The AMERican kalderas:
GYPSIES IN THE NEW WORLD
Edited by
Matt T. Salo
Gypsy Lore Society
North American Chapter
Publications, Number 1
Centenary College
Hackettstown, N.J.





THE AMERICAN KALDERA$:
GYPSIES IN THE NEW WORLD
Proceedings of a Symposium
Sponsored by
The Gypsy Lore Society,
North American Chapter
Held at Wagner College, Staten Island, New York
September 29, 1979
Edited by
Matt T. Salo
Copyright © 1981 by
Gypsy Lore Society, North American Chapter
Centenary College
Hacketts town, New Jersey
ii
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Preface and Acknowledgements . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . iii
The Care and Feeding of an Anthropologist . . . . . . . . . 1
Rena C. Gropper
Symbolism, Symbiosis and Survival: Roles of Young
Women of the Kalderaš . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
Ruth E. Andersen
Gypsy Taskmasters, Gentile Slaves . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
David Nemeth
Education and the Kalderaš . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 43
John Kearney
Pollution and Power: Gypsy Women in America . . . . . . . . 55
Carol Silverman
Kalderaš Economic Organization . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 71
Matt T. Salo
Community in Defiance of the Proscenium 99
Roland Pippin
Notes on the Contributors 135
iii
PREFACE AND ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
The 1979 conference on the American Kalderaš was an outcome of
the initial enthusiasm generated by the formation in 1977 of the North
American Chapter of the Gypsy Lore Society. Scholars interested in
Gypsy studies were becoming aware that more and more of their colleagues
were engaging in original research and that an exchange of ideas would
be beneficial to all.
The choice of the Kalderaš group as the focus was based on two fac-
tors: 1) most of the recent research on American Gypsies has been con–
ducted among the Kalderaš and 2) it was also thought that at this nascent
stage of American Gypsy studies, bringing together scholars from various
disciplines (anthropology, education, folklore, geography, and sociology)
and concentrating on a single, culturally homogeneous group would be more
productive than comparing culturally more distinct groups operating in
disparate socioeconomic niches.
In retrospect the focus need not have been quite so narrow. Actually
many of the contributors chose to deal with the broader entity of American
Rom, which in addition to the Kalderaš includes the Mačwaya.
For comparisons at this level of generality, the North American Rom
are culturally homogeneous enough to be considered as a single ethnic en-
tity. The recently arrived Lovara however, although culturally related,
are not yet sufficiently integrated into the American Rom establishment
to be considered part of this group.
From the editor's point of view the symposium papers represent both
the heterogeneity and the common strengths of North American scholarship
iv.
on the Gypsies. Although there is no school of American Gypsy studies
as such, most of the papers share a similar empirical orientation. All
the researchers are concerned with objective description and explanation
of the Rom way of life. Six of the seven papers are based directly on
first-hand field observations by the authors; the only purely theoretical
contribution, by Roland Pippin, is also solidly grounded in ethnographic
data.
The descriptive papers have two main foci: the social environment
and the world view of the Rom. Implicit in several papers, especially
the folkloristic ones by Andersen and Silverman, is an ethnoscientific
orientation, which gives primacy to the perceptions of the Rom themselves.
Nemeth's and Kearney's papers are 1ess psychological and more descriptive
of Rom social interaction. Salo's paper combines the ethnoscientific
and ecological approaches in order to describe the dynamic interplay
between the perceptions of the Rom and the constraints and opportunities
of their social environments. Pippin's paper illustrates both the possi-
bility of applying sociological theory to Gypsy data and also the contri-
bution Gypsy studies might make to general theory.
Because of the time lapse between the presentation of the papers and
their publication, those by Andersen, Gropper, Pippin and Salo have been
subsequently revised by the authors. Those by Kearney, Nemeth, and Silver-
man remain as originally given, except for slight editorial changes.
It remains for us to thank the Museum of Archaeology at Wagner College,
Staten Island, for providing the facilities for the symposium and to Anita
Wolland, the Chapter program chairperson, for making the necessary arrange-
ments. Special thanks are due to Oliver Lerch, Leonard Lutzker and David
Mulcahy, who led the discussion following the reading of the papers.
To Centenary College and especially to Dean Kenneth Powell our apprecia-
tion for agreeing to publish the papers.
Matt T. Salo
Division of Social and Behavioral Sciences
Centenary College
Hackettstown, NJ 07840
June, 1981
THE CARE AND FEEDING OF AN ANTHROPOLOGIST"
Rena C. Gropper
Hunter College, CUNY
The little fieldwork technique learned as a student
proved worthless. So did many of the concepts and theories.
As a result, valuable lessons were learned from the Rom.
Anthropologists are said to "study" sociocultural groups of people.
Studying assumes that learning will take place. Thus, anthropologists
learn from their informants. But what do they learn? Certainly, they
learn the details of the culture. If they are openminded toward the
people and the data they collect, they also learn a new perspective on
life, general concepts useful to their future studies, and a set of ques-
tions to be pursued professionally. I contend that the intellectual
career of many anthropologists is molded by the accidental selection of
the particular groups they study, and I shall try to demonstrate this
thesis by an analysis of my experiences with the Kalderaš Rom.
When I started my fieldwork in 1947, 1jittle had been written about
the mechanics of fieldwork. A few courses on fieldwork were given here
and there, but I had not had the benefit of more than relatively informal
comments interspersed in other courses. The course of "Peoples of Europe"
under Ruth Benedict emphasized very practical aspects of contacting ethnic
groups in New York City, such as contacting priests and ministers, using
the telephone directory, etc. , none of which was applicable to the Rom.
I had begun reading on the Gypsies for two years before starting fieldwork,
but most of the 1iterature dealt with non-Rom groups. Thus, I felt I
should make an exploratory contact before starting work in earnest. I
entered an of isa (fortune-telling business) as a customer, and in the
course of the conversation I spoke some of the Anglo-Romany I had taught
myself. Two things were immediately apparent the woman did not under-
stand what I was saying, and she would not admit ignorance. Therefore,
the literature stating that dialects of the Gypsy language were not
always mutually intelligible was confirmed, and I began to discover the
required relationship between seer and customer. Next, I learned how
easy it is to misunderstand concepts cross-culturally. The romni (Gypsy
woman) said she knew I did not have family. I vigorously denied her
statement -- after all, I was not an orphan. She quickly covered up by
saying, "Well, only a small one, right?" To that I agreed, but only
after several more minutes had gone by did I realize that she had been
referring to a conjugal, not a natal family. By then, I had inadvertently
lied because what I was saying in effect was that I was married. That
taught me another lesson that has carried through for a lifetime: I am
not comfortable when I lie to informants. The Gypsies have, however,
taught me how to 1je to accomplish a goal, and I have used this knowledge
in working on behalf of clients in applied anthropology. The romni as-
sumed that I was interested in keeping my nonexistent husband and 1aid a
foundation for a future meeting at which time she would ensure that he
would not leave me. Altogether, I had done a miserable job.
In retrospect, however, I realize I had been taught several lessons
that day. I learned that fortunetelling involves preconceptions of the
client. I also learned that the Gypsy image of the professional non-
Gypsy was highly unflattering. The romni asked me what I did for a living,
and I said I was studying how other people live, particularly how they
raise their children. "Oh, she snapped angrily, "So you can tell them how
to do it right, huh?" Another lesson begun that day that continues to
:
the present is that a fieldworker should have a great deal of self-
3Wallſ en eSS before attempting to work with other cultures so that his or
her personality does not get in the way of the research or lead to un-
warranted assumptions.
Self-awareness was sharpened considerably when I started my work with
the Bimbo family. I was bombarded by personal questions during the time
I was on trial, and I was most uncomfortable until I realized that I
was experiencing what an informant would feel when I interviewed. The
questioning served as an excellent exemplar for proper data-collection.
I learned much about interviewing techniques. The Kalderaš would weave
in repetitive questions, cannily spaced minutes apart. They would chal-
lenge seeming inconsistencies, using my own answers as the basis for
further inquiries. I also was exposed to team research for the first
time. The Gypsies questioned as a group; as one tired, another took
up the thread. Expertise was acknowledged, too, for the individual most
familiar with a given situation would pursue that topic. They also used
another teamwork ploy: someone not originally involved in the interroga-
tion would commence a fresh round of questioning as if he or she had not
yet received the information. Thus, extensive crosschecking was feasible.
I learned about impression management (Berreman 1962)* very quickly,
as we all do. I was treated to the usual stories about wanting to settle
down in a house with a picket fence and roses (but why did I fail to con-
nect this image with the motion pictures?), to the desire for educated
children, "nine-to-five work" in an office, etc. I recognized some of these
themes as recurrent, having seen them reported in newspaper accounts, and
I had been warned that informants often tell the worker what they think
t
the worker wants to hear. But Berreman had the perspicacity to write up
the phenomenon, not Gropper or her professors.
Some of the fieldwork advice I had received was completely wrong. I
knew in advance that at least one suggestion was in error. In my courses
in linguistics, I had been told that studying the language of a people was
the best way of obtaining rapport with a group. We all know what poor
advice that is for Gypsy studies. It was not long before other recommenda--
tions were disproved. I had been told to control my emotions so that I
would not offend my informants. So when I attended a wedding a few weeks
after I started work, I was careful to stand at the side and observe with
a poker face. I was not quick enough to realize the emotional involvement
in weddings; I should have realized their importance, not only because
marriage was the first subject they wanted to discuss, but also because
the young men in the family had pointedly told me they had disobeyed their
parents' wishes to ensure my attendance. There was a large crowd at the
wedding, and the noise level was very high. I thought I had successfully
melted into the woodwork when first the young men and then the older people
approached to ask if I was enjoying myself; they seemed disappointed.
My explanation, that I did not want to interfere with the proceedings, was
accepted as consistent with the image of a shy, embarrassed young girl.
I was embarrassed because I had brought with me two other graduate students
to assist in collecting data, and the young woman got drunk and began to
f1irt with the men. The older men shrewdly realized that I wanted des—
perately to disassociate myself from her and probably attributed my lack
of positive affect to her behavior. They led me to the 1ine of chairs
occupied by the old men, and I realized I was being given protective endorse-
ment. I mended my ways immediately and settled down to showing my genuine
enjoyment. After a while, I was escorted to other parts of the room
where various events were taking place. A running explanation was provided,
I suspect, not only to fulfill the original promise to teach me the
Gypsy culture but also to encourage my demonstration of pleasurable under-
standing of the proceedings.
The traditional warning about not expressing affect, particularly anger,
is being questioned by many fieldworkers today. The ability to take legi-
timate umbrage at bad treatment by a member of the society under investi-
gation affirms the fieldworker's adult status within the group. Failure
to express such emotions leads to incomplete acceptance by the informants
because they have genuine concerns about one's ability to function maturely
and to learn another culture when one so obviously has failed to 1earn how
to grow up.
As I settled into the research, I expected to derive benefit from con-
ducting fieldwork at the same time I was pursuing graduate studies at
Columbia University. I anticipated that all the problems I encountered
would meet ready resolution in the classroom. I learned two additional
lessons quickly. The first was that most of my professors did not want me
to introduce my data into their presentations, especially if they contra-
dicted the points made in the lecture. The second has stayed with me to
this day, and that is the artificiality of some of our conceptualizations.
Human beings lead their lives unencumbered by anthropological categories.
As far as I am conceremed, the perceptions and behaviors of our informants
are of more immediate concern than our own ever-shifting theoretical posi-
tions and concept-formations. "Patriliny" and "patrilocality", for example,
are words anthropologists use; I have never heard them uttered by the Rom.
Moreover, some of the concepts were formulated during the days when we had
not yet differentiated ideal culture from real behavior. Although we are
learning to reexamine them, we have not gone far enough in the process. As
a result, we continue our stubborn attempts to fit fieldwork data into the
Procrustean bed of our by no means immutable concepts. Thus, like the
Gypsies who taught me, I cannot understand why some of us are willing to
shed blood over whether or not a given group, Kalderaš or other, is patri-
local or has lineages. What is important, it seems to me, is what ideals
exist, and how real-life circumstances impinge to determine- how given in-
dividuals work out their problems at any given moment in time and space.
Like most anthropologists, I had great difficulty in trying to ex-
plain what an anthropologist is. Here, too, my training was more hind-
rance than help. I had been warned to expect this problem; the implica-
tions was that it is universal and so could be ignored once the group ac-
cepted one in one's individual right. The guidance was very bad advice,
but it took me a very 1ong time to realize it. Ironically, realization
did not come until some of the Kalderaś finally understood what an an–
thropologist was, or more accurately what an anthropologist can do -- al-
most a quarter of a century after I began to interact with them.
Comprehension dawned the day a little boy with cancer was operated
on in a hospital where I worked as a medical anthropologist. Most of you
can draw a detailed picture of the scene: on the one hand, hundreds of
Gypsies milling about, demanding information, expressing suspicions, and
making threats against the lives of the staff; on the other hand, a very
nervous staff, attempting and failing to conduct business as usual. That
I received three different telephone calls to drop everything and come to
the hospital is indicative of the trepidations of the health professionals.
As I arrived at the main door, I met the leader of the New York City group
involved, who knew me and who spontaneously gave me a complete history
6
of the case in Gypsy language. As I performed my function as applied
medical anthropologist, acting as liaison between the Gypsies and the
hospital staff, one of my old friends suddenly looked at me, smiling, and
said with satisfaction, "So that's what an anthropologist is. Good!"
Permit me a litte time to dissect the problem in some detail. I have
already alluded to the bombardment of personal questions upon first C On-
tact and hypothesized that the Kalderaš were seeking as much information
as they could obtain to check out my "story." One could also interpret
their actions as an attempt to discourage my association with them. Crowd-
ing a gazi and trying to disturb her psychic equilibrium by demanding in-
formation have been reported in the literature as tactics to drive away
the curious (see, for example, Yoors 1967: passim). Actually, one hypo-
thesis in no way precludes the other; they could both operate simultaneous-
1y. Be that as it may, I had the distinct impression that Gypsies had
highly active curiosities . Thus, it seemed inconsistent that they re-
jected the idea that I could spend my life being curious about the ways of
other people. I am sure that you are aware that hindsight is remarkably
sapient; now I can see that even their curiosity about me was not diffuse,
but limited to matters of economics and family. For the Gypsies, know-
ledge must be immediately or potentially applicable to a set of goals. I
was taught that the idea of knowledge for its own sake is culture-bound.
The theme of applicability was reinforced by the emphasis placed on
the need for flexibility. The world changes constantly, and one cannot
rely on old solutions to solve today's problems. I sometimes play around
with the idea that the lack of emphasis on history among the Rom mirrors
their awareness of the need to adapt to ever -changing conditions.
It gave me a dynamic perspective I never would have received through my
academic training with its emphasis on stasis.
Acceptance of individual (and group) variability also was an important
lesson to someone who had been exposed to the anthropological predilection
for scientific generalization and concentration on group structure. It
is from the Gypsies that I learned that individuals act, not societies and
cultures. Cultures and societies (and physical environmental constraints)
are force-fields in which individuals operate. As people move within these
fields, the forces themselves are altered. How individuals survive and
adapt became my major preoccupation and led to the formulation of choice-
taking theory (Gropper 1975). In a very real sense, it is a Rom theory.
Studying the Kalderaš nearly cost me my Ph.D., not only because the
culture content threatened pre-existent theory but also because I had
learned that anthropology is not sacrosanct, and that knowledge should
be useful. I have become an iconoclast, and I would have it no other way.
NOTES
1. I am grateful to Anita Volland for encouraging me to pursue this
topic.
2. Berreman borrowed the concept from Goffman (1959).
REFERENCES
Berreman, Gerald D.
1962 Behind Many Masks: Ethnography and Impression Management in
a Himalayan Village. Society for Applied Anthropology Monograph
No. 4.
Goffman, Erving
1959 The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Garden City, NY:
Doubleday/Anchor Books.
Gropper, Rena C.
1975 Gypsies in the City: Culture Patterns and Survival. Princeton,
N. J. : Darwin Press.
Yoors, Jan
1967 The Gypsies. New York: Simon and Schuster.
SYMBOLISM, SYMBIOSIS, AND SURVIVAL:
ROLES OF YOUNG WOMEN OF THE KALDERASA IN PHILADELPHIA
Ruth E. Andersen
University of Pennsylvania
Gypsy women are lower status within their own
culture, yet they play a major role in its survival.
Through their use of symbolism in the fortunetelling
event and their participation in an on-going process
of symbiosis between the Rom and non-Gypsies, young
Kalderaš women play an especially skillful part in
helping both their own families and their society
as a whole to survive and prosper. This paper ex-
plores their preparation for their various roles,
the nature of several of the roles themselves as
they are played in the daily routine of Kalderaš
life, and, finally, the feelings of young women of
the Kalderaš about themselves and their roles. Both
field data and secondary source materials were used
in the paper's preparation; the emphasis, however, is
on the author's observations of young women in the
field. The paper's central argument is that although
Kalderaš young women may not have high prestige with-
in their own culture, they are nevertheless aware and
proud of the vital role that they play in the daily
process of Gypsy life.
INTRODUCTION
During a year and a half of studying Romany fortune-
tellers (or "readers and advisors") in the Philadelphia
area, I spent many hours in the company of young women
of a particular nation or sub-group of Gypsies: the
Kalderaša. At that time I was twenty-six years old (1ater,
twenty-seven), and I became much interested in the out-
look, work, and daily lives of women of my age in Kalderaš
society. Field observation and secondary research gave me
a basic understanding of the patterns of Kalderaš culture,
of the concepts and beliefs which structure this particular
society. What I was just beginning to acquire and wanted to
expand was knowledge of the everyday 1ife of young women of
the Kalderaš group. I hope to find at least part of the
answers to the following questions:
What is the importance of the young woman in the daily
1ife of the Philadelphia Kalderaša? How does she spend her
time, and for what tasks is she responsible? What is her job
or work and what is her recreation? What conflicts or dis–
11
content does she feel and express? What status has she
attained and toward what is she working?
Asking questions such as these reveals as much about
my own culture as their answers may reveal about another.
In drawing contrasts between the two, I have tried to avoid
ethnocentricity and to express the ideas of my informants as
they expressed them to me. I present in this paper some of
the conclusions I made after an additional seven months of
fieldwork in the Philadelphia area. I hope that in drawing
these conclusions I have done justice to my informants, to
whom I extend my thanks, and to my secondary sources. I wish
also to extend my thanks to Dr. Ian F. Hancock for his assist-
ance in the preparation of the final revised version of this
manuscript.
Austin, Texas
April, 1981
When studying life among the Rom, one gradually learns an important
lesson: every human being in Gypsy society is important. At first it
appears that the most important person in dealing with the non-Gypsy world
is a male, between the ages of about thirty-five and fifty-five, and usually
self-styled "King of the Gypsies" or "Gypsy Senator". Beyond that initial
political impression, however, it is clear that every Gypsy is important
within the esoteric culture for himself or herself: infants for their
ignorance and innocence of adult conflicts and complaints; young children
for their relative freedom from adult sexual understanding and constraints;
old people for their wisdom and (in the cases of a few women) supernatural
powers and so on. No group is marginal and only in the most extreme cases
is an individual written off as helpless or hopeless. Nearly everyone
speaks up, puts a word in, expresses a point of view, and is interested
in daily goings on. Each person plays a verbal and visible role on life's
Stage.
The role of the young woman in Kalderaš society is not as prestigious
as that of many men. She will probably never serve on a panel of judges in
12
the kris (Gypsy court), and according to many writers (Silverman 1979,
Gropper 1975, Sutherland 1975), she is subject to certain restrictions
because of her power to pollute and her unclean status at various times
in her life. Yet, she plays an important and highly functional part in
Kalderaš life. Her role is firmly rooted in tradition, custom, and the
esoteric concept of woman's place in human existence.
Jan Yoors writes of the Lowara nation of Rom, "Theirs was a cult
of the family, and the feminine ideal was that of the mother" (1967: 195).
Such also appears to be the case for the Kalderaša with whom I worked in
Philadelphia. The key to the importance of women in the society which
I was observing is their central position in family life. The family is
the strongest, most enduring, and most closely-knit unit of society for
the Philadelphia Kalderaša, and the woman, as both wife and mother, is
its mainstay.
