The IAMLA Receives a Major Gift
from the Angelo and Phyllis Mozilo
The Mozilo Family has joined the Museum's
elite cadre of donors known as the Founding Families.
In preparation for the Museum's opening, the IAMLA's Founding Family designation was created to recognize individuals and families whose dedication, generosity, and achievements make them ripe for distinction.
The MoziloFamily Story
an attempt to bring color to his pale, gaunt face, Angelo Mozzillo
pinched his cheeks repeatedly as he entered the medical inspection line
at Ellis Island. The steamship agent in Italy had warned him about the
examinations he would undergo in order to gain admittance to America,
and while the 29-year-old began the transatlantic journey in relatively
good health, he had become seriously ill during the thirteen days spent
1903 ship manifest for Angelo Mozzillo, which lists his occupation as “shoemaker."
Angelo could neither read nor write, and arrived in the United States with $16.
Like most emigrants, Angelo traveled third class, or
steerage, which was located on the ship’s lower deck, below
water level, and resembled a dormitory, with areas designated for
families, women traveling alone, and men. For a fare of $30, the
equivalent of $800 today, the steerage passenger received a 2 ½’ x 6’,
coffin-like berth in the perpetually dark compartment, where he or she
slept and stored personal belongings. Privacy was non-existent in
steerage; an average of fifty people shared a single room and a lone
iron rod separated the multi-tiered rows of berths. Although ocean liner
companies achieved fame for the opulence of their first-class cabins,
the immigrant trade produced their principal source of income. On the
average voyage, the vessels carried upwards of 800 steerage passengers
in addition to several hundred first- and second-class passengers, for
which they netted a profit of approximately $50,000.
The SS Sicilian Prince, the ship that transported Angelo Mozzillo to the United States.
“The steerage of the
modern ship ought to be condemned as unfit for the transportation of
human beings,” wrote American photographer Arthur Steiglitz, who
documented the abysmal conditions of steerage in the early 1900s.
Designed to transport cargo, the compartment’s sanitary conditions were
deplorable; pots served as toilets, and basic necessities such as soap
and potable water were scarce. These factors, coupled with the grossly
inadequate ventilation (a twelve-inch shaft served as the air supply for
25 people), made steerage a breeding ground for disease. At the turn of the twentieth century when Angelo traveled,
one in ten third-class passengers did not survive the voyage.
On his seventh day at
sea, Angelo lay in his berth, clammy and feverish. The chorus of voices
around him grew muffled, and he descended into a stupor. In his mind,
Angelo walked along the winding roads of Casalnuovo di Napoli, where his
wife stood in the distance, cradling their tightly swaddled infant son.
Right: Stieglitz' iconic 1907 image
SS Sicilian Prince erupted with jubilation as it entered the
harbor, but as the emigrants disembarked, their mood grew anxious.
Angelo, who had lost ten pounds during the voyage, adjusted his coat and
pants to make his slight frame appear more robust, careful not to
disturb the tag attached to his lapel. His fear of rejection loomed as
he watched inspectors mark the clothing of several passengers who were
subsequently removed from line. What did the letters signify?
Were they being sent back?
Immigrants being inspected for trachoma at Ellis Island.
(Courtesy of Office of the Public Health Service Historian)
The mere thought of deportation evoked an olfactory memory of the
ship’s horrific stench, and Angelo’s hands trembled as he felt the
Public Health Officers scrutinize him from head to toe. One officer
examined his eyes for what seemed like an eternity, before lifting each
eyelid with a buttonhook and peering underneath. Finally, Angelo was
permitted to proceed to the cage-like structure where he would be
disinfected and vaccinated. He exhaled, and practiced reciting the name
of his destination:
Dabrancs.Dabrancs. It was a strange word, with many harsh-sounding consonants, unlike any he knew in
Angelo was unaware that the area where he would settle,
the Bronx, was named after its first European resident, Jonas
Bronck, a Swede, who arrived in 1639. By the time Angelo immigrated in
1901, the Italian population of the Bronx had grown quite large. Some
immigrants purchased farms in the borough’s rural northeastern section,
where the contrast between the old world and the new was not as
138th Street and 3rd Avenue in the Bronx, circa 1902. (Courtesy of the Bronx County Historical Society Collection)
Others lived near the
factories of Melrose, and in the neighborhoods of Fordham and Belmont,
where they worked in the construction trades and played integral roles
in the creation of the Bronx Zoo and the New York Botanical Garden.
