Real Love Incorporated - Articles » A Wop Defends the Wop Burger

Everybody wants to be a victim.

I am constantly astonished at how far out of their way people will go to find something that “offends” them, something to give them special “victim” status in the world.

Case in point: The Blue Parrot Restaurant has been operating in Louisville, Colorado since 1919. It was originally opened by Michael and Emira Colacci, Italian immigrants who wanted to create a comfortable atmosphere for Italian coal miners in the area. The Colacci family, Italian to the core, still runs the restaurant to this very day.

I’ve been going to The Blue Parrot since I was a kid. My grandfather, himself an Italian immigrant and a coal miner, loved the place. Authentic Italian food, “good” wine (to Grandpa, “good” wine came in a gallon jug with a screw-top) and the company of other “Paisanos” made for good fun in his world. And since I loved him, I loved everything he loved. So I’ve always been a big fan of The Blue Parrot.

Ever since 1919, The Blue Parrot has had an item on their menu called the “Wop Burger.” I never ordered it, because my brother and I were constantly competing to see how much spaghetti we could eat, and a sandwich just didn’t figure into our plans. But I never thought twice about it, either. We were Wops. The Colaccis were Wops. So there was a Wop burger. Made perfect sense to me.

Apparently it didn’t make such perfect sense to a certain Mr. James Gambino, transplanted New Yorker who stumbled upon The Blue Parrot recently. He was outraged, outraged, that these Italian Americans who have been serving other Italian Americans for nearly 90 years would use a term that offends him as an Italian American. He immediately demanded that the Wop Burger be removed from the menu. I am told that Joe Colacci, son of Michael and Emira (and the one Colacci who is as old as the restaurant itself), when told of the incident, instructed his son and daughter to “show him where the door is.”

But Mr. Gambino didn’t take to the door so kindly. Within days, the Colacci’s received a letter from the National Italian American Federation. In it, NIAF Chairman Dr. A. Kenneth Ciongoli reprimanded the Colacci’s, saying “Perhaps you are not aware that this is a pejorative term that insults the Italian American community." So apparently Dr. A. Kenneth Ciongoli in Washington DC presumes to know more about the Italian American community in Louisville, Colorado than Joe, Richard and Joan Colacci, whose family has been serving that community for the past ninety years.

Worse yet was the presumption of Linda Stoll, director of food services for the Boulder School District, which buys sauce from the Colaccis for their lunch program. Ms. Stoll, who is not Italian at all as far as I can tell, called Richard Colacci to tell him that the district is proud of its stand on “ethnic equity issues” and that the Wop Burger “doesn’t conform to the way we feel about those issues.” She then asked Colacci to consider renaming the item. She didn’t flat-out threaten to pull the school district’s business, but the implication was clear.

My name is Bonacci, my grandfather came over on the boat, and I can tell Dr. Ciongoli and Ms. Stoll a few things about Italians in Colorado.

First of all, we’re not stupid. We know our history. We know where the term “Wop” came from. It stood for “with out papers”, implying that Italian immigrants were here illegally. That wasn’t the case for my grandfather or anyone else’s grandparents that I’m aware of. But it was originally intended to be an insult.

We also know that our grandparents embraced the term. It quickly became the way they referred to fellow countrymen. My grandfather used the term frequently. I knew I was a Wop from the time I was a little kid. It was just another, quicker way of saying that we were Italian. I was an adult before I ever learned that there had ever been negative connotations associated with the word.

(As my mother points out, I’m also half Kraut. And – as far as I know -- no one has demanded that restaurants remove “Sauerkraut” from their menus.)

Third, we don’t take kindly to outsiders from the East Coast (or from politically correct school districts) coming in and telling us what to do.

I am particularly annoyed at the NIAF. I think it’s wonderful that there is an organization promoting Italian culture and reminding those of us whose last names end in vowels of our ethnic heritage. But if they’re going to try to turn us into another “victims” group whining about being “offended” – well, I’m just not having any of that.

Look, there are truly offensive words used to describe ethnic groups. The primary example, of course, is the “N” word -- a horrible, ugly word that harkens back to a dark, shameful time in our history when one race of human persons enslaved another race of human persons.

Sometimes, in this era of “political correctness,” I get the impression that other ethnic groups – including my own – want to get in on the action. They want to find ways to posture as victims. They want to be offended, too. They want their own “N” word.

But guess what? “With out papers” doesn’t even come close. It’s silly to even try to compare the two. Yes, our ancestors faced discrimination. But it doesn’t even begin to try to bear a slight resemblance to what happened to Africans forcibly brought to America as slaves. Their experience is unique. When the rest of us try to co-opt their ancestors’ experience for our own, we only trivialize the history of American slavery.

So the rest of us need to get over ourselves.

Unfortunately, the “victim cartel” seems to hold all of the power these days. The Colaccis are printing new menus. The Wop Burger, sadly, will now be the “Italian Burger.”

They can take away the Wop Burger, but they can’t take away my heritage. I am still Dante Bonacci’s granddaughter.

I’m still a Wop. And I always will be.