As the central figure in the family, the woman is responsible for
many tasks and functions. These seem to divide themselves into the areas
of symbolism, symbiosis, and survival, yet all form part of an integrated
whole. In the flow of daily existence, the woman must not only handle the
caretaking role of a nurturing mother, of performing household chores and
caring for the children, but must also often function successfully in the
role of breadwinner. She is usually a member of the wortacha, a group of
women who join to run one or more fortunetelling stores and provide an in-
come for their families (Sutherland 1975:33,67). The woman is usually
expected to provide, through fortunetelling, the family's major or only
source of income (in addition to welfare payments). She often supports
her husband and children and on her shoulders rests the responsibility for
the commercial success of her ofisa (fortunetelling store). As a woman,
she may be viewed as not simply, as the non-Gypsy would actually say, a
13
mother but an archetypal mother figure: she is a symbol of the perpetuation
of 1jife, the survival of the Rom, and the flow of human existence. She
is the all-providing figure who feeds, clothes, nurtures, and maintains
those around her. Her importance in the family and in the society as a
whole is both symbolic and highly practical.
At an early age the Kalderaś female begins to prepare to fill this
place in the scheme of life. She receives practice in her various house-
keeping tasks both as a child and as a new bride in the home of her husband's
parents. From about the age of seven years old, she is given small jobs
and responsibilities around the house now and then. These are not in the
form of a daily routine but are suited to the needs of the moment: to
watch a smaller child, to clean up a room, to sweep or vacuum , or to
accompany another female child to a nearby store to purchase an item or
two of groceries. She 1earns early to move rapidly and easily from one
task to another and to contribute to the daily functioning of the family.
The little girl often (or even usually, as in Philadelphia) also is
trained to contribute to family income. She is expected to be a fortune-
teller or reader and advisor, as early as thirteen or fourteen, and as a
child she is trained for this profession. Fortunetelling as a means of
livelihood is a tradition among Gypsy women, and many little girls observe
their mothers, aunts, and other female relatives performing within this
tradition every day. They are taught that they have a natural gift for the
practice, that they received this gift from God, and that as fortunetellers
they will be performing a type of psychological counseling service for non-
Gypsies.
14
In Philadelphia and its surrounding suburbs, Gypsy male occupations
are many. They are, however, sporadic at best, and the major economic
burden falls upon women. In consequence, the women have adjusted their
trade to meet the legal, popular, and commercial demands of the present-
day, and they are in general adamant that it is the necessary and proper
calling for their daughters. Getting a long-term job in an office or other
non-Gypsy establishment is absolutely forbidden (both for men and women)
and there appears to be little prestige if any placed upon male labor.
The man who earns money may spend it on his own leisure time activities,
and the man of highest prestige is the one whose wife royally supports
him through fortunetelling. The small female child, then, watches her fe-
male relatives ply this trade, and she practices on her peers, relatives,
and any willing non-Gypsy customer. By the age of about eleven she may
be a competent fortuneteller, and by the age of fourteen she may tend an
ofisa virtually on her own for days at a time.
The training of the female child in these areas continues into the
teenage years. Among the Kalderaša, children mature relatively quickly
and a girl may marry at age fourteen or so. The bride is usually chosen
by the groom and his parents on the basis of several factors: the young
couple's liking for each other; the reputation of the prospective bride;
and her already-demonstrated talents in fortunetelling, caring for children,
and running a home. The bride price paid by the groom's parents to the
parents of his bride is based on all of these factors. The girl who is
a "real moneymaker" will command a higher fee, since her natal family will
lose her income when she marries.
Upon her marriage, the young girl passes from the status of Šavori or
rakli (1ittle girl) to that of bori. There is no ready translation for
15
this term, but it reflects the young woman's status as a fledgling member
of her young husband's extended family. For her mother-in-law, she is
a daughter-in-law, and may be addressed as "boryo" (vocative form of bori)
in this sense. The younger members of her new family, her husband's
brothers and sisters, for instance, may refer to her at first as "our bori".
Her new title is symbolic of her new status. Gropper (personal conver-
sation 1979) refers to this period in a young woman's life as an "apprentice-
ship", an apt term, since it conveys both the economic and the social
nature of the bori's role. she is continuing her training in both fortune-
telling and the other phases of family life. She is given many household
duties and is directed by almost everyone in her new family (often in a
commanding and peremptory tone). She waits on both guests and members of
the family (as she will later do as head of her own household) and contin-
ues her rapid and flexible movement from task to task. As a new member of
an established group, she is expected to obey, adjust, accommodate, and
prove her worth through the playing of traditional Kalderaš female roles.
The bori becomes a full-fledged woman when she bears her first child.
Women I talked with in Philadelphia who are recently married await the
births of children eagerly, because they are aware of the improved status
it will bring them. Arnold van Gennep, in his seminal work The Rites of
Passage (1960), discusses the importance of childbearing as an initation
into adulthood for the women (and their husbands) of many societies. For
the Kalderaša whom I observed, marriage is the beginning of this passage
into adulthood and the birth of the first child marks its culmination.
The bori then becomes a £omni, a Gypsy woman and wife. Her ties to her
husband's extended family then become very strong, for if she decides to
end the marriage for some reason and return to her parent's home, she may
16
not be permitted to take the child with her. At the point of the first
birth or soon after, the new parents usually begin making arrangements
to move to their own quarters, away from the husband's parents. Most
landlords in Philadelphia will not permit 1arge extended families to 1 ive
under the same roof, and many young couples are equally adamant about having
places of their own.
The young women with whom I worked have reached this point in their
lives. They vary from ages twenty-one to twenty-seven and have reached the
status of pomnya (Gypsy women). They have many differences and many things
in common. The generalizations which follow are based on extended observa-
tion of four informants and limited observation of several more. Rather
than using the interview method, which seemed entirely unsuitable, I re-
lied in my fieldwork on a combination of participant observation and non-
directed conversation. My observation was of daily life rather than of
special celebrations or events, and the roles played by young women in
daily life centered on the areas of symbolism, symbiosis, and survival,
which I will discuss.
First of all, the pomni at this stage in 1jife has completed her educa-
tion in the various roles which she is expected to fill. She has graduated,
so to speak, from the apprenticeship to her mother (in early childhood) and
the apprenticeship to her mother-in-law which followed. She is no longer
an inexperienced member of her husband's family (especially if there is a
newer daughter-in-law), but a leader of a new family of her own. She will
always be a daughter-in-law, but she is also now a mother. She is a re-
spected member of the extended family to which she has contributed both
income and progeny. She may (in many cases) have weathered a first un-
successful marriage and the relationship in which she is currently involved
17
will probably, last for the rest of her life. She has acquired the tools for
making a success of herself on her own, and it is during this period that
she is put to the test.
The young woman who has moved with her husband and children to an
ofisa and apartment of her own is often the only woman of her immediate
household. She is more 1ikely than ever, in urban Philadelphia, to be
living in a nuclear family situation from day to day. Rather than travel-
ing to her ofisa from her home, leaving her children in care of someone
else, she usually lives in a city apartment which is both her dwelling
and her place of business. Her husband and her small child or children
live in this apartment with her, and thus her jobs as fortuneteller, wife,
and mother are performed in the same setting. The apartment, depending OIn
its size and architecture, has an area for family and private living, in-
cluding the kitchen and bathroom, and a storefront room, alcove, or curtained-
off space for the accommodation of fortunetelling customers while they
are receiving readings. Often the front room will have several large chairs
or couches used for the seating of customers, and it thus functions SOTIle-
times as a second living room when friends or guests arrive. The business
setting is thus either very close to the home area or part of it, and a11
are united under one roof.
In this setting the young gomni both lives and works. The apartment
may be one of her extended family's network of stores, where she will live
for several months or years before moving on to another in the chain, or she
may have to locate and rent it herself, asking questions of strangers in the
neighborhood as to the identity of the 1and 1.0rd and so forth. In many cases
she is not able to read classified ads, but can often find someone to help
18
her do so. She may also have to obtain furnishings for her establish-
ment, renting it if that is feasible or buying it if she can afford to.
She must also, usually with her husband's help, obtain signs for the store
and take out ads in local newspapers. Her husband is often a partner in
these activities but they are ultimately her responsiblity. She must
also see to the printing and distribution of handbills advertising her
store (young children often hand these out in stores or on street corners).
She must equip the fortunetelling area with religious statues, pictures,
icons, flowers (always artificial) and other trappings. Although she may
pool her resources with other female partners, she is nevertheless expected
to meet day-to-day expenses of food, clothing, gifts, laundry, and pocket
money for her husband out of daily cash flow. Of the young women I ob-
served, every one was married with at least one child, operating an of isa,
and successfully fulfilling her responsibility for her family's survival
by the operation of a fortunetelling business.
Although she sees her customers at home, the ſomni in effect passes
from her own culture into that of the Gaže (non-Gypsies) in order to finance
her family's survival. I am indebted to Rena Gropper for the term "symbiosis"
to describe the economic relationship between Gypsies and non-Gypsies.
Symbiosis is an exchange in which each party tolerates the presence of the
other alien group in order to obtain from it some type of gain. The Kalderaša
in Philadelphia are dependent upon the non-Gypsy population for their mone-
tary income; the Gałe, on the other hand, are willing consumers of the pro-
duct that readers and advisors sell. Women are the major Kalderaš agents
of this symbiotic exchange. They are the producers and marketers of a pro-
duct which non-Gypsies have eagerly purchased for centuries: tourist
folklore. Readers and advisors learn their skills through oral folk tradition,
19
yet they practice their skill as a commercial venture only for members
of cultures outside their own.
In order to cross the barriers into exoteric cultures, Gypsy women
alter their own culture's religious ritual and symbolism into an exoteri-
cally popular and marketable form. For example, large candles are an im-
portant ceremonial part of the religious festival or slava (saint's day)
(Silverman 1979:185). Correspondingly, the fortuneteller often asks her
customer to pay for large sacred candles which will be ceremonially burned
for his or her spiritual (and temporal) benefit. This practice of candle-
burning is never actually performed by the fortuneteller on the customer's
behalf; it is important only that the customer believe it is occurring. In
- his article, "Four Functions of Folklore," William Bascom (1954) discusses
folklore's function as a source of entertainment and amusement. A logical
extension of this function is one culture's use of its folklore in a dis–
guised or altered form for the entertainment of another (especially where
a profit may be obtained by such a use). Whether or not the customer has
come for entertainment, then, or for a type of lay therapy (to confide in
a good listener, for instance), it is the pomni who must understand and
manipulate the symbols of her own in order for the process of symbiosis
to continue without detriment to either culture. In the Philadelphia area,
women of the Kalderaš group are highly skilled practitioners of this verbal
art. As a result, they appear to be in general a prosperous group, also.
In addition to obtaining cash, the young pomni may occasionally also
arrange for the flow into the family coffers of another element besides
money which will help to ensure and demonstrate the prosperity of her family.
That element is gold. For the Kalderaša, gold symbolizes purity and good
20
fortune." Perhaps because of its beauty and the security of its value
(as opposed to paper currency), it appears to be a prestigious and coveted
substance. One pomni whom I visited as a customer and later as a field-
worker felt that it was part of her responsibility as a reader and advisor
to separate as many of her customers as possible from as much of their gold
as possible, yet always subtly and with their consent. Many readers whom
I have visited seem to share this view, and attempt to find ways to convince -
a client that it will be for his or her benefit to part with jewelry, usually
for some purpose involving religious ritual and symbolism. A reader may say,
for example, "Put your heart into this chain, put all your wishes into it,
and I will use it to pray for you." If she must, a reader may offer to buy
the gold. In such a case, she must insure herself by being able to identify
real gold and estimate its value, besides convincing the client to part
with it.
When she begins to administer her own business and home, the young
gomni is the agent of yet another facet of the symbiotic relationship.
The importance of the §om in the economic system must not be underestimated.
Contrary to popular stereotypes, they do not exist on the economic fringes
of society, stealing chickens and struggling in abject poverty. Even when
they collect welfare payments, they put this cash back into the economy.
They eat, wear clothes, drive automobiles, attend movies and sports events.
Yet they have no agriculture, garment trade, automobile manufacturing in-
dustry, or entertainment industry within their own society. Gypsies in the
urban world are consumers, an important role in the American capitalist
economy, and women are the major controllers of this process of consump-
tion. They control the purse-strings of their families (within a certain
role-structure), making purchases and point-of-purchase decisions. Much
21
of what they use, they buy. In Philadelphia, a young ſomni may spend much
of her time spending money. She buys clothing for herself and her family at
department or factory outlet stores. She buys furnishings and appliances
for her home and ofisa (especially the ubiquitous vacuum cleaner), food,
cleaning supplies, and other household items such as garbage bags, towels,
cosmetics, and so on. In order to facilitate this exchange of money for
goods, the young woman must 1ocate the proper places, evaluate them, and
find the time to visit them in her busy daily life of seeing customers
and watching her children. She must maintain a certain place in the urban
community, cultivating the goodwill of storekeepers in order to get exactly
what she wants (and because it is good for her own business), yet
preserving the appropriate distance and separateness. She is both consumer
and diplomat, and must decide how far she will allow the world of the non-
Gypsy to intrude upon her own (and vice versa), and for what purposes.
According to Silverman (1979, chapters III and IV), she has 10wer status
with in her own culture because she so frequently crosses these dividing
lines.” Yet she also possesses an impressive confidence in dealing with
the non-Gypsy world, a confidence which is certainly not duplicated by the
Gaze when they encounter Gypsies and Gypsy culture. Although because of her
sex and status she will never style herself the "King of the Gypsies"
and negotiate with non-Gypsies for political advantages, she plays an im-
portant role in the process of symbiosis between the two cultures, especially
on the day-to-day 1evel of financial survival. When she is in her mid- or
early twenties, she is likely to bear quite a heavy responsibility for the
burden of this role. Usually, none of her children is old enough yet to
more than assist her minimally in all her daily activities; in many cases
her children are infants and toddlers who require a great deal of care.
22
She may have one child of about eight or nine who really helps aroung the
house, but she will be required to do so only if she is a female child.”
Most city mothers are reluctant to send a child of seven or eight to the
St Ore unaccompanied. So, the young £omni must generally manage on her own --
all at the same time -- her responsibilities in the home and in the outside
community.
So, the young Gypsy wife in the city must make all her worlds mesh
effectively. She adapts quickly and runs constantly: to the phone, to
the store, to see a customer, to the laundromat, to greet a guest, to feed
or diaper a baby. The Kalderaš children whom I met are being raised at
home; none go to school, daycare centers, or any caretakers other than
parents, friends, and relatives. They are part of daily interaction and
their companionship appears to be highly valued. However, they are never-
theless children and require attention and care of a special sort. The
young mother has the major responsibility for this role. While the father
often plays with them or directs them, in many cases he appears reluctant
to assist with care and feeding, if indeed he is present at all. In
the process of daily life, men appear to drop in occasionally in their
travels from sports events, to visiting with friends, to bars, to gambling
in Atlantic City. Only one male informant of mine spent most of his
time at home, and he usually watched television or engaged in pursuits
which are viewed by non-Gypsy society as those of the male role: fix-
ing things around the place, etc.
The young wife, often on her own, attempts to mediate among her vari-
ous demands and roles, fulfilling the expectations of her culture in many
different ways. As she speeds from task to task, sometimes giving a read-
ing while holding a baby on her lap, or feeding a baby while she entertains
guests, she must, incidentally, adhere to a certain dress code. While the
§om in Philadelphia do not dress as conservatively as those in other cities
23
are reported to do (Sutherland 1975:27; Hancock, personal conversation
1980) (e.g., the women do not wear floor length skirts), there is an
accepted mode of attire. According to several of my informants, pants
are considered too revealing, to wear them is "shame". The idea of
wearing sneakers or low-heeled shoes while working was greeted with
much hilarity, and little girls of two or three years old are often
dressed in high-heeled sandals. In the company of one of my informants,
I slipped off my own high-heeled shoes and complained about my tired
feet and legs. "Don't your feet ever get tired wearing those?" I asked,
gesturing at her high-heeled mules. "No," she answered, "I guess we
get use to it." While the headscarf is considered traditional attire for
the married woman, it is by no means required. However, several of my in-
formants went out of their way to put one on before seeing a customer. The
gomnya in Philadelphia may often be found going about their work, clean-
ing, dusting, mopping, and vacuuming, in high-heels, tight midi-length
skirts, silk blouses and jewelry. They especially favor dresses with
pockets, since the pockets may be used to hold money, car keys, cigarettes,
and other belongings; the handbag is not in evidence for this purpose,
and the young woman is distinctly inconvenienced when her clothing does
not meet her needs. In a grocery store she may ask for a small paper
bag and use it to hold change and other belongings while she makes her
next stop.
The young gomni clearly bears important and varied responsibilities.
She is prepared for these by the education and training of her early years,
received within her own culture without resorting to any cultural institu-
tion other than that of the family. The pleasures she feels appear to pro-
ceed largely from her roles; so do her conflicts and discontents. Many pomnya
24
With whom I spoke appear to feel bored and cooped up much of the time, and
eager to spend time away from their small children. One young wife said,
for example, "Those kids, they're driving me crazy. I could kill them.
You love then, but sometimes you could kill them. They're always there."
Her recreation is usually a trip to the movies or a restaurant with her
husband and often with her children, too; she may spend more of the movie
or dinner watching a child than she does enjoying herself. Many informants
speak of a desire to go out for pleasure alone or with a female friend
more often. One young woman said to me of her husband, "I don't want to
hurt his feelings, but sometimes I just don't want to go out with him."
Her time away from her family is usually spent at the laundromat late
at night after customers have stopped coming to her ofisa, if she can per-
suade her husband to watch the children while she goes. (Her job in this
respect has been made slightly easier by the advent of disposable diapers
and infant formula.)
Many of my informants also complained of the time they must spend in
maintenance-type tasks. If guests are visiting, they must often forgo the
opportunity to socialize and remain in the background working : cooking,
doing dishes, folding clothing, cleaning, or seeing customers. At the end
of a long day, the young wife must often clean the house to prepare for the
next day's activities, and if it is decided late at night to leave on a
trip the following morning, it is she who rushes to the laundromat at one
a.m. to prepare for the journey. One of my in formants spent one such visit
to the laundromat discussing her husband's role. "I ask him and ask him,"
she said, "but he just won't help. I get tired of going out on my own with
all this stuff and sitting around the laundromat with the Gaže. Look:
there's men here, doing laundry, but he says it's not right for Gypsy boys
to do that. Well, it wouldn't kill him."
25
Another conflict to be dealt with is the one between the young
wife and the mother-in-law. Their respective ideas of how the young pomni
should conduct herself often vary. Since she is on her own now, she may
solve this conflict by simply doing as she pleases, but she may only do
SO when her mother-in-law is not present, or suffer reproaches from many
people, often including her husband. At this stage in 1jfe, she begins
asserting her own authority and status. For instance, one of my infor-
mants told me, "I talk up for my rights. I been telling my sister-in-law
[who is a gaśi-komi, and very intimidated), you gotta talk up for your
rights." She also stated, "My mother-in-law, she's crazy. She wants me
to get up every morning and put on a long dress and the full make-up.
I don't got time for that. I got two kids to take care of . Besides, she's
in Florida, so what do I care?"
The young woman of the Philadelphia Kalderaša is a person who has
just come into her own. She is enabled, by her cultural training, to be
confident and competent at her tasks. She has learned to adjust rapidly
and gracefully to an ever-changing domestic and professional milieu, and
she deals easily and energetically with many roles. She speaks up in
English (her second language) and asks for information from strangers, deals
with the public, and directs the lives of her fortunetelling customers. She
presents herself as a symbol of serenity and knowledge to her clientele
while running her family circus behind the scenes. She looks forward to
the day when her children will be grown and she will enjoy a position of
greater status and authority; often, she swears that she will remember
what it was 1jike to be a young wife and be easier on her daughters-in-law.
She worries about her daughters and the necessity of finding food families
26
to marry them into, and her sons and the money that will be required to
obtain good wives for them. She relaxes in her own home, slipping out
of her shoes and headscarf and going about her tasks in greater comfort
when she is unobserved. Her status in her own society seems actually to
be lower because she is the worker. Yet, my young informants have one
thing in common: they are not lacking in self-esteem. They are not uncer-
tain, depressed, or in doubt as to the choice of a career, a role in life,
a place in the world. They have many moments of boredom and discontent, but
by and large they are full of energy, confidence, and drive. They may
appear to have limited choices of both careers and forms of recreation,
but they live and 1augh and continue performing their jobs and serving
as the motivating force of daily life. In their many roles, played with
perception and devotion, they ensure the continuing symbiosis of the non-
Gypsy world and their own society. They are sustained through the ups and
downs of life by the strength of their family ties and their own intelli-
gence, and they play a dynamic part in the survival of the Kalderaša.
They have a subtle understanding of the symbols of their own folk religion
and those of non-Gypsy popular culture and religion, and they skillfully
employ it for their own economic and cultural survival. Each young
Kalderaš pomni makes a living and she makes a home. In doing so, she makes
something of herself, and she knows it.
27
NOTES
Numerous conversations with informants seemed conclusive on this point.
