The Day Rhode Island Gasped

Columbus Day 1910, the Fabre Line, and the Italian immigrants who transformed Natick and Pontiac.

If you had stood along the main road through the villages of Natick and Pontiac in the early 1900s, you would have heard a medley of accents and languages. The British, the Irish, the Swedes, and the French-Canadians had all come before, each group finding its place in the textile mills that lined the Pawtuxet River. But by the dawn of the twentieth century, it was the Italians who were arriving in ever-growing numbers, and they were the latecomers. As many historians have pointed out, their experience followed a familiar pattern: they took the lowest-paying jobs, lived in the poorest housing, and clung fiercely to their ethnic identity. In the crowded mill villages of Rhode Island, this was simply what happened to each new wave of strangers. Of course, Italians were no strangers to the New World. Long before the mills of Natick ever hummed with machinery, Italian mariners had charted the very course to the Americas. Think of Christopher Columbus, Amerigo Vespucci, John and Sebastian Cabot—whose family name was really Caboto—and Giovanni da Verrazzano. Their ships had opened the Atlantic like a book. Even in the earliest colonial days, Italian families had found their way to what would become the United States. The Tagliaferro family, for instance, settled in Jamestown, Virginia, within just a year of Roger Williams founding Rhode Island. And when the Declaration of Independence was signed in 1776, one of the men who put his name to it was William Paca, a Maryland delegate of Italian heritage. Later, during the Civil War, three Italian Americans rose to the rank of general on the Union side. So the Italian presence in America was nothing new. But the great tide of immigration that would reshape places like Natick and Pontiac was still to come. That tide began to swell in the 1860s, when the demand for labor to build the Transcontinental Railroad drew thousands of workers from southern Italy, Ireland, and China. One of those men was Carmine DiFranco. He came to help lay track, lived for a time in California, and eventually settled in Natick, where he opened a small grocery store that catered to Italian tastes and needs—a quiet sign that a community was taking root.

Yet the major impact of Italian immigration in New England was not truly felt until the early twentieth century. Southern Europe's economy had soured, while Rhode Island's textile mills were desperate for cheap, willing hands. The pull was irresistible. Once the influx began, Italians arrived in numbers no one had quite anticipated. Charles Carroll, in his book Rhode Island: Three Centuries of Democracy, captures the moment of awakening perfectly. He writes that Rhode Island scarcely realized the volume of Italian immigration until the first observance of Columbus Day as a public holiday in 1910. What had been expected to be just another parade—in a city already known as "the paradingest city"—turned into something far larger. For hours, Carroll says, Italian divisions poured through the city streets in rapid succession. And then he delivers the unforgettable image: the whole state gasped at the discovery, rubbed its eyes to test the reality of what seemed plausible only as a dream. In a single day, Rhode Island became aware of its Italian population.

But consciousness, unfortunately, soon curdled into fear. The migration continued at an unrelenting pace until 1921, when prejudice in Washington finally found its voice. Congress passed the Emergency Quota Act in 1921, followed by the National Origins Quota Act in 1924. These laws were aimed squarely at Italians, Jews, and Slavs, and they succeeded in slowing the flow from southern Europe. Even so, between 1898 and 1932, nearly fifty-five thousand Italians arrived at the Port of Providence alone.

Read the Full Content

How Federal Hill, Providence, Got Its Name.

The Battle Over an Ox Roast

In 1788, a makeshift army of angry farmers stormed into Providence, Rhode Island, and broke up a Fourth of July ox roast at the base of a hill. That hill, thanks to the chaos, would later become known as Federal Hill. But to understand how a celebration turned into a riot—and how a hill got its name—we need to go back long before that skirmish.

In the mid-19th century, long before European settlers arrived, the local Native people called this place Nocabulabet. This name beautifully captured its geography: "land above the river" or "land between the ancient waters." Providence slowly grew up around that hill, and over time, Irish immigrants crowded into the neighborhood, followed by a wave of newcomers from Italy. Today, Federal Hill is the heart of Providence's Little Italy, famous for its lively streets and endless restaurant choices. But in 1788, things were anything but festive.

That June, New Hampshire became the ninth state to ratify the U.S. Constitution, officially creating a framework for the new American government. Virginia followed just days later. The Constitution, as written by the former colonies that had become states, required approval from nine of them to take effect. As news spread that ten states had signed on, Federalists across the country rejoiced. In Rhode Island, the Fourth of July seemed like the perfect moment to celebrate the new Constitution.