	A Wop Defends the Wop Burger How far will we look to find something that offends us? May 10, 2007 Everybody wants to be a victim. I am constantly astonished at how far out of their way people will go to find something that “offends” them, something to give them special “victim” status in the world. Case in point: The Blue Parrot Restaurant has been operating in Louisville, Colorado since 1919. It was originally opened by Michael and Emira Colacci, Italian immigrants who wanted to create a comfortable atmosphere for Italian coal miners in the area. The Colacci family, Italian to the core, still runs the restaurant to this very day. I’ve been going to The Blue Parrot since I was a kid. My grandfather, himself an Italian immigrant and a coal miner, loved the place. Authentic Italian food, “good” wine (to Grandpa, “good” wine came in a gallon jug with a screw-top) and the company of other “Paisanos” made for good fun in his world. And since I loved him, I loved everything he loved. So I’ve always been a big fan of The Blue Parrot. Ever since 1919, The Blue Parrot has had an item on their menu called the “Wop Burger.” I never ordered it, because my brother and I were constantly competing to see how much spaghetti we could eat, and a sandwich just didn’t figure into our plans. But I never thought twice about it, either. We were Wops. The Colaccis were Wops. So there was a Wop burger. Made perfect sense to me. Apparently it didn’t make such perfect sense to a certain Mr. James Gambino, transplanted New Yorker who stumbled upon The Blue Parrot recently. He was outraged, outraged, that these Italian Americans who have been serving other Italian Americans for nearly 90 years would use a term that offends him as an Italian American. He immediately demanded that the Wop Burger be removed from the menu. I am told that Joe Colacci, son of Michael and Emira (and the one Colacci who is as old as the restaurant itself), when told of the incident, instructed his son and daughter to “show him where the door is.” But Mr. Gambino didn’t take to the door so kindly. Within days, the Colacci’s received a letter from the National Italian American Federation. In it, NIAF Chairman Dr. A. Kenneth Ciongoli reprimanded the Colacci’s, saying “Perhaps you are not aware that this is a pejorative term that insults the Italian American community." So apparently Dr. A. Kenneth Ciongoli in Washington DC presumes to know more about the Italian American community in Louisville, Colorado than Joe, Richard and Joan Colacci, whose family has been serving that community for the past ninety years. Worse yet was the presumption of Linda Stoll, director of food services for the Boulder School District, which buys sauce from the Colaccis for their lunch program. Ms. Stoll, who is not Italian at all as far as I can tell, called Richard Colacci to tell him that the district is proud of its stand on “ethnic equity issues” and that the Wop Burger “doesn’t conform to the way we feel about those issues.” She then asked Colacci to consider renaming the item. She didn’t flat-out threaten to pull the school district’s business, but the implication was clear. My name is Bonacci, my grandfather came over on the boat, and I can tell Dr. Ciongoli and Ms. Stoll a few things about Italians in Colorado. First of all, we’re not stupid. We know our history. We know where the term “Wop” came from. It stood for “with out papers”, implying that Italian immigrants were here illegally. That wasn’t the case for my grandfather or anyone else’s grandparents that I’m aware of. But it was originally intended to be an insult. We also know that our grandparents embraced the term. It quickly became the way they referred to fellow countrymen. My grandfather used the term frequently. I knew I was a Wop from the time I was a little kid. It was just another, quicker way of saying that we were Italian. I was an adult before I ever learned that there had ever been negative connotations associated with the word. (As my mother points out, I’m also half Kraut. And – as far as I know -- no one has demanded that restaurants remove “Sauerkraut” from their menus.) Third, we don’t take kindly to outsiders from the East Coast (or from politically correct school districts) coming in and telling us what to do. I am particularly annoyed at the NIAF. I think it’s wonderful that there is an organization promoting Italian culture and reminding those of us whose last names end in vowels of our ethnic heritage. But if they’re going to try to turn us into another “victims” group whining about being “offended” – well, I’m just not having any of that. Look, there are truly offensive words used to describe ethnic groups. The primary example, of course, is the “N” word -- a horrible, ugly word that harkens back to a dark, shameful time in our history when one race of human persons enslaved another race of human persons. Sometimes, in this era of “political correctness,” I get the impression that other ethnic groups – including my own – want to get in on the action. They want to find ways to posture as victims. They want to be offended, too. They want their own “N” word. But guess what? “With out papers” doesn’t even come close. It’s silly to even try to compare the two. Yes, our ancestors faced discrimination. But it doesn’t even begin to try to bear a slight resemblance to what happened to Africans forcibly brought to America as slaves. Their experience is unique. When the rest of us try to co-opt their ancestors’ experience for our own, we only trivialize the history of American slavery. So the rest of us need to get over ourselves. Unfortunately, the “victim cartel” seems to hold all of the power these days. The Colaccis are printing new menus. The Wop Burger, sadly, will now be the “Italian Burger.” They can take away the Wop Burger, but they can’t take away my heritage. I am still Dante Bonacci’s granddaughter. I’m still a Wop. And I always will be.