LEVINE:

Today is October 31 st , 1995, and I'm here in Concord, New Hampshire, above the Cafeneo, and I'm very happy to be here with Peter Goulios.

GOULIOS:

Goulios.

LEVINE:

Who came here from Albania when he was fourteen years of age.

GOULIOS:

Fourteen, fifteen, yeah.

LEVINE:

Fourteen, fifteen, in 1929.

GOULIOS:

'29, in September.

LEVINE:

In September. And you came through Ellis Island at that time?

GOULIOS:

That's correct.

LEVINE:

And you were detained at Ellis Island for about ten days to two weeks, something like that.

GOULIOS:

Yes.

LEVINE:

Okay, well I'm looking forward to whatever you can remember. I'll start asking questions, and then you can fill in. If you'd say again for the tape, your birth date and where you were born.

GOULIOS:

I was born in Libohovë, October 8, 1914. Now, you want me to mention the city, too?

LEVINE:

Yes.

GOULIOS:

Gjirokastër, in Albania.

LEVINE:

Gjirokastër was the big city that the village of Libohovë was near?

GOULIOS:

That's right, that's right.

LEVINE:

Uh-huh. And did you live in Libohovë up until the time you left for the United States?

GOULIOS:

Correct, correct. I went to school there, and four or five classes of school. And then I want to leave, and then I was fourteen, fifteen, but they wanted — they didn't want to leave me, because they wanted for military, you know, pre-military. And somehow I managed to leave, you know.

LEVINE:

I see. Well, do you remember — did you live in a house with your family?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, in a house. We had our own house.

LEVINE:

You had your own house?

GOULIOS:

Yeah.

LEVINE:

What was your father's name?

GOULIOS:

My father's name was Philip, Philip Goulios.

LEVINE:

Uh-huh, and your mother?

GOULIOS:

Sophie, Sophia.

LEVINE:

Sophia. Do you by any chance remember your mother's maiden name?

GOULIOS:

Yes, Notides.

LEVINE:

How do you spell that?

GOULIOS:

N-O-T-I-D-E-S, Notides.

LEVINE:

Okay, and brothers and sisters, did you have?

GOULIOS:

I had a brother, but I don't remember, he died, and a sister also, when they were little. I was the only one survived [laughs].

LEVINE:

Oh, so they — did you know them at all, the brother and sister?

GOULIOS:

No, my brother was older than me; he died. And then my sister was, when I was little.

LEVINE:

Uh-huh, so essentially you were an only child?

GOULIOS:

The only child, that's correct.

LEVINE:

Uh-huh. Did you have grandparents that lived around where you did?

GOULIOS:

I did, but they passed away before — I was little, you know, four years old, something like that. My grandfather.

LEVINE:

Do you have any memory?

GOULIOS:

No, very little. I was about four years old — not very much.

LEVINE:

Right. How about your mother and father? Did they have sisters and brothers who were around?

GOULIOS:

My mother had — her father passed away early, but my grandmother lived. I remember very well, because I — you know, my mother goes to work, in farming, you know, and when I come out of the school, I go by my grandmother, with my cousin. My cousin just passed away recently. He was a little older than me, about a year older.

LEVINE:

What did you call your grandmother?

GOULIOS:

Well, I have to spell it: Zouitza. Zouitza, you know, it was from Mama's family, you know. My grandmother's family, see. And she was a widow at an early age, and her brothers help her, until — I had an uncle, too, her brother, and he was in Constantinople. You know, Turkey used to be Greece before. And he came from there. I met him when I was young, you know.

LEVINE:

What do you remember about him?

GOULIOS:

Well, he was a nice person, very nice person.

LEVINE:

Was that something special, that he would be living in Constantinople?

GOULIOS:

Well, he — our country was very poor, and they all go immigrant, you know. But at that time, United States was closer, years ago, to Istanbul, you know. They were closer, you know. They worked up there. A lot of our people, they had stores there, something like that. One after another one, see?

LEVINE:

Now how about your uncle? Did he have a store?

GOULIOS:

My uncle — well, my grandfather had a store in Istanbul, Constantinople, and my father — uncle, was there. But after my uncle — I don't know, they used to give in credit, you know. He was a big butcher, and they'd give credit. The way I heard, they'd give credit to these officials. Once a month they paid, the way I heard. And then they moved from here, there, they lost, or the wars, I don't know, the old age. He came in the village when I was very little. My uncle come 1905 from Constantinople over here. And then my father came 1916 or something. At the time I was born, after I was born, see?

LEVINE:

Yeah, uh-huh. Now what did you say you called your grandmother, again?

GOULIOS:

Zouitza.

LEVINE:

How do you spell that?

GOULIOS:

Let me — can I write it?

LEVINE:

Yeah.

GOULIOS:

Grandmother, huh?

LEVINE:

Now, does that mean grandmother, Zouitza? [writing] Okay, great. And now, do you remember any, like, when you came home from school, you went to your grandmother's, is that right?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, you know, for lunch, you know. We used to go to school in the morning, and then go home lunch, and then go back in the afternoon. Not like here, you know. Three-thirty, four o'clock we finish.

LEVINE:

What do you remember, like, when you came home, and you went to your grandmother's house? What would she be doing?

GOULIOS:

Oh yeah, she'd give us something, food, and then —

LEVINE:

Like what? What would she give you?

GOULIOS:

Well, like food, regular food. I don't know what she cooked, you know. [Laughs] But one time — this is good to tell you, because my cousin — me and my cousin, he was a year older — he just passed away, God bless him. And we used to play. But she made some kind of a, in a fry pan, you know, like some kind of like, how you call, with flour? I don't know, something. So I was younger. I don't know whether I was going to school, or my mother leave me there. And he pushed me, and you know, I got a mark over here! I almost died, they told me, but I don't remember nothing [laughs]. And that's the story, you know.

LEVINE:

Now what was this cousin's name that you--?

GOULIOS:

Yanni. John, yeah, Yanni. He just passed away recently. Now, I just got a letter. His wife —

LEVINE:

So you knew him from the time you were a young boy?

GOULIOS:

Oh yeah, we were raised together, yeah.

LEVINE:

And how about your grandmother? What do you remember her doing? What kinds of things did she do?

