MASSEY: Way Down South in Brazil, Part 5

• By Tim Massey Trailing The Past

• Feb 12, 2021

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Father Constantine and Tim Massey try out a Romi Isetta at the Romi Car Factory museum.

• Photo Courtesy Of Tim Massey

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Laiza Crisp on stage in 2018 in the Tennessee dress showing the flag of her ancestral American home Tennessee.

• Photo Courtesy Of Tim Massey

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After a once in a lifetime experience in Brazil, I arrived back home and realized there were places I should have visited, things I should have done. This wasn’t Gettysburg or Philadelphia — I couldn’t just jump in the car and drive up for a weekend. While many here talk about the Festa Confederada, I had been there, I have experienced it, I knew the people.

In the next year, I received a lot of speaking requests and used a Power Point program loaded with pictures. I did take over 7,000 photos in Brazil. Laura McKnight, a close friend that lives in middle Tennessee and whose family I know in Brazil, and I hooked up a couple times to give programs together. Laura and I are working on a book project together. The Sons of Union Veterans even asked me to present “The Confederadoes” at their state meeting. Three historic groups made me their official ambassador to Brazil.

Gwen told me that she and Rex were going back in 2018 and were making reservations — including me. I was excited that I would get to relive a lifetime experience once again. She said she was registering us at a hotel in Santa Barbara d’Oeste. She felt that we had imposed enough on families and knew our way around well enough to be on our own. I was not too thrilled about staying in a hotel but I wasn’t driving the bus. I told Gwen that I had an agenda. I wanted to visit the train stations in Americana and Santa Barbara, the American Immigration Museum, the Masonic Lodge, and Tennessee Harley Davison.

My first trip, as Lillian and I photographed the Festa, I was fascinated by the Rebel Bikers of Brazil. I was taking photos of their vests when one of them said something to me. I really wanted to run but said “Engleeze!” He said, “Oh, you’re from the states.” He told me that he was telling me to be sure and get a photo of another biker’s jacket because it was really neat. He asked where I was from in the states and I told him Greeneville, Tennessee. He said, “I’ve been there, I love to eat at the General Morgan Inn.” He said he comes to Morristown a couple times a year to a factory there as part of his job. It is a small world after all!

I was glad I didn’t run because I had a great time hanging out with the Rebel Bikers. They have clubs that are reminiscent of our Hyperion and do a lot of children’s charity work. Lucci Reple is their national president, an engineer by trade, and I count him among my close friends in Brazil.

I flew out of Tri-Cities to Atlanta to Fort Lauderdale where I met Gwen and Rex for the flight to Brazil. After an all-night flight, we arrived in Campinas. Cesar picked us up and drove us to the hotel. We settled in and decided to walk the streets a while and get a feel for the area. The first place we stopped was a motorcycle shop and I texted my boss a picture of me sitting on a bike and told him I had arrived safely.

The folks at the Hotel Nossotel were nice but did not speak any English. The lady at the desk always had a big smile when I was walking toward her to ask something. She was probably thinking “What’s this idiot want now?” We had to leave our keys when we left the room and I am sure that was so they could run up and turn off the air conditioner.

They had a great breakfast buffet and yes, those tapioca rolls! I know they had to make an extra couple pans while we were there. One morning, the manager had the cook make an American breakfast just for us. I had to explain to him that we could eat scrambled eggs and bacon at home but while in Brazil, we wanted to eat the local faire. He was probably trying to save the tapioca rolls.

He also loaned me a history book about Santa Barbara d’Oste. I could decipher some of it, but in the photos I recognized, Col. Norris, Joseph Whitaker, the train station, Rebels Roost and a few other places. I really would have liked to have brought that book home with me but returned it. But guess what?

Adriana and Cesar picked us up and we visited the Americana train station. Adriana couldn’t understand why I wanted to go to Tennessee Harley Davison. She said, “Why do you want to go there — it’s just a motorcycle shop?” They took us to an old mill that had been converted to a museum and various office spaces and shops. It had a large river coming off the mountain that had been its power source and a swinging bridge to cross. We dined at a place along the river and they had a case of those fish that look like they washed up on the bank and laid there a while. I’m sure those fish are good, but I want mine filleted and not staring back at me.

We told Adriana and Cesar we were going to do our own thing and Tim really wanted to go to Tennessee Harley Davidson. Gwen had been a Harley girl when she lived in Atlanta and Rex had been a HOG guy too, so they were in on that adventure with me.

I had hooked up with Marcelo Dodson on social media after Gwen and Rex met him their first trip. He had introduced me on stage at the previous Festa. Marcello is a Mason and Shriner and knew I was as well. I had told him I wanted to visit the Lodge, the Santa Barbara Train Station, and the immigration museum.

Marcello is another interesting story. His grandmother came to the U.S. to get her degree at the University of South Carolina. While there, she fell in love with a fellow student. He was drafted to the Army during WWII and asked her to marry him before he was shipped off. She told him there were two conditions to her marrying him. First, he would need to return safely from the war and second, he would have to move to Brazil. He kept his promises and that is Marcello’s story.

We would walk up the streets and visit the bakery, an ice cream shop, and other stores. Everywhere we went my social media friends grew as they wanted to “Friend-up” with us. I tell folks I have over 1,400 Facebook friends in Brazil, yes, I met every one of them.

