Census of historic New York suburb finds not a single Italian-born resident

IN 1950, nearly half of the more than 10,000 New Yorkers living in the heart of Little Italy identified themselves as Italian-American. The narrow streets teemed with children and resonated with melodic exchanges in Italian among the one in five residents born in Italy and their second- and third-generation neighbours.

But times have changed. The census survey just released shows that the proportion of Italian-Americans among the 8,600 residents in the same two-dozen-square-block area of Lower Manhattan has shrunk to about 5 per cent. And, incredibly, the census could not find a single resident who had been born in Italy.

Little Italy - once a renowned stronghold of the Mob - is becoming Littler Italy. The encroachment that began decades ago, as Chinatown bulged north, SoHo expanded from the west, and other tracts were rebranded more fashionably as NoLIta (for north of Little Italy) and NoHo, seems almost complete.

The Little Italy that was once the heart of Italian-American life in the city exists mostly as a nostalgic memory or in the minds of tourists who still make it a must-see on their New York itinerary.

The only streets that really feel like they belong to Little Italy, Mulberry and Grand, are still crammed with venerable Italian restaurants and shops. But Chinese-language advertisements for reflexology spas pepper the walls, a poster announces the Lunar New Year celebration, and a "for rent" sign hangs on a new seven-story condominium building.

The Gambino crime family's old Ravenite social club at 247 Mulberry is now a shoe and handbag boutique. As recently as 2005, Vincent Gigante, the 77-year-old boss of the Genovese crime family, roamed the neighbourhood in a bathrobe and slippers feigning mental illness to avoid prosecution. Last month, more than 100 reputed members of mob families were charged with federal crimes; none lived in Little Italy.

Last year, the National Park Service designated a Chinatown and Little Italy Historic District with no geographic distinction between the neighbourhoods. City Hall will soon further erase the boundaries.

The City Planning Commission is expected next month to approve the creation of a Chinatown Business Improvement District, which would engulf all but about two square blocks of a haven that once spanned almost 50 square blocks and had the largest concentration of Italian immigrants in the United States.

Even the Feast of San Gennaro, which still draws giant crowds to Mulberry Street, may be abbreviated in size this year at the behest of inconvenienced NoLIta merchants.The number of residents of Italian descent in the neighbourhood has been declining since the 1960s, as immigration from Italy ebbed and Italian-Americans prospered and moved to other parts of the city and to the suburbs.

"When the Italians made money they moved to Queens and New Jersey, they sold to the Chinese, who are now selling to the Vietnamese and Malaysians," said Ernest Lepore, 46, who, with his brother and mother, owns Ferrara, an espresso and pastry shop his family opened 119 years ago.

Still, about 30 Italian-American babies born in the neighbourhood are baptised at the Church of the Most Precious Blood on Baxter Street every year. And some residents cling to a neighbourhood that is rich in history and culture.

Natalie Diaz's children are the fifth generation of a family that arrived on Ellis Island from Naples in 1916. She still lives in the same building on Mulberry Street where she grew up but she is becoming a rarity.

"Little by little, everyone wants a little more, more space, and moves away," Diaz said. "There are some families, mostly from my mom's generation, who have held out. To be honest, though, I feel a really strong sense of tradition. I owe it to my ancestors. I feel that everything my family worked for from the time they got off the boat is here."

Around 90 per cent of Little Italy's population is now either born in Asia or of Asian descent. Cleanliness, quaintness and low crime have broadened the neighbourhood's appeal, which has driven up rents. An 800-square-foot one-bedroom in a six-story renovated building at 145 Mulberry was advertised recently for $4,200 a month. The owners of a two-bedroom co-op on Grand Street are asking $1.5 million.

Paolucci's, a popular restaurant that opened on Mulberry in 1947, moved to Staten Island after the owner's rent was raised in 2005 to $20,000 a month from $3,500.

But some Little Italians are detemined to hold out. Di Palo's, an Italian speciality food store at 200 Grand Street, opened for business in 1903 and fifth-generation family members still work there.

"We decided we're going to take our business and go backwards - focus the way our grandparents and great-grandparents ran their operation: family-oriented, hands-on customer relations," said Lou Di Palo. "People used to say to me, 'You're still here!' I said, 'As long as you keep coming, I'll be here.' "