GOULIOS:

Well, she was a very nice lady, but she-her husband passed away, and she got married again, just because she was poor, to get a house. An old man, you know, an old man married her just to support, you know, helping. And the way I was told, when she died, like on Thursday, and my mother got married on a Saturday. Died on Thursday, and my mother got married on Saturday. But he had a daughter with another woman before, like step-sister. And they had everything prepared for a wedding, the way I was told. And then she started dancing, you know, regardless that her father passed away [laughs]. But he was old, you know. And I was told the stories, you know, that they enjoy weddings.

LEVINE:

Well now, when your grandfather died, you weren't born yet?

GOULIOS:

No, I was born, but I don't remember; I was very little. I was very little. He was a big butcher in Istanbul, but he lost everything, from the wars, or from the trust, credit, you know, or something. I don't remember, but I know what I was told. I've never been in Istanbul, you know. My uncle was telling me, and my father, see.

LEVINE:

Yeah, well what do you remember about Libohovë?

GOULIOS:

Well, Libohovë, it's a nice town. You got a beautiful church, fifteen hundred years old church. And that was built by some, I think it was King, not King, but some from Istanbul, but I don't know. He was originally from Libohovë or something, but he made three churches. Like Saint Sophie, if you've ever heard. Now in Istanbul they've got, how do you call it in Turkish? Museum, you know, Saint Sophie in Istanbul, and [unclear] big and so forth. And it was, people used to come and visit, you know. They celebrate eight of September. They've got Saint Mary's. They used to gather from all the villages, or cities, you know. They had a big mass. They had dancing, and what have you, you know, after the church.

LEVINE:

So this was September eighth?

GOULIOS:

That's the day I left. Me and some other friends, the day we left for America. People [unclear] we went, because we had to catch the boat.

LEVINE:

Well, describe the festivities on September eighth. What would happen?

GOULIOS:

Well, I didn't go at that time, but they used to have food, and dancing, and what have you, celebrate. People used to come from the evening, and they'd sleep in church. They were believers, you know. And they —

LEVINE:

And what was the significance of the day?

GOULIOS:

It was name day, you know, celebrate name day of the church, or something. I'm not too religious, you know.

LEVINE:

I see, so this was Saint Sophie--?

GOULIOS:

September eighth, every year. But now, communism, and everything closed down, and the church is still there. But we're trying to repair it, because it deteriorates, you know, from —

LEVINE:

This is the Christian Orthodox Church?

GOULIOS:

Orthodox Church, yeah. Orthodox Church, yeah.

LEVINE:

And it was Saint Sophia?

GOULIOS:

No, Saint Mary of Panair. I think Saint Mary, you could call it. Saint Mary. I'm not sure, because that's eighth of September, I remember.

LEVINE:

I see, so that would be the name day of Saint Mary?

GOULIOS:

The name day of the church, and they celebrate every year, before the war, you know. After the war, they closed up. Communism was there.

LEVINE:

Well now, the house that you lived in — can you describe it, in Libohovë?

GOULIOS:

Well, it was — my father built it, or my grandfather. I don't remember, but it was about one, two, three, four room house. But downstairs they had for animals, you know [laughs]. And it was —

LEVINE:

What kind of animals?

GOULIOS:

Well, like cows and goats, and what have you, sheep, or something, you know. They put them under [laughs].

LEVINE:

What was the house made out of?

GOULIOS:

Stone. Stone, you know, but good built house. It was not a, you know —

LEVINE:

Solid.

GOULIOS:

Solid, yeah. Solid, that's it. With windows, with all kinds drapes, and what have you. And we were — my father came and repaired more, you know, made some, for the clothes and all that, see?

LEVINE:

Well now, your father left for the United States what year?

GOULIOS:

Well, I don't remember exactly, but —

LEVINE:

When you were a baby?

GOULIOS:

When I was a baby, but 1916, or before, I don't know. But he was there a couple of years. He was in the Army, soldier, and what have you. And then he came. But my uncle came direct from Istanbul, 1905, direct here.

LEVINE:

Do you mean to say that your father came here, and then he was in the First World War?

GOULIOS:

No, not First World War. No, he was Balkan Wars, up there, I think. But my uncle came direct from Istanbul, the way I was told, you know.

LEVINE:

I see. So when your father came back to Southern Albania, after he'd been here--?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, 1924 he came back. He stayed. I was ten years old at that time. And I was so —

LEVINE:

I see, so that's the first you remember of him, when you were ten?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, that's right. Yeah, I was ten years old. He stayed, I think at that time, I don't know, he stayed ten months or something, like vacation time, you know.

LEVINE:

What do you remember about your father from that first meeting?

GOULIOS:

He brought me good clothes, you know, nice. I'll never forget those clothes, you know. I was so young.

LEVINE:

What was he like, what kind of person was he?

GOULIOS:

Well, he was a nice, good-hearted person, hard-working. But too bad that, you know, this language is very hard to learn it, you know. He was grown up when he came, and he was working over here, a peddler, he couldn't stay inside work, you know. He bought a horse and wagon; he sell coal, and summer time he sell ice cream and something like, for the kids, you know. But it was a problem, because the summer's so short here, and then the horse wants to eat all year round! [Laughs] And you know, you made a little money, more in the summer, but you have to feed — and he'd sooner feed the horse than himself! He was so conscientious, you know. But, one time it was first, new year. And we were living some house, apartment, apartment this side in the same building, they celebrate — New Year, they celebrate. And they shoot off guns, and they killed my father's horse! It was closed in the garage. But they were good enough, they bought another horse [laughs], and that horse, he was —

LEVINE:

Was this in Chicago?

GOULIOS:

In Chicago, yeah. With the old horse and wagon days, those days. The milkman used to bring the milk with a horse and wagon. And they bought another, but I never forget, because he used to take me, like when I didn't have no school, Saturdays, Sunday, with him. Because it was a big wagon, you know. He used to sell, or I sell, because I learned the language more. He used to — but that horse was funny, because he'd look at the light, the red light, and my father didn't see the light. And it seemed as though he was knowing! [Laughs] He was a good horse!

LEVINE:

Well, you remember that horse? What was the horse's name?

GOULIOS:

I don't know [laughs]. It was a red horse. This is silly, but —

LEVINE:

A red horse?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, something.

LEVINE:

Like a chestnut?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, chestnut [laughs]. But they were nice people, and they bought him new one.