Fordham's little Italy, regarded today as one of the nation’s few,
intact Italian neighborhoods, stretched across East 187th
Street, from Prospect to Arthur Avenue. In 1906, after being excluded
from the Irish-dominated Catholic Church and forced to worship in church
basements, the enclave’s Italian immigrants founded Our Lady of Mount
Carmel Church, which quickly became the neighborhood’s focal point.
Dedicated in 1906, Our Lady of Mount Carmel became the largest
Italian National Parish in the Archdiocese of New York. In the 1940s and
1950s, more than 40,000 Italian Americans belonged to the parish.
(Courtesy of Regina Magazine)
While his wife,
Raffaela, and son, Biagio, waited in Casalnuovo, Angelo earned a
subsistence level salary as a shoemaker. Two years later, his passage
financed by a family member, Angelo returned to Italy in order to
accompany his family on the transatlantic journey. Whereas many
immigrants of Angelo’s time were sojourners, individuals who planned to
work in the United States for a brief period and return to their
homeland, when Angelo left Italy the second time, he did not look back.
Though he never mastered the English language, and his limited literacy
skills prevented him from obtaining United States citizenship, Angelo
thought of himself as an American from that day forward.
Angelo Mozzillo’s WWI draft registration.
By 1915, the Mozzillo family had doubled
in size. Raffaela gave birth to five children in the United States,
Annunziata, August, Raffaele Giacomo, Raffaele Giuseppe, and Pasquale,
and the family of eight lived in a tiny apartment on East 152nd
Street in the Bronx. During an era when a single pair of shoes served
multiple children before being handed down to a neighbor or cousin, the
Mozzillo family struggled to make ends meet. Raffaela took in wash and
mending, and at an age inconceivable by modern Western standards, Angelo
sent his children to work. In 1918, as the influenza epidemic swept
across the nation, the Mozzillo family buried twelve-year-old
Annunziata; one year later, Angelo and Raffaela lost their youngest son,
Raffaele Giuseppe, weeks before his eighth birthday.
This 1910 image by Jessie Tarbox Beals, the nation’s first,
published female photojournalist, shows a mother and her eight children
in their New York tenement apartment. Prior to 1901, windows were not a
requirement in apartments, and communicable diseases, such as
tuberculosis, spread like wildfire. (Courtesy of Columbia University Library)
By the time brothers
August, Raffaele Giacomo, and Pasquale reached their teenage years, they
provided the lion’s share of the family’s income. August, or
Auggie, worked in a piano factory, and Pasquale and Raffaele, who preferred to be called
Pat, became butcher’s apprentices. Biagio, the eldest Mozzillo son, Americanized his name to
Harry, and secured a position at the Eastern Seaboard
supermarket chain, A&P. Ralph soon acquired his own butcher shop in
the heart of the Bronx’s vibrant commercial district, and after a brief
courtship, married Lucia “Pauline” Miluzzo, the American-born daughter
of Sicilian immigrants. In 1938, the couple welcomed their first child,
who, according to Italian tradition, was named after his paternal
Angelo (right) stands next to his parents, Ralph and Pauline, and his younger brother.
Ralph served in the U.S. Navy during WWII.
after the attack on Pearl Harbor and the United States’ entrance into
World War II, the government introduced rationing to regulate the amount
of commodities, including gasoline, clothing, tires, and food, that
consumers could obtain. Designed to prevent price gouging and ensure
every family received their fair share, rationing inadvertently gave
birth to thriving black markets. America’s hunger for meat, specifically
beef, made the meat trade the largest black market in food.