The use of the term "lower" status is my own choice and perhaps an
oversimplification. Silverman discusses this status as marime
(unclean or potentially polluting) in greater depth.
Gropper (1975), Silverman (1979), and Sutherland (1975) all mention the
much greater amount of play time enjoyed by male children in Gypsy
society.
REFERENCES
Bascom, William
1954 Four Functions of Folklore. Journal of American Folklore 67:
333–49.
Gropper, Rena C.
1975 Gypsies in the City: Culture Patterns and Survival. Princeton,
N.J. : Darwin Press.
Silverman, Carol
1979 Expressive Behavior as Adaptive Strategy among American Gypsies.
Ph.D. dissertation, Department of Folklore and Folklife, University
of Pennsylvania.
Sutherland, Anne
Van
1975 Gypsies: The Hidden Americans. New York: Macmillan.
Gennep, Arnold
1960 The Rites of Passage. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.
Yoors, Jan
1967 The Gypsies. New York: Simon and Schuster.
28
GYPSY TASKMASTERS, GENTILE SLAVES
David Nemeth
Che-Ju National University
Cemetery research, a useful field method in
the social sciences, may also benefit American
Gypsy Studies. Individuals interred at New Calvary
Cemetery in East Los Angeles have been identified
as Kalderaš pot-menders. Gypsy families practic-
ing the metalworking trades often utilize non-Gypsy
labor. Among Gypsy families there is widespread
occurrence of Gypsy paternalism toward certain
classes of non-Gypsies, both men and women, often
Blacks, who are sought out and recruited as laborers
and house-servants. These "Gentile slaves" of
Gypsies are willing to play servile roles to their
Gypsy taskmasters. The Gypsies and their servants
are able to live in extremely close spatial sym-
biosis. However, wide social distance is usually
maintained throughout the relationship at the dis-
cretion of the Gypsy, who is perhaps guided by
Gypsy conventions in matters of this sort.
Although the topic of Gypsy taskmasters is the focal point of this
paper, attention will be given initially to cemetery research as a use-
ful field method, and to families of Kalderaš pot-menders who practice
an ancient tin-plating technique known to the metal-working trades as
wipe-tinning.
The only landscape that characterizes Gypsy culture in North America
may be the landscape of the Gypsy cemetery. Gypsy cemeteries are visual
and spatial expressions of Gypsy death that can inform us about Gypsy life:
Gypsiologists in North America may find that cemeteries are useful sources
of information about Gypsies, their settlement history, territorial behavior
and social structure.
General comments about cemeteries and their data apply to Gypsy cem-
eteries as well. For example:
29
The cemetery is a microcosm of the real world,
and binds a particular generation of men to the
architectural and perhaps even spatial preferences
and prejudices that accompanied them throughout
life [Francaviglia 1971:501] .
the deepest values and structure of the
community are reflected in the artifacts of
the graveyard [Young 1960:44.6] .
Gypsiologists in Great Britain have been able to develop extensive
genealogies of British Gypsy families, in part by visiting their cem—
eteries.” Unfortunately, they have not published a methodology or a
systematic checklist for use in Gypsy cemetery research. Gypsiologists
in North America are conspicuously silent on the matter of cemetery re-
search. However, policemen assigned to bunco details have made known
their use of Gypsy cemetery data. For example, Daniel J. Campion, the
New York police officer, made notes in regard to "various different spell–
ings of gypsy given names as shown on the tombstones of gypsies in New
Jersey " (Mitchell 1955:39). One supposes he did so because the data is
useful.
While studies of the Kalderaš in North America hardly shun the theme
of mortality, they have little to say about Kalderaš cemeteries.” Yet the
characteristically Gypsy landscape and activity I have observed at New
Calvary cemetery in Los Angeles indicate that Kalderaš cemeteries are in-
trinsic to contemporary Kalderaš culture.
Both Mačvaya and Kalderaś family artifacts dominate the Gypsy cemetery
at New Calvary, which has been fashioned out of one corner of this old and
predominant Iy non-Gypsy Catholic cemetery. Gypsy cemetery artifacts include
death memorial stones and monuments which, by their types and styles, lo-
cations, and inscribed information, advertise the existence of a local Gypsy
community, its architectural and spatial preferences, its prejudices, its
30
associational patterns, its values, and its changes and conflicts.
For example, inferences from surnames inscribed on tombstones indicate
a complex affinity existing between Kalderaš and Mačvaya families in
Los Angeles. Also, that there is an attempt by these Gypsies to main-
tain distance in the graveyard between themselves and non-Gypsies, and be-
tween themselves and outcastes from their society, for example, suicides.
In the Gypsy cemetery, an observer can begin to appreciate that Gypsy tomb-
stone architecture is indeed a cultural artifact. The tombstones are de-
signed and located, it seems, to manifest family propriety, family status
and family territoriality. Finally, one discovers in the Gypsy cemetery,
a preference to locate Gypsy plots on pathways and drives and near trees
and shrubs; this preference for a home on a thoroughfare is characteristic
of Mačvaya and Kalderaš 1ife as well as death.
There are several types and styles of Kalderaš tombstones at New Calvary
ranging from simple horizontal tablets to the most elaborate monuments that
can only be described as soaring, temple-like. I have listed surnames copied
from memorial stones of over 200 Gypsies buried at New Calvary, ranging from
Adam through Yonko.
One Kalderaš grave has a marker -- a simple horizontal plaque -- inscribed
as follows: "In Memory of WOSO DAVIDO. Born South America, 1912. Died 1937.
Rest in Peace, COPPERSMITH. The Davido, along with Nicholas," Demitrow and
John surnames are surnames commonly used by certain Kalderaš metal-workers
who are commercial travellers, and who specialize in repairing kitchen utensils
and other metal articles. Their technique of repairing utensils by wipe-tinning
particularly interests me. I learned the wipe-tinning technique fom a Nicholas
pot-mender during the late 1960's and have lately made comparisons of his
technique with other descriptions of Kalderaš wipe-tinning techniques provided
by Ronald Lee (1969:105-106; 1971:21–22), the Salos (1977: 140), and Pickett
(1965: 95). 31
Kalderaš wipe-tinners usually have printed business cards on which
they will handwrite their addresses and phone numbers. For example, I
have before me a copy of a business card that reads: COVACHE DAVIDO.
We Do Special Tinning Work On All Kinds of Metal and Equipment. Steam
Jacket Kettles, Extractor Baskets, Mixing Balls for Bakeries, and Cream-
ery Wats Etc. Our Specialty.” Mixing Bowls has been misspelled on this card.
' used here as a trade name, is derived from the Rumanian noun mean-
"Covache,'
ing "blacksmith."
During the early stages of my research on Kalderaš pot-mending, I was
surprised to find that non-Gypsy labor is often contracted by Kalderaš pot-
menders, sometimes on a 10ng-term basis. Since this discovery, I have become
sensitized to the idea of the Gypsy as a taskmaster and have searched for
evidence supporting the idea.
For example, when Olof Gjerdman, the Swedish linguist, reports (Gjerdman
and Ljungberg 1963: viii) that his Kalderaš informant, Johan Dimitri Taikon,
"assumed for a while the role of taskmaster, " I do not presume that he is
using the word "taskmaster" metaphorically. And if Taikon is the acknowledged
taskmaster, then Gjerdman must be assuming a subservient role in their relation-
ship.
The remainder of this paper will feature Gypsy taskmasters, and cer–
tain non-Gypsies in subservient roles, whom I will refer to as "Gentiles" due
to their marked social distance from the Gypsies. I will lump the subservient
Gentiles together in this discussion as "slaves" not only for effect, but be-
cause the English Gypsiologist Thomas Acton reports (1974:75) such people are
actually called "slaves" when they are sought out and employed as blacktoppers
by Irish Travellers.
Paraphrasing Acton, Irish Travellers recruit their slaves from skid row
flop-houses. Examples of Travellers' slaves include an ex-sailor with a speech
defect, and a mental defective. Act on supposes such people are very
32
grateful to sleep in the back of a van and usually incapable of 1earning
the blacktopping business and becoming competitors. Travellers pay their
slaves wages and tolerate their eccentricities. To summarize, Travellers'
slaves are characterized as vagrant types, misfits in Gentile society, hav-
ing no social group of their own.
The institution of slavery has been known among peoples in all quarters
of the world; to discover what appear to be house slaves and personal slaves
among Gypsies and Gypsy-1ike peoples should really not be surprising. Irish
Travellers are not the Kalderaš, of course, but the Kalderaš, in particualar,
have reason to be familiar with the institution of slavery. Their ancestors,
the Calderari, were descended from Rumanian Gypsies who may have already been
slaves in the middle of the 14th century. Slavery was not abolished in Rumania
until 1856. Between the 14th and the 19th centuries many Rumanian Gypsy
slaves were acting as grooms, coachmen, cooks and domestic servants to their
owners. Even the nomadic "Slaves of the Crown" during this period depended
for their survival on the patronage of local aristocrats. As slaves, Gypsies
were in a perfect position to learn the roles of patrons.
Coppersmith Gypsies were reported in Denmark in 1911:
they were . . . on business, horse-dealing,
having with them also a hired man, a grinder.
[Miskow 1913–14:247].7
During the same year, in England, Coppersmiths on their way to the Americas
are reported (Winstedt 1912–13:277) temporarily quartered in a house, "in-
dulging in the luxury of an English maid-servant." The maid-servant might
have performed several functions; she probably cleaned areas of the house
that were defiling to the Coppersmiths. And, she was probably used by the
33
Coppersmiths as a tutor in English, and as a scribe, because communication in
English was a primary problem in the Coppersmith resettlement process. No
doubt the Coppersmiths studied her closely, insofar as her habits, needs, in-
securities, and so on, were typical of Englishwomen.
Winstedt reports that these same Coppersmiths
often engaged an interpreter to accompany them, paying
him 2s. a day. One Bohemian youth practically lived with
them, and accompanied them from Liverpool to London, Glas-
glow, and South America [1913–14:283 ].
Winstedt also complains how he himself -- a physician -- was used by the
Calderari "in the arduous task of searching for pans to beat" (p. 283).
Turning to examples of servile Gentiles among Kalderaš in the United
States, Victor Weybright recalls a person attached to a caravan in 1929:
He was a West Indies negro, with a Ford car, bound
to old Stivos Milo (from Brazil) for one year. His vir-
tual apprenticeship was not one of probation; at the end
of the year he was to be kicked out. in spite of his content-
ment and in spite of the fact that he once had helped a son
of Milo's to stow away out of Havana [ 1929:187 ).
Several years later, George B. Oujevolk reported the following
activities at a Kalderaš christening in Brooklyn. Oujevolk says:
In the rear of the shop there was a small
kitchen, and in it several Gypsy women, assisted
by a few negro boys, were cooking. These negroes
seem content to work for the Gypsies for nothing,
and the Gypsies often come to regard them as part
of the family. They are not slaves, nor are they
treated 1jike slaves. They just seem to take to the
Gypsy mode of life, and are content to live with
the Gypsies. A few have learned to speak Romanes.
[1935:126).
These Black assistants may have been working off family debts to
the Gypsies. William Phillips Gordon has pointed out that
34
When the [fortune-tellers' ] client is short
of money, she may be asked to perform some task
for the Gypsy such as to help clean her home,
iron her clothes, or vacuum her floor. [1972: 119).
One final example of Gentile labor being employed by Kalderaš
taskmasters is reported by Matt and Sheila Salo where they have observed
that
Several Kalderaś families have adopted the
practice of hiring non-Gypsy babysitters sometimes
on a live-in basis, who also function as house-
keepers. These babysitters travel with the
family . . . and are taught to follow the customs
of the household [1977:240].
Among non-Kalderaš Gypsy taskmasters in the United States are ex-
amples of Ludari taskmasters. Kornblum and Lichter have described
hobos
treated as servants who did much of the undesirable
work around the camp, including cutting firewood for
cooking stoves and caring for the family's menagerieſ 1972: 241-242}.
Matt Salo also reports on
related families of Ludari who maintain a
private trailer camp in Louisiana as winter
headquarters. The only non-Ludari in that camp
are a few black assistants who do not enter the
trailers of the Ludari and are excluded from group
social life [1979:80].
During the preparation of this paper I had been 10oking for an
opportune moment during my conversations with the Kalderaš to broach
the subject of the Gypsy taskmaster. I was glad to see the matter come
up spontaneously this past July during a slava. The Gypsies at one mo-
ment were discussing physical strength. A Nicholas boy who had recently
spent several weeks on a roofing job in Cleveland, remarked that the strong-
est man he had ever seen was a Black employed by his sister's husband's
father. This Black had "a strong back and a weak mind" according to the
35
boy. The Gypsies in Cleveland found him very useful and would drive
ten miles out of their way to pick the fellow up each day. They paid
him by the hour, but what I thought were meager wages. Other Gypsies at
the party also had stories about servile Gentiles they had employed or
knew about.
One story reminded me of those Gypsy slaves in Rumania, centuries
ago, who sometimes fled their estate and, having nothing of their own,
would make off with all they could carry and their master's best horse.
It seems that a Kalderaš family had two Gentile laborers -- B1acks —– that
lived in the basement of the Gypsy headquarters. Again, the story re-
lates that the laborers were extremely strong men, but not particularly
bright. One day the taskmaster woke up to discover that his two daughters
had eloped with his two helpers.
The point in presenting these several examples is to demonstrate
the widespread occurrence of a tradition of Gypsy paternalism toward cer-
tain classes of Gentiles. In these examples the Gentile slave, or servant,
is usually accepted in his or her place by the Gypsy taskmaster, and even
1oved in a condescending way. These Gypsies and Gentiles are often able
to live in extremely close spatial symbiosis. However, the normally wide
social distance between the two groups is maintained at the discretion of
the taskmaster, who perhaps follows strict guidelines or conventions in
such matters that are set by his group.”
Most Gentile slaves of Gypsies in the United States then, might be
characterized as unskilled social misfits, often Blacks, who are
1) willing to become subservient to Gypsies;
2) capable of learning Gypsy ways, but incapable
of learning enough of Gypsy business practices
to become competitors;
36
3) lacking in what John Sampson (1932: 1) once
called "impertinent and dangerous curiosity." 9
"Impertinent and dangerous curiosity" may be what many of us call "field
work." It is ironic that some students of Gypsy culture give away body
and soul for a few scraps of information of dubious value, while another
class of Gentiles -- lacking literary ambition -- are invited into intimate
spatial relationship with Gypsies where there is so much to observe and
to learn. This class of Gentiles, referred to in my examples as slaves,
maids, servants, assistants, interpreters, bondmen, hired hands and so
on, should be sought out by Gypsiologists and interviewed. Where are they?
Perhaps some are back in the flop-houses and ghettos where the Gypsies
first recruited them. Others may be out there aping the Gypsy life-style.
For example Bercovici gives an account of some vagabonds who may have
had a brush with Gypsy taskmasters. Bercovici says:
In Ohio recently I found one morning a camp
of negroes who traveled in a big motor lorry.
The men were dancing cakewalks on the street
corners for the amusements of the villagers and
for pay, and the women were attempting to tell
fortunes and sell baskets and amulets. When I
questioned (one), telling him that I had never
before seen colored people camp outdoors in
that fashion, he answered with pride, "We isn't
colored people any moh, we is Gipsies" [1922:517].
So, to answer the question "Why do the Kalderaš and other Gypsies en-
slave and employ Gentiles?" I would suggest that it is done out of sheer
necessity, in order to preserve Kalderaš traditions and to promote Kalderaš
cultural continuity. Gentile slaves are the solution to many everyday prob-
lems in contemporary Kalderaš life. For example, cheap labor is important
to Kalderaš economic success; having Gentile slaves is a practical way for
Kalderaś families to minimize expenditures and to remain competitive in
37
their work, while preserving traditional trades. The slaves also help
enable the Kalderaš to live in houses and apartments without becoming de-
filed; someone has to clean those water closets And finally, the Kalderaš
need their slaves in order to function in our literate society; if no mem–
ber of the Kalderaš household can read and write, a Gentile slave enables
that household to continue to shun Gentile schools and yet cope with paper-
work.
To conclude: this paper was organized in an attempt to promote Gypsy
Studies research in three areas. First, a general appreciation of Gypsy
cemetery data may increase the understanding of local, regional and national
Gypsy settlement. Second, a closer inspection of diverse Gypsy occupations,
for instance wipe-tinning, may provide a data base that assists researchers
In mapping out oway commisation networks, for example, as innovations
and new technologies are diffused among Gypsy culture-bearers. Also, as
different occupations have always been a major factor (along with 1anguage,
1ocation and mobility) leading to gradual differentiation among Gypsies,
increased research on Gypsy occupations may enhance attempts to classify
contemporary Gypsy groups. Finally, the existence of a class of non-Gypsies
in the service of Gypsies, men and women, often Blacks, that harbor intimate
perspectives on everyday Gypsy life, invites scholarly inspection. Given the
nature of the problem, students in the fields of Gypsy Studies and Black
Studies might hope for a productive exchange of ideas.
38
NOTES
Young's statement summarizes ideas set forth by Warner (1958).
To cite as examples some of the more substantive references: Somer-
set burial-places of Gypsies are listed in Watson (1933) ; Winstedt
(1953) 1earned of the Jowles family by visiting Yatton Churchyard;
Evans (1955) uses cemetery data in sorting out the Chilcott, Lee
and Slender families.
An English Gypsy graveyard near Dayton, Ohio, is described by Adah
Dodd–Poince (1908:413–418). C. H. Tillhagen (1952:47–48) touches on
the morphology of the Swedish Kalderaš cemetery landscape. Also,
oblique reference to "one of the biggest" Gypsy cemeteries in the
United States is made by Salo and Salo (1977:240). The word "cemeteries"
is missing from indices to major works on the Kalderaš in North
America.
Affinity between the Davido and Nicholas families is indicated by
Oujevolk (1935:123). -
I would like to thank Ms. Lyn Smith, a member of Gypsy Lore Society,
for the use of Mr. Davido's business card as an example.
Singular Kovas, plural Kovasi. See Gjorgjevic (1929:23).
The terms Calderai, Coppersmith and Kalderaš are used to refer to
the same type of Gypsies in this paper.
There is a body of general theory explaining the kinds of inter-
group relationships I have been describing, and I recommend Van den
Berghe (1970) to those who might be interested in other examples.
Sampson made this comment in 1897.
39
REFERENCES CITED
Acton, Thomas. -
1974 Gypsy Politics and Social Change. London: Routledge & Kegan
Paul.
Bercovici, Konrad.
1922 The American Gypsy. Century Magazine 103:507–519.
Dodd-Poince, Adah. -
1908 The Gypsies Under The Stanley Government. Ohio Magazine
4 : 413–418.
Evans, Ivor H.N.
1955 Chilcotts, Lees and S1enders. JGLS, * Third Series, 43 (3–4):
Francaviglia, Richard W.
1971 The Cemetery as an Evolving Cultural Landscape. Annals of the
Association of American Geographers 61.
Gjerdman, Olof and Erik Ljungberg.
1963 The Language of the Swedish Coppersmith Gipsy Johan Dimitri
Taikon. Uppsala : Lundequistska.
Gjorgjevic, Tihomir R. º
1929 Rumanian Gypsies in Serbia. JGLS, Third Series, 8(1): 7-25. .
Gordon, William Phillips. -
1972 Gypsy Fortune–Telling in Houston. M.A. Thesis, Rice University.
Kornblum, William and Paul Lichter.
1972 Urban Gypsies and the Culture of Poverty. Urban Life and Culture.
1(3):241-242. º
Lee, Ronald. -
1969 The Gypsies in Canada. JGLS, Third Series, 48 (3–4): 92-107. ,
1971 Goddam Gypsy. Montralal: Tundra Books.
Miskow, Johan.
1913–1914 Rebekka Demeter. JGLS, New Series, 7 (4): 247–260. .
Mitchell, Joseph.
1955 Profiles: The Beautiful Flower. New Yorker. 31 (16): 39–89.
Oujevolk, George B.
1935 The Gypsies of Brooklyn in 1934. JGLS, Third Series, 14(3):
121-127.
*JGLS = Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society
40
Pickett, David W.
1965 The Gypsies in Mexico. JGLS, Third Series, 44 (3–4): 81–99.
Salo, Matt and Sheila Salo.
1977 The Kalderaš in Eastern Canada. National Museums of Canada,
Folk Culture Studies Paper No. 21.
Salo, Matt.
1979 Gypsy Ethnicity: Implications of Native Categories and Inter-
action for Ethnic Classification. Ethnicity 6(1): 73–96.
Sampson, John.
1932 The Romano Rai. JGLS, Third Series 11(1): 1-3.
Tillhagen, Carl-Herman.
