A Biography of Angie Falcone
By Audrey Drennen
On Columbus Day, October 12, 1939, a baby girl was born at Columbus
Hospital in South Philadelphia. Her parents, Nicola and Felicia Coppa, decided to
name their fih child aer her maternal grandmother, Angelina Migliaccio. Little
did the world know the light that little Angelina Coppa would bring to the world
throughout her life, through her unending warmth and generosity.
Angelina’s parents were both Italian immigrants that came to South Philadelphia. Her mother, Felicia Migliaccio, came to America when she was only nine
years old. At the young age of twelve, when her family was in need of money, she
courageously applied for a job at a button-sewing factory in Darby, Pennsylvania,
though she had never even so much as held a needle. She told the manager she
could take the job, saying she knew how to sew well. It wasn’t long before the manager, while making his rounds, noticed Felicia struggling with her needle and
thread.
“Why, you young thing,” he said as he confronted her, “You informed me
that you knew how to do this work—and you can’t even thread the needle correctly!”
Felicia looked him straight in the eye and said, “Well, yes, that’s true. But I
will learn.” She had a courageous, willing, and hard working spirit, a treasure
which her daughter Angelina was to inherit through her strong influence.
Felicia married Nicola Coppa in 1922. Nicola had come to South Philadelphia at the age of nineteen. He had le his life of poverty on the Island of Ischia,
Italy and had come to the Land of Promise to make a decent living. ough he
sent a portion of his earnings each month to his poor family in Italy, he wanted to
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be far from the suffering of his home land. As he landed on American soil, he
stooped down, picked up a rock, and hurled it into the Delaware River. “Sono finito con l’italia,”1 he said aloud as he stared out into the sea, “Sono un’americana.”2
So it was that Felicia and Nicola settled down in South Philadelphia to start
an American family. As they planned their children’s futures, they saw them living
lives of opportunity, like other American children— they would be educated, they
would speak English, they would be supported by a reasonable income— they
would not live the lives of poverty that their parents had. But Nicola and Felicia
were scarcely aware that their Italian heritage would enrich their children’s lives in
a special way that was unknown to other American children.
From the time she was born, Angelina, nicknamed Angie, lived on 1529
South Twelh Street in South Philadelphia with her mother, father, and four older
siblings. In many ways, her neighborhood was a little Italy. All the neighbors, who
were mostly Italian immigrants, knew each other so well they were like family. As
Angie played stick ball on the tree-lined street with the neighborhood children
they would oen get a friendly wave from an old nona or a signore, and they
would shout, “Hey, Francesca!” or “Ciao, Umberto!” From the open windows an
aroma of the pasta or Zuppa de Pesce that was cooking in the next house waed
out onto the street. e shops on the street corners were centers of Italian cra:
tailoring, carpentry, upholstery, and pizza making. In fact, Nicola supported his
family through working skillfully at his upholstery shop during the week, called
Nick Coppa, Upholstery (later to be called Nick Coppa & Son). He was very distinguished in his field.
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“I am finished with Italy.”
2
“I am an American.”
2
ough Nicola’s main job was upholstery, he also worked for a coal and oil
dealing company on the weekends as a side job. His role was to gather the fees of
the coal and oil customers who were on credit. He was oen helped by his sons,
and Angie, who was always tagging along with her older brothers, loved to help
them do the “collecting,” as they called it. ey would go around from house to
house in the surrounding neighborhoods on Saturday and Sunday mornings and
gradually their money box would grow heavy.
While her father supported the family with his two jobs, Angie’s mother
managed the household, and Angie and her siblings attended school. Every day,
Joe, Anthony, Nick, Josephine, and Angie would walk to school. When they came
home aer classes, they would help their mother with household chores, then they
would do their homework. Sometimes, aer they finished their schoolwork, they
would watch a show on their round Raytheon TV, such as “Show of Shows” and
Milton Burrell, or listen to the large radio. However, the TV and the radio were not
the center of their entertainment, rather, the Victrola and the piano were. Music
was as natural to Angie and her brothers and sisters as was the blood running
through their veins. Whether it was singing along to a Frank Sinatra record, listening to Anthony play Brahms Intermezzi on the piano, or singing opera while doing
chores, each member of the family enjoyed music.