World War II ration book.
(From the collection of the IAMLA)
On several occasions,
anonymous gentlemen visited Ralph’s butcher shop and offered him
lucrative opportunities. Ralph resisted the temptation, however. To
provide for his family, he worked seven days a week, and eventually
purchased a second butcher shop. Even when bad weather made the roads
nearly impassable, Ralph awoke each morning before sunrise and drove 30
miles across town in his Ford panel truck to check on his parents and
in-laws before opening the store. Despite his long hours and Pauline’s
frugality, homeownership remained out of reach for the couple, who
rented a duplex owned by Ralph’s brother. “One day,” Ralph often told
his bride, “we will own our own home. One day.” That day did not come
until seventeen years later.
Grand Concourse and Fordham Road in the Bronx, 1941.
It was the 23rd
of December 1941, and the Christmas rush required Ralph to remain at
work long after closing. Before leaving, Ralph gathered the expertly
curated bag of groceries that he would bring to Pauline. He imagined how
his wife would smile as she unpacked his selections:
bacala, or cod; pork and beef that he had ground personally;
chestnuts for roasting; fresh, locally produced mozzarella; and an
assortment of produce grown by Italian farmers in Long Island, including
chicory, escarole, broccoli rabe, and
carduni, or artichoke thistle.He tucked the neatly wrapped
roast he had reserved for the family under his arm, and clutching the
sack of groceries in his other, and Ralph headed home.
As he approached the family’s walk-up, Ralph heard the mournful sound
of a child crying, and his heart filled with dread. The crying grew
louder as Ralph hurried up the stairs. When he opened the door, he found
Pauline cradling baby Angelo, whose face was red and soaked with tears.
“It’s back,” Pauline murmured, as she held a warm compress to Angelo’s
ear, her enormous blue eyes distraught with worry. In a year’s time,
Angelo had experienced nearly a dozen ear infections, which grew worse
with each occurrence, and were accompanied by dangerously high fevers.
In the early 1940s, antibiotics were not widely available, so the family
utilized remedies such as warm olive oil drops and heated table salt,
which they placed in a sock, and applied to the affected ear. As
bare-chested Angelo sobbed, tugged, and batted at his ears, Ralph soaked
a cloth in water and knelt beside Pauline, wiping his son’s forehead
and stomach, in hope of reducing the fever. During Angelo’s previous
illness, the mastoid bone adjacent to his ear had become inflamed, a
telltale sign of a serious infection. The doctor had warned the family
that surgery would be necessary to prevent their son from losing his
hearing or suffering other serious complications, such as a perforated
Angelo (front row) with friends, circa 1945
much will it cost?” asked Ralph. “About $200,” replied the doctor,
“plus the hospital stay.” Ralph swallowed and lowered his head; $200
equated to over two month’s salary for him. Where would he find the money?
Days after Christmas, Ralph sold the
second butcher shop to pay for Angelo’s double mastoidectomy, an
operation that involves removing diseased cells and the infected portion
of the bone at the base of the skull. At first, it seemed the operation
was successful, but within six months, the infections returned. “He
will need another surgery,” the doctor informed Pauline. Unwilling to
accept government assistance, Ralph brought in a partner at the butcher
shop. While a pot of water boiled on the stove, and Bing Crosby’s
bass-baritone played on the radio, the doctor performed Angelo’s second
mastoidectomy on the family’s kitchen table. Humble and stoic, Ralph
never told Angelo how his myriad of childhood ailments, including
chronic asthma, placed considerable strain on the family’s finances.