Since we had decided to adventure out some on our own, Gwen told me to go the desk and get us a taxi. She said to “make sure they get us one that speaks English.” When our Taxi arrived, a nice young man with a new Honda with extra seats came in with a big infectious smile. His name was Renan Leao pronounced “Henan” and he spoke no English. When I tried to talk to him, he disappeared and came back with a tablet. He talked, his tablet interpreted, I talked and same thing. We were set!

I told Renan I wanted to go to Tennessee Harley Davidson in Campinas and off we went. My fascination was twofold. First, I had bought a big black Heritage Classic Harley and was into the biker thing. Second, Tennessee is big in Brazil and I wanted to explore why, even though I knew the answer. The Sons of Confederate Veterans has a group for bike enthusiasts called the Mechanized Cavalry. I had been a member for years even though I didn’t have a bike. I was “dismounted” as they say. After I got the bike, I had gone on rides and sewn the patches on a vest and was wearing it in Brazil. I also took along 100 Tennessee State flag patches to give my new biker friends.

Tennessee Harley Davidson was a large store. It had its own bar and lounge area. Hanging from above was the Tennessee State flag, the Confederate Flag, the U.S. flag, and the Brazilian flag. I did a lot of shopping. I bought all the shirts with “Tennessee Harley Davidson” on them. I had a lot of friends wanting shirts. I made sure I brought my HR lady April Swatzell one too. The owner came out with a couple bike flags for Gwen and I that have the Tennessee State Flag on one side and the Brazilian flag on the other. A biker group meets there for a Friday ride each week. They call themselves “The Friday Vagabonds.” We had fun visiting with them and posed for a group photo. They had all been here to Tennessee and ridden our bike trails. Small world.

There is a lot of “Tennessee” in the area where the Crisp family and others from Tennessee settled. The shop owner told me that “out of the U.S. Harley dealers” take the name of an area in the U.S. He said with all their ties to Tennessee it was only natural to use that name.

Since I missed eating at McDonald’s my first trip, we told Renan to stop at McDonalds. He had to order for us and got a kick out of me taking photos in a burger place. I saw a vintage 1930s car at a gas station and he wheeled in so I could get out and take pictures of it. He took us to parks and out of the way places he thought we should see. Along the way we discovered he had been a student of Adrianna.

One morning when I went down to breakfast there was a gentleman seated dining. He was dressed in a long black robe with a little round hat and a long white beard. I said Bom Dia (good morning) and he replied in kind, then said something else. I said, “Engleeze” he said “Oh, you’re from the States. I told him I was from Tennessee and he said, “Really? I was born in Alamo, Crockett County, Tennessee.” I told him I had been there a couple times and knew it well. He told me he had lived in Louisiana and moved to Brazil in 1957. He was in the service of the Russian Orthodox Church and went by Father Constantine.

When Gwen and Rex came in I introduced everyone and we dined together. We learned that “Father” was there for the Festa. Yes, he was proud of his Confederate ancestors and pulled up his robe to show me he was wearing a “CS” belt buckle. As Gwen would say many times, “Father” was a Godsend. We took him everywhere we went as long as he was there. He could tell us what the food was on menus and he would order for us. He was our own personal interpreter while we were out around together.

Renan had so much fun running around with us crazy Americans that he told us he was not taking any other business while we were there. He was at our beck and call anytime we wanted to go somewhere. He was another Godsend.

Marcello arranged for us to visit some of the area sites that I wanted to see. There were others staying at the hotel that wanted to tag along. Renan popped up another seat to accommodate everyone. We visited the Santa Barabara d’Oste train station which has its own American Museum. It is part of a park now. They left the old gage rails down so people could see how the trains ran and how wide the rails were. Across the street is the headquarters of the American Descendants Fraternity. We had a nice visit there and it was fun seeing all the history displayed on their walls. Marcello gave me a couple posters that I managed to get home without bending.

The next stop was the American Immigration Museum which was incredible with all the artifacts those first Americans brought with them. There are stoves, plows, personal items, furniture, doctors’ items, wedding dresses, and an incredible amount of Confederate money. When Norris set up that first American bank, they used Confederate money which is one reason the Festa just takes Confederate dollars. It was closed last time I was there and was again, but Marcello and Gwen connected with our friend the mayor who stopped by to make sure it was opened for us.

Gwen arranged for us to visit an old factory that is now a museum she wanted me to see. They built Italian cars called the Romi here for years. Maria Padoveze opened the private museum for us and gave us a tour. It has a lot of history of the area from stone age tools and bones up through modern times. The Romi car manufacturing was the centerpiece of the museum.

The best part was those Romi cars in which the front is the door and opens taking the steering wheel with it. Father Constantine and I tried one out. A lot of famous Americans owned a Romi.

I have come to the realization that this edition to the series is not the last. As I said at the beginning, I had not written about Brazil because I didn’t know where to start or where to stop. There have been a lot of fun memories in these pages and I know there are other subjects I should be covering. Join me next week as we continue to trail the past in Brazil.

Greene County historian Tim Massey is an award-winning writer for Civil War News with more than 40 photos featured on various magazine covers. He has served on various boards and held positions in several historic organizations. He can be reached at horses319@comcast.net.

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