1952 Funeral and Death Customs of the Swedish Gypsies. JGLS, Third
Series, 31 (1–2): 29-54.
Van den Berghe, Pierre L. .
1970 Race and Ethnicity. New York: Basic Books.
Warner, W. Lloyd.
1958 The Living and the Dead. New Haven: Yale University Press.
Watson, W. G. Willis.
1933 Pestiferous Carbuncles in Somerset. JGLS, Third Series, 12(2):
82–93 tº
Weybright, Victor.
1929 Review of the Story of the Gypsies, by Konrad Bercovici. JGLS,
Third Series, 8 (4): 184–189.
Winstedt, E.O.
1953 The Jowles Family. JGLS, Third Series, 32 (1–2): 87–80.
Young, Frank W.
1960 Graveyards and Social Structure. Rural Sociology 25(4).
EDUCATION AND THE KALDERAš
John Kearney
George Williams College
The Kalderaš today are caught on the horns
of a dilemma. On the one hand they need the skills
of literacy and computation, which the schools have
a virtual monopoly on imparting, and on the other
hand they have a legitimate fear of loss of their
culture if they send their children to school to
learn these skills. There are five good reasons
why the Kalderaš should not participate in the
formal educational process: 1) they would be re-
quired to identify themselves, and to identify one-
self as a 'Gypsy has frequently in the past meant
discrimination and oppression by governmental author-
ities, 2) the specific practices of the schools
are repugnant to the Kalderaš sense of cleanliness
and morality, 3) the very aim of public education
is to "Americanize" and thereby deculturize them,
4) the methodology of treating people in groups
rather than as individuals in contrary to their
ways, and 5) the children are subjected to humil-
iation in the schools. As a result, such few pro-
grams as have been set up to meet the needs have
had 1jimited success at best. In the school year
1973-1974 a program was established in Chicago,
Illinois, that tried to meet the needs of the
Kalderaš without any of the objectionable features
found in public education generally. This program
met only partial acceptance among the Kalderaš and
was rejected totally by the regular educational
establishment. It was discontinued after six months.
The basic question as to whether the culture can sur-
vive in a 1íterate society was not answered by this
program.
It is almost axiomatic to assume that one of the primary aims of
minority groups is to achieve equal access to the formal educational
structure of the nation of which they are a part. Demands for equal
educational opportunity have become commonplace wherever minority pro-
tests are launched and each September in the United States popular
journalism is replete with stories of court ordered bussing to achieve
integration and thereby equality in the public schools of one jurisdiction
43
or another. It is, therefore, surprising to many to discover that the
Kalderaš Gypsies, an ethnic minority in the United States, tend to resist
the use of such public institutions, and when their children are enrolled
in the public schools, they are highly resistant to the concept of inte-
gration.
On examination, however, the reasons for this resistance can be under-
stood on at least three levels. First of all, it can be seen that the
Ka1d era Ś have maintained their identity through a systematic resistance
to cooperation with all government entities, of which the public schools
are the most pervasive exemplar. Secondly, specific practices in which
children in the public school are forced to engage are repugnant to the
Kalderaš sense of cleanliness and morality. And thirdly, the aim of public
education in the United States has traditionally been to inculcate in all
of its charges middle-class, white Anglo-Saxon, Protestant values and
behaviors, which would deprive the Kalderaš child of his language, his cul-
ture and sense of identity.
There are, in addition, two social factors that further inhibit Kalder-
aš participation in the educational establishment. The methodology used by
the schools is alien to the Kalderaš norms of socialization. Teachers are
highly verbal. They tell rather than show. They tend to deal with platoons
of children rather than with individuals. Secondly, the Kalderaš are
always a minority, and their ways, customs, 1anguage, behaviors and beliefs
are subject to ridicule on the part of their peers in the school situation.
The educational establishment in the United States, however, has a
virtual monopoly on the development of 1iteracy and complex computational
skills. Without these skills it has become increasingly difficult for any
44
group to maintain itself in a world that is almost universally literate
and increasingly a servant of computer technology. This paper is a re-
port on an attempt to meet the apparent needs of the Kalderaš to the
attainment of such skills without the attendant inhibiting factors 1ist-
ed above. It is not a success story. The reasons for its failure might
be found in the inflexibility of the system and in the mixed feelings
of the Kalderaš constituency to which the program was addressed. Each
side saw the other as an antagonist. There was a noticeable lack of co-
operative behavior in the interests of the consumers, the students who
have been served.
Systematic Resistance to Cooperation with Government Entities
The Kalderaš, like a11 Gypsies, have been a pariah group in most
countries of the world for hundreds of years. Specific laws were enacted
against them in sixteenth century Spain, in France, and in 18th century Hun-
gary and in 19th century Rumania. During the years between 1933 and 1945
the German government systematically sought to eliminate them from the
face of the earth by the simple expedient of rounding them up and burning
them in gas ovens. Laws enacted on the state and local level in the United
States against fortune telling can often be traced to some complaint against
"Gypsy" fortune tellers and are but thinly disguised measures meant to
ferret out and eliminate the Kalderaš.
Success in these programs has always been dependent on the crucial
matter of identification. If the authorities knew how many Kalderaš
there were and where they could be located, it was always easier to ap-
prehend them, deprive them of their liberty and drive them from the juris-
45
diction or worse. It, therefore, behooved the Kalderaš to cooperate as
little as possible with authorities, particularly in those cases when
identity or location of persons was concerned. Researchers have long
since discovered that they cannot trust census data, police reports or
any other official enumeration of the Kalderaš, for the Kalderaš had
even earlier 1earned that their very existence depends on non-cooperation
with officialdom. Public schools demand the enrollment of children. They
seek the names and addresses of parents, birthdates, medical information
and any number of facts which it would be dangerous for the Kalderaš to
disclose. This fact alone would be enough to preclude sending children
to schools.
Specific Practices In. The Schools Are Often Immoral To The Kalderaš
Perhaps it was the years of traveling the open road that made the
Kalderaš so self-consciously clean. Cleanliness in the preparation and
handling of food is extremely important to them. The separation of waters
to be used for different purposes is one of the most important aspects of
the Kalderaš culture. Yet in the public schools children are herded into
school lunchrooms where virtually all of the norms of food preparation
and serving held almost sacred by the Kalderaš are openly violated. Elimi–
nation is something the Kalderaš do with utmost discretion and secrecy. It
is not something that they will do in public or with others even of the
same sex around. Yet small children are taken to public washrooms where
they are expected to perform such functions under the watchful eye of a
teacher and in close proximity to their peers, all of whom are aware of
what is going on. Among the Kalderaš the sexes are carefully segregated in
46
virtually every aspect of 1jife. Yet the public schools put boys and
- girls together in the same classrooms and even expect them to play games
together, where they are expected, even required, to hold one another's
hands. The manner of treating the youngest children has to be repugnant
to any conscientious Kalderaš parent.
Public Education Traditionally Seeks. To Inculgate Dominant Values And Behavior
& There can be little denying that school children are inculcated with
values and beliefs in the schoolroom. Ethics are taught with arithmetic,
and ever since the writings of Pars on Weems there has been an attempt OI).
the part of history teachers to increase their charges' virtues. Few would
deny that this is the case. Most people would applaud the fact that values,
morality and norms of conduct are reinforced in classrooms. "What is wrong
with middle-class, white Anglo-Saxon, Protestant morality?" one might well
ask. The answer is that there is nothing wrong with it and a great deal
that is right with it for the child of middle-class, white Anglo-Saxon
parents. However, morality, values, and behaviors are components of culture,
which is a survival mechanism for groups of people. Culture is a device
that enables the group that shares it to survive in an often hostile envi-
ronment. While it may be important to the culture of the Anglo-Saxon
child to hear the story that Parson Weems tells of George Washington and
the cherry tree and therefore learn never to tell an untruth to a person
in authority, it might be even more important to the culture of a Kalderaš
child to 1earn not to disclose certain aspects of his home life or identity
to an outsider.
47
The Methodology Of The Public Schools Is Alien. To Kalderaš
Norms Of Socialization
The maxim, "Children should be seen and not heard," was surely
never coined by a Kalderaš. Those who have been socialized in other cul-
tures and have begun to study the Kalderaš are amazed at the ease with
which children are admitted to adult conversations and at the lack of
clear cut age distinctions among them when compared with other cultures.
Socialization is typically a matter of seeing and doing. It is carried
by a great deal of one-on-one interaction and with a minimum of formal
instruction. Children are first respected as human beings and the 1earn-
ing by the child from the adult follows. Public schools, on the other
hand, begin by making sharp distinctions, first between teacher and student
and then among students. The teacher is treated almost as if he/she were
a God with all wisdom and knowledge , one who is never to be questioned
or challenged. Children/students are grouped into platoons according to
age or ability with very sharp distinctions made between the various 1evels.
Teachers do not like to be followed around or copied as Kalderaš adults
are. The students are treated as if they were lesser beings and are talked
at and expected to behave not as they see adults behaving but as adults
tell them to behave. No wonder that it is hard for the few Kalderaš who do
go to school to learn from their Gaze (non-Gypsy) teachers.
}
Ka1deraš Children Are Subject To Ridicule By Their Gaze Peers
In America, schools are organized on a geographical basis. Typically,
children attend a school that is located in the geographical area in which
they live and will be in the company of other children who are very much
48
like them in most respects. Even minorities tend to cluster together
with others who are similar in most respects. often one finds schools
which are predominately black, Puerto Rican, Mexican, Eastern European
immigrant or even American Indian. This is never true of the Kalderaš.
Their very mode of 1jife precludes anything 1jike this ever happening.
And their mode of life is quite different from the dominant mode of white
American children, even if the families of the Kalderaš children have
been in the United States for many generations. Clothing, speech, games,
pastimes, and even typical approaches to problems will be different and
noticeable. Children tend to pick up such differences and to ridicule them
sometimes, with either the active or the tacit consent of teachers and
playground supervisors. Many Kaideras parents remember well the black
eyes and bloody noses which they carried home from schools simply because
they had committed the crime of being different. These parents were
themselves in school for very brief periods of time and are unlikely to
subject their children to such indignities.
Many Kalderaš Desire The Skills That. The Educational
Establishment Can Give Them
The very proliferation of projects attempting to endow the Kalderaš
with the blessings of 1jiteracy and advanced computational skills is in-
dicative of the fact that the Kalderaš are not unwilling to acquire such
skills. It is highly probable, as 1jiteracy increases and the means which
were typically present to enable the non-literate adult to get on in the
world are fast disappearing, that the Kalderaš are beginning to feel
the pinch of their limited literacy and 1jimited computational skill.
Anne Sutherland reports in her study Gypsies: The Hidden Americans on
one such project in a California community which she calls "Barvale."
49
There have been press reports on attempts by the junior colleges of Port-
land, Oregon, to conduct similar programs for Kalderaš adults, and Gov-
ernor Dixy Lee Ray of Washington has set aside her contingency funds to
provide education for the Kalderaš in Tacoma and Spokane, Washington.
The writer has spoken to many Kalderaš who were anxious to see programs
instituted which would meet felt needs and which would not be fraught with
the attendant difficulties enumerated above. Many are aware that the march
into literacy would mean a substantial modification of the cultural pattern,
but they are willing to see this type of adaptation as long as it did not
mean the total elimination of the culture. It has been hard to find either
schoolmen or public officials who will accept anything less than the total
annihilation of the Kalderaš as a people.
Guidelines Of The Illinois Program
In the school year 1973–74 a modest ($26,000) amount of state bi-
lingual funds was secured for a program to be carried out in Chicago which
went the limit in adapting to the needs of the Kalderaš people. Among the
guidelines under which this program was carried out were the following:
1. A Kalderaš was named director and was given full author-
ity in the selection of personnel.
2. There were an equal number of Kalderaš and Gaze teachers
employed.
3. There was no distinction in pay scales on the basis of
degrees or previous training. Thus, the non-literate
Kalderaš teachers were paid at the same rate as the Gaze
teachers, a11 of whom were highly qualified personnel
with degrees, some with several.
4. An equal amount of time was given to the Romany language,
Kalderaş customs, and folklore, which were taught by the
Kalderaš teachers, as was given to basic literacy train-
ing in English and computational skills, which were taught
50
by the Gaze teachers.
5. All classes were conducted at night.
6. There was no distinction made in admitting students on the
basis of age.
7. No attendance records or enrollment records were kept.
8. There was no attempt to force students to identify them—
selves.
9. Classes were small. Each skill was modeled by the teacher,
and students were encouraged to repeat the procedure until
it was learned.
10. There was no system of formal discipline.
11. Sexes were carefully segregated, and males and females were
never placed in competition with one another in any way.
12. Gaže teachers were excused when their portion of the program
was completed and were not admitted to the period of instruc-
tion in Romany language and folk literature and Kalderas
CuSt Oms.
13. The program admitted students regardless of place of residence.
No attempt was made to determine where anyone lived nor what
school district he/she belonged to.
The Chicago school district declined to accept the program, so it
was administered through the Northwest Education Cooperative, an LEA com—
prising a group of suburban school districts in Northwest Cook County.
Initially $13,000 was awarded for a three month program. After the evalu-
ation of the initial three-month program was filed, the program was extended
for a second period of three months. The Chicago school board was invited
to sponsor this or a similar program for the Kalderaš, but the board
personnel declined. Therefore, the program was not continued.
Subsequent attempts were made to reinstitute the same or a similar
program under the auspices of the Chicago City Colleges, the University
of I11inois or various private institutions, none of which were eligible
51
for bi-lingual funds. All lost interest when it became impossible to
secure public funding for such a program. Grants were solicited under
the Right to Read program, the Small Business Administration, the Divi–
sion of Vocational Rehabilitation and various other state and federal
programs, all without success.
The very guidelines of the program precluded any objective assessment
of its effectiveness. Pre- and post-tests were impossible to administer.
The only way to assess learning was by teacher perception. Subjects
were simply not available for the administration of standardized tests.
The Chicago school board was under substantial pressures of different
kinds, and the acceptance of this program would have been an embarrassment
to them. Title IX of the Elementary and Secondary Education Act called
for equal treatment of the sexes, and this was sidely interpreted to mean
the integration of the sexes in the same facilities and teaching identical
subject matter. Here was a program that sought to segregate the sexes and,
if developed, would surely have taught quite different subject matter to
the embarrassment of the school officials. The Brown vs. Board of Education
decision called for racially-integrated classrooms, and Chicago was being
pressured by federal authorities to comply. Yet here was a program that
called for the strict segregation of a group from all others.
The teachers' union in Chicago was and is among the strongest in the
nation. They were not going to stand passively by and see a program adopted
which would pay the same regardless of experience, preparation or degrees.
Chicago could not adopt this program as 10ng as the guidelines remained as
they were.
52
If the guidelines were too loose for the public bodies, they were apparently
too tight for the Kalderaš administrators and teachers. They never did
understand that all purchases had to be receipted and made for legitimate
educational purposes only. When items such as coffee and foods were found
not to have been included in the budget, they were shocked to discover
that these items had to be paid for out of the pockets of the personnel
who dispensed them. It was particularly difficult for the director to
understand that unexpended funds had to be returned to the disbursing
authority. He felt that if these funds had once been appropriated for
Kalderaš education, then that was what they should be used for, without
having to give them back when the program ran out. It was a little like
still having checks after the money in the bank account was gone.
CONCLUSION
The Illinois program raised more questions than it answered. It
probably served to underscore how far apart the Kalderaš and the dominant
educational establishment culture in fact are. To the Kalderaš who par-
ticipated, the program was a success except for a few relatively minor
flaws. To the establishment personnel, there was no way of making a judgment.
Without test scores to indicate progress, one could not tell whether pro-
gress had been made. The two were as far apart after the experiment was
concluded as they were before it began.
For the sincere investigator there are many more questions that are
raised and not answered by this experience. Would literacy training under
such circumstances as the Illinois program permit the Kalderaš to maintain
their historic culture while adding skills which they feel are necessary?
53
Would any type of formal educational experience merely hasten the erosion
on the culture? These questions cannot be answered, but of all programs
we have heard of, this one went further than any other to be sympathetic
to a group's desire to preserve that which they have.
REFERENCE
Sutherland, Anne
1975 Gypsies: The Hidden Americans. New York: The Free Press.
54
POLLUTION AND POWER: GYPSY WOMEN IN AMERICA
Carol Silverman
University of Oregon
This paper explores the relationship of female roles
to the taboo system among American Rom Gypsies. Gypsy
1ife is ordered by a number of structures which define
and delegate male and female power. Political authority
resides in males who control the 1egislative, executive,
judicial and hereditary reins in Gypsy society. Women
are subservient in the public domain; on the other
hand, they control the economic sphere and have ritual
power to defile and excommunicate Gypsy men. This
paper presents an analysis of female power in relation-
ship to the general Gypsy worldview and the Gypsy taboo
system.
The Gypsies are an ethnic group which have received much super-
ficial attention but little serious analysis. They have been treated
with a mixture of fascination on the one hand and scorn on the other.
In the American context they have been virtually ignored in spite of the
fact that they are thriving, maintaining their values, institutions,
and their extreme separateness from the non-Gypsy population. This
paper, which is based on three years of fieldwork among American Rom
Gypsies, explores women's roles in relation to the Gypsy taboo system.
In general, Rom society presents itself in public as a male-dominated
society in terms of the preference for patrilineal descent, the authority
structure, and the judiciary. A closer examination of Gypsy society, how-
ever, reveals that women's power, though not public and overt, is equally,
if not more, pervasive than men's power.
Gypsy life is ordered by a number of structures which define and
delegate male and female power. Public authority resides in males who
control the 1egislative, executive, judicial, and hereditary reigns in
Gypsy society. Men monopolize the kris or Gypsy court system which
serves to internally regulate behavior. Men articulate the authority
55
system and are in charge of the public domain.
Women, on the other hand, defer to men in the public domain, both
verbally and physically. Women do not question men in public; they give
the best food, the most comfortable chairs, and the utmost respect to
Iſleſł e
In spite of the fact that women are publicly treated as inferiors,
they wield extremely important powers in Gypsy society, specifically,
the power of money, the power to bear children, the power to negotiate
the supernatural, and the power to defile and excommunicate Gypsy men.
These will be explored presently.
In the American setting, women control the economic sphere of Rom
life; they provide the family's income through fortune-telling, in addi-
tion to managing the family's money. Men rarely work steadily, and if
they do, they keep their money for leisure spending.
Equal to, if not more important than the power a female wields
economically, is the power she wields through the taboo or marime system.
The taboo system is the ordering principle of Gypsy life; it informs
all male/female and Gypsy/non-Gypsy relationships and affects every de-
cision and categorization in Gypsy social life including ethnic bound-
aries and public/private dimensions. The social hierarchy, as well as
the moral, judicial, health, and religious codes are lodged in the taboo
system. The taboo system thus provides a cognitive map, a cultural
structure, which gives visible expression to social relations through
such behaviors as rituals and daily male/female interaction.
Marime taboos concern polluted or defiling persons, objects, foods,
body parts, and topics of conversation, but their overwhelming concern
56
is with the uncleanliness of the female and her threat to male ritual
cleanliness. Cleanliness is associated with Gypsiness, superiority,
health, luck, and success. Pollution is associated with non-Gypsies,
disease, death, bad luck and failure. The non-Gypsy (gazo) is by defi-
nition polluted because he is ignorant of the rules of the taboo system.
He is thus to be avoided in all social interaction and is to be contacted
only for economic gain.
The 10wer body is considered marime and everything associated with
it is potentially defiling, i.e. genitalia, inappropriate sexual activity,
bodily functions, the bathroom, clothing touching the 10wer body, and
topics of conversation alluding to sex and pregnancy. Strict washing
regulations are enforced, eg. separate towels, soaps, and wash basins for
the two body zones. In addition, objects for the environment are classi-
fied as to marime status, eg. mops and brooms are marime. Anything
entering the mouth, like food, or anything touching the head, 1jke a
pillow is carefully screened. Thus Gypsies on the road or in hospitals
prefer to bring their own pillows and eat their own food.
The most potent danger of polution emanates from the woman's lower
body zone. A woman can deliberately defile a man by touching him in
public with an article of clothing from her lower body, eg. a slip or a
stocking. Although the act of defilement rarely occurs in actual fact,
the knowledge that it could happen is sufficient to wield the resulting
fear.
When a man is defiled he becomes marime and is excommunicated, that
is, cut off from commensality and sociability with other Gypsies. This
is the greatest shame a man can suffer. The only way marime status can
be revoked is by convening a kris, the Gypsy court.
Because a woman's 10wer body zone is marime, both men and women
enact a ritualized proxemic and kinesic code vis-a-vis each other. A
Woman monitors her movements so that she does not pose a threat to males
by appearing physically or symbolically higher than men. Thus she does
not step over or through male territory or intrude in the public domain
dominated by men.
