In 1922 the Third Sunday of Advent fell on December 17, the day St. Mary's Church was dedicated. Hundreds flocked to the new church on Dutch Mill Road to hear the Mass's theme, "The Lord is near, let us be joyful." The people of Malaga were especially joyful that wintry Sunday as they witnessed the spiritual beginning of their own church.
The Solemn high Mass was celebrated with the Most Reverend Thomas Walsh, bishop of Trenton, presiding. He voiced high praise for Monsignor James Bulfin, pastor of Sacred Heart Church (seven miles away in Vineland), who directed the building of the church, and for the people of Malaga whose monetary sacrifices made it possible.
St. Mary's Early Pastors
The dedication of St. Mary's marked its beginning as a mission church under Sacred Heart. Monsignor Bulfin served as pastor of St. Mary's even though he resided in Vineland. (St. Mary's did not have its own pastor and rectory until four decades later.) Monsignor Bulfin had a passionate devotion to Catholic education. "Without the religious training of our youth," he stated on numerous occasions, "our churches would not be needed."
In 1933 illness compelled Monsignor Bulfin to forgo pastoral duties, and Father Francis Jackson inherited his superior's responsibilities. The untimely death of Father Jackson only four years later, which many attributed to the stress of Sacred Heart's Depression-era fiscal problems, was deeply felt by St. Mary's parishioners. Father William Hickey, later Monsignor Hickey, replaced Father Jackson and served as pastor of St. Mary's during its final two years as a mission church under Sacred Heart, from 1937 to 1939.
Sisters of St. Joseph
During St. Mary's early years, the Sisters of St. Joseph traveled from their convent in Vineland to Malaga to prepare the children for first Holy Communion. Mother Albertine, Sister Mary Edmond, Sister Teresa Carmel, Sister Grace Stanislaus, and Sister Mary Barnabas, like those who followed them, were devoted to teaching the Catholic faith and responsible citizenship during those Sunday afternoon sessions.
Each spring, twelve to fifteen children received the Sacrament. This was a proud moment for their parents, who were grateful to the sisters for helping them perpetuate their faith and thus fulfill the main reason for building St. Mary's. They were grateful, also, to the sisters for reinforcing their children's language skills, enabling them to participate more fully in the mainstream of American society.
Feast of the Assumption
Because St. Mary's was named for the Mother of Jesus, the Feast of the Assumption became the parish's principal celebration. The mid-August festivities resembled those of a typical Italian village; that is, a High Mass, followed by a parade to honor the community's patron saint and a public gathering featuring food, music, games and fireworks.
Parishioners blessed with long years and clear memories can still remember the festivals of the 1920s and '30s when the Associazione della Assunta, which was organized principally by Mr. Giovanni (John) DiMatteo, managed the annual event in the absence of an on-site pastor. They can still recall the sight of the statue of La Madonna (Figure 2), festooned with ribbons on which worshipers had pinned dollar bills, being hoisted to the shoulders of young men for the parade down Delsea Drive. (Traffic was no problem then.) They can recall the sound of the Red, White, and Blue Band as it marched behind La Madonna. They can recall the enticing aroma of zeppole (cruller-like fried dough) and other delicacies being readied on the church grounds for the return of hungry paraders.
Volunteer barkers urged people to "step right up" and test their strength and skill at knocking over bogus milk bottles with a baseball. (The white bottles, made of wood with metal interiors to impart stability, were arranged in a pyramid thirty feet behind a counter.) "Three balls for a nickel," the barker cried, "and one of these beautiful prizes (mainly stuffed animals) is yours!!"
Young Raynard Infante from New York City, a relative of several families in the area, impressed the local population with his Neapolitan love songs, which he sang from the gandstand in the area where St. Mary's outdoor shrines now stand. Another favorite amateur singer was Mr. Giuseppe (Joseph) Alvino, one of the church's founders, who rendered "Oh Sole Mio" with a fervor that old-timers still talk about. (Both Raynard Infante and Mr. Avino are shown in Figure 3.)