LEVINE:

Yeah, that was nice. Let's go back to Albania first. Is there anything about the town? Were there stores in the town?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, there was one store, you know, for food and a coffee shop, or something like that. But it was two — how do you call them? There was two villages close by, but one was about ten minutes, up near the mountains, you know? In the mountains, in the end of the mountains, see. We were a little down, see. And they — it's almost one village, but they have different — they used to, when they go [unclear] they have to pass through us. And we're all relative to each other, you know.

LEVINE:

Oh, uh-huh. Roughly how many people?

GOULIOS:

Well, it was a hundred houses, or two hundred houses at that time, maybe two, three people in each house. Maybe a thousand people, or something like that. Or maybe less.

LEVINE:

Yeah, in Libohovë?

GOULIOS:

In Libohovë, yeah. Because they used to come and go, because before they didn't go to the cities, you know. They used to work in the farms, you know, and they stayed home. Afterwards, they left for the cities, you know.

LEVINE:

Yeah. What were the farms growing?

GOULIOS:

Well, they plant wheat, corn, and then all these vegetables, and this and that. But the funny part about that country is, like here, it rains all the time. Up there, six months, eight months, it don't rain at all! They work, and they get no rain. You know, it doesn't grow nothing, you know. It burns everything, you see, and you couldn't make it. When sometimes it rains, you know, the weather, you can't judge it. So they make ten times more, you know.

LEVINE:

Well like, when your father was here in the United States, how were you getting along, you and your mother?

GOULIOS:

Well, he used to help us, you know, send us. But my mother worked hard!

LEVINE:

She worked in the fields?

GOULIOS:

In the field, yeah. Well, not much, but you know, we didn't have no cows, oxes. They used to work with oxes — how you call that?

LEVINE:

Oxen.

GOULIOS:

Yeah, oxen, yeah. But she didn't have, but she'd pay somebody for one day, or sometimes like I said, my grandmother had big family, you know, and they used to give them the ox or the worker. Maybe she paid them or something, you know. Five, six acres, or something like that — you know, small.

LEVINE:

Do you remember any foods that your grandmother or your mother made that you particularly liked when you were growing up in Albania?

GOULIOS:

Well, they make pita, you know, how you call that, with cheese, and all that? And with meat sometimes. They call it boureki. I think those are Turkish names, or Greek, I don't know, see. And they still make those. They're still delicious, you know. They make all kind of food, you know, with vegetables, and they used to make with inside a of a lamb, you know, and that used to call paicha, you know, with garlic and all that! [Laughs] And when they killed some lamb, or something like that, they didn't throw him away! So they roast meat, you know, they roast a lamb in Easter, or a lot like that, see? And whenever they had weddings, weddings maybe ten lambs, they'd barbecue them.

LEVINE:

On a spit?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, they enjoy — that's the only enjoyment they got, you know.

LEVINE:

I was going to ask you that. What did the people do for enjoyment?

GOULIOS:

Well, yeah, they had holidays. They go to church, and they had names days. You know name days? They go from one house to another, they drink, they dance, and so forth. They had lot of things. Years ago, more — now they don't have nothing much, you know. Well probably now they started again, but Communism stopped religion.

LEVINE:

What kind of instruments did people have?

GOULIOS:

Bouzouki, you know — violin, and mandolin, you know, and the clarinet — how you call it?

LEVINE:

Like a recorder, or clarinet?

GOULIOS:

Clarinet, clarinet, yeah. Wasn't not too many, two or three people, you know, [unclear].

LEVINE:

So what do you remember about school?

GOULIOS:

About school, we had — that's a good question. We had a good teacher when I was much younger, you know. He was very strict with us.

LEVINE:

Do you remember his name?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, his name was Angelo Vanye. And he was a professor. I don't know whether he's from Istanbul, Turkey, Constantinople, or something, but in the old days he was there. And he was so strict, but he really teaches. He called me professor, because the only thing — the other people, they were so afraid, and he used to say, "Who didn't understand?" I had raised the hand, because the other ones, they wouldn't have the guts to raise hands [laughs].

LEVINE:

They were afraid to say they didn't understand?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, that they didn't understand. So he'd say it again! [Laughs] He used to call me professor. Even I didn't know, but the other guy didn't know, either! But on account of me, they learned it, too. But he was very strict. He used to take a branch, you know, how you call, from a tree. So he'd say, "Bring a branch." And no matter whether you brought the branch or something, if you done something, he hit you. Or he'd get you stay there for one hour if you fool off. But he teaches so good! He was a professor. And God bless him; he was very nice. Then afterwards, another guy who was much younger, and used to take us for picnics out. And he teaches good, but he was more young, you know. He likes to sing, and he was a very good teacher.

LEVINE:

He wasn't as strict as the first one?

GOULIOS:

No, he was not — well, he was strict, but not as much, because he was old. Maybe it would get in his blood. You know, this guy was young, we used to go — he was good. And the only son, the second teacher — he lost a son because he was going to Gjirokastër, because he--in high school, something like that, or college. And the [unclear] son got drowned. We used to call him the only son. And when I went back there, I got married, he used to like me a lot. You know, and he'd invite me over, and down there he'd show me his sons' grave and all that, because I took him over to my house, too. He was very good. He died. He used to write me here. I sent him some money, the only son I have. And he was very good. And it was another village, but he came to our village, you know. They didn't came every day. He stayed there, you know, close by, though. I went over — he had his son's monument, you know, grave, and Jesus, pictures, and all that. He was a very smart boy. He used to speak French, too, his son.

LEVINE:

Well, you must have been a good student. The teachers liked you.

GOULIOS:

Oh, very good, yeah. It was very good. Well, I was quiet, and I must confess, my cousin was better than me, but he was a little older [laughs].

LEVINE:

You were in the same class with each other, too?

GOULIOS:

No, he was here, older.

LEVINE:

I see. Well, could you describe what you were like when you were fourteen years old, when you first came to this country?

GOULIOS:

Well, I was kind of little. Kind of little. The only son. They told my mother, "Why don't you feed him?" you know. Because I had, but I don't know why. My mother just passed away, not — because I was in Albania twenty years, now lately, because I got sick and stayed there, and I was there when she passed away. They won't let me go out! They took my passport, and they thought I was American spy! [Laughs] You know, they chased me around!

LEVINE:

Well, tell me, why was it decided in 1929 that you would come here?

GOULIOS:

Well, my father was here. My father was here, and he wanted to take me. But things were poor, and he want — you know, too bad he didn't bring my mother at that time. But we had land, we had house, good house, you know, and everything. She didn't want to — they were patriots. They don't want to leave their land, and their house, and their family, their relatives, you know. It's not like today. They had conscience.