Furthermore, the sexes are segregated in any public event, whether
it is a wedding with hundreds of Gypsies, a visiting occasion with two
families, or a bingo session. The sexes sit, talk, dance, and eat
separately. Dating is prohibited and marriages are arranged. In addi-
tion, men's and women's work is segregated. With this elaborate system
of rules of classification and behavior, it is not surprising that Gypsies
consider non-Gypsies to be ruleless, orderless, promiscuous, dirty,
polluted, and totally undesirable. -
A woman's marime status is not a stable condition; it is rather a
fluctuating commodity which follows a significant pattern when traced
through her life cycle. A woman's marime status is determined by her
sexual proclivity, that is, she is more polluted during her most sexual
periods, i.e., puberty, menstruation, pregnancy, and the year following
marriage. Thus a pregnant woman should refrain from attending holiday
rituals. More dramatically, the post-partum woman is isolated from other
Gypsies for ten days and all her supplies, including clothing, bedding,
dishes, and silverware are thrown out at the end of the marime period.
The periods of asexuality, on the other hand, namely childhood and
old age, are marked by absence or decrease in marime prohibitions. Thus
children may sit on table tops with out defiling them; a young girl may
58
expose her legs by wearing short skirts; a child's clothing need not be
separated into lower and upper zones. Similarly, elder women may en-
gage in communicative behavior with men which is denied to sexual women,
e.g. , sitting with men at a holiday table.
In summary, the taboo system may be seen to structure Gypsy life; it
informs the Gypsy worldview by defining categories of people, places,
and things; it defines appropriate and inappropriate behavior, and it
defines the boundaries which separate Gypsies from non-Gypsies and men
from women.
The kris, or judicial system, and the taboo system are the two regu-
lating mechanisms in Gypsy society, the former male dominated, and the
latter female dominated. The two systems not only regulate daily and
ceremonial behavior, but also deal with deviant behavior and breaches in
societal norms. The kris, by imposing a marime sentence, banishes the
transgressor by ostracism and non-Gypsy status. This ability to withdraw
rights of sociability and commensality curtails socially disruptive be-
havior.
The kris and the taboo system are two separate, yet complementary,
systems: each keeps the other in check. For example, if a woman feels
unfairly treated, she can always resort to her ritual power to defile the
man she feels is the culprit. On the other hand, if a woman exercises her
ritual power inappropriately and defiles a man without good reason, then
the kris usurps her power by declaring him clean and punishing her with a
fine and the loss of her reputation. The two systems serve to balance
each other. They achieve not a static equilibrium but rather a dynamic
opposition which is the basis of the Gypsy balance of power.
59
The taboo system is, then, a mechanism for allowing women to enter
public life. If a man has a grievance, he may gather together a kris;
if a woman has a grievance, she may defile the culprit and a kris is auto-
matically assembled. Very often the mere threat of defilement is enough
to publicize a woman's grievance. Furthermore, although men speak for women
at the kris, it is in their interest to be fair to women because of the
economic, reproductive, and ritual power which women represent. A man's
loss of income is not a frivolous matter, nor is the loss of his children.
In addition, "Rejection is a social control centrally concerned
with monitoring men's sexual indiscretions and challenging their relative
freedom from moral obligation " (Miller 1968: 40). The double standard
in Gypsy society dictates that men are expected to have extra- and pre-
marital affairs, but women are prohibited from doing so. Men, however,
are required to keep these affairs concealed from the Gypsy public. If
an affair gets out of hand, the wife may defile her husband in order to
force the matter to public trial. As Carol Miller writes,
The ability of the woman publicly to defile the
man gives her some equivalence of rights to redress
in situations which, owing to her inferior status
and 1ack of prestige in public affairs, might other-
wise be denied her. To quote one informant, "Marime
is what a woman has – that's her power" [Miller
1968:40].
Having now seen the role the taboo system plays in the balance of power,
we turn to an examination of why women wield marime power. Mary Douglas'
ideas are useful here. According to Douglas, pollution is matter out of
order. More important, disorder has potency; it is dangerous and power-
ful (Douglas 1966:94). In Gypsy society, women are "out of order" in
public, and they also have tremendous ritual power. A woman may simply
swing her skirt over a man and he is ruined for years. The issue here con-
60
sists of two questions which are inexorably linked -- why are women con-
sidered polluting and why are women powerful in the ritual arena? These
two questions are lodged in the exploration of why pollution itself is
powerful. Douglas claims that outside the order and structure of society
there is an energy and power that men fear. Taboos are set up by man to
protect society from the ambiguity and dissonance outside the ordered
realms of society. While women may not be strictly outside the order of
society, they are certainly outside the authority structure of Gypsy so-
ciety, which men dominate. Leach suggests a similar approach: the con-
trolled power to harm is often vested in key points in the authority system,
contrasted with the unintentional power to harm supposed to lurk in the less
explicit, weakly articulated areas of the same society (leach 1961, dis–
cussed in Douglas 1966:101). Men's power thus derives from public pres-
tige and authority whereas women's power derives from private control of
reproduction, ritual, and economics. "Those holding office in the explic-
it part of the structure tend to be credited with consciously controlled
powers in contrast with those whose role is less explicit who tend to be
credited with unconscious, uncontrollable powers, menacing those in better
defined positions" (Douglas 1966:101). The consciously articulated points
in the social system are armed with articulate conscious powers to protect
the system; thus in Gypsy society men have political and 1egal power through
the kris. The inarticulate unstructured areas emanate unconscious powers
which provoke dangerous states: thus women have taboo power.
Furthermore, taboos guard against threatening disturbances of the
social order. These disturbances come from persons who hold ambiguous,
ambivalent or paradoxical roles. In Gypsy society, women hold ambivalent
61
and paradoxical roles; more specifically, they wield little prestige
but a great deal of power. The ambivalent nature of women's roles creates
a great potentia 1 for creating disorder. The taboo system, with its
restrictions on women's behavior, serves to regulate this potential.
Let us now examine the paradoxical nature of the woman's roles.
Although the woman earns and manages the family's money, gives birth to
and raises the children, and completely supervises the running of the
household, the man is considered the head of the family. In any public
situation, men make all decisions regarding the home and family.
Another paradox within the woman's roles involves her sphere of ex-
perience and interaction with the gaze. On the one hand, the do-
mestic sphere is supposed to be the only sphere with which a woman is
familiar and competent; on the other hand, she interacts with the gażo
world to a greater degree than her husband. The division of labor in
Gypsy society dictates that men deal with the gazo power base in terms of
bureaucracy and officials. Men circulate in the gazo world to do this.
Men's work involves minimal contact with the gaze. that of obtaining the
necessary jobs, setting the fees, and getting paid. Actual men's work
is done in the company of other Gypsy men. Men's contacts with the gazo
world are, then, infrequent, lack intimacy, and are limited in range.
Women, on the other hand, deal with gazo masses on a daily basis through
fortune-telling (and shopping); they have intimate and frequent contact
with a wide range of gaze. In fact, many women handle non-Gypsies better
and more frequently than men. Yet in spite of the female competence with
the gazo world, it is the males who make public decisions concerning re-
lationships with the gaże . As Douglas says: "When the principle of male
62
dominance is applied to the ordering of social life but is contradicted
by other principles such as that of female independence . . . then sex
pollution is likely to flourish" (Douglas 1966: 142).
Another paradox is as follows: on the one hand, Gypsy women are
discouraged from traveling alone in the gažo world. On the other hand,
they attract the gažo world to their homes and ofisi (fortune-telling
parlors) through fortune-telling. On the one hand, Gypsy women are sup-
posed to be dependent on males for dealing with gažo bureaucracy. On the
other hand, a woman must be able to deal effectively with the unexpected
visit of a gazo official (e.g., a truant officer). Furthermore, 3 WOIſlaſ)
can manage extremely well without a man including advertising for fortune-
telling, distributing handbills, paying maintenance bills, dealing with
local authorities (usual male tasks), and taking taxis to 10cal Gypsy
gatherings. Males, however, cannot usually manage a home without a woman.
The woman's ambivalent roles can also be expressed in affective terms.
In fortune-telling, women are expected to be aggressive, cunning, intelli-
gent, sensible, and psychologically astute. Women are accustomed to
taking the initiative and in being aggressive with customers, both male
and female. Also, aggression and manipulation is required when dealing
with gazo authorities who come to the home; Gypsy women often exploit
the gażo ideal of women being the weaker sex by pleading and crying with
welfare workers, police, and truant officers (Okely 1975: 74). In addition,
managing the home and the money requires constant decision making and in-
genuity on the women's part.
This description paints a picture of Gypsy women as aggressive, swift,
cunning, and psychologically astute. In the public Gypsy world, however,
women are treated as precisely the opposite: submissive, ignorant,
63
and incapable. They are expected to remain quiet, act modestly, and defer
to men. In addition, women enact two opposite deportments in relation
to chastity; exoterically, they lure customers with feigned eroticism;
esoterically, they are modest and chaste. Gypsy women thus enact a double
set of situational identities.
The paradox in women's roles is expressed by the following chart
(Okely 1975: 58–59):
Esoteric Role of Women Exoteric Role of Women
restricted everyday contact with non-Gypsies
both men and women
expected to be subservient aggressive, outgoing, manipulating
modest, chaste feigned eroticism
cautious with men takes initiative
I do not intend to imply that Gypsy women themselves feel split or in con-
flict. On the contrary, they expertly manage their various roles, faces,
or identities and are specialists in the art of "impression management"
(Goffman 1973: 1). Women effectively manage two sets of opposite person-
ality traits. They choose their situational identity according to the
needs of the particular audience. Men's roles are comparatively more
consistent; both esoterically and evoterically, men are spokesmen and
articulators of authority, social hierarchy, and legality. Women, on the
other hand, enact ambivalent roles which are symbolically viewed as dan–
gerous.
In addition, women embody the reproductive capacity which is itself
64
viewed ambivalently by the Rom. On the one hand, reproductive power
is valued because it perpetuates the lineage. A Gypsy man must have
children, and the more the better. sterility is the greatest misfortune
for a couple. Women, then, as child bearers, hold the power of fertil-
ity which is the key to the maintenance of society. On the other hand,
reproduction is tinged with pollution and thus must be kept in check.
Reproduction is a public manifestation of sexual activity, which is pol-
luting outside of marriage. Even within marriage, the sexually heighten-
ed period immediately following marriage evokes marime-like restrictions.
Women's sexuality, which is always potentially polluting to men, is es-
pecially dangerous at critical periods of heightened sexuality (menstru-
ation, marriage, childbirth). Although sex is necessary because children
are valued, the sexual parts themselves are considered dirty. Sex, like
woman herself, is ambiguous and powerful; and sex is controlled by taboos
precisely because it is so powerful.
Furthermore, women may be considered liminal entities in Gypsy society
(Turner 1969). More specifically, women find themselves in a liminal state
more frequently than men. Just as there is potency and danger in disorder,
there is power in 1jiminal persons and objects which touch the margins and
borders of society. "These persons elude or slip through the network of
classification that normally locates, states, and positions [them] in cul-
tural space" (Turner 1969: 95). . Women are 1iminal because they mediate the
border regions of the Gypsy worldview. Because of their daily working
contact with non-Gypsies, women are in the interstices between the clean
and unclean spheres, that is, between the Gypsy and non-Gypsy spheres.
A woman's body itself is a symbol of both worlds: thus a woman must reg-
ulate her bodily behavior to bring herself into consonance with the Gypsy
65
world.” In effect, she checks her own polluting tendencies through
proper deportment.
A woman's responsibilities in maintaining domestic order and in
fortune-telling bring her into daily intimate contact with gaze and
ažo-related objects, e.g., food. She is thus frequently exposed t O
gażo pollution. In addition, women may be considered liminal, and there-
fore dangerous, because they act as mediators between humans and the
supernatural. If there is ever a dream or event to be interpreted, a
curse to be uttered, a sickness to be diagnosed or cured, or a ritual to
be enacted, a woman is the agent. If an old woman curses someone, it
is more effective than if a man does. women are seen as the repositories
of supernatural power.
Finally, women find themselves in liminal transitions more often than
men. For example, every time a woman menstruates, she is partially
removed from Gypsy social life by virtue of the prohibitions surrounding
her. Similarly, every time a woman goes through childbirth, she is
dramatically surrounded by restrictions and removed from the sphere of
sociability.
If we consider the theoretical paradigm proposed by Ortner (1974),
we may view women as media t in g between nature (the non-Gypsy world) and
culture (the Gypsy world). "Her culturally defined intermediate position
between nature and culture, here having the significance of her mediation
(i.e., performing conversion functions) between nature and culture, would
thus account not only for her lower status but for the greater restrictions
placed on her activities . . ." (Ortner 1974:85). If women are symbolic
of nature (gaze) as opposed to culture (Gypsy), then we should not be
surprised to discover that the woman's role in Gypsy society parallels that
66
of the gaše to Gypsy society as a whole. The woman is the internal gazo
treated symbolically as if ało-polluted." The taboo system may be the
means for maintaining male domination in an otherwise potentially female-
dominant society. Male authority is sanctioned because it is tied to
social group identity -- to be Gypsy. To relax taboos is to release women's
power and to release the gazo in the Gypsy's social structure both symbol-
ically and because, in fact, the society presents itself as a patriarchy.
In sum, women's roles in Gypsy society involve a great deal of
ritualization. Gluckman points out that ritualization flourishes around
figures who enact multiplex relationships. The multiplex relationships
of Gypsy women are evidenced by the multiple identities which she enacts,
including the exoteric identity, the public esoteric identity, and the
private esoteric identity.
Gluckman emphasizes that in multiplex relationships, individuals'
roles overlap (Gluckman 1962:29). All roles touch each other and this
creates an area of potential disturbance. For Gypsy women, the issue of
affiliations is a case in point. As previously mentioned, women wield
multiple affiliations; a woman can at any time reaffiliate with her natal
familia. Thus she wields potential influence in at least two familiyi,
her husband's, her father's (plus her brothers'). A woman's multiple
affiliations, together with the fact that she represents earning power
and the investment of brideprice, point to an important area of potential
disturbance.
Ritual reduces the potential disturbance by providing standard out-
lets. It doesn't necessarily solve the conflicts, but it expresses them
in conventional ways, ways in which the society can understand them and
67
deal with them. Expressed in affective terms, ritual and taboo arise
around areas of uncertainty and potential danger (Malinowski 1972).
For Gypsy society, marine taboos may be the response to social anxiety
about women and symbolically about the gaže. The ambivalent roles of
women give rise to conflicting emotions, and ritual provides a psychol-
ogical "safety valve" for them.
As suggested by Goody, taboo procedures give controlled expression
to personal emotions which demand some formal outlet. Taboo systems also
map out a pattern of social relations by reaffirming the existing scheme
or by re-establishing the status quo after a disturbance (Goody 1962: 35).
Women's taboo power, then, is far from uncontrolled; it is prescribed
and ritualized. Because the outlets for taboo power are conventionalized,
society knows what to expect and is prepared. Society can deal with
taboo breaches effectively and in the end the order of society is reaffirmed.
In the context of ritual, where everything is formalized according to a
set of expectations, the aggressive implications of symbolic action are
under control.
The last point to be made is that ritual is a kind of circular
process. Bateson expresses it as follows:
The individuals in a community are standardized by their
culture; while the pervading general characteristics of
a culture . . . are an expression of this standardiza-
tion . . . . The pervading characteristics of the culture
not only express, but also promote the standardization
of the individuals [ Bateson 1958:33).
Emotional needs generate ritual which generates the appropriate emotional
responses. Once traditional, a ritual suggests appropriate responses for
individuals which they enact to fulfill their expected social roles. Ritual
is both an individual response and a shared response. Ritual is a feed-
back system from the individual to society and vice-versa.
68
The Gypsy taboo system clearly fits this pattern. It is connected
with the potential for disorder which women wield and the paradoxical
configurations of women's roles. The resulting anxiety concerning women's
power generates taboos, which generate fear of pollution, which generate
anxiety. Or from another point of view, the pervasive power of women in
Gypsy society coupled with 10w prestige generates potential for creating
disorder. This configuration both creates and is created by the taboo
system which expresses and regulates behavior. The order of the compo-
nents in this process is not really important because the system is circular
and the components are mutually dependent. What is more important is
understanding the forces at work within the system.
NOTES
1. An earlier version of this paper was presented at The Women and
Folklore Conference, Philadelphia, PA, March 23–25, 1979.
2. Intercourse between married couples, however, is not polluting be-
cause it is a private act within the confines of an accepted union.
3. A man's body is a danger only to himself; a woman's body is a danger
to all Gypsy men.
4. I am indebted to Tom Burns for suggesting this idea.
69
REFERENCES CITED
Bateson, Gregory
1958 Naven. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.
Douglas, Mary
1966 Purity and Danger. London: Routledge.
Gluckman, Max -
1962 Essays on the Ritual of Social Relations. Manchester:
Manchester University Press.
Goffman, Erving
1973 The Presentation of Self in Everyday Life. Woodstock
NY: Overlook.
Goody, Jack
1962 Death, Property and the Ancestors . Stanford, CA: Stanford
University Press.
Leach, Edmund
1961 Rethinking Anthropology. London: Athlone Press.
Malinowski, Bronislaw
1972 The Role of Magic and Religion. In Reader in Comparative
Religion. Lessa and Vogt, eds. Pp. 63-72. New York: Harper.
Miller, Carol
1968 Mačwaya Gypsy Marime. M. A. thesis, University of Washington.
Okely, Judith
1975 Gypsy Women: Models in Conflict. In Perceiving Women. Shirley
Ardener, ed. Pp. 55–86. New York: John Wiley.
Ortner, Sherry B.
1974 Is Female to Male as Nature is to Cult re. 3 In Women, Culture,
and Society. M. Rosaldo and L. Lamphe 1 c , eds. Stanford, CA:
Stanford University Press.
Turner, Victor
1969 The Ritual Process. Chicago: Aldine.
70
KALDERAS ECONOMIC ORGANIZATION"
Matt T. Salo
Centenary College
By utilizing adaptive strategies which provide a
great deal of flexibility, the Rom have been able to
exploit particular social niches without jeopardizing
their ethnic identities or cultural integrity. The
adaptive process is seen as generated by key choices
exercised within a range of acceptable economic, social
and political arrangements consistent with the Rom
value system. The range of strategies and specific
adaptations of the Kalderaš Rom are examined in detail.
The kinds of economic strategies employed by Gypsies both geographi-
cally and historically are fairly well documented in the literature. Most
general books on Gypsies give 1ists of common occupations; a few chart
geographical differences or describe historical changes.
In approaching the subject again I have tried to go beyond simple
enumeration and description to indicate important relationships and de-
pendencies that obtain between Gypsy economic strategies and other factors.
I have also tried to indicate some of the dynamics of the economic processes
as they arise out of the interplay of the various cultural and environ-
mental factors.
The basic unit of analysis utilized is that of North American Rom
with an emphasis on the Kalderaš. My main objectives have been to (1) iso-
late some of the most important principles by which Rom economic activities
are ideally organized and circumscribed, (2) describe the various dimensions
of the socioeconomic niche that provide both the opportunities for and con-
straints on economic activity, (3) show how the specific strategies em-
ployed are related to the environmental conditions and (4) indicate the
variation and flexibility possible, both synchronically and diachronically,
71
within the range of adaptive strategies consistent with Gypsy values.
Organizing Principles Of Rom Adaptive Strategies
Let us begin by examining the cultural principles by which Rom eco-
nomic life is organized. These principles define a culturally acceptable
range of strategies. Specific strategies must conform to this set of
general rules embedded in the Rom value system, as well as comprise solu-
tions to specific economic, social and political problems. These organiz—
ing principles have remained relatively constant over time, while the
opportunities and 1jimitations governing choice of strategies among those
in the acceptable range have changed. We may see these principles as of
two types: first, the economic implications of the Rom model of society
and second, a set of values regarding ideal economic relationships.
Ethnicity is one of the primary organizing principles which define the
range of possible strategies acceptable to the Rom. The Rom division of
people into Gypsies (Rom) and non-Gypsies (Gaze) also delimits separate
economic spheres. Since the Rom produce none of their material needs,
these must all be obtained from the gaze. However, social needs such as
status and prestige can be fulfilled only among the Rom.
The Rom—gazo dichotomy defines two groups with regard to which dif-
ferent sorts of exchanges are acceptable. Business exchange, that is to
say asymmetrical exchanges with profits accruing to the Rom are restricted
primarily to the gaze. Exchanges of this type taking place between Rom
are generally disapproved of , as much for the practical difficulties en-
visioned as for the contravention of values. On the other hand, exchanges
involving bride-price, betrothal gifts, fines resulting from Gypsy court
72
cases, and the indirect exchange involving wedding, saint's day or memorial -
feasts are possible only among the Rom.
