Silvio Petricciani - University of Nevada, Reno

Background, Early Life and Education
11
But we all had, in our home especially,
my dad had wine, beer, hard liquor; and he
never denied us a drink at any time. He said,
“If you’re going to drink, I’d rather you did it
here in the house in front of me. I don’t want
you going out,” he says, “getting some of this
rot gut that they’re selling out on the streets
because that’s going to hurt you.” He says,
“What we have in the house is good stuff.”
And strangely enough there wasn’t a one
of us that ever became an alcoholic or cares
to drink that much. But it was never denied
us, so it was never really any big deal to go
out and see what it was like. Oh, I went out
and got gassed a few times, you know, dances
and so on and so forth. But it really wasn’t that
interesting to me to drink per se because you
don’t have to drink to have fun, really you
don’t. And the headaches that people get the
mornings after, why you just don’t, you don’t
need it. And of course now with my interest
in flying, the two don’t mix at all. So, I’d much
rather fly than drink. Of course when I go
home at night I have a cocktail before dinner.
That’s it. One cocktail never hurt anybody.
It’s the old story: everything in moderation,
including moderation. So—but there was
liquor available.
Of course, we used to have a raid once in a
while in the town. We called them the prohis.
That was the name for the federal agents,
prohibitionists, but they called them prohis.
And they’d move in on a certain speakeasy in
town, break up all the bottles, and this, that,
and the other thing. But strangely enough,
they broke into a couple places—I can’t
remember the names of the places—and, of
course in those days, you know, the federal
people weren’t allowed to carry guns. And
I recall very faintly where they broke into
a couple places, and they physically threw
them out and beat them up; they never came
back again.
And let’s see, they had some little
speakeasies here in the Douglas Alley and
some down on Lake Street and a couple over
there on the east side of Center Street. And
they had one or two over on Second Street
where the old Grand Cafe used to be.
Of course everybody knew everybody,
and I was allowed into the places from time
to time. Go with my dad, you know. That’s the
time I was learning to repair slot machines
and I was allowed in there. I didn’t drink, or
they didn’t even otter me anything to drink.
But I was allowed in to fix slot machines; then
they’d run me out, and that was it. But, I knew
what was going on, but the thing is you learn
one thing that I think is not very prevalent
today in people; in those days you just learned
to keep your mouth shut and live and let live.
Nobody bothered anybody; nobody got in
trouble. But today everybody’s sticking their
nose in somebody else’s business and for no
reason, other than they’re just busybodies.
I think it was better in the old days when
everybody went along their own way, and you
just kept your mouth shut and left them alone.
They didn’t bother you, so why bother them.
And it really wasn’t—during the days
of prohibition when these people had their
places open and so on and so forth, they
would cater to the adult population, and we
didn’t have the rampant dope that’s being sold
to even grade school children today. And the
ruining of bodies and minds that you have is
very rampant today all over the country, all
over the world you might say. And in those
days, any kind of an addictive medicine or
narcotic was unknown. My God, if we would
maybe know one person that was addicted to
morphine or something like that, probably
through an illness or something, and my God,
I mean that person was shunned completely
because it just wasn’t the right thing to do—it
wasn’t the “in” thing. But now when you look