LEVINE:

So you just came by yourself?

GOULIOS:

All by myself. I had some friends.

LEVINE:

From the same village?

GOULIOS:

Same village, yeah. The two brothers, here.

LEVINE:

What were there names? What are their names?

GOULIOS:

Jimmy [unclear] is his name, and Charlie is his name. But he was young, six years old. The other one's about my age. And their mother just passed away last year; was over a hundred years old.

LEVINE:

She came also with you?

GOULIOS:

Oh, definitely. What she had — but I don't know exactly whether, because her husband was in New York and picked them up, and I don't know whether they went in Ellis Island or not.

LEVINE:

So how many people were traveling, that you were traveling with? How many were there?

GOULIOS:

Well, we were four from our village, and two others from another village, another village. And [laughs] I've got to tell you this, too. Maybe it's interesting. This other fellow from this other village had his sister and the niece, you know, her daughter. And he speak a little Italian or French, I don't know, this other person. But he didn't come, but he took his sister up to France, Cherbourg, put her in a boat, like I did, too. And then he — but the funny part is: in the middle of the trip, he asked us to pay ten dollars more, you know, because they raised the price, or something. I don't know how — and I didn't want to pay. I said, "We got the ticket. We don't need to pay." This lady, she said, "You better pay, because they're going to leave us here." And that was that! [Laughs]

LEVINE:

You mean, he took — he went as far as Cherbourg with you?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, with his sister and niece.

LEVINE:

With his sister and niece.

GOULIOS:

Yeah, but he was — like, in a group together, see? But we stayed — we went from, I don't know, Brindisi, we went from Brindisi north in Italy, and then we went to France, in some city that they called Lyons. Lyons, France, and we stayed about four days there. Four days there. We didn't pay nothing. The company, you know, some English boat, Leviathan was the name. And we stayed four, I don't know, four, five days in Lyons. They feed us, they sleep there. Then from there, we went to Paris. We stayed there one night. We seen that Grand Central there [laughs]. We was there one night. And then they took us to Cherbourg. Cherbourg is on the ocean, Atlantic Ocean, across from England. And there we got the boat. In six days we were in New York. It was a big boat. English boat, Leviathan.

LEVINE:

Uh-huh. Now, it was that steamship company that paid for the whole thing?

GOULIOS:

I think so. We paid one, the ticket.

LEVINE:

You paid one price.

GOULIOS:

But only this guy took us for ten dollars more, to get this — so he could buy something for himself [laughs]. And I don't want to give it to him. She was saying, "Don't, give him, because they're going to leave us here." [Laughs] You know, she didn't know! So I give [laughs]. Maybe that's interesting too [laughs].

LEVINE:

Right, right. Well, tell me about September eighth, which was the day that you left.

GOULIOS:

I left; I left.

LEVINE:

What was happening? Do you remember leaving?

GOULIOS:

Well, yeah. Well, my mother was crying! And other people, the other people was enjoying dancing, and you know, we go through the church, in the middle of the city — not city, but the town, or village. We go through, that's where the road is, you know. And people trying to divide with us, and the other people would join. You know, everybody saying, "Goodbye! Goodbye!" It was —

LEVINE:

How did you feel when you were leaving?

GOULIOS:

Well, you know, I was going to my father's! But I met my father. In 1924 he came up there. He stayed a few months, you know. And God bless his soul, I don't know. I was — before, I don't know whether, I was ten years old, somebody was teaching me how to smoke or something, because he beat me up, and I never smoked! [Laughs] Even today! God bless his soul! [Laughs]

LEVINE:

That was a good deed! So, do you remember what you took with you? Anything that you brought with you to the United States?

GOULIOS:

Well, I had, I don't know, a hand bag, or something. A few clothes, I suppose. I don't remember. [End of Tape One, Side A/Start of Tape One, Side B]

LEVINE:

Do you remember anything about that trip, from Libohovë, all the way to Cherbourg?

GOULIOS:

Yeah. Well yeah, like I told you, we went to Brindisi, I think, and we stayed there one night. But everything was established, you know, reserved.

LEVINE:

I see.

GOULIOS:

We went there, we eat, we sleep, and they took us — everything was paid. The train went through northern Italy, and we were right in France, France through Milan, you know, northern part of Italy. And then we got French.

LEVINE:

And then you went to Lyons?

GOULIOS:

Lyons, that's right. We stayed there a few days. You know, I don't know, I think four days or five days.

LEVINE:

Do you remember what you did those days, while you--?

GOULIOS:

Well yeah. We were eating there, we were looking, but we liked better Paris, you know. Because we only stayed one night, fortunately. But we see the Eiffel Tower.

LEVINE:

The Eiffel Tower.

GOULIOS:

In there, see. And then they take us all together — not take us, but with the train, we went to Cherbourg. We stayed there maybe a day or so, I don't know, until boat. I don't remember very well.

LEVINE:

Do you remember anything about the voyage?

GOULIOS:

Oh the voyage, yeah, that's true. Now, this friend of mine, that, like I said, there's two brothers — one's about my age, and this other guy was six years old — me and him on the voyage would travel on first class, second class, because we were third class, you know, tourists, or whatever you call it. So this guy — he's still living over here — and he's strong. He was big! He was even, I think, a year older than me. So the day he got in the boat, he tried vomiting. It wasn't bad. He never got up from his bed. His brother was young, six. We used to go travel from first class, second class! Oh, we enjoyed, because they had, you know, they had a pool in the boat. They had — I don't know, you eat so many times, you know, dinner, and after, coffee, or whatever. And we enjoyed very much. But you know, those years, they took long time. This boat is so fast! Years ago it used to be — take a month, or — six days, we got in New York.

LEVINE:

You got in six days to New York?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, yeah, that's right. It was a big boat, English boat. Leviathan was the name. And when we got here, then like during the — I was all right during the trip, but when I got New York, the doctor examined. I don't know, I got, had, a little temperature or something, you know. My father didn't come, evidently. They put me in Ellis Island! [Laughs]

LEVINE:

Well, tell me: do you remember when the boat came into the New York harbor?

GOULIOS:

Oh, yeah, we see the Statue of Liberty. Looks so small, but when you go there, she's so big, because I went through nearby, you know. It was so tall! But you see it from distance, you know.

LEVINE:

Did you know what it was when you first came?

