| My Russian Jewish mom, Lena Sweet, moved from Atlanta to New York around 1940 and met my Italian Catholic father, Joseph Petracca, through mutual friends. They got married around the end of WWII, much to the consternation of both very religious families. I was conceived in Brooklyn in 1946 and transported in utero to Los Angeles, because my dad wanted to pursue a career as a writer. My dad in LA, early 1947: |
| I showed up on July 24, 1947, in St. John's Hospital on 22nd St. in East LA |
| Baby Mike gazing whimsically into the tragicomic pageant of a life that is about to unfold, eventually coming full circle to other infants in swaddling clothes in the persons of Soren, and then Evett, and then Devon, and then what ...? |
Lena Petracca and her newborn, February 1948
| My father's first published story, "Uncle Funzy and the Burning Tapers," appeared in Collier's Magazine, in August, 19, 1950. The story was later included in Come Back to Sorrento, my father's first collection of what we would now call creative nonfiction. |
| My cousins and lifelong best friends Marshall and Bert Sweet, with my mom and me, 1951 |
| My dad was the second youngest of a large Italian family. His kid brother, Richard, grew up to play semi-professional ball and then to work as an NY firefighter. My three-year-old self is checking out Richard's glove during a trip from LA to Brooklyn, 1950 |
Same trip and more of dad's siblings: at right, his oldest brother Tony
| I'm not one to brag, so I may have neglected to mention that I was the youngest test pilot ever to work for Bell Aircraft in the early fifties. Here I am in the cockpit of a prototype X-1-P. Hey, Ridley, got any Beemans? |
Classic nuclear family, ca. 1955
| 1955, 1815 Brockton Ave., West LA, where I lived from age 3 to 8. |
| My pop in front of his office at Twentieth Century Fox studios, 1955 |
| On location with celebrated British-American actress Olivia de Havilland (who is, at this writing 104 years old!) in Cedar City, Utah, for his script, The Proud Rebel, September 1957 |
Francie blowing out the candles on her fifth birthday. December 29, 1958
In 1958 my parents took my sister and me out of school and we spent much of that year in Italy. On a swing through the Amalfi coast, we visited , where my grandparents grew up. Just a few blurry pics document that return; this one shows Petracca relatives, nieces and nephews and cousins of my father. They spoke no English but welcomed us warmly and generously into their home, which consisted of one building with cheeses and salami hanging from the rafters in classic paisano custom. My dad, whose regional dialect was still fluent from his childhood, was as happy as I've ever seen him, reconnecting with the family from which his father arose. The kid in that picture could be my twin at that age. |
| Francie and I at our rented place in Rapallo, Italy's northwest coast, where we lived for three months during that Italy trip. The back of this photo says, "Fran and Mike with their turtles," in my dad's handwriting, but I don't remember our pets. However, it looks like striped boating shirts were all the rage in 1958 Italy ...? |
| My dad, same time and place and shirt. At one point he got a staph infection from a thorn, and I believe he's ailing in this picture |
| The 50s draw to a close with a 1959 graduation from grammar school and a fine-looking group of young Americans. Boys from L to R: me, Ron Cohen, Jim Stangier, Bob Gottesman, Tom Schnabel, Bob Machris, Steve Marx, Jeff Altman, Bob Dedon. I remember square dancing with some of the girls, but names escape me, sadly; likewise the teachers. Jim Stangier and Steve Marx are still my friends; both live in Seattle now. |
Resplendent in sweet elementary school graduation threads