Economic relationships of Rom with gaze are ideally exploitative.
Gaže are by definition ignorant and foolish. The Rom value governing
these relationships may be defined as "living by one's wits." The psycho-
logical satisfaction of "putting one over" on the gažo is often, at least
in anecdotal retrospect, valued even more highly than the actual profit made.
Independence from the gaze in economic endeavors is valued positively.
A Rom may hire a gazo to do work which is distasteful to him or for which
he lacks the needed skills, but ideally, a Rom will avoid working for a
gažo boss.
F1exibility in the choice of strategy is also valued highly. The in-
dividual must be willing and able to choose among the range of strategies
Open to him and to change strategy when advisable. Later we will discuss
the types of opportunities and limitations which shape such choices. Flex-
ibility is expressed synchronically, in the range of adaptations found at
any one time, and diachronically in the history of the group and in the
occupational history of an individual.
Finally, the rules of purity and defilement serve to proscribe certain
strategies. Since contact with the lower part of the body and everything
related to it is considered defiling, the Rom are prohibited from becoming
doctors (although considering the level of education of North American Rom,
this prohibition remains hypothetical), plumbers and so on. Whether or not
some Rom have actually engaged in honey-dipping, or cleaning septic tanks,
accusations of such an occupation are used to malign Others and reinforce
feuds between families.
73
Socioeconomic Niche : Opportunities And Constraints
In contrast to most of the simple societies studied by anthropologists,
the environment from which the Rom make their 1íving is almost entirely a
social one. Their dependency on the natural environment is restricted
largely to the need for proper weather conditions for some outdoor trades.
Subsistence strategies consist of ways of wresting a 1jiving from the host
population which presents various opportunities and problems for the Rom
in different parts of the country. In what follows I will describe the
various dimensions of this socioeconomic niche.
The first dimension of the niche consists of a personal network of
immediate family, relatives and friends. They provide the basic pool of
manpower with a variety of skills for a wide range of economic activities.
Having one's basic ties with people, rather than in 1and or property, has
the advantage of providing one with a network of bases, reaching across the
continent, from which economic activities can be carried out. These bases
provide opening wedges to and footholds in new territories as well as places
of refuge in one's own area. The dispersion of the Rom, coupled with an
efficient system of communication (courtesy of Ma Bel1) allows them to be
aware of changing economic conditions across the country.
Who the Rom families are in any particular area of the country thus be-
comes a matter of importance in deciding where to go, which areas to avoid,
or to work on the sly without announcing one's presence. Whole towns may
be claimed by families who are in a position to dictate who else can set up
there and who can not. Towns are said to be "owned" by those Rom who have
such relations with the local authorities that they are able to exert pressure
on unacceptable newcomers to leave. This type of territoriality is associated
mainly with the advisor-healer type of fortune-telling, and a relatively
74
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siderable room for manipulation. In each area
are tested and then stretched to their maximum. Towns may be open or £8:
according to the willingness to the officials to allow Gypsies to utiliz:
selected strategies there.
Harassment takes many forms. Recently police at Coney Island have
kept the local Gypsies under constant surveillance, photographing and this
names and addresses at every epportunity. The Rom claim that . in Torontº,
until fairly recently, the city police entered their houses, tore dº sº.
tains, damaged furniture arid threatened women and children. The Ron 40.
not feel they can protest infringements of their civil liberties. In its
•:
t;
areas police and detectives axpect regular bribes in money and meals, eº;
§ { As WE: mºtitiºné: bar
to the point of demanding a percentage of the "taice
fore, the Rom do derive benefits from these transactions: permissim tº
Operate in the flocality and continued good will; the authorities Ray be
seen as having a stake in the success to the Rom strategy. However ea
these arrangements are uncertain; a change in the situation -- increase in
Ron population, a complaint receiving publicity. complaints deriving frºm
internal, dissension among Ltte Rom -- ran lead to a crackdown and short ct
Long term closing of the t own. .
We see then that allocation of resources for dealing with the authºr:
ties is a major consideration fºr thºse Rotti utilizing the "sedentary"
advisor-healer strategy. Where licensing is a factor, fees up to $1.0%
are known. With or without formal licensing, payments to the authorities
may be required. In the event of a complaint, legal fees, bail money, cºſt
costs and related expenses will be required. A favorable settlement of the
case will generally require whole or partial restitution of the business ºl
76
The major resource of the Gypsy niche is of course the portion of the
host population from which they make their living. Since the chief re-
quirement for this population is that they be gaze, any class, race or
ethnic group of non-Gypsies ideally are possible clients. For specific
enterprises such as fortune-telling of the advisor—healer type, the clien-
tele actually comprises some of the poorer, least educated and most super-
Stitious segments of the national sample. The 1argest single group con-
sists of lower class blac'cs, with Spanish speakers, immigrant Europeans
(Italians, Greeks and S1; vs) following according to their percentage in
any local population. Rough estimates of the carrying capacity of the
population may be made from the number of fortune-telling establishments
in an area.
Economic Strategies
The adaptive strategies of the Rom are the result of the interplay of
their values, capabilities and the opportunities and constraints of their
economic niche. The values set the outer limits of possible economic
pursuits; the characteristics of the niche determine the range of possible
strategies from among which the Rom, individually or collectively, choose
those judged the best under particular circumstances. individuals and
families switch strategies as often as is necessary; a sequential pattern
of occupations is more common than sticking to one strategy. Flexibility
is the ideal as expressed by a Canadian Rom:
You should have five or six occupations these days. That
way if one don't work out, you can change to another,
and keep on changing until you find something that will
work. You're bound to hit on a way of making money
sooner or later.
77
Occupational role differentiation is based on opportunities, sex
and to a lesser degree on age. The share of the man's or the woman's
responsibility for subsistence also varies with the situational opportu-
nities. As I was told by a Canadian Rom:
Fortune-telling is for her, and to feed the kids, in
case you don't make anything. Cars are for you, in
case she doesn't make anything.
Women's occupations consist chiefly of fortune-telling and re-
lated appropriative strategies. Paving, metal work, repairs and other
service tasks are in the male sphere, as are car and trailer sales.
children do occasional begging, flower-selling, shoe-shining and the
like.
Overall the major economic strategies utilized by the Rom in
North America fall roughly into three categories: service occupations,
sales, and various appropriative techniques. In the following we will
describe briefly each type and indicate its dependence on particular
socioeconomic realities that characterize a given area. Many of these
strategies are used by several of the Gypsy groups in North America;
others are utilized by only one.
The independent service occupations of the men form the largest
category of Rom adaptive strategies. They may be classified into sev-
eral subgroups, including 1) maintenance services such as blacktopping,
sealcoating and roofing; plastering, decorating and spray painting;
plating, re-tinning and other metal work; 2) repairs such as of stoves,
furnaces or boilers; hydraulic jacks, shopping carts and auto body work;
3) amusement industries: carnivals, including rides, games, animal shows,
photography and food concessions. Some of the carnival-learned skills
78
were also applied elsewhere as small, usually short-lived, business
VentureS.
Paving and sealcoating may be organized as a fixed business,
drawing on the potential market, both residential and commercial, in
a given area, through written and oral advertising. Those utilizing
this strategy can be held responsible for the quality of their work,
and have a stake in reducing competition from others.
The same trade may also be 6rganized as a traveling business, in
which case work, often residential, is solicited directly from customers;
when the potential pool is exhausted or trouble is expected, one travels
to another town. Business is both solicited and performed "on the road".
The work, in this case has a tendency to become haphazard, or to develop
into outright fraud. Those utilizing this strategy are able to take ad-
vantage of climatic differences, traveling in the south during the win-
ter, in the north during the summer. The south is said to be poorer
for driveway paving than the north; but the work is more strictly reg-
ulated in the north.
A few of the Rom who operate at a fixed location in repair business
actually get the required bonding, insurance, 1jicenses and so on, but
many dispense with these and take their chances. Naturally the latter
approach encourages further mobility, as working in one area too long
increases the chances of their coming to the attention of authorities.
Territoriality among the Rom is not a major factor with these occupations, ex-
cept in the general sense of the desire by local Rom to keep down the
Gypsy population of any one area to decrease visibility. In some parts
of the country certain trades have become identified with particular
groups to the extent of becoming their recognized niche. Thus in Ontario
79
and Quebec, the non-Gypsy Scotch Travelers or Naggins are said to have
a monopoly on blacktopping and spray-painting business, to the extent
that most of the local Rom do not challenge them.
Capital investment in the blacktopping business may be limited to
the minimum of portable equipment. Materials are generally purchased
for each job rather than in bulk. Large trucks, steamrollers and sweepers
may be rented, or subcontracts given to those who have the equipment.
Pickup or flatbed trucks are needed, and serve multiple functions in
providing transportation, pulling trailers or hauling scrap in addition
to carrying the equipment and materials for blacktopping.
Most of the work is done in partnership, partners being drawn
primarily from the kin network. For larger jobs more men are pressed
into service (necessarily as full partners), but no stable work units
above partnerships exist. Gazo hired help is also utilized, especially
for the dirtier and heavier work. For large jobs, portions of the work
may be sub-contracted to other Gypsies. Some Rom have such arrangements
with Romničels.
Boiler and furnace repairs, sheet metal work and auto body repairs
are outgrowths of the earlier coppersmithing and other metalwork trades.
Rudimentary fender repair work was for a time a major strategy, but is
now an occasional resource for young Rom. Auto-body repair skills are
utilized by the Rom in the used-car business; doctoring the cars to in-
crease their value before selling. Some Rom have owned auto-body repair
businesses at fixed locations.
Industrial metalwork generally requires going to the plant itself
to do the work. This, too, can be done while traveling, but just as
often it will be done from a fixed base with the work being sought within
80
a radius of a few hundred miles. The Rom gain a competitive advantage
in seeking these jobs by bidding low and saving on 1abor and materials.
Dealing in scrap metal, a strategy utilized by a few Rom, is
ideally suited to the traveling 11 fe, and requires a knowledge of where
scrap is likely to be found cheap and where to sell it.
Carnival work, although now decreasing in importance, has been the
mainstay of many families, with some owning and operating their own enter-
prises and contracting for spots for the carnival season. The Rom usually
limit their business to games (fortune-telling in carnivals is a thing
of the past). Some have owned and operated entire small carnivals.
The sale of easily manufactured or cheaply purchased items has
always been a part of the Gypsy repertoire of strategies. It is work
which can be done anywhere, anytime, and meets the criterion of allow-
ing the exercise of cleverness in salesmanship. In this line of work,
eVer). an ethnic stigma may be used to benefit when properly manipulated.
Capitalizing on their reputation for thievery, Gypsies are often able
to palm off cheap articles at high prices by merely implying that it
is stolen high quality merchandise. Door-to-door selling of artificial
flowers and other decorative objects, handbags, bedspreads and the like
is associated more with Romničel and Ludar women; one group of Rom sells
pseudo-Oriental carpets when a market can be found. This strategy is
! I
classified by the Romničels as "mangin, peddling, literally "begging."
It is often associated with gaining access to individuals for fortune-
telling or to houses in connection with other appropriative activities.
One Rom calls it simply "making excuses", excuses leading to an opportunity
to employ a related strategy. Selling flowers on the streets, is really
another form of such "begging" activity engaged in by some Romnia.
81
Car and trailer sales may be seen as direct outgrowths of the earlier
horse trading. The vehicles are bought cheaply from dealers with whom
the Rom do a large volume of business or transported from other parts of
the continent where they are less expensive. Men working in partnership
pool their money to buy a car. Body work and other repairs are done as
needed and the vehicle is then sold through newspaper advertisements.
Sales are usually limited to one at a time, the profits being used to
finance the next purchase. The Rom strategy must often respond to legal
regulations of private car sales. The utilization of this strategy is
associated with Rom operating from a fixed location; it requires knowledge
of local conditions and dealers, a storage and repair site, and a tele-
phone number at which the seller can be reached by customers.
A few Rom have established car and trailer sales lots. Most of
these ventures are short-lived; reasons given are a dislike of being tied
down, boredom and the difficulties with necessary paperwork.
Fortune-telling, the major economic strategy for the Rom, and a
supplementary one for Romničels, is perceived as a service activity by
the clientele, but as an appropriative one by the Gypsies. Two types of
fortune-telling may be distinguished according to the type of customer
attracted. The first attracts the impulsive one-time customer in search
of a thrill or entertainment. Serving them is known as "grinding",
which produces a small but steady income of about five to twenty dollars
per customer. This type of business is associated with both traveling and
fixed locations, many of the latter in amusement, resort or other high
traffic areas. Few of these customers become repeaters.
A second category of fortune-telling is aimed at attracting customers
82
into a steady advisor/healer-client relationship. This form of business
is associated with fixed locations, customers being attracted to the busi-
The SS location, or ofisa, which may be part of the residence or a business
place only. within this category, two sub-categories may be identified:
the first aims at a steady relationship with the client, and a correspond–
ingly moderate but steady income; the second aims at producing an increas—
ing dependency of the client on the advisor, and obtaining a large sum
of money. This latter, the buzo technique or "Gypsy bunco" has been de-
scribed in detail in the popular expose literature. It is a high-risk tech-
nique and requires ready mobility.
Of course, both types of fortune-telling may be practiced from the
same location, depending upon the customer; in practice utilization of
one rather than another varies with kin groups also changes over time.
The advisor-healer type is the most common among the Rom today.
Territoriality among the Rom is associated with fortune-telling from
a fixed location. This strategy requires the arrangement of understandings
with the 10cal authorities. These may be arranged by individual family
heads or by a "chief" or middleman who mediates between the authorities
and the community.
Both rural and urban adaptations to the requirements of the fortune-
telling business may be identified. Preferred 10cations for businesses
are main shopping streets or cross-streets near them, convenient to public
transportation stops. Where the density of Rom is high, competition is
regulated by formal or informal rules for minimum distance between busi-
nesses. There have been ten-block, six-block and three-block rules changing
with the realities of the situation. Ultimately 1ack of the possibility
83
of enforcement leaves claims to the strongest.
In rural areas, "market" centers and therefore Rom businesses may
be 70 to 80 miles apart. A family may claim rights to a town and the
surrounding countryside within as much as a hundred mile radius. Typi-
cally, rural businesses are located on former main roads (not limited-
access highways) just outside town limits. This is called being "in the
county" and thus under the jurisdiction of the sheriff's department.
"Country" Rom have the disadvantage of having to travel long distances
to fulfill social obligations, but have the advantage of being able to
avoid the frequent intra-group competition and dissensions of the urban
a TeaS •
A Synchronic View of Rom Adaptations in the Deep South: An Example of
Economic-Political Process
We may illustrate some of the economic and political processes involved
in the adaptive strategies of North American Rom by examining a case
history of relationships among Gypsies in a Deep South state and conti-
guous areas over a period of one year. The area to be considered, along
with main roads, is shown on the accompanying schematic map.
The Macwaia group of Rom are represented by one household each at
towns A, B, C, D, J, K, L, P, Q, R, S and T, and several households at N.
The Macwaia, except for the household at R and one at N, all belong to the
same kindred and form a network which interacts on a regular basis. The
Kalderas at H and I are members of a single extended family; a marriage
alliance as well as a kin link exists between the household at H and that
at V. These households interact regularly. The household at E, although
related by kinship to that at I, is isolated; we will be discussing the
84
The towns O and M, and possibly N, are said to be "closed" with re-
gard to the fortune-telling business. Each has a "chief" or "boss" who
handles relations with the authorities and controls the number and type
of businesses established.
The Rom at H claims territorial rights not only over H, but over E
and F as well, towns he has lived in in the past. His claims are founded
upon his relations with the local authorities and also with the informal
power structure of the area. For example, he is a member of a fraternal
order and secret society.
Several households belonging to the H-I family are "traveling people."
A son of the Rom at H does various sorts of metal work, sometimes in
partnership with a cousin. H's brother engages in similar work. Both
"settle" from time to time, establishing fortune-telling businesses. H's
brother-in-law and nephew trade in scrap metal, sometimes as partners,
often traveling hundreds of miles a day to find business. These "travel-
ing" branches of the family frequently visit at H, staying in trailer parks
near the residence-business.
In addition to fortune-telling, the Rom at J and C are engaged actively
in institutional blacktopping and roofing in their localities. The Rom
at H does institutional job work in metal and insulation repair, working
with his father or with one of his sons; he also employs a gažo helper.
when distance or the length of the job require, he travels to the job with
his family, staying in motels or camping, if he happens to own a trailer
at the time.
Of the non-Rom groups, the Ludari are represented by a group of re-
lated households at U, and the Romničels by three small groups, each formed
of related households, surrounding town Q. A single Romničel household
is represented at V.
85
circumstances of that situation later. There are several households of
Kalderaš at M and at O. Those at O belong to a single extended family.
The Kalderaš at M, at O, at E and at H-I-V represent four different vitsi.
All of the permanently established Rom (that is, those who remained
in the area during the period under study) are engaged in the advisor-
healer type of fortune-telling. The fortune-telling clientele comes
mainly from the local rural black population. In town M, business signs
are not permitted, but elsewhere the businesses are identified by signs
easily visible from the road. Other advertisement to attract customers is
by radio announcement, preferably tied into religious broadcasts, hand-
bills distributed door to door, Yellow Pages and newspaper ads. Arrange-
ment for advertising is the responsibility of the males. Housing types
for these fortune-telling oriented households includes both brick and frame
houses, and mobile homes.
Although "permanently" located, the fortune-telling businesses may
not always be occupied. The sparseness of the Rom population requires
long trips and lengthy stays to fulfill social obligations; a business may
be temporarily closed for long periods of time. H visits V for periods
up to a week; during that time, however, ane may earn money at V's business.
The Romni at T commutes regularly to D, her former location, to see her
clientele there; thus client loyalty to T is a factor limiting the develop-
ment of D's own clientele.
Arrangements with the authorities vary with the towns. Most of the
households, therefore the businesses, are located "in the county," that is,
on former main roads just outside town limits, and under the authority of the
sheriff's department. Some of the businesses pay a privilege tax or license
fee up to $2,000, some are able to forego the tax.
86
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87
The Ludari own a lot on the outskirts of town, which is winter quarters,
from November to April, for their trailers and equipment. All these Ludari
own and operate carnival enterprises -- food stands, games and rides -- and
spend the greater part of the year traveling with the shows.
The Romničels around Q rent spaces for their trailers in several dif-
ferent lots. Some of these Romničels are engaged in blacktopping. Others
do aluminum paint spraying, and are seasonally nomadic, working in the South
during the winter, in the North in summer. Another group are seasonally
nomadic owner-operators of carnival stands. The Romničel at V "shares"
the town with the Rom, in operating a "sedentary" fortune-telling business.
She caters to the more entertainment-oriented customers, while the Rom
prefer to establish long-term relationships with the clientele.
Let us now examine some of the events which took place against this
background with a view to understanding the economic and political processes
involved.
During the study period, the Mačwaia population remained essentially
stable. A second household was formed at A by fission of an extended family.
One household moved from N to G on a trial basis, returning to see the former
clientele.
A Mačwaia family challenged the hegemony of the Kalderaš chief over
town M and lost. The Mačwaia did not, at that time, become a permanent
presence in the town.
The Kalderaš Rom at E had recently bought the business from his nephew,
who had left town after having been unsuccessfully prosecuted by the district
attorney. Although E's wife is cousin to the Rom at H, the households did
not interact. It was suspected that H had been involved in "framing" E's
nephew. H was now being accused of wishing E ill and of attempting
88
to bar him from advertising on the radio. A police visit revealed that
the palmistry license E had bought from his nephew was not transfer-
able, as had been believed, and E had to leave town. Whether or not H
was actually involved in causing E to leave, and he denies it, we can
note that E behaved as if H were exercising his territorial claims; he
did not suppose that the police acted independently, but indirectly
threatened H with supernatural sanctions.
A Kalderaš Rom moved to F from another state, placing himself under
H's protection, thus lending support to the 1atter's claim of territorial
rights over town F. After staying a few months, he and his wife separated
and they left the area. H's territorial claims were recently confirmed,
since his son has now established a business in F.
Shortly before the end of the study period, the household at I began
looking for another location, the town having "dried up,"
that is, not
enough clientele being interested in their services. Thus in a very simple
and direct way, demand influences choice of location.
During the winter, a caravan of trailers belonging to a traveling
Kalderaš vitsa not represented among the permanent residents stopped at
U on its way through the state. Fearing that the activities of the Kalderaš
would reflect badly on themselves, the Ludari at U had the police chase
off the Kalderaś. Here we have illustrated the competition among the Gypsy
ethnic groups for recognition as the honest Gypsies of an area, as well
as competition between the adaptations of established groups and those of
traveling groups.
