Le Donne di Calgary — The Women of Calgary
Italian women named their societies after Adelaide Bono Cairoli because she was celebrated as the “Mother of the Nation,” a powerful symbol of devotion and sacrifice during Italy’s struggle for unification.
The Risorgimento—literally “the resurgence”—was the long 19th‑century movement to unite Italy’s many independent states into a single country. It was driven by ideals of national unity, civic responsibility, and the belief that ordinary people should contribute to building a free and unified homeland.
Within this movement, Adelaide Cairoli became an emblem of patriotic motherhood. She encouraged her five sons to fight for Italy’s future, and several of them died in the cause. By enduring the loss of her children for the sake of the patria (homeland), she became a revered icon. She was celebrated as the heroic mother who did not hold her sons back but instead encouraged their service, embodying the total devotion the nation demanded of its citizens.
For immigrant women in Canada, choosing her name signaled pride in their heritage and admiration for her strength, resilience, and commitment to community.
By the early 1920s, as Calgary’s “Little Italy” (centered largely in the Bridgeland area) began to solidify, these associations served as vital social and safety nets for newcomers. Naming a women’s organization “Adelaide Cairoli” was a deliberate and powerful choice.
Just as Italian immigrants brought their language, food, and religious traditions to Calgary, they also brought their cultural heroes. Adopting the name of Adelaide Cairoli offered continuity, dignity, and a sense of patria (homeland identity) in a new and sometimes hostile environment.
The women of the community understood that the “frontier” was often managed at the kitchen table. In the early years, Italian women organized through Fiori d’Italia, which provided mutual aid and support for immigrant families. Later, the Adelaide Cairoli Society continued and strengthened this tradition, mobilizing when families faced illness, workplace accidents, and financial hardship. The women provided food, childcare, practical assistance, and emotional support, serving as a bridge between their Italian heritage and their new life in Calgary.
By teaching Italian traditions to their children, these women ensured that the community did not simply survive; it thrived as a distinct, vibrant cultural enclave within Calgary. The legacy of the Risorgimento figures such as Adelaide Cairoli lived on. Their society ensured that even thousands of miles away from Italy, the strength and spirit of their heritage continued to sustain and grow the community from within, alongside the pressing challenges of life in Calgary.
The early Italian women were courageous to leave everything behind in Italy: their families, familiar climate, and all they knew, to follow their husbands to a new world. Some travelled with their husbands and children. Often, however, the wives were left behind until their husbands found steady work, secured housing, and sent the money to come over.
Travelling with small children and infants across the Atlantic by boat, often battling seasickness, and then navigating train stations where they could not understand the language tested their courage and resilience. In one story, Maria recalled how she didn’t realize that she had to change trains at Montreal and missed the train to Calgary. A stranger helped her and her children reach the station where the next train would depart, although it would not leave until the following day. He bought them some food, and they spent the night at the train station.
Often, other travellers and local citizens would assist the women and children. By the time they arrived in Calgary, they were exhausted after the five‑day train ride and then faced the challenge of making a home.
Imagine undertaking that journey in those early years, travelling alone with children and babies, or setting out to marry someone you did not yet know.
Women were the backbone of the family; they were the ones who washed, cleaned, made clothes, put food on the table, and got the children off to school. They planted gardens to grow whatever would survive, experimenting with Calgary’s unfamiliar climate.
Rosaria Ciuffa in her garden and in front of her greenhouse
Photos courtesy of Angela (Ciuffa) Manzara
Often, many were planted in empty lots, growing enough to last the winter to feed their families. During the tomato harvest, the air was filled with the rich aromas of simmering pasta sauce. Every Italian woman had a secret ingredient for making sauce, which sometimes they shared!! Pasta was always homemade. They worked together to harvest the gardens and preserve enough for the winter, sharing among friends and neighbours. In those difficult years of the Depression, these gardens became a true necessity.
Some would pick up extra money by taking in boarders, washing clothes for others. One mother recalled that she had been in Calgary for a couple of months when a neighbour asked if she would like to kill chickens for ten cents each. Despite the language barrier, she agreed. On some days, she killed as many as 100 chickens, proud to contribute extra income to her family. Others found work at the Palliser Hotel in the laundry; Hudson Bay hired many as seamstresses for their clothing and fur departments.
Adjusting to a new country while raising children, supporting their households, and holding onto traditions from home. One of the most important ways they did this was by gathering — often in each other’s homes.
These early meetings were informal and welcoming. Women visited one another to talk, laugh, and offer support. For many, these gatherings were a lifeline. Life could be isolating, especially with language barriers and the long hours worked by their spouses. Around kitchen tables and in living rooms, the women shared advice, stories, and encouragement.
Sewing, crocheting, and other handwork were a big part of these get‑togethers. As they worked, they exchanged skills learned in Italy and made clothing or household items for their families. These moments allowed traditions to be passed down while also helping meet everyday needs.
Although much of their work centred on home and family, some Italian women also engaged with broader community issues. Women’s branches of political parties sometimes met in their homes, where political movements, labour concerns, and local matters were discussed. Their involvement was not always public or formally recorded, but their influence was felt throughout families and community networks.
Over time, these informal home meetings grew into something more organized. In 1927, the women’s informal group became an official organization named after Adelaide Cairoli, a well‑known historical figure in Italy. Choosing her name reflected the values these women admired and sought to embody.
The newly formalized organization held its first meeting on Sunday, July 24, 1927, at the Giovanni Caboto Loggia Hall. The core principles were drawn from Fiori d’Italia, with acceptance from the Grand Lodge in Fernie, BC.