GOULIOS:

No, I didn't know, but it's a big city, you know! New York is twelve million people! [Laughs] You know, I was astonished!

LEVINE:

And then, when you came to Ellis Island, what was your impression of that place?

GOULIOS:

Well, I don't remember, but they took me there [laughs], and with no language, it was very difficult! I didn't know what they — my mother used to teach me, they'd feed me some eggs, or something like that, you know [laughs]. Or, give me bananas! Some, like, I forgot — what kind of pancakes, or something. What they feed is good. What they feed is good; nothing complain about. But they didn't know, I wasn't used to the food [laughs].

LEVINE:

Were you with your friends the whole time you were at Ellis Island?

GOULIOS:

No, no, no, they divide us. Because I think I had a little temperature, or I don't know. My father didn't come. Maybe these other people, his father came. But they wanted — they take you there, they take one there, they put your number or something, you know. And I don't know exactly, see, but I was all alone there!

LEVINE:

Were you sent to the hospital building?

GOULIOS:

No, no, not —

LEVINE:

You were in the dormitory?

GOULIOS:

Dormitory, up there, yeah. I think two or three people in the same room or something, and we got good food, we got God Bless America! [Laughs] [Coughs] But I was so lonesome! I couldn't speak — language is very difficult thing, see. And like I said, I never ate bananas before, and they give us everything [laughs]. And I was waiting for my friend to come. I used to — because I was walking, you know. There was nothing wrong with me. I wait until the boat come, and they come — Jesus! The languages were a difficult thing, you know.

LEVINE:

Yeah. So when you first got the banana, what did you do?

GOULIOS:

Well, I seen other people peel them, you know [laughs]. Those waiters there, or whatever, I don't know, "Eat it, it's good!" Well, I ate it! [Laughs]

LEVINE:

So they were coming with smaller boats to Ellis Island?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, you know, with small boats, from New York. It's close by, see. But you got to have a boat to get there!

LEVINE:

So your father came in one of those?

GOULIOS:

No, no! I said, some friend of ours. My father must have wrote him a letter, or called, maybe wrote him a letter, that he knew that I was coming in. That they know when the boat arrives, and he found out that I was there, and he used to come every day! God bless his soul! I'll never forget it! He was a very good person. He got a daughter now, working for the Federal building, over here in Concord. She's very nice, too. His wife, too, was my neighbor. This fellow's, was my neighbor. That's his second wife, and we were raised together. We going to school together!

LEVINE:

So this man would come by a small boat while you were being held at Ellis Island?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, that's right. Although, I was not held, I was, you know, free, but [laughs] not jail or anything!

LEVINE:

Yeah, but you couldn't leave?

GOULIOS:

Well, I couldn't leave, because I didn't know where to go, you know. Until they settled the, you know, called up my father or something. They took us from, like I told you, I had a check, and I give it to him, and the next day they took me [laughs].

LEVINE:

Why don't you tell that for the tape, about the check, what happened?

GOULIOS:

Well, I was worrying I didn't have no money, and I had a check left over. And I gave it to him to cash so I could pay for the train to go to Chicago. But the next day they took me, and they had to hand me, they put me on the train. And he got the check, he sent the money to my father. And when I arrived in Chicago, there was about fifteen people waiting for me, you know, it was in the evening.

LEVINE:

What was the train ride like? What did you see, or what was new and different when you first came to this country?

GOULIOS:

Well, it's so long, because it's eighteen hours from New York to Chicago. I think, I don't know exactly when we started, but I know we arrived in the evening. These people were notified.

LEVINE:

Were you able to speak with anybody on that trip?

GOULIOS:

Well, they couldn't speak — I couldn't speak English, you know, but they were very nice to me. They put a number or something, you know, a card, so they knew that we were —

LEVINE:

Where you were getting off?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, that's right. They even told the train man, you know, like, the one that gets the tickets? And they say, "Watch this guy," or something, I don't know. They planned those things, like the Red Cross or something. They're nice people.

LEVINE:

Yeah. How did you feel when you got off the train?

GOULIOS:

Oh, boy! I got off the train, but they were waiting for me, you know, out there. I was so happy! [Laughs] It's a lot of people who waited for me, my father, my uncle, a lot of friends of his, you know. And they took me home. But we're very poor up there, you know, leaving the house, the train building. I don't know, well, it was September, yeah, that's it. It wasn't so cold that time, you know. Yeah, we lived three beds in one room, my father and me, and another fellow. Six people in one room!

LEVINE:

Were you boarding at somebody's house?

GOULIOS:

No, no, no, they had a flat, you know, apartment. They had apartment, but it was six people living, you know, two, three rooms, four rooms. We went through a lot. It was different, not like today.

LEVINE:

Did you start school right away after you got here?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, it was a good thing that the school was nearby, and somebody took me up there, register me. And they were so nice to me, you know. But the kids, they make joke out of me. They thought I was [unclear] a foreigner. They laughed [laughs].

LEVINE:

Oh, they made what looked like horns, for greenhorn, was that it?

GOULIOS:

No, like it was the devil, or something! [Laughs] They run around. But the teacher was so nice to me, you know. Like I said, they were so strict, make me write ten times each word, and I even after sixty years, I teach my grandkids now. I know how to spell them! American people, born here, they don't know how to spell them [laughs]. You know, English language is very difficult. To you it may be nothing, but to a foreigner it's very hard. Because there's no other language, in my opinion, that the way you pronounce it you don't write it, you know. Any other language, you write it the way you pronounce, you know.

LEVINE:

So is that the thing that was most helpful to you, that you had to write it so many times for the teacher? Is that what helped you learn?

GOULIOS:

Well, no! I learned gradually, but this is what — it got in my head, that I never forget. You know, the spelling, spelling of the words. That's what I tell my grandchildren. They go to school, too. They're grown up, you know, and they work. I tell them, "Go to school! Go to school!" Because if you don't know how to write and how to read, it's no use, you know. Because a lot of people, [unclear], but you can't understand nothing.

LEVINE:

So in other words, when you went to school the children sort of teased you and made fun of you, but the teacher was nice?

GOULIOS:

Outside, outside, when they [unclear], you know. The first few days, you know, because I was big! I went with six year old, seven years — first class. I was in the first class. I wasn't so big, but still, fourteen, fifteen — I was different [laughs]. But the teachers were so nice to me! God bless them, wherever.

LEVINE:

So then, how long did you stay in school?