During the week, Angie excitedly looked forward to Saturday nights, when
they would have what they called a songfest. Angie, Nick, Josephine, and their
mother would walk a block and a half to their neighbor Carlo’s house, who would
play anything they requested by ear. Carlo would gather his family and the Coppas
around his piano, and would accompany everyone as they sang. ey would spend
hours filling the room with music until they could sing no more. ough Angie
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was tired when she went home aer each songfest, she always thought, “I just can’t
wait until we can have that much fun again next weekend!”
Angie was eager and energetic, and enjoyed many strenuous activities as a
child. She loved to play stick-ball with neighborhood friends, and took ballet, tap,
and acrobatics lessons. But she liked baseball most of all and would oen urge her
oldest brother Joseph to play it with her, which he did frequently.
Being the youngest of five, Angie was constantly looking up to her older
brothers and sister with awe and admiration, and was eager to emulate their abilities. Little Angie always listened wide-eyed to her loud and enthusiastic older
brother Joseph as he told her about the latest home runs and strike outs of the New
York Yankees. When she played ball with him, she took note of his de handling of
bat and ball. Anthony, the second oldest, a quiet, thoughtful boy, dedicated himself
to his studies. Whenever Angie walked by his room in the evenings, she could see
yellow light streaming through the crack in his door, coming from the single lamp
on his desk. When she peered through the crack, she would see his slim figure,
head bent, seated with pencil in hand, surrounded by piles of books and papers.
e middle child was Nicholas. He was very creative, and if Angie ever needed
something to be tinkered with that no one else could figure out, she would call,
“Nicky!” and he would have the job done in no time. ere was no object broken
or in need of repair he couldn't fix. Josephine was the second youngest, a pensive
and studious girl, who loved to sing. As she herself was bold and energetic, Angie
was inspired by her sister’s quiet personality, so different from her own.
When Angie was just nearing the age of two, the Second World War broke
out in America. roughout the next five years, however, Angie was sheltered
from fear. e Coppa family of course was effected by it, but her parents knew how
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destructive it would be to live in worry, and Angie remained happy and secure.
Even so, the family met sorrow when Joseph le at age nineteen to join the US
Army Rangers. He was commissioned to Florida, and while he was there he wrote
oen to his family. In one letter, he sent a photograph of himself, wearing full uniform, leaning against a palm tree. For a long time this photograph and his letters
were to be the Coppas’ constant and only reference of Joseph, for when he was stationed overseas, he ceased to write. Young Angie would look at her brother in the
photo and remember fondly their many baseball games of the last fall. “I hope he
comes back soon,” she would say in a half whisper, voicing the thoughts and feelings of all of them.
One night, Nicola woke up with a start from a terrible nightmare. He had
dreamt of his son Joseph, spitting up blood. It was not long aer that news reached
them concerning Joe. When Angie was playing outside one aernoon, she saw the
dreaded man on the bicycle coasting down their street. She froze, recognizing him
as the man who delivered letters about war casualties, and not knowing where he
would stop. When he dismounted his bicycle in front of her house, he slowly came
towards her with a letter in his hand. She took the letter, and ran inside. “Mama,”
she said to her mother, who was seated at the kitchen table, “ Well here— you got a
letter from Joe.” Angie anxiously watched as her mother ripped open the letter and
read it.
“Oh, no…” was all she could say. e letter had said that Joe was shot an
inch away from his heart during a bombing. He was shipped overseas to a hospital,
and his wound was in a bad state. Eventually, he recovered his health, but he was
never quite the same aer the trauma of war. Angie barely noticed this as a young
girl. She loved and enjoyed her brother for many years.
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ough the world changed much from the tragic war, many things remained constant. One of these things was the yearly traditions of Angie’s family,
who even through the hard war years continued to celebrate life always in accordance with their Italian nature. Each year Angie could hardly wait for the festivities as the Christmas season approached, especially the decorating of the Christmas Tree. Nick, who assumed the role of being in charge of the decoration, was
very specific about where to place each ornament. And, if the tree was unsymmetrical or not full enough, he would carefully drill the branches of other evergreen
trees into its trunk. Usually, Nick, Angie, Josephine, and their mother started the
decoration around six, and oen would not finish until very late at night. As the
time neared midnight, Felicia would start to grow indignant, and throw tinsel in
the air, saying, “Nicola, per favore, basta, basta, basta!”3
Nick would respond passionately, “No! Just go! If you can’t do it the right
way just don't do it at all!” But decorating that tree was well worth the effort and
clashing of hot heads, for when people passed by, they would stand outside and
stare at the tree, which was situated in their enclosed front porch. It was Angie’s
pride and joy to see its magnificence so well appreciated.