Members of the Mozilo and Miluzzo families, including Ralph Mozilo
(seated in the foreground with a flower and his lapel); Pauline Mozilo
(seated to his right); and Pauline’s brother Joe Miluzzo (seated behind
Pauline), who was a major influence upon Angelo’s life. Auggie Mozilo is
seated on Ralph’s left; Pauline’s parents are pictured on the other
side of the table.
to protect their children from the destructive force of prejudice,
shortly before Angelo’s birth, Ralph and Pauline dropped the second
l from their surname. Although Mozilo and Miluzzo elders spoke
primarily Italian, Ralph and Pauline decided their children would speak
English, exclusively. They also impressed upon their children the
importance of dressing properly, and behaving in a way that engendered
respect. During holidays and at the dinner table, however, the family’s
italianitá shone brightly. On Sunday afternoons following Mass,
the entire family gathered for exquisite, multi-course suppers that
spanned hours, and included specialties such as Raffaela’s
purpette a la passula, tender Neapolitan meatballs with raisins and pine nuts; Pauline’s
cavatelli, a shell-shaped pasta made with fresh ricotta; and
her feather-light ravioli stuffed with veal, which was laid on a sheet
to dry, before being boiled and smothered in a decadent sauce. As a
ritual, the Sunday dinners maintained a sense of connectivity amidst
change and symbolized the family’s triumph over the scourges of hunger.
Concert goers waiting in line to see Mexican performer Pedro Vargas
at Teatro Puerto Rico in the Bronx. (Courtesy of the New York State
World War II had
ended, and the Bronx, a microcosm of America, sustained a series of
socio-cultural changes. The influence of ethnic institutions weakened as
immigrants’ children and grandchildren developed American identities,
and a national American culture penetrated the borough. With the advent
of the supermarket, Bronxites, who had previously dedicated an entire
day to shopping at multiple, specialized stores, willingly sacrificed
quality for convenience, and Ralph witnessed his customer base gradually
evaporate. Nevertheless, he continued to provide relief to the poorest
members of the community. On Saturday evenings after closing, with a
dozen parcels stacked between them, Angelo accompanied his father as he
drove through the neighborhood on a methodically planned course. Each
time Ralph stopped, Angelo grabbed one of the packages, which contained a
modest assortment of meats, and made his way to the upper floors of the
buildings where his father’s former customers lived. Elderly or
infirmed, the absence of elevators relegated many to the confines of
their apartments. Angelo never forgot the gratitude that the recipients
expressed for his father’s charity.
Angelo, age 11, with sister, Paula, and brother, Ralph.
From the time he could
speak in complete sentences, Angelo had dutifully assisted his father
at work, sweeping floors, trimming chicken, and making sausage. Ralph
assumed that Angelo would take over the business, but Angelo had no
intention of pursuing his father’s vocation. In the blink of an eye, the
generational divide had grown wide. While she revered her husband,
Pauline also envisioned a different future for her children. Despite her
tremendous academic promise, following the revelation that one of her
classmates was pregnant, Pauline’s father withdrew her from school in
the ninth grade. From that day forward, Pauline worked in a sweatshop,
sewing zippers into dresses, hour after hour, while her mind drifted to
The Good Earth, the bestselling novel of 1931 that her class
had begun reading days before she left. A tireless advocate of
education, Pauline championed to send the children to parochial high
schools and ensured that they prioritized their studies above all other
In high school, Angelo ascended to the top 5% of his class at Mount
Saint Michael Academy, and discovered a world that stretched far beyond
his North Bronx neighborhood. Nonetheless, when he expressed interest in
attending college, Ralph, a man of materialities, retorted
incredulously, “What are you going to feed your kids, books?!” Aside for
a few exceptions, employment, as exemplified by the adults in Angelo’s
life, involved either
making, and it was not until age thirteen that he learned of
another occupation that defied this paradigm. “Mortgage?” Angelo said,
repeating the word he had heard for the first time from his uncle Joe,
an insurance executive who purchased mortgages for Union Labor Life
Insurance Company, “What’s a mortgage?” After Joe provided a brief
explanation, Angelo stated decisively. “That’s it. That’s what I want to
do. Can you help me find a job?” “You’re not old enough to work yet!”
his uncle scoffed. “But when I
am?” “Sure, sure,” Joe replied, before turning away and changing the topic.
