-smoking sartorial characters onto the sidewalk; kids swarming busted fire hydrants on a blistering summer day, among whom the next nefarious kingpin might one day emerge. Yes, these were stereotypes, but I was convinced that at least some spiritual successor to kids playing stickball on the street corner still existed. I wanted to live in a world where you might still find a De Niro, a Pesci, or at least a Tribbiani hanging around NYC’s Little Italy.

Instead I found a parody of what once was. A gaudy sign in flashing lights welcomed us to “Little Italy!” Tourist trap Italian restaurants (run by anything but Italians) served up $20 spaghetti and $6 gelato. As I trudged along the rows of flamboyant cafes and trinket shops, my knees reluctant to support this display as it unfolded before my eyes with every step, I felt my naivety smashing to pieces. In its place emerged an ague of cynicism. I was disgusted by a exploitative machine that commercializes each and every scene with even an ounce of locale and character, sucking out every dollar’s worth of authenticity until it becomes a phony husk of what once was. What happened to this part of New York culture that I so long fantasized about?

Realistically, it should come as little surprise that real estate as prime as Lower Manhattan would not have any last bastions of ethnic spirit tucked away beneath the skyscrapers and bustle. From my understanding, any remaining Italian American communities emigrated to the far off isles of Long and Staten in the 80s. The mob seems to have followed suit, with FBI criminal reports detailing their activities in these areas in recent years.

Harlem and the Bronx also felt greatly gentrified. The closest I  got to any type of real New York City ethnic community was in Flushing, Queens. Their Chinatown is the real deal, and the Indian subcontinental community in Jackson Heights was very authentic. The commercialization of nature and local culture has become a glaring and depressing trend in my travels (don’t get me started on China). While I may never get to witness Little Italy in its characteristic past, I am at least consoled that some places, off the beaten track, might yet be unadulterated by the steady creep of global tourism.