GOULIOS:

Well, I stayed a couple years, but I wanted to — because I know my geography, arithmetic. I know everything, only the language. And I went up to sixth grade, then I had to go to work, because there was nobody working! And I went to night school, you know. And another thing is I wanted — my uncle was very — he wanted me to learn Greek language, too. So I used to go to American school, in the evening I go to Greek school, because a lot of Greeks in Chicago, half a million. They've got about fifteen churches, and I used to go. That's where I learned the Greek language [coughs]. There was a nice priest.

LEVINE:

Oh. This is your uncle from Istanbul?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, Istanbul, but he was here. He was in Chicago. Yeah, he died a hundred and two years old, 1973 or something like that. And he smoked three packs a day cigarettes! Didn't bother him, no cancer, no nothing! But I don't know. If it bothers — I don't smoke, but I suffer. I can't see, I got a lot of problems [laughs].

LEVINE:

What was your first job when you--?

GOULIOS:

Oh, first job — I went with some Greek fellows, because I learned a little Greek, and the first job I was — oh, this is good! [Laughs] There was two cousins, and they had twenty-four hours open. So I went there to wash dishes, but I used to work from seven in the morning 'til seven — twelve hours! In the evening, you know, they got a lawyer that women can't work no more than ten hours. You want me to tell you that? [Laughs]

LEVINE:

Yeah.

GOULIOS:

So there was two cousins. One was very nice, the other one was more brutal, you know. So I got there in the morning, I go before time, like [unclear], I go drink a cup of coffee, and go to work. Oh, it was full, the kitchen, with dishes, you know, because the woman left. She used to work from eight o'clock in the evening to six in the morning. It was twenty-four hours open. And she leaves at six o'clock. There was not too much work at night time, you know. But the morning, when I go at seven, everybody go for breakfast. So I drink my coffee, where I'm going to start here. In the evening, the same difference. I used to go eat — twelve hours, eat little bit before I leave. When I eat a little, there's no place to put the dish, I go back there! I used to wait until this woman come, otherwise you can't, because that's the dinner hour! Oh, my gosh! So I stayed there, but his cousin was very nice. After a while, I think he let me go to school, you know, a few hours. [Unclear] everything, the other guy, his relative, old guy like me. His name was Vassily. And he was a funny — not funny, but he was old man, but he had no teeth. And they buy these pies, custard pies or what have you. And you've got to have logic, you know. He'd buy the pies for the customers. Well, you could eat — he'd got plenty, but he was like [laughs] — if he had one there, he'd eat it! But he couldn't say, because his relatives, at one time they said, "You kind of like this place?" He said, "Yeah, yeah." I'll never forget that [laughs]. He told me not to eat, because they were for the customers. So he looked at them, [unclear]. He looked at me; I couldn't eat, you know! [Laughs] The other guy was very nice! And afterwards, I went to school, and what else did I do then? I stayed there quite a while.

LEVINE:

At the restaurant?

GOULIOS:

At the restaurant, yeah. But I learned more of the language, and I, like, a waiter. Then I got to another restaurant, you know, and I worked there some. But then after a while. There was a relative, both Greeks, you know, and he told me he opened another restaurant. He said, "Come by me up there." I was like a manager there, a little place, you know. And he had his cousin, or something, working, me and him. I used to close the store, give me the keys. But I had to go there ten-thirty in the morning, and until two. Then go back at six o'clock, and close the store. And it was miserable, because you always work; you never have a little time, you know! Only on Sunday, I used to go — I'd go at noon time, and he used to cook himself. He was a nice man, though.

LEVINE:

This was in Chicago, too?

GOULIOS:

In Chicago, yeah.

LEVINE:

Do you remember the name of the restaurant?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, it was — he used to make his, like, Mexican chili. Chili parlor, they called them. But he had other stuff, too, you know. And he made — but he made good chili, you know, with peppers and all that. They used to eat a lot of it up there.

LEVINE:

Did the restaurant have a Greek name?

GOULIOS:

No, no, Chili Parlor, they called it. It was on Twenty-Sixth and Crawford, the place, right next to the corner. The corner was a cigar store; next was the store. And I stayed there quite a while.

LEVINE:

Well, how long--when was it that you went back to Albania?

GOULIOS:

Well, I went back to Albania in 1938. I got married, because I got sick, and I went there, and then I got married.

LEVINE:

So you got sick here in Chicago?

GOULIOS:

Yeah.

LEVINE:

So when you were sick, you went back to Albania?

GOULIOS:

I went back to Albania, because my mother was there. My mother was there.

LEVINE:

So when you got sick, you wanted to go back to where your mother was?

GOULIOS:

Well, that's right. I used to spit blood, or something, I don't know. And I went to Athens; I got some shots or something. And then I got well, and I got married.

LEVINE:

Well, did you know this person that you married before you went back there?

GOULIOS:

Well, yeah, she's from — my wife is here, see? She's from the village, but [laughs] it's a big story, because my father liked her. She was nice-looking, too. But my father was there, went to Albania, see. And he did some kind of a business, like lime or something. And somebody wanted — he was doing a — he sell the stuff, you know. He sold lime. You know what lime is?

LEVINE:

Yeah.

GOULIOS:

He made the lime, and they sold it. And they told him about my mother-in-law, now, you know, that she wanted some. But she didn't — her husband, like, my wife's — my father-in-law was up here, but he didn't send no money, you know. And my father said, "Where you find her?" You know, because they know if got money, they send money or not. You know, they get letters. So my wife was there at the time, and he told — he didn't recognize her, because you know, from young she grow, you know. And upper village, like I told you before. And he said, "Where you find her?" you know. And she was there, because he was afraid that he wouldn't get credit, you know, and she wouldn't pay. So my wife was there, and she told him that, "We got the money. We trying to get it from you," because you could get that time from anyplace. And boy! [Laughs] He made mistake, you know, and she got a husband, because I didn't want to spoil my — she was a beautiful woman, though, and I got married with her! [Laughs] It was a joke!

LEVINE:

So what was the wedding like? Did you have, like, a--?

GOULIOS:

Oh, we had a big wedding, yeah, that's right. We, like, we bring the bride in a horse, you know, because it's a rough road, you know. [Laughs] Well now, they've got cars, too, you know, the car. They fix it up a little better. But those days there were only horses, you know, or mules, or something like that. Well, horses mostly. They fixed the bride on a horse.

LEVINE:

She was dressed in like a wedding gown?

