Upon immigrating to the US from Italy and opening a dress factory, a young boy’s father quickly begins accumulating money. He spends as freely as he receives, paying for vacations and acting classes and a piano so all his children can accomplish their big dreams, which Papa proudly has them recite every evening. No need to save when America always has money to be made. So when the bank returns Papa’s check one day, he can’t understand – he’d never checked his account balance before. It wasn’t his fault, his son asserts; he couldn’t read or write coming off the boat. Soon after this, Uncle Louie’s cigar falls and burns the factory down. Papa resolves to wait for the check from the bank, and Mama sends her children to the grocery store to spare herself the shame of buying on credit. Papa becomes temperamental and abusive, yelling and chasing his wife and the landlord when they inquire after his money and yelling when their uncle informs him no check would come without an insurance policy on the factory. Still, his son upholds, it wasn’t Papa’s fault – not his fault he didn’t look for work again, not his fault when another purchase stopped the Government’s relief check, not his fault that diabetes killed him.