There was just one problem: Rhode Island had not ratified it. Along with North Carolina, the state refused to join the new union. Rhode Island would not approve the Constitution until 1790, by which time its adoption was all but inevitable. In the meantime, Anti-Federalists held power through the dominant Country Party. They opposed the Constitution for many reasons, chiefly the loss of state independence to a strong central government. The party's first leader, Jonathan J. Hazard of Charlestown, had even kept Rhode Island from sending delegates to the Constitutional Convention in Philadelphia back in 1787. Later, Arthur Fenner, another Country Party leader, won the governorship and served from 1790 to 1805.

Rhode Island's economy after the Revolutionary War was in shambles. The state carried enormous war debts, partly because the British had occupied Newport and the rest of Aquidneck Island—along with Conanicut Island—from December 1776 to October 1779. Rhode Island had paid for three state regiments to guard against enemy attacks, plus militia regiments called up to dislodge the British from Newport or defend against raids. The tax burden fell mostly on farmers, who had lost their main market for surplus goods: the British Caribbean islands. With that outlet gone, the economy collapsed.

Read the Full Content

Rhode Island. The brief story of the gem state.

Welcome, traveler, to the enchanting shores of Rhode Island—a place so small it can be crossed in under an hour, yet so rich in story that it feels boundless. Tucked into the heart of New England, this coastal gem shimmers with history, whispers of rebellion, and the quiet hum of the Atlantic against its rocky shores. Here, every street, every harbor, every breeze seems to carry a tale waiting to be told.

Long before the nation itself was imagined, a man named Roger Williams arrived in 1636, weary yet resolute. Banished from neighboring colonies for his radical beliefs, he sought not power, but freedom—the freedom to think, to worship, to live without fear of persecution. And so, on the banks of what would become Providence, he built a refuge unlike any other. It was a bold experiment, a sanctuary of tolerance in a rigid world. In that moment, Rhode Island became more than a place—it became an idea.

The sea, ever-present and ever-inviting, shaped the colony’s destiny. Ships carved paths across distant waters, carrying goods, stories, and fortunes. In time, Newport rose like a jewel along the coast, its harbor bustling with trade and ambition. It became one of the wealthiest ports in early America, though its prosperity was intertwined with the darker currents of the triangular trade. Still, the echoes of that era linger in the creak of old docks and the salt-stained air.

Yet Rhode Island was never content to simply follow—it resisted. In 1772, under a moonlit sky, colonists set fire to a British customs schooner in what became known as the Gaspee Affair. Flames danced upon the water, and with them, the first sparks of revolution ignited. It was a daring act, a declaration that even the smallest colony would not bow quietly to empire.

Innovation, too, found its home here. In the quiet determination of its people, bold ideas took shape—like the USS Turtle, the world’s first combat submarine, slipping silently beneath the waves in a daring attempt to change naval warfare forever. Rhode Island has always been a place where imagination meets courage.

As the centuries turned, Newport transformed once more—not into a port of trade, but into a playground of grandeur. Along its cliffs rose the magnificent Newport Mansions, shimmering monuments to the Gilded Age. Estates like The Breakers, Marble House, and Rosecliff stood not merely as homes, but as declarations of wealth and artistry. Within their walls, laughter echoed through grand halls, and chandeliers glittered like captured starlight.

And yet, for all its grandeur, Rhode Island never lost its charm—its delightful eccentricities, its sense of identity. Here, even the smallest details carry pride. The state bird, the Rhode Island Red, struts as a symbol of local heritage, while the beloved drink, coffee milk, offers a sweet, nostalgic taste of home. These quirks are not trivial—they are threads in the tapestry of a place that knows exactly who it is.

Today, Rhode Island stands as a living storybook. Walk the streets of Providence, and you may feel the quiet presence of its founding ideals. Stand along the coastline, and the wind may carry whispers of sailors, rebels, and dreamers. Beneath its modest size lies a vast and vibrant past—a testament to resilience, creativity, and the enduring power of freedom.

So come closer. Listen carefully. In Rhode Island, the past is never far away—it lingers in the air, dances on the waves, and waits, patiently, to enchant all who arrive.

The content for this episode is written by Chef Walter, narrated by Noah Mitchell, and produced by SimVal Media, USA