GOULIOS:

Oh, yeah. Well, they've got different customs there. They had some kind of an oriental, or something. But they were very expensive. I don't know whether they — that's not their own; they borrow something, you know, beautiful, with like gold or something, you know, trimmed. I don't know if you've seen in the antiques. They used to — now they use, like here, all the gowns, you know, and so forth. So you go there, you pick the — you know, the bride in with the group, you know. And you bring her down, and somebody say they want to bring down, they have to pay money, you know, to get her off the horse!

LEVINE:

Oh, who has to pay?

GOULIOS:

Well, whoever wants, you know. They go — I give five hundred, or six hundred. Who pays more —

LEVINE:

Oh, gets the privilege of getting a wife?

GOULIOS:

[Laughs] And then after a while she's covered up.

LEVINE:

She has a veil over her face?

GOULIOS:

A veil over her face, and [unclear].

LEVINE:

You have to pay again? Oh, wow!

GOULIOS:

[Laughs] So, but we had a nice house at that time, but after a while it burned down, you know. After, during the war, you know. And we were — my wife suffer a lot. You should see my wife come over the house. Now, you know, she's [unclear]. She was couple times in jail trying to run away.

LEVINE:

Now, how long did you stay there, when you went back to get married?

GOULIOS:

About six months, a year. Ten months or something like that. Six months with my wife, married, you know. No, I think I stayed a little more, because I went to Greece. Like I said, I was sick, and I got some, and my father had some money in Athens, you know, but they wouldn't give it to me, see. I had money I gave to my father, and he give me permission to get his money, but they won't give it to me, for Albania. They won't let the money go out. And I stayed there quite a while, while I was treated and getting some shots. And then come back. When I come back, my father had said, he told they were going to bring his money! They had no bank in Albania at that time, so the only bank was in Greece that they had. But I didn't bring nothing; they give me money just for one week. "Next week, come and get some more." Those money went for nothing; now they change the money; I won't ask. It's gone, see. It's a shame, the way they do things.

LEVINE:

Well now, did you ever know what you had, what was the sickness that you had?

GOULIOS:

I don't know, see. I got well, you know, the climate or something. I don't know. [Phone rings] Oh, maybe Jimmy.

LEVINE:

Well, we'll stop here. Oh, I guess he got it downstairs. Okay, so then after six, seven, eight months, whatever, you came back here, and your wife came back with you?

GOULIOS:

No, no, no.

LEVINE:

She stayed there? That's how she got into trouble?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, well, she stayed there. Then, 1939 I left, after the war started. Italy came there. I had a hell of a time to get out, because I had an American passport, me and another fellow, see. We came together; we were American. They wouldn't let you go. With the war, Italy wanted Albania. I stayed few — how long? About a month with them, you know. They brought so much army back and forth, you know, they did travel. And then the Second World War started, and I'm telling you, I had the more miserable life in all humanity, see, without no family, without them. My wife worse; she suffered more. That's where you could write the book! [Laughs]

LEVINE:

Yeah, yeah. So in the meantime, you came back here, and then your wife gave birth to your son?

GOULIOS:

That's right. She was only six months pregnant. She didn't get pregnant right away, you know.

LEVINE:

Yeah, what is your wife's name?

GOULIOS:

Fania, F-A-N-I-A, Fania.

LEVINE:

And what was her maiden name?

GOULIOS:

Veneti.

LEVINE:

Can you spell that one?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, V-E-N-E-T-I.

LEVINE:

And your son's name?

GOULIOS:

Thomas, Thomas.

LEVINE:

Okay, and you have grandchildren now?

GOULIOS:

Yes, I have Philip and Leonora — Eleanor.

LEVINE:

Well, how do you think it affected you, the fact that you started out in Albania and lived there for fourteen years, and then you came here, and went back and got married? How do you think the fact that you immigrated to this country affected the kind of person you have been, and the person you are?

GOULIOS:

Well, I'll tell you. The person I am, I've been here sixty-five, seventy years, yeah, something like that. I've never been to a police station. I've had no problems with anybody! But I mind my own business, and I worked, you know. Maybe I pay — because I have a car — a ticket, or something like that, but never had no problem in my life, you know.

LEVINE:

And how is this time in your life, this time of old age, as we call it?

GOULIOS:

Well, like I told you, I worked for — when I come back from Europe, when I got married, I went to meet my father-in-law here, see. And from there, after a month or so, he passed away, and that was 1941, evidently. So they notified me. You know, he had a sister over here, in Concord. And then they notified them, and they sent me to tell them, and I went as far as Burlington, Vermont. And you know, in Chicago, they don't bury nobody on Sundays. And I was there, maybe waiting for the bus to go through, see. If I knew they were going to bury him, I could get a taxi, or something, but I didn't know that! So I waited at Burlington. He was living in St. Albans, Vermont, near border with Canada, because when I came, like I told you, I visited him, you know. And there was a Greek fellow there who had a store, and I met him, too. So when they notified me, I come to bury my father-in-law, but when I arrived there Sunday evening, they all buried him, and they left — you know, his sister and her sons, or something — whoever got up there. So soon as I got off the bus, I went to that Greek fellow's — it was Main Street, you know, small town. So I said, "Where do they have the funeral?" He said, "Oh, they buried him, and they left," because he was living — he had a little store there, fixing, cleaning hats, or something, a shoeshine, and he lived in the back, and probably he died two or three days before. So they were forced to bury him.

LEVINE:

This was in St. Albans?

GOULIOS:

St. Albans, Vermont, yeah. So then I come back, and his sister was not here, was in Connecticut, Torrington, in 1941. A lot of people were there, because they were preparing for a war, but they didn't — I think December started the war, the seventh of December when Japan hit it. So I went to find out what happened, you know, by his sister, my wife's aunt. So I went there, and there were a lot of factories there, near Hartford, Torrington, Connecticut. So I went there, and like I told you, I was manager of some restaurant up there, but I used to work every Sunday, every day almost. Never, you know, all the evenings, everything. So then they were — I think United States got in the war at that time. I don't remember was in or not.

LEVINE:

Wait, let me just pause here for a second. [Tape off/on] I'm starting this to say that this is the end of Tape One, and I'm going to start Tape Two. I'm speaking with Peter Goulios, and we will begin Tape Two and finish the interview there. [End of Tape One, Side B/Start of Tape Two, Side A]

GOULIOS:

How did you get in contact with Jimmy?