As Angie grew older, she was increasingly interested in travel and friends.
She was very social and outgoing, and had a large circle of friends as a teenager,
with whom she went on many trips aer she graduated from high school. Although Angie may have been the kind of girl to be called a social butterfly, her
friendships were not superficial, as they are with so many social teenagers nowadays. Her father had once told her, “Someone who is your real friend should li
elevate you, not bring you down lower.” And indeed, Angie’s friends did bring the
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“Nick, please, enough, enough, enough!”
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best out of her, for many of them inspired her faith to be deep. Angie’s family had
always been Catholic in name, and her mother would go to mass weekly, but her
father never went to church. He had never told Angie and her siblings that they
were not allowed to go, but he had never encouraged them, either. Angie, because
she had a deep desire for goodness implanted in her soul from a young age, went
to mass weekly at Annunciation Parish. She oen went with her friends because
many of them belonged to the same parish.
Frequently Angie went to social gatherings with a group of her
friends. She did not go out on dates
with boys very much, as she was
more interested in being with her girl
friends and learning all there was to
learn about the world of travel. One
time, however, when she was going to
a Memorial Day party with her
friends, she met Joseph Falcone, a
gentle, courteous man with a twinkle
in his eye, and they became friends.
Gradually their relationship blossomed, and on September twenty-sixth, 1964, they were married.
For the first five years of their marriage, Angie and Joseph lived in a small
apartment on Broad Street, not far from both of their families. Soon Angie was
pregnant with their first child. However, one night as Angie and Joe were walking
home, they were accosted by robbers, who had a gun. Frightened as they were,
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they managed to push the robbers off without any loss of money or injuries because Joe had an umbrella which he used to ward them off. Aer this incident
Angie and Joe decided to live at her mother’s house for two months, until the baby
was born. At the end of those two months, the moment Angie realized that the
baby was coming, she called the hospital. e doctor urgently said, “Oh, yes,
ma’am, come in immediately, so we can ensure your baby’s safe delivery.”
Angie thought a moment with her hand on her chin, and said, “Well do
you think I have time to go to the hairdresser’s before I deliver the baby?”
For a moment the doctor on the other end of the line was too surprised to
respond. en he said, “Uhh….Why, no, ma’am… I—I think you better come in
now.” Angie gave a little “Oh well” gesture of her hand and went to the hospital to
have her baby as cheerfully and confidently as if she was on her way to a ball. at
same day, on September 7, 1969, her baby was born, a girl, and Joe and Angie
named her Felicia.
Aer Angie recovered, she, her husband, and their new family member
moved into a house in Penrose Park, Southwest Philadelphia, where they lived for
the next seventeen years. Here Joe and Angie had two more children: Joseph, who
was born on January 20, 1973, and Nicholas, who was born on April 12, 1977.
Angie knew no greater joy than being a devoted mother and wife. She gave her
children every gi she was given: faith, education, heritage, and authentic Italian
food.
Angie determined to give young Felicia, Joseph, and Nick the best educations. She delved deep exploring education options for her children’s grade schooling, and she discovered Montessori Teaching. All three of her children went to
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Greene Towne School in Center City for primary school. For high school, the boys
attended Waldron Mercy Academy, and Felicia attended Merion Mercy Academy.
roughout their years as parents, Angie and her husband Joseph showed
their children the importance of family unity. No matter what the occasion, the
Falcones always did things together. If the boys had a baseball game, all of them
would go to watch it; if Felicia had a play, all of them would go to see it. And every
summer they would all go to Longport Beach, New Jersey, to enjoy the ocean and
beach as a family.
Angie tirelessly and cheerfully managed her family’s home, but one could
always tell from the aroma that reached them as they walked in the front door that
the place she worked the longest was the kitchen. Her husband and children were
nourished from the meals she provided. Her extended family and friends were also
blessed by her cooking, both savory and sweet. As a result of watching her mother
Felicia work in the kitchen throughout her childhood, Angie knew the way to season meatballs and boil pasta al dente. Never was there a time when she came to a
family gathering or any party empty handed. ere was either a plate of homemade strombolli, a crostata di ricotta4, or a tin of pizzelle in her productive and
generous hands.
rough her cooking, Angie not only provided others with delicious flavors, she transmitted her heritage that she was so proud of. As her children ate a
slice of crostata di ricotta they were being given a piece of who their mother was.