These variables were illustrated dramatically by the encounter be-
tween the established Rom and the Lovara. A group of Lovara who had re-
cently immigrated from Yugoslavia via several countries of Europe and
89
the Americas arrived in E while on an exploratory trip seeking markets
for rug sales. They traveled by car, having left their trailers in
another state. Following what appears to have been a misunderstanding,
they were arrested and jailed. The district attorney, having been un-
successful in prosecuting members of the established Rom community, vowed
to make an example of the Lovara. Partly because experience and the
"grapevine" had taught them that "Gypsies" are wealthy and will pay any—
thing to avoid jail, the authorities set bail very high. Such incidents
reveal the atmosphere forming a part of the local environment to which
the Rom have to adapt.
The incarceration of the Lovara also revealed some of the processes
in relations among groups of Rom. Relatives of the jailed Lovara sought
aid from members of the Mačwaia and the Kalderaš groups all across the
country. Help was refused, generally on the grounds that "we don't know
who they are or what they've done; they're making things bad for us; they
should go back where they came from." Any help offered was accompanied
by demands for money, another indication of mistrust. Several lessons
may be drawn here: the limitations of mutual responsibility to exclude
the "stranger" with whom one can find no kin ties; again the threat of
upsetting the status quo with the authorities which the "nomad" poses to
the "sedentary," and simply fear of economic competition -- at that time
the American Rom were not entirely certain which strategy the Lovara
were utilizing.
During the study period fairs were held at E and at H. Traveling
with the carnival which set up at E were members of the Ludar and Romničel
communities from Q and U. Traveling with the carnival at H were members
of two vitsi from urban areas of the East and Midwest. Within the carni–
90
vals, the Gypsies formed social groupings; indeed, their stands were
set up near one another. The established Rom showed only mild interest
in the carnival people; their activities were well understood and con-
tained, and presented no threat.
A Diachronic Analysis of Adaptive Strategies: The Kalderaš of Eastern
Canada
A diachronic analysis of North American Rom economic strategies re-
veals flexibility in adapting to changing conditions as well as variation
in choices made from among the range of possible strategies. For the
present analysis we will describe the history of adaptations of the
Kalderaš Rom now in eastern Canada.
Members of several Kalderaš vitsi, the ancestors of the Rom now based
in Eastern Canada, immigrated to the New World in the 1890's and early
1900's. The earliest arrivals took up land in the western provinces
of Canada under the Homestead Act, then brought relatives who camped
on the land. Some of the later arrivals bought land. The Rom claim
actually to have farmed the land for a short time, although with hired
gazo labor.
During this time, the Rom began buying and selling horses. Some
sold at auctions held in the 1arger towns. During the first World War,
horse trading increased. About the same time, the Rom abandoned the
farms, bought wagons and began traveling. The wagons were used for
transportation of equipment, and as housing for short stays and in
severe weather. Tents were used for longer stays. Groups traveling
and camping together were not necessarily kin groups, and varied in size
according to the opportunity for business. Such groups did not necessarily
91
constitute economic unions. This type of traveling and camping organiza-
tion was essentially the same throughout the period of intensive travel,
whether by horse or by automobile.
During this period, the chief male economic strategies were horse
trading and institutional metal work. The former involved the Rom's
buying horses in the countryside, doing any necessary doctoring to in-
crease their value, and selling them . in the towns. Of course, buying or
selling might also occur in the same spot or during travel if opportunity
offered. Metal work consisted of the repair and re-tinning of vessels
such as copper vats, extractors and mixing bowls for bakeries, laundries
and so on. The Rom arranged to contract for a job, doing the actual
work at camp. Women begged for produce in the countryside, telling for-
tunes when the opportunity occurred. The older women tended the camp
and the children.
During this period the Rom began setting up tents at local sports
events and festivals, engaging in fortune-telling of the entertainment
type. They then began to integrate these fortune-telling businesses
into the organization of traveling carnivals, arranging with the carnival
owner to rent a spot for the season. Seasonal carnival work became an
important strategy and continued so for some families into the 1950's.
In addition to fortune-telling, the Rom ran game booths and instant photo-
graphy businesses, and sometimes sold 1iquor to the non-Gypsy carnival
workers.
By 1925, horse trading had become unprofitable and the Rom had bought
automobiles. Cars permitted faster and further travel, and during the
next decade the Canadian Rom seem to have traveled over most of North
92
America. Camping arrangements were much the same as in the period of
travel by horse. Housing was in tents which, along with supplies, were
stored in an ingenious arrangement of additions to the car structure.
These tents were made comfortable with wooden floorboards covered with
rugs, and even electric lights and radios operated from the car generators.
During this period, the important strategies were metal work, begging
and fortune-telling, along with various "short cons" and other appropri-
ative activities. The 1ength of time spent in one place was about two
weeks, the time it took to "burn" a place, or exhaust the opportunities
there. Metal work continued until the late 1930's, when copper was re-
placed by Monel metal and stainless steel.
Whether engaged in carnival work or in metal work, the Rom traveled
from about the end of March to October, renting storefronts or apartments
in the cities for the winter months. During the winter fortune-telling
became the major strategy. During World War II, the Rom began to remain
in the cities year-round. Male strategies became supplementary. These
included repair of hydraulic jacks, followed by small scale trading in
used cars and trailers. The automobile trade began about 1956 and con-
tinued to the present.
During the past few years, fortune-telling has changed almost en-
tirely to the advisor-healer type. Residence-businesses are located in
storefronts or apartments on main streets, near public transportation.
Signs are generally prohibited; a dvert is in g is by handbills passed out
on the streets and ads in ethnic-group newspapers. Clientele in the urban
area is drawn mainly from recent immigrants.
93
No Canadian Rom today utilize a strategy requiring constant nomadism.
Travel in connection with fortune-telling business, kinship obli–
gations and internal politics continues to be an important factor in
allocation of time and resources. Changing location can occur within
the city or area, or involve a 10ng-distance move. Factors influencing
local moves are a lack of business and consequent search for a better
spot, or unpaid rent and telephone bills. Long-distance moves are precip-
itated by anticipated trouble with the authorities, internal quarrels
(and often one compounded by the other), or on the other hand by a search
for business opportunity.
Personal History and Adaptive Strategies
Jimmy belongs to a vitsa whose members are known as world travelers.
In fact, the established Canadian Rom call them "D.P.'s," displaced per-
sons, although this vitsa, too, was part of the original Rom immigration
to Canada. The vitsa members are treated as the interlopers threaten-
ing the status quo.
Following Jimmy's travels, we can see the variety of adaptations he
utilizes. When in Ireland and Belgium, he did "church work." that is,
1acquering and burnishing of candelabra and other church vessels. The
job is obtained by bargaining with the priests, and the work is done at
camp. Jimmy flew with his family from Canada to Ireland, and there bought
cars and trailers for transportation and housing, as well as work equip-
ment. When in England, his family runs fortune-telling businesses of the
entertainment type at a seaside resort. He also repairs hydraulic jacks;
the organization of this work is similar to that for church work. He
is "nomadic" or "sedentary" as the situation requires, living in houses,
trailers or converted buses. In Wales, he travels with carnivals and
fairs, living in tents. In South Africa he travels with tents, doing
94
entertainment fortune-telling, and exploiting the romantic "Gypsy" image.
Here he has clashed with an established group of Rom who reported Jimmy's
family to the immigration authorities; the latter gave Jimmy six months
to make enough money to leave! In Canada, he runs a fortune-telling
business of the advisor-healer type, as well as small-scale car trade.
Summary
I will now summarize some of the main points made and their im-
plications.
The Rom economic pursuits are structured along the following lines:
1) By certain organizing principles such as ethnic separation, the values
of purity, independence and the exercise of cleverness;
2) By choice of strategies which meet these criteria;
3) The actual 11mitations of the socioeconomic niche that set bounds
to what is possible.
These limiting factors allow for considerable variation and maneuver-
ability in adaptation. Rather than seeing Rom strategies as falling into
fixed categories, we see flexibility of choice and readiness to adapt to
new conditions as long as the innovations conform to the general organiz-
ing principles.
Whereas in much previous literature entire Gypsy groups were 1abeled
as nomadic or sedentary, we have noted that the mode of residence is chosen
according to the requirements of the situation.
f Much of the literature also assumes static tribal occupations and
occupational tribes; that is, "tribes" were characterized as "being"
kettlemenders, horse traders and so on. Certainly the Rom sometimes
speak as if this were the case; such characterizations may be seen as
stereotypes. The actual choice of occupations is shown to exhibit a great
95
deal of flexibility; we have observed variation in adaptive strategies
viewed synchronically and also diachronically, within the life history of
an individual and in response to general historical trends.
In viewing historical change in the utilization of strategies, we
do find a statistically significant trend toward utilization of strategies
associated with a fixed location. However, the case histories also show
that for individuals and groups this trend is neither absolute nor irre-
versible. "Nomadism" and "sedentarism" can be seen as alternate responses
to the same problem: expected trouble with the authorities. The spatial
situation may be manipulated (e.g. through flight) or the social situ-
ation may be manipulated (e.g. by modifying the attitudes of the authori-
ties). -
The social organization associated with the adaptive strategies also
allows for flexibility. Differential dependence on men's or women's work,
and kinship networks from which work units of varying sizes can be drawn
are examples of varying responses to existing opportunities.
Factors to be considered in the choice of strategy have been seen
to include the following:
Kin-based networks, providing the work personnel and governing pre-
ferred and proscribed geographical work areas.
Territoriality, governing where and what types of work may be per-
formed.
Experiences both personal, and that of the family, and to a lesser
extent that of others, governing knowledge of particular strategies and
knowledge of the socioeconomic niche.
Competition between those utilizing traveling and fixed-base strategies,
96
as well as competition among those utilizing the same strategy (espe-
cially in fortune-telling).
The clientele pool, governing the population density of the Rom
and to some extent governing the type of fortune-telling practiced.
The formal and informal structures of 1aw and law enforcement, govern-
ing both the type of strategy utilized, and introducing considerations of
allocations for modification of that environment.
NOTES
The field work on which this paper is based was conducted in several
cities in the United States from 1973 to 1978, in urban eastern Canada
in 1973, 1976, 1977 and in the rural South in 1974–75. In order to
limit the field of inquiry to manageable proportions, the basic unit
of analysis utilized is that of the North American Rom. The greater
part of the work was conducted with the Rom of the Kalderaš, Mačwaia
and Lovara groups, with an emphasis on the Kalderaś. Some comparative
data was obtained also from the Romničel and Ludar groups in the South
and Midwest.
The three major Gypsy groups in North America are the Rom, the Ludar,
and the Romničels. The Rom and Ludar both immigrated from Eastern
Europe, the Romničels from England. These three culturally distinct
groups maintain social distance from one another and utilize slightly
different economic strategies.
97
COMMUNITY IN DEFIANCE OF THE PROSCENIUM
Roland N. Pippin
Northwestern State University of Louisiana
An exemplary case (Gypsies) was used to examine
the theory of communal organizations as suggested by
George A. Hillery, Jr. This task involved a content
analysis of seventeen documents to ascertain the theo—
retical linkages in Hillery's scheme. The theory itself
suggests the interrelatedness of three concepts that
are common to all communal organizations. The hypoth—
eses were oriented to discern the interrelatedness of
these three concepts (space, family and cooperation).
The theory suggested by Hillery was demonstrated to have
predicative qualities in regard to communal organizations.
These predicative qualities have application to the study
and understanding of a variety of human groups.
Sociology has only begun the task of developing classification
schemes for its many areas of interest. Although classifying schemes
in and of themselves do not make a discipline scientific, other scien—
tific disciplines have found taxonomies or classifying schemes helpful
in developing their disciplines. Since the inception of the discipline,
sociologists have been concerned with the concept of community, yet it
is an abstraction which continues to call for systematic clarification.
Some years ago Hillery noted ninety-four meanings and operational def-
initions attached to the concept of "community" (1955). A concern of
Hillery's up until 1968 was a definition of community which included what
a community is and is not. Other authors have also realized the diver-
sity of opinion related to the theoretical properties of community (see
Reiss, 1959; Freilich, 1963; and Willis, 1977). The work of these re-
searchers attests to the need for clarification in regard to the concept
of community. With such diversity in meaning, scientific understand-
99
ing and application of the concept, this research was concerned with a
particular dimension within the theoretical framework of the sociology
of community.
A major dimension of community that has received much attention is
the issue of 10cale or territorial relevance as a necessary, though not
sufficient, requisite for the existence of community. In regard to these
various definitions, this research examined a group that appears anomalous
to the various commonly held definitions of community that include the use
of 10cale over a significant period of time as a necessary condition for
community. Specifically, this work was concerned with demonstrating some
of the consequences of the unique definition and use of territory by the
nomadic Rom. This was done in conjunction with Hillery's (1968) model of
community (specifically the model of the vill) and theory of communal organi-
zations.
The model of the vill consists of nineteen components (see Appendix, B,
Table VI, "Descriptive Characteristics of the Will"). These components
are generally classified under the three theoretically integrating constructs
of space, family, and cooperation. The idea of constructs, as it is used
by Hillery and in this research, refers to an analytical tool in which
the characteristics of the model are likely to be found in the "real."
world. The model was developed by Hillery through analysis and classifica-
tion of empirical evidence based on an assessment of ongoing systems. Accord—
ing to Hillery, the three integrating constructs are characteristic in all
kinds of communal organizations. His theory suggests that the constructs
are linked to each other and variable, a change in one having some effect
on the others. Those systems that diverge from the model can be specified
(Hillery, 1968: 171) and, 1ogically, as Hill ery stated, the necessary
100
change (s) can be specified. With these ideas in mind, Hillery's model
and theory were employed since they allowed the researcher an existing
theoretical point of departure. Hillery's scheme did require some clari-
fication in regard to the communal organizational nature of nomadic
group. The details of this clarification follow.
The objective of this research was to determine the interrelationship
of the three integrating constructs of space, family, and cooperation and
to assess the variation of emphasis placed on them. This approach allowed
the researcher a means by which to examine Hillery's theory of communal
organizations and determine the extent to which the three integrating
constructs were crucial to a definition and understanding of communal
organizations.
Hillery's theory relating to communal organizations was applied
specifically to the nomadic Rom in that this social system includes the
three integrating constructs of space, family, and cooperation and
hence by definition a kind of communal organization. However, the vari-
ation in the use of space was found to be unique for the Rom and due
to this the two remaining constructs of family and cooperation were em–
phasized.
An intensive study of the nomadic Rom in the context of community
theory is important for several reasons: (a) Gypsies differ from other
communal organizations in that they treat space differently; (b) stemming
from careful classification of the nomadic Rom, with an understanding of
the relationship of the three integrating constructs of space, family,
and cooperation, additional and general understanding of human organi-
zations is made available; (c) there is a dearth of analytical sociolog-
101
ical work on Gypsies and considering the vastness of this group as well
as the longevity of their social system, such a study was in and of it—
self needed.
Hillery's scheme is basic to this work, hence it is imperative to
begin with an understanding of his theory of communal organizations.
According to Hillery (1968), there is a qualifying distinction between
formal and communal organizations. Hillery makes this distinction:
". . . an organization has specific goals if its members recognize the
possession of specific goals and if its norms are so organized that they
contribute to the attainment of these goals" (1968: 147). If an organi-
zation does not meet this criterion, then it is not a formal organization.
Hillery in fact believes that". . . the very nature of groups defined by
specific goals makes impossible any continuum between such groups and
systems without such goals" (1968: 149). Therefore, a communal organiza-
tion is a system with organized norms and 1ack of primacy to specific
goals. The degree of organization is another dimension of this scheme
that requires some elaboration.
The extent to which there is organization is the extent to which a
system is institutionalized. As a clarifying example, an informal group,
such as an ethnic group, may well not have specific goals as discussed
above, but its degree of organization or institutionalization does not
assure it being classified as a kind of communal organization. It is
however, theoretically possible that an ethnic group could evolve,
organize, or develop into a communal organization. Beyond this second
characteristie of communal organizations is a quantifying distinction.
That is, the differences among various communal organizations are not of
102
a qualifying nature as already discussed, rather they are differences
of degree.
Hillery notes in regard to this quantifying nature that ". . .
systems will be found to vary from those which include all of the systems
in its class to those which include none of the others. Thus, nations
include vills which include neighborhoods, etc., but not vice versa
(at least normally)" (1968: 149). Wills are in the class as a kind of
communal organization. A vill is larger or more inclusive than the neigh-
borhood or family, but smaller or less inclusive than the nation. The
model of the vill, in fact, is at the mid-point between nation and family.
Hillery's typology of human groups (Table I following) serves as a synopsis
of the above discussion.
The model of the vill is a tool that can be used in comparing its
characteristics to systems in the "real" world. This tool was used in
this research to determine the extent to which the Rom approximate the
model. Employing this technique allowed not only the classification
of the Rom but allowed the examination of the relationship among the three
integrating constructs. An explanation of the derivation of propositions
and hypotheses from Hillery's work follows.
From the preceding discussion and table, the following propositions
are deductively derived: first, the nomadic Rom are, by definition, a
kind of communal organization; second, although Gypsies are a kind of
communal organization and include the three integrating constructs of
space, family, and cooperation, their treatment of space or locale is
different from similarly institutionalized sedentary communal organizations;
third, since space is treated differently, it is hypothesized that the
constructs of family and cooperation will be modified in order to maintain
103
the system. Specifically, the nomadic Rom (1) manifest stronger family
solidarity when compared to other "normal" or sedentary systems, and (2)
the nomadic Rom manifest stronger community cohesion when compared to
other "normal" or sedentary systems. It can be deduced that since other
communal organizations (the Trappist Monks and the Kibbutzim) vary their
emphasis upon certain constructs, then the nomadic Rom will exhibit the
same tendency.
The first proposition stated above is that Gypsies are a kind of
communal organization. Given the characteristics of a communal organiza-
tion or institutionalization, and the integrating constructs of family,
space, and cooperation, the nomadic Rom may be defined as a kind of commun-
al organization. The Rom lack the goal orientation that would explain
their reason for being. Anne Sutherland (1975a) has said in regard to
intent or goal orientation (as defined earlier) on the part of the Rom,
that they are neither
. . . intentionally implementing a set of values
or planning the attainment of certain ideals any more
than any other society or culture. Of course the
Gypsies have an ideology, if you mean a set of ideals,
values or goals. They have much more than that - they
have a highly developed religion which is very much a
part of their survival as a group. But from this point
of view they are a culture or society living within
another society, and not an organization or group cre-
ated around certain goals. . . . -
In addition, the degree of organized norms or institutionalization in
this group is evidenced in the universality and regularity of values,
religion, ideals, etc. as is the case in other communal organizations
at the level of analysis of vills. Also, as other communal organizations,
the Gypsies evidence the three integrating constructs of family, space,
and cooperation. It is the use of space or territory that is treated
104
Institutional-
ized
Relatively un-
instituional-
ized
TABLE I
A general typology of human groups*
The system has primacy to specific goals:
Yes No •
(Formal Organ- (Communal Organ-
izations) izations)
Commonweal organ- Nation
izations
Service organ-
izations Will
Business con-
CeICIlS
Mutual benefit Neighborhood
associations
Family
(Expressive (Informal groups)
groups)
Social movements
Crowds
Ethnic groups
Cliques
* (Hillery
1968: 151).
Inclusiveness
relative to the
smaller systems:
Maximum
Minimum
Maximum
Minimum
3.
uniquely by the Rom. This unique treatment of space is the major char-
acteristic that is in variance from the model of the vill.
On the 1evel of analysis of the vill, space is used in a generally
universal way over a significant period of time. With the Rom it is not
this same space of permanence that is demonstrated as with other communal
Organizations. As Gottschalk states, Gypsies are a deviant community . .
because for them space constitutes more nearly an interchangeable and
non-continuous area, than a specific physical expanse within boundaries"
(1975: 103).
Having determined the nomadic Rom as a kind of communal organiza-
tion, it was hypothesized that the two constructs, family and cooperation,
would require greater emphasis in this social system. Because the Gypsies
cannot rely on a defined, permanent space for maintenance of their social
system they must, then, derive their identity as a social system from
the family and from cooperation. This idea was tested by comparing the
intensified emphasis placed on community cohesion and family solidarity
by the nomadic Rom to that of "normal" or sedentary systems.