On his fourteenth
birthday, Ralph woke Angelo earlier than usual. “We need to get your
working papers,” he said. They proceeded to the health department, where
Ralph signed documents authorizing Angelo to receive a worker’s permit.
That evening, soon after Uncle Joe returned from work, he received a
phone call. “I have it,” Angelo announced proudly. “Have what?” asked
Joseph. “My worker’s permit!” As a nod to his nephew’s determination, or
perhaps to avoid being pestered further, Joe kept his promise, and
within weeks, Angelo was working in the mailroom at Lawyers Mortgage and
Title, a Midtown Manhattan firm. Though it seemed inconsequential at
the time, Uncle Joe forever changed the course of his nephew’s life;
Angelo remains eternally grateful.
Angelo’s childhood home on Powell Street in the Bronx.
the years that followed, Angelo worked in every department of the
company, including the insurance, technology and title divisions, and
served as a messenger and cashier. He was accepted to Fordham
University, an academically rigorous Jesuit university in New York,
where he double majored in philosophy and theology, and minored in
marketing. While Fordham prohibited Greek life, Angelo received
permission from university leadership to create
Chi Rho, a religious-based fraternity that raised money for the
homeless, and derived its name from one of the earliest monograms, or
or symbolic abbreviations, of the word
The Chi Rho, an early symbol of Christ.
class ended in the afternoon, Angelo took the subway to Midtown, where
he worked until the early evening, and with a monthly salary of $180,
self-financed his education. After work, he went to the library, before
finally returning home to complete his remaining schoolwork. During
Angelo’s freshman year, Ralph and Pauline purchased a co-op in the
Bronx. A labor dispute prevented the family from occupying the building
for more than a year, however, during which time the family of five
lived in the basement of Ralph’s partner.
Angelo’s Fordham University yearbook photo.
1957, Angelo met Phyllis Ardese, who lived a block away, and was also
the grandchild of Italian immigrants. Although Phyllis’ grade point
average would have guaranteed her admission to dozens of prestigious
schools, the Ardese family’s limited resources, coupled with the fact
that financial aid as we know it today had not yet been introduced, made
attending college extremely challenging. While working as an executive
secretary at IBM, Phyllis attended Westchester Community College ─ the
best school she could afford ─ where she obtained an associate’s degree.
On their first date, Angelo invited
Phyllis to attend a play at Fordham, and at the end of the evening, bid
her a polite farewell. Days later, the phone rang at the Mozilo
residence; it was Phyllis, seeking Angelo’s help with algebra. During
the tutoring sessions, as Phyllis solved polynomial equations, Angelo
discovered a woman whose physical beauty was matched by intelligence,
wit, and an unfaltering commitment to core values that he deeply
admired. The two began to date steadily, and as a symbol of his
long-term commitment, Angelo presented Phyllis with his fraternity pin.
He then proposed to her on graduation day.
After completing his bachelor’s degree in 1960, Angelo, the first in his
family to complete college, enrolled in graduate school at New York
University. While he aspired to work at the New York Stock Exchange, he
soon discovered that his ancestry barred him from entering the patrician
world of Wall Street.
Ralph and Angelo on graduation day at Fordham.
That same year, Lawyer’s Mortgage and Title merged with another
company, Virginia-based Lomas Realty and Security, which had been
founded by a man named David Loeb ten years earlier. Angelo, who
had worked in every department of Lawyer’s Mortgage and Title and knew
the intricacies of the industry, was selected to oversee the merger,
from which a new company, United Mortgagee Servicing Corporation, was
born. Angelo, age 23, traveled to Virginia, and in six months, completed
the merger that was slated to take one year.
Angelo and Phyllis on their wedding day.