People who grew to love Angie grew to love Italy as well; they saw that the Italian
culture was one that cared about the soul’s, as well as the body’s, nourishment.
A crostata di ricotta is the Italian variety of cheesecake made with ricotta cheese instead of cream
cheese.
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Every Christmas season, she would spend four weeks baking many varieties of
cookies by the dozens of dozens. She would give elaborately and carefully craed
and decorated cookies to her coworkers and neighbors. On Christmas Eve, every
surface of Angie’s kitchen would be occupied, while she prepared an Italian seven
fish dinner for her and her brother Anthony’s family, a tradition handed down to
them by their mother, Felicia. e seven fishes, seasoned and peppered and broiled
until crisp, represent the seven days of creation. rough her legendary hosting of
the seven fish dinner each year, Angie has le a lasting impact on each of her extended family members.
For years, Angie worked joyfully as a mother and wife, giving all she could.
But there was deep sorrow as well as great joy in her role as mother. In May of
1999, her daughter Felicia, who was living and working successfully in Chicago,
was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. She came back to Philadelphia to
receive treatment for her illness. Angie and Joe were at her side throughout her
sickness. ey accompanied her to the doctors, the hospitals, and through the
chemotherapy treatments. ough Angie’s heart squeezed when she saw Felicia’s
smile grow weaker and her health deteriorating, Angie was endlessly hopeful. She
organized a bone marrow drive, and a week before Christmas, 1999, thousands of
people came from all over the country to give blood. Angie always remembers her
daughter’s sweet words expressing how grateful she was to all who gave blood:
“Christmas came a week early this year, Mother.” Angie and Joe’s hope continued
to build as Felicia had a bone marrow transplant in January of 2000. But aer the
transplant, Felicia never again blossomed into a healthy girl, and on Holy Saturday,
April 22, 2000, she passed away. Just minutes aer her passing, Angie said soly to
her, “I really hoped you were going to live. But I’m not angry at God.” Even
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through their extreme sorrow and grief, Angie and Joe surrendered their lives and
the life of their daughter to God. ey never ceased to lose trust in His ways, even
when they didn't understand them.
To honor Felicia, Angie and Joe started and funded two scholarships at
Merion Mercy Academy, Felicia’s high school. “Felicia,” her parents said with a
smile on their faces, “had always been such a giving person. It is only natural that
we give back in her honor.” Last November, when Angie celebrated the Fieenth
Year Memorial Mass at Merion Mercy in Felicia’s honor, she found out the scholarships were even more valuable than they had been before. Angie discovered that
the scholarship had been awarded to the daughter of a family friend, a freshman
who had recently lost her father. is touched Angie’s heart, who saw how love is
extended by family.
Just a few short years later, Angie and Joe were gied with grandchildren.
Angie saw a new opportunity to be able to give of herself in becoming a grandmother. Angie gave all she could in being a mother to her children, and God again
honored her desire to love by giving her grandchildren. Mia, Michael, Gabe, Max,
Lucy, and Christopher, her six grandchildren, are deeply loved by their proud
grandmother, who continues to hand down to them many gis, principally, love of
giving and love of heritage.
And I myself, Angie’s grand niece, witness the light that radiates from her
soul, and glows around her like a halo. Every time I see her I am greeted by her
happy, raspy voice and a large smile, the warmth of which matches the ovens she
bakes in. Last summer, when I visited her at her Longport shore house with my
cousins, she gave us a seven course feast of “leovers,” including her homemade
meatballs, penne with pesto, asparagus, caprese salata al fresco, and fresh pane.
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But my stomach was not the only thing that was full aer I le her haven of love. I
felt that my soul was watered with that same light that I had seen radiating from
her spirit.
My Aunt Angie teaches
me through her story that life is
filled with gis. ough some
gis are crowned by sorrow,
they too are gis to be embraced. I am inspired by Aunt
Angie’s habit of life giving enthusiasm and fruitfulness. She
gives life just as it was given to
her, fully. She “who is of merry
heart, hath a continual feast.”5
Angelina Coppa Falcone’s life is
a continual feast, and I am thankful to be part of it.
5 Proverbs 15:15
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