The first elections were held, and the officers elected were: President, Mrs. G. Santopinto; Vice‑President, Mrs. T. Grassi; Correspondent, Mrs. G. Romeo; Secretary, Mrs. J. Taverna; Treasurer, Mrs. L. Ferrari; Oratrice, Mrs. M. Aiello and Mrs. Edith Dipalo.
The Finance Committee consisted of Mrs. A. Signori and Mrs. A. Carloni; the Reception Committee consisted of Mrs. A. Aquillini, Mrs. L. Mattia, and Mrs. S. Cuiffa.
In Calgary’s Italian community, women were central to its social and cultural life, especially through organizing and hosting events that brought people together. They arranged fundraisers, teas, bazaars, and raffles that supported families, CWL and school groups, and community needs, while also creating important spaces for connection.
They were equally active in marking life’s milestones. Funeral luncheons were carefully prepared to support grieving families, while honouring 25th and 50th wedding anniversaries were celebrated with large gatherings. Bridal showers, often held in homes, were elaborate events filled with food, music, and gifts, drawing together much of the community. They were there to support each other in sickness and death. These events drew families closer together and helped younger generations maintain a strong connection to their heritage.
Weddings, too, became community‑wide occasions, with extended families and friends gathering in large numbers. These traditions reflected the early pattern of social life among Italian immigrants in Calgary, and in time their daughters became members as well.
The traditions of the “Big Italian Wedding,” bridal showers, and First Communion celebrations began here and have lasted for generations. Many of us remember our own weddings, showers, or family celebrations where everyone was invited. There were also the gatherings of zie (aunts) and numerous cugini (cousins) in a basement kitchen, working together to make the special pastries and desserts that defined these occasions.
The Adelaide Cairoli Association stands as a testament to the quiet, determined, and essential work of the women who helped build Calgary’s Italian community. They did more than preserve the past; they adapted the ideals of an Italian heroine to meet the practical challenges of life in Alberta. Through their society, the strength and spirit of their heritage continued to sustain and grow the community from within, even thousands of miles from Italy. The Adelaide Cairoli Association lasted for many years, with records showing meetings still taking place at the Isle of Capri in 1954, when Jenny Taverna was listed as president. Eventually, the association merged into the Calgary Italian Club. The women continued to organize cooking and baking for every occasion, later carrying on this work at “The Club” and the Our Lady of Perpetual Help church hall.
The Adelaide Cairoli Association functioned as the "community heartbeat.”
Below are some of the last names of the women who were members: Aiellio, Aquilini, Bombardieri, Buccini, Campanelli, Carloni, Ciccioni, Cioni, Cuiffa, Corradetti, DeSantis, DiPaolo, Dipalo, Ferrari, Fornazero, Forzani, Gallelli, Galardi, Gasbari, Garossino, Grassi, Iafolla, Manzara, Mattia, Morelli, Rebaudengo, Romeo, Rosso, Sambuca, Serani, Signori, Taverna, Vietto, Violini, and Vignola.
The list grew over the years, and many families had sisters and daughters who joined as well. These women led with fierce devotion, balanced by strict discipline and clear expectations for how children should behave. Respect wasn’t optional—it was taught, reinforced, and, when necessary, delivered on the spot.
I would say every Italian kid knows these “methods” well — they were universal, unforgettable, and passed down through generations.
Some of the “methods” used to achieve proper behaviour have been passed down for generations, and every Italian kid knows them well:
“La cucchiaio sul culo!” (the wooden spoon to your butt!) — a classic, feared across kitchens everywhere.
If the spoon wasn’t nearby? No problem. A shoe, slipper, or whatever was within reach could fly through the air with surprising accuracy.
Tried to escape and hide under the bed? Think again. Out came the broom to finish the job — no safe zones in an Italian household.
“Vieni qua — come here now!” — and you knew you’d better move immediately.
“Perché? Perché l’ho detto io!” — Why? Because I said so. No appeals allowed.
“Non fare il furbo!” — Don’t get smart with me.
“Guarda che ti vedo!” — Don’t think I don’t see you, even when her back was turned.
“Conta fino a tre…” — I’m counting to three… though nobody ever wanted to find out what happened at three.
“Se tuo padre torna a casa…” — Just wait until your father gets home…
Being called “cattivo” (naughty boy) or “cattiva” (naughty girl) — a sign you were on thin ice.
And of course, the legendary warning: “il malocchio!” — the evil eye, meaning she was absolutely not impressed.
The sign of the cross was made often, for many different reasons — holy, practical, and dramatic.
And yet, through all the chaos, discipline, and flying footwear, there was always unmistakable warmth. Meals were full, laughter was loud, and love was never in question, especially when you heard “Mangia! Mangia!”, whether you were hungry or not.
Recipes were never written down. “Si tramandava tutto a memoria.” (Everything was passed down from memory.) If you wanted to learn, you stood beside them in the kitchen — watching, helping, and listening carefully. “Guarda… così,” (Watch… like this) they would say. A handful of flour, a pinch of salt, quanto basta (just enough). No measurements, no timers, no shortcuts.
Traditional favourites like frappe, cookies, and breads — especially Easter Bread — were not taught through written instructions; they were passed down from one generation to the next through memory and hands‑on learning. You learned by doing, by tasting, and by being there — side by side, covered in flour and stories.
Because in an Italian home, cooking was not just about food — it was famiglia (family), tradizione (tradition), and amore (love).
Written by: Theresa Taverna
Sources: See Resource Page under Le Donne di Calgary — The Women of Calgary
Editorial Review: Reviewed and formatted by the Calgary Italian History Project for web publication