In the company of family and friends, Angelo and Phyllis married on a
mild morning in June of 1961 at St. Frances of Rome Church in the
Bronx. While the couple was still on their honeymoon, the phone rang.
Yonkers Herald Statesman announcement of Phyllis and Angelo’s wedding.
recognized Angelo’s talent and determination, and had another
assignment for him. This time, it involved traveling to Orlando,
Florida, where the nascent space industry had drawn engineers from
across the country to a largely unknown strip of land called Cape
Canaveral. The demand for housing in the region was great, and Angelo
was tasked with lending the funds needed to develop the land, construct
the houses, and ultimately, finance the homebuyers of what became one of
the area’s first subdivisions.
immediately began interfacing with brokers, financial institutions, and
builders, yet after months of working sixteen-hour days and forging
what seemed to be solid agreements, nothing materialized. Angelo was
baffled. One evening, he shared his dilemma with Alan Katz, an
Orlando-based accountant. “You won’t get any business here. No one is
going to do business with you,” Katz said matter-of-factly. “Why?” asked
Angelo, with a look of confused indignation. “You’re Italian. You’re
dark. You’re Catholic. They won’t work with you,” repeated Katz. “Look,”
Katz continued, “I know three Jewish guys who want to build houses
here, but can’t get help from traditional banks. Why don’t you do
A children's book about Cape Canaveral written by Czech emigre author and illustrator M. Sasek (Miroslav Šašek)
later, with the financing he provided, Angelo’s clients built a series
of homes in Brevard County. Although an engineering miscalculation
caused the development to flood, during the properties’ first day on the
market, Angelo accepted loan applications from seventeen buyers, who
purchased homes later that evening. Angelo’s first account, Cosmopolitan
Construction, headed by William Metz, Sumner Kramer, and Lester Mandel,
later became one of the largest residential builders in Central
Angelo skiing with his sons (R-L Mark, David, and Eric).
1967, the Mozilos had been blessed with three children, and Angelo rose
in the ranks to become executive vice-president of United Mortgagee
Servicing. After moving across the country several times, the family was
finally enjoying a moment of serenity. This changed in mid-October,
when Angelo received a call from his mother’s neighbor. At the young age
of 56, Angelo’s father had suffered a massive heart attack and
collapsed behind the butcher counter. For Pauline, the death of her
husband was particularly devastating. During their marriage, which
spanned almost thirty years, Pauline had never worked outside of the
home, nor had she learned how to pay a bill. Moreover, in addition to
the couple’s three adult children, Pauline and Ralph had two daughters,
who were ages two and twelve when their father died. While tending to
her own three children under the age of five, Phyllis, and the older
Mozilo siblings stepped in to assist Pauline. Angelo, meanwhile,
organized the family’s finances and ensured that his mother and young
siblings were provided for.
In her older years, Pauline frequently accompanied Angelo to events, and stood proudly at his side.
Eventually, Pauline overcame her grief. She secured a job in the
cafeteria of a local elementary school, and as a single parent, raised
two daughters during the turbulent 1960s. Pauline’s love of knowledge
never ceased; she was a voracious reader, and was often overheard
speaking to young people about the importance of education.
1968, when a larger firm acquired a major position in United Mortgagee
Servicing, Loeb proposed that he and Angelo start their own company, and
Countrywide Credit Industries was born. Headquartered in California,
the company went public the following year, and soon thereafter, was
serving 25% of the state’s mortgages. By utilizing technology to process
loans efficiently and respond to buyers rapidly, Mozilo and Loeb found
their niche, and became innovative leaders in the industry. By offering
interest rates lower than their competitors, Countywide’s market share
The New York Stock Exchange welcomes Angelo on Countrywide’s 25th anniversary.