LEVINE:

This is the beginning of Tape Two, and I got in contact with Jimmy Pappas through Kay Skilianis, who has the bakery in Manchester.

GOULIOS:

Oh, okay.

LEVINE:

Okay, so Mr. Goulios, you were saying about how you came to bury your father-in-law, and he had already been buried when you got to St. Albans, Vermont.

GOULIOS:

That's right. Then I went to Torrington, Connecticut, to meet his sister, that she was at the funeral, my father-in-law's sister, and the rest of them. So I went there, and at that time it was 1941. Is it on now?

LEVINE:

Yes.

GOULIOS:

So up there they used to hire everybody for during the war, you know, during when Japan attacked United States. So I was young man, and they hired a lot of people, and they told me, "Why don't you stay here to learn a trade?" and all that. But you know, like the rest, they didn't have no school or anything, they'd put them in the paints, and all that. But God bless, there was a friend of mine up there. He was a lathe hand, but he knew from Detroit, you know. You know what a lathe hand is — a machine?

LEVINE:

Oh, a lathe hand, uh-huh.

GOULIOS:

So I told them, "If I go, they're going to put me in the paint to try out, to see how it is." He said, "What do you mean, painting?" I was a young man at that time, twenty-four, twenty-six, something like that. Twenty-four, I think. So he went down stairs with me, with the Employment Manager, and he told him, because he knew I had school, I knew language good, and writing, like I told you. So he went there, and then they trained me to learn how to run the lathe. You know, I stayed about ten months in lathe hand. Of course, in the beginning I'd do all kinds of jobs, but I had an instructor, you know, that showed me a little bit, and they maybe somebody would finish up because that's with millimeters, you know, very fine. So I stayed ten months, and then my father, uncle was in Chicago. They complained about me, left them old people, and this. But then they called me for the Army. You know, they called me for the Army; I had to go. So I left the job, but that helped me a lot, because you used to go, and in Chicago I used to dress for the job, but you don't know — what can you do? What kind of trade you got? So I told them I'm a lathe hand, you know.

LEVINE:

Are you saying lathe hand?

GOULIOS:

Lathe hand, you know. They run the machine.

LEVINE:

Lathe?

GOULIOS:

L-A-T-H — yeah, lathe hand. The guys that run the machine.

LEVINE:

Okay.

GOULIOS:

And then the plant I went they didn't need nobody, because it was for maintenance work, you know. They had only one or two old people, but they told me if I want to learn sheet metal work, it's for maintenance. You know what maintenance is? Because a big plant, ten thousand people. So I went there, and I got the job as a mechanic's helper, not as an instructor or something. And I used to go to night school, high school, in the evening, for sketches. You know, drawings, learn drawings and all. And I stayed there, like I told you, eighteen years. But after three or four years, then gradually I used to do work myself, you know. I used to weld; I used to figure out things, you know.

LEVINE:

Well now, what was it about going in the Army that helped you?

GOULIOS:

Go in the Army, they, we went for examination, they didn't call us. But if you missed one day — some friend of mine from the same neighborhood, we went. But you know, you changed your jobs at that time. You had a lot of jobs. Defense, you know, he changed jobs, and they took him, after we went. They rejected us the first time, you know, they didn't take us. They come call us later. So I was working, but I was told if you miss one day from work, the next day you get a telegram from the President, inviting you, to force you to go, you know, for your country, see. So I worked up there 'til this friend of mine — at that time, you know, they trained you one week, then they sent you to France, and they got killed! So I worked up there during the war. I didn't make too much money, but I was learning the trade, and I was going to school, night school. And that's why, I got injured up there, I fell off six yards down, you know. I was in a cast from here to here, and my broken foot in a cast. And I had heavy work, you know. I had a hernia. And now after eighteen years, they didn't want to give me no pension. Union shop, but they closed up in 1959, '60. They closed up the plant. And I used to have three or four weeks vacation. I used to come out here, because I had a lot of relatives out here, see. And now —

LEVINE:

So you're going to talk with someone about seeing about getting your pension?

GOULIOS:

Yeah, half of whatever's coming to me! I'm not asking for it for nothing, you know. But if you read the letter, you can understand.

LEVINE:

Yeah, well let's just finish this up. Let me just ask you a final question. How do you feel about having made the decision to come here?

GOULIOS:

Well, I like it very much! You know, America, it's a good country. But you got to work! You know, if you work, like I told you, I worked sixty-five years, and I've never been to police station yet for anything!

LEVINE:

Right. Do you think America is, like, a melting pot?

GOULIOS:

Well definitely, it's a melting pot. The thing is that to my opinion, nowadays, they spoil the people, you know, with TV and all killing and all guns and all that, and all sex and all that! I don't believe in that; I don't know, maybe I'm wrong [laughs]. I'm no authority to judge, but I'm just saying —

LEVINE:

You're saying your opinion, yeah. Well, is there anything else that you'd like to say before we close?

GOULIOS:

Well, God bless America! And I wish my family to be good like me, you know, or better, because I didn't accomplish much. I had a home in Chicago; I had a good job and everything, but I had to leave because the plant closed, you know. And I got different jobs. I don't know, it was a big plant, but nowadays, they still — Armour Company, it's a big company. They still have Armour men, but they say somebody else bought them. There was three thousand people in the general office. I used to go there for air conditioning and all the repairs and jobs, you know.

LEVINE:

Well, tell me this: what makes you feel most satisfied that you've done in your life? What makes you feel good?

GOULIOS:

Well, in my life I did all I could. And it was bad that I suffered in my life, because it was not the American's fault, it was the communists' fault, that I was separated from my wife and my family, see. And I love America, and now my family enjoys the country and be prosperous, you know. They work two jobs, you know. I have them now go to school, I told them, "Go to school, go to school!" because without school, you can't gain nothing, you know, especially when you don't have nobody, see. Nobody can help you unless you help yourself.

LEVINE:

Okay, well I think that's a good note to end on. I want to thank you very much. A very interesting interview. And I've been speaking with Peter Goulios here in Concord, New Hampshire. It's October 31 st , 1995, and Mr. Goulios is eighty-one at the time of this interview.

GOULIOS:

[Laughs] Almost!

LEVINE:

You just had your birthday, right? And this is Janet Levine for the National Park Service, and I'm signing off.

GOULIOS:

And God bless America, tell them!

LEVINE:

And God bless America, thank you. [End of Interview]