After a respite from the mid-day parade, members of the Red, White, and Blue Band took their places on the bandstand and entertained the crowd during the afternoon and evening. The music consisted of Italian melodies and patriotic songs, mostly Sousa marches. The band's electrifying "Stars and Stripes Forever" presaged the festival's finale: the fireworks.
As band members put their instruments away, firework technicians sent up aerial bombs that exploded in a cascade of color. This lured the crowd to the southern edge of the church grounds (where the rectory now stands). From that point, people could see the lighting of fireworks mounted on wooden structures on the knoll where the firehouse is now located. Fireworks at ground level, including spinning wheels and Niagara Falls, alternated with aerial displays depicting patriotic themes, such as the Statue of Liberty, the Mayflower, and the American flag (then forty-eight stars).
The fireworks (and the two-day festival) ended at about eleven o'clock with the detonation of an ear-splitting battery of explosives buried two feet below the ground--enough to destroy a small army. With the acrid smell of fireworks still hanging over the church grounds, those who came in cars and trucks sounded their horns in appreciation while others tramped home humming the songs that the Red, White, and Blue Band had played.
Bountiful Times End.
Suddenly, in 1929, St. Mary's parishioners, like all Americans, were hit with the devastating effects of the Great Depression. Cash incomes dropped as the price of produce plunged to just a few pennies more than the cost of the container in which it was shipped to market. But the Depression did not stop these energetic settlers from garnering food, fuel, and shelter for their children and their farm animals from southern New Jersey's rich, sandy loam; its red-cedar swamps; and its unspoiled, game-filled woodlands.
In addition to being innately resourceful, these sturdy men and women were capable of buoying each others' spirits during grim times. No one was more noted for this than the grandfatherly man who devoted the last eighteen years of his life to St. Mary's and the Malaga community.
St. Mary's First Custodian
Unlike most of St. Mary's early parishioners who were young, newly married immigrants, Signor Giuseppe DiMatteo (Figure 4) was an Italian widower who was seventy-three years old when the church was built in 1922. Today, some older residents can still remember Giuseppe, affectionately called "Zio Pepe" by all the children in the community, even those who were English-speaking. Giuseppe had immigrated from Campania in 1914, the year his son, Mr. Giovanni (John) DiMatteo (1879-1947), and daughter-in-law, Mrs. Antoinette Cairone DiMatteo (1887-1950), purchased the family farm on what is now West Boulevard.
Biuseppe spent his years in American on the farm, helping to rear his eleven grandchildren and working in the family vineyard. Using his pruning shears, sickle, and zappa (an Old World cultivating hoe), he nurtured the vines so they formed multitudinous, small green grapes in the spring.
As the season progressed, Giuseppe continued to coax the vines. The little grapes grew in the summer sun and matured into plump, purple fruit during the cooler, shorter days of September and October. The family made grape jelly with part of the crop, and Giuseppe would make wine with the rest.
A medium-built, muscular man, whose body belied his age, Giuseppe did more than till the vineyard; he also served as custodian of St. Mary's from its beginning until its death in 1940. The church grounds were not landscaped at the time, so Giuseppe used his sickle and heavy hoe to tame the growth outside during spring, summer, and fall. In addition, he kept the inside of the church in order.
In winter, the church was unheated during the week. Giuseppe would arrive early on Sunday to start a fire in the wood-burning furnace downstairs so that the church would be warm when the priest and worshipers showed up for the nine o'clock mass.
Giuseppe carried out most of his duties behind the scenes, except for the ringing of the bell, which he did with zeal exactly thirty minutes before Mass. Twenty minutes later, with early arrivals already in the pews, he would ring it again. During that era, St. Mary's bell was connected to a heavy rope that came down from the steeple into the church through a hole in the ceiling. (The hole in the ceiling above the choir loft is still visible.)
Standing in the main aisle below, Giuseppe would grasp the rope with both hands and pull on it with the weight of his body. His initial efforts would cause the bell and its supporting mechanism to start swinging back and forth. The rafters would creak, and the bell would produce a soft ding. As momentum increased, the bell's hammer would strike its side more forcefully, and the dingdong of the bell would reverberate across the surrounding countryside.
For eighteen years Giuseppe summoned the populace of St. Mary's for spiritual renewal.