As credit shortages
devastated socioeconomically disadvantaged neighborhoods in the 1970s,
public outcry led Congress to investigate the role of financial
institutions in the communities’ decline by failing to provide adequate
financing to qualified applicants of color. In 1975, Congress enacted
the Home Mortgage Disclosure Act (HMDA), which requires certain lending
institutions to submit lists of loan applicants they approved, and
antithetically, denied. If a financial institution accepted a
disproportionately low percentage of applications from certain races,
ethnicities, genders, or applicants in a specific area compared to
surrounding regions, then there is reason to suspect that said
institution may be discriminating against these classes of borrowers.
discrimination was, in fact, rampant in the industry; in addition to
ethnic and racial minorities, single women and same-sex couples
experienced its wrath. The push for fairer lending practices was
particularly important to Angelo, whose immigrant roots remained at the
very center of his being, and who was an ardent believer in equality.
For years, Angelo had maintained that income disparity was among the
greatest threats to the American way of life. Homeownership, he
contended, encouraged Americans to recognize their interconnected
destinies, and served as the foundation for the healthy neighborhoods
and sustainable communities that formed the backbone of a strong nation.
Angelo reacts to the news that his tenth grandchild was born.
In 1991, Angelo was
appointed president of the Mortgage Bankers Association of America.
That same year, the Federal Reserve Bank in Boston published a landmark
study revealing that African Americans and Latinos were four times as
likely to be denied funding than Caucasians. While the banks claimed
poor credit was to blame, Angelo believed otherwise, and began examining
the prevailing lending requirements. Through Countrywide programs such
House America, Angelo created new opportunities for
historically disenfranchised communities that could not overcome hurdles
to qualify for a loan, such as three years of employment with the same
company. Angelo also established branches in communities in which other
banks had refused to do business. He hired multilingual staff and
printed documents in languages other than English. Under Angelo’s
direction, Countrywide interfaced with community groups and churches,
hosted housing fairs, and established education programs that provided
free counseling for prospective home buyers. After changing the
underwriting criteria, Angelo helped cut the rejection rate of
underrepresented groups from 4:1 to 2:1.
The Mozilo family in 1980s.
recommendations were later adopted as industry practice, and he received
considerable praise for his vanguard efforts to democratize the lending
industry. Countrywide became the nation’s largest originator of single
family mortgages; it had more than 500 branch offices, 62,000 employees,
and assets of $200 billion. During its history, Countrywide employed
more than 250,000 people, and financed 25 million families, enabling
them to become proud homeowners. In a twenty-five year period, the
company’s stock appreciated 25,000%, making it one of the
best-performing stocks in the New York Stock Exchange’s history.
In front of an audience of 1500, Angelo conducts a two-hour
interview with President George Bush about topics that ranged from his
son’s presidency to the elder Bush’s political legacy.
Today, Angelo Mozilo
and Phyllis, his wife of over 55 years, enjoy spending time with their
five children and ten grandchildren. They contribute generously to
numerous charities, including Providence Tarzana Medical Center, where
the Mozilo Family Foundation established a pediatric intensive care
unit; Providence St. Joseph Medical Center in Burbank, California;
Gonzaga University; and Flintridge Sacred Heart Academy and St. Francis
High School, in La Cañada-Flintridge, California. As recipients of the
National Italian American Foundation’s Humanitarian Achievement Award
, the Horatio Alger Award and Ellis Island Medal of Honor, Angelo and Phyllis are ever-mindful of the contributions immigrants make to the American nation.
Angelo with his granddaughters in 2013.
“We became a Founding Family of the Italian American Museum of Los
Angeles because we are proud of our heritage, and support the Museum’s
efforts to showcase and preserve our history and culture. Moreover, we
hope to share our ancestors’ rich legacy with our children, our
children’s children, and generations to come, so that they too may
understand their origins and appreciate the struggles that made their
lives possible. From science to entertainment, architecture to medicine,
cuisine to design, Italian Americans have impacted every aspect of
American life. We recognize the IAMLA as an avenue through which
visitors of all generations and nationalities will encounter a
counter-discourse to the mafia myth, and in the process, gain an
accurate understanding of the many contributions Italian Americans have
made to this nation.”
-The Mozilo family