The nomadic Rom are not the only communal organization to manifest
an unusual implementation of the three integrating constructs of family,
space, and cooperation. The Kibbutzim and the Trappist Monks show a
unique modification in their treatment of the family. Both groups also
show emphasis on one or more of the remaining constructs. The Kibbutzim
at one time significantly modified the biosocial family and emphasized
commitment vis-a-vis an integrating value system (cf. Spiro, 1963: 110-
121). Spiro suggests a relationship between family modification and the
ideological commitment to the community in general (1963: 194–195). In
106
this regard he does reference the strong sense of "nationalism" encount-
ered in the Kibbutzim. Presumably a more "normal" community would show
less ideological commitment to community. Hillery, in an unpublished
manuscript (quoted by permission) has looked at a system that excludes
the biosocial family altogether:
. . . the monk has (in fact) come from a family,
his family of orientation . . . the monastery uses
kinship models in its social structure . . . because
the family is absent from the communal organization
of the monastery, certain institutions must be sub-
stituted, called here' institutions of maintenance'
[1972:38; my emphasis 1.
Hillery's research supports the idea that the monks (who lack the bio-
social family) are a kind of communal organization. His intent was to
describe and analyze a system that had modified the "modality" of his
own indicators (i.e., the model of the vill) to see if the system would
continue and if compensatory modifications would emerge within the system.
This kind of approach is applied here to study the nomadic Rom.
As the Kibbutzim significantly modified the biosocial family, so
do the nomadic Rom modify the use of space. And, in a similar fashion,
the Trappist Monks have altered their system by excluding the biosocial
family without a demise of the system. There is, then, some precedent for
assessing the effects of the modification of the three integrating con-
structs within the confines of a human organization. Like the Kibbutzim
and the Trappist Monks, the nomadic Rom have altered one of the three
integrating constructs, that of space.
Considering these examples, it is reasonable to assume that other
human groups, regardless of the degree of emphasis placed on any or all
of the three integrating constructs, can maintain their system as communal
organizations. Such an assumption tends to broaden the scope of thought
as it pertains to conceptualization of communal organizations, an enterprise
107
that has, as indicated earlier, been a part of sociology since its in-
ception.
The following paragraphs as sess the definition of territory or space
as it relates to the study of community. With regard to the importance
of territory to community, Hillery proposes:
. . it is not always easy to see what the diverse
entities known as communities have in common. What, if
anything, do a nomadic tribe of Bedouins and a megalopolis
like New York City, for example, have in common? Among the
many different definitions of community that have been
offered, three characteristics are usually agreed upon
as a minimum, namely, 1ocale, common ties, and social
interaction [1955: 194–204 1 -
Bernard suggests that"'The Community' as it is currently conceived
usually refers to settlements of the kind encompassed in the definition .
in which locale is a basic component' (1973:3). Gottschalk reveals that most
definitions of community include a territorial concept (1975:20). McIver
and Page believe that locality is one of the fundamental "bases" of commu-
nity,". . . a view implicit or explicit in a good number of community
studies" (1961:9).
Hiller refers to the treatment of space as a base of operation
by writing as follows:
. . . while analysis indicates that the community
. . . at least the abstract community with which
sociology is concerned . . . does in fact include
a habitat, locality or area . . . which, as a value,
not only becomes involved reciprocally with the other
elements, but also serves as the occasion for the
integration of the other elements into a group con-
stituting a community [1941:190-191).
Hiller's notion is made concrete by his suggestion that the "phys-
ical thing" community encompasses the reciprocal activities of individuals
in a specific 10cale. This includes physical structures and "institutions"
108
(firms, schools, churches, or residences). Since the reciprocal activities
occur over time, it can be inferred that proximity in space is the essential
test of a community (1941:192). Hiller also believes that a flexible
variation in some elements vis-a-vis a definition of community is possible,
as long as they are considered in a physically contiguous context (1941:
202).
! I
Davis states that a community is ". . . the smallest territorial
group that can embrace all aspects of social life. It is the smallest
local group that can be and often is a complete society" (1949: 312).
Parsons, too, discusses the aspect of territory as it relates to
community:
I would thus give a tentative working definition
of community as that aspect of the structure of social
systems which is referable to the territorial location
of persons (i.e., human individuals as organisms) and
their activities. When I say 'referable to " I do not
mean determined exclusively or predominantly by , but
rather observable and analyzable with reference to lo-
cation as a focus of attention (and of course a partial
determinant). In this respect the study of community
structures come close to what an important group of
sociologists (centering in the University of Chicago
and later Michigan) have called the 'ecological approach'
to the study of social phenomenon. Though the territo-
rial reference is central, it should also be pointed
out that there is another term to the relation. The
full formula that is, comprises persons acting in
territorial 10cations, and since the reference is to
social relations, persons acting in relation to other
persons in respect to territorial locations of both
parties. The population then is just as much a focus
of the study of community as the territorial location
[1960: 250; Parsons' emphasis J.
It is of interest here to note that the construct of territory in
terms of community is often confused by those who attempt to specify
physical boundaries of the community. With respect to this placing of
specific boundaries, Maurice Stein relates that a community is " . . . an
109
organized system standing in a determinate relation to its environment
which has a local basis but not necessarily a rigid boundary" (1960: 101–
102 ; my emphasis). Certainly, Stein is aware of the fact that many
parts of the system can be found outside the defined community.
Another author who deals with territory as a base of operation is
Warren. He writes: . . . we shall consider a community to be that com-
bination of social units and systems which perform the major social func=
tions having locality relevance" (1963:9). Warren also points out that,
". . . it is on the local level that individuals encounter the culture
and social systems of the larger society and are inducted into these
systems and acquire the appropriate attitudes and behavior patterns"
(1963:173–174).
Freilich is, perhaps, the most specific with regard to the concept
of locale as a base of operation. He writes, ". . . a definition (of
community) which would have wide acceptability and utility, would be one
which is as operational and included people in interaction in a given
area" (1963: 118). He elaborates by stating, ". . . as essential ingre-
dients of any definition of community . . , the following should
be considered: Geographically, the community is a set of centers related
to each other by being used regularly by a unique set of associational
groups" (1963: 123). In opposition to random and non-connected centers,
Freilich proposes ". . . the community is a set of interrelated centers.
Any given center is thus part of at least one community, and can be used
as the starting point to trace the physical location of a community"
1963: 126). He adds, ". . . a man can be said to be a member of a geo-
graphical community (set of interrelated centers) if his frequency of
going to the centers of the community times the average duration of time
1 10
he spends there, is greater than such frequency times duration for any
other set of interconnected centers" (1963: 126). It is obvious, then,
that assessing where "communities" are is, at best, a very difficult
task using Freilich's scheme.
Also concerned with locale as a center of activity in community
studies is Hillery. He writes: "A mark of some types of communal organi-
zation is that one's 1jife may be lived wholly within them. For smaller
organizations (vills, neighborhoods and households) the unit becomes
more properly a base of operations from which people follow routine,
institutionalized activities" (1968: 186–187).
Stacey deals with this same perspective:
A social system is a set of inter-related social in-
stitutions covering all aspects of social life, familial,
religious, juridical, etc., and the associated belief
systems of each. This is what many sociologists have ca11-
ed 'social organization' and bears some resemblance to what
Parsons calls the 'societal community'. . . . Each of the
aspects mentioned, familial, political, etc. , can be consider-
ed as systems themselves and are parts of any social system.
A local social system occurs when such a set of inter-rela-
tions exists in a geographically defined locality. If
there are no connections between the major social insti-
tutions in the locality, that is connections which are
specific to that locality, there is no local social system
[1969: 140 l.
There is additional support for the view of territory as a base of
operation. This support is found in the works of Bernard, 1973; Kasarda,
1974; Rose, 1974; and Gottschalk, 1975.
The human ecological model emphasizes the importance of space with
regard to community structures and processes. Sirjamaki noted this in
his writing: f
. . . ecologists insist that human ecology’ studies
the impact of the natural world -- mediated by human
societies and civilizations -- on communities in terms of
111
such factors as area, location, aggregation, dis-
tance, space, and propinquity, and, basic to all
of these terms, patterns of movement and communi-
cation. It postulates that human populations occu-
py an area or territory in which aggregation and prop-
inquity create physical, then social, contacts among
individuals, which lead to the development of communi-
ties. . . [1964: 196; My emphasis ).
It appears that some ecologists consider space to be operating as some-
what of an independent variable.
Park and Burgess, early human ecologists, suggest that ". . .
community is a term which is applied to societies and social groups where
they are considered from the point of view of the geographical distribution
of individuals and institutions of which they are composed" (1921). Park
also states that ". . . the community is a visible object. One can point
it out, define its territorial limits, and plot its constitutive elements,
its population and its institutions on maps" (1952).
Reiss points out that ". . . ecologists assume that community struc-
ture manifests itself in a spatial and temporal pattern" (1959). Further-
more, he believes that "
. . . community arises through sharing limited
territorial space for residence and substenance and functions to meet
common needs generated in sharing this space by establishing characteristic
forms of social action" (1959: 118).
Although Warren generally writes in terms of locale as a base of
interaction, he often seems to follow the human ecological model. He
explains that:
Peoples' lives and their behavior are significant-
ly influenced by their propinquity. Living together
in close physical proximity calls for social structures
and social functions which sustain life in the 10cality
and provide the satisfactions which people must share
in common local institutions and facilities [1969:9).
112
Like Warren, Hillery sees space as a base of operations; but he also
follows the ecological model to some extent. He explains, concerning
the villages and cities he studied, that ". . . the spatial patterning
of each of the fifteen vills displays a process of ecological centraliza-
tions of various institutionalized services" (1968:137). Hillery does
qualify the use of the "pure" ecological model:
None of the theories of urban spatial patterns
('ecological' theories) can be defended by reference
to the five cities. Certain classical ecological
processes show up clearly, however. Most noticeable
is the specialization among various areas according
to ethnic, status, or economic functions —– that is,
the ecological process of segregation" [1968:261 ).
Hiller is seemingly not a proponent of "architectural determinism",
but he does insist that territory must be considered as a factor in the
study of the vill (1968:192).
According to Hiller, ". . . area, locality, or space is taken as
a datum in defining social relations. It is symbolic. When 10cality or
space has such symbolic significance, admission thereto constitutes a
test of access to corresponding social relations, whether these be pre-
scribed politically or otherwise" (1941: 197). He also says:
. . . the locality becomes identified as a social
possession and 'place' is experienced as a 'social space'
within which certain duties and rights and other norma-
tively defined relations are obtained. While such norms
may be more or less similar in content to those found in
other social structures, the occasion for their operation
is distinctive. They are integrated into a system compris-
ing meaningful space, which is regarded as the possession
and symbol of a 10cality-group.
In view of such symbolic significance, the habitat
or locality as a datum in a social reference, must be
hypothecated as an analytical element differentiating the
community because it either is valued as a collective
possession and symbol or serves as means to ends. As a
symbol, the habitat is associated with norms of social re-
lations and with values that reflect upon the reputation
113
of the residents or in other ways becomes identified with
their personalities" [1941: 198].
Clark employs a slightly different approach; he views space and
the manifestations of social interaction (e.g., landmarks, gathering
places, etc.) as "physical points" that symbolize a common life, both
past and present (1973). These remarks vary, to some extent, when
applied to the nomadic Rom, (e.g., lack of historical landmarks, etc.),
but the discussion of that variation will be undertaken at another point
in this work. -
The 1ength of time a social system, at the 1evel of analysis of
the vill, must remain in a particular place to have locale relevance or
to establish a system called a community poses a question that is diffi-
cult to answer. The difficulty arises because of the lack of a consensus
concerning the "time requirement" for a system to be in one locale to be
classified a community.
Stacey implies a minimum time requisite when she states, ". . . where
marked local systems have been identified, they have developed in a rel-
atively confined locality over a considerable period of time, fifty to
eighty years at least, and in a locality in which all the components of
social life are to be found" (1969: 139 ; my emphasis). If fifty years
is accepted as a minimum, the nomadic Rom hardly fit this dubious criterion
for establishing locale relevance. As noted earlier, it seems the nomadic
Rom do not adopt or adapt (to) a locale for a significant time, as discuss–
ed above. Even if the minimum time were established at two years or one
year, the Rom still would not fit this criterion. Compared to other social
systems at the level or analysis of the vill, this researcher would be
justified in suggesting that the use of territory by the Rom is in marked
114
variance to these sedentary systems.
The definition and use of territory or space for the Rom is in
variance when compared to that of their social systems on the level of
analysis of vills. As Acton noted, it is "flexible and fluid" and main-
tains as its core the definition of space as broad expanses of territory
in which certain kump an i and families can move. Even these broad defi-
nitions can vary depending on political, economic, or family "necessities."
This fluidity of territory is attested to by Kornblum. He wrote,
". . . as nomads, wandering for centuries throughout Asia and Europe,
the gypsies were never hunters, or herdsmen who adapted to a difficult
physical environment" (1972: 240). Also, to reiterate, Esty relates that
Gypsies have never formed a government, waged a Gypsy war or owned a
territory (1969:3). In relation to community studies, Bernard posits
that, ". . . today among gypsies . . . [they ) have no fixed locale at
all" (973:4) (My emphasis).
If the Gypsy has not used, over a significant period of time, locale
as a base of operation, if he has not adapted to space, and if he has not
1eft any historical landmarks, then what is the basis for his use of
territory? This researcher agrees with Bernard's opinion:
. . . I am 10athe to give up the insights of current
critics of our locale-based conceptions of social struc-
ture. I am equally loathe to abandon the concept of
1ocale. The 'if . . . then' statement of community par-
adigms makes possible the retention of both. 'If space
is obliterated for more and more people, and if . . . ,
and if . . . , then we can expect. . . . " Or, 'if locale
remains a basic factor in the relationships of groups
and individuals, then. . . . ' The statement of paradigms
in such a form directs us to sharpen our 'ifs'. It also
offers us options in the selection of models. It makes
possible the competition among paradigms essential for
the growth of science" [1973: 191 ).
115
Admitting the importance of territory, even for the nomadic Gypsy,
the problem of interaction between space and system and the problem of
the time requirement for locale relevance still remain. From prelimi-
nary studies of the Gypsy, it is somewhat evident that the definition
and use of territory by the nomadic Rom is different from the definition
and use of territory over a significant period of time by locale-specific
systems. Bernard writes:
Among hunting peoples who had to go where the food
was , or grazing peoples who had to follow their herds,
locale had a different meaning that it had among agri-
cultural peoples who settled down in fixed locations.
The nomadic peoples were no less dependent on their
land resources than were the agricultural peoples, but
if you have to pull up stakes every season, your emotional
attachments to any one 10cale have to be more brittle"
[1973:4; My emphasis ).
In his recent work which employs Hillery's model, Gottschalk spe-
cifically addresses himself to this matter:
Hillery, in his discussion of the vill, identified
three foci: family, cooperation, and space. This
study has largely followed Hillery's advice in concen–
trating on the family and on cooperation. However, the
concept of space has received somewhat less attention.
Space in Vills suggests a physical area with boundaries.
Each of the three cases studied occupies such an area,
though it is not always clearly defined, as in Levit-
town, or is subject to change, as in the case of the
Bruderhof. Space is important, and communities such
as the Gypsies and Medieval Jews should also be con-
sidered deviant communities, quite independent of the
definition of deviant community which has been devel-
oped here. They are deviant communities because for
them space constitutes more nearly an interchangeable
and non-continuous area, than a specific expanse with
boundaries" [1975: 103 ; My emphasis J.
The importance of the above discussion was to show the variance
between the Rom's use of space and "normal" or sedentary communities.
The following paragraphs deal with the methodology employed in this
research.
116
The major methodological procedure for this research was a content
analysis. Using an instrument designed for assessing secondary data this
researcher was able to document, in an itemized fashion, the character-
istics of the Rom. Since the level of analysis was oriented toward the
vill, the three tribes of the Ron as well as the eight villages and cities
were the units of analyses. It is debatable whether to use the tribes
or the kumpania as the unit of analysis. There are two reasons for the
choice of the tribes: (1) the secondary data were not oriented toward
the kumpania, and (2) their level of inclusiveness in regard to Hiller's
scheme is not known. In addition to the basic set of items for the content
analysis, ten items which related to the family solidarity and five items
related to the community cohesion were used.
117
Secondary Data
Seventeen documents were read and the data from them catalogued by
way of the data collection instrument. Eight of the documents were chosen
because of their in-depth description of three Gypsy tribes and the cred—
ibility of the authors. The remaining nine documents described eight
sedentary or "normal" communities.
This research did not make use of a random sample of all documents
concerning Gypsies; the reasons for this are varied. First, it would be
virtually impossible to gather all literature on Gypsies. Second, much
of the literature is not sufficiently credible for scientific inquiry.
Much that has been written is journalistic in nature and cursory at best.
Because of this status of the literature on Gypsies, four criteria were
considered for discerning the suitability of the documents: (1) the scholar-
ly nature of the research, i.e., whether it was journalistic, a novel,
or an empirical work; (2) the academic credentials of the authors; (3)
the amount of time each author spent with Gypsies; and, (4) the opinions
given through correspondence and interviews, of known authorities concern-
ing scholarly work on Gypsies.
Outside Readers
The second portion of the method employed outside readers and concerned
the items on family solidarity and community cohesion. The data (quotations)
gleaned in regard to the areas of theoretical interest were given to ten
outside readers who classified them using the instrument described above.
118
The readers were all upper-classmen sociology majors at a small college
located in a metropolitan area of northwestern Louisiana. These students
were not familar with the nature or purpose of the research. Because
many of the items had several citations, the readers were asked to judge
all citations independently of each other. Each item contained five
possible responses. These responses are unidirectional, i.e. , number one
indicates strong community cohesion and the fifth response indicates
weak community cohesion. The unidirectional nature of the responses holds
true for the items related to family solidarity. At least 40% agreement
(twice that expected by chance) was required on the part of the outside
readers for a citation to be used in the analyses. An arithmetic mean
was computed for each item as per the readers responses to each citation
used and these item means were used in statistical analyses. This is anal-
ogous to the procedure employed by Thurstone (1928).
Tºtatistics Employed
The third part of the method, the statistical analysis, was three-
fold. First, after rank ordering all summated (across construct items)
scores, while keeping the distinction between the Rom and "normal" vills,
the Median point was determined. This allowed for dichotomizing the data.
Because of the sample size (eleven), Fisher's Exact t test (Siegel, 1956)
was used to determine if the difference between the two groups (in regard
to community cohesion and family solidarity) was significant (.05 set as
level of significance).
Tables II, III show the findings for the item by item analysis em-
ploying the Mann Whitney U test. Tables IV and V show the dichotomized
analyses employing Fisher's Exact t test. These findings will be generally
discussed in the conclusions.
119

TABLE IT
Item by Item Analysis for Community Cohesion of Sedentary Communities
and the Nomadic Rom, Employing the Mann-Whitney U Test
System 4. le 4. lf 4. 1g 4.1.h 4. li
Peyrane 2 2 3 3. 2
Kaihsienkung 2 2 2 l 2
Shamirpet 3 & sº º ºs 4 4 l
Tepoztlán & sºme 4 5 3 3
N1 Middletown 3 2 3 4 3
| Mit 1 a 3 l 5 gº- sº 2
Timbuctoo agm mºs sº tº 3 *- : - 3
Ita amºng mºme 4 5 amºgº sº; * * *
Machwaya l 1. 1. 1. 1.
N2 Kalderaš 1. l l l l
Lowara l 1. l 1. l
Ul= . 15% k 17 k?: 24% # 14 kºk 20%
* Significant p < .. 10 (Runyon & Haber 1976: 395, Table 14)
** Significant p < .05 (Runyon & Haber 1976: 394, Table 13)
–– Evidence lacking
TABLE III
Item by Item Analysis for Family Solidarity for Sedentary Communities and the No-
madic Rom, Employing the Mann-Whitney U Test
System 5. l. le 5. 1. lf 5. l. lg. 5. l. lh 5. l. li. 5. l. lj 5.1.1k 5.1. 11 5. l. lm 5. l. ln
Peyrane l 3 3 * * * }; 3 2 l 1. l
Kaihsienkung }. 2 2 1. l 3 3 2 2 2
Shamirpet * = tº ºme {-, -º-º: 2 2 2 2 1. 1. 1.
Tepoztlán 3- Eº l l l 1. 1. l 2 l 1.
Middletown 2 3 3 2 2 3 2 2 2 3
Mitla 3 2 2 3 3 3 3 l l * = <-º.
Timbuctoo •ºmº sº. l 1. * * *::: 2 l * > -º- l l
Ita 3 * > * > * > < *; 3 3 l 1. 2 3 2
Machway a 1. sº º :-º sº. l 2 1. 1. 2 2 2
Kalderaš 1 l l 1. 2 l 1. 1. 1. l
LOwara l 1. 1 3 2 l l &= * l 1.
Ul= 12 10 10 10 9 21 k 20 9 17 12
a!
* Significant p < .. 10 (Runyon & Haber
1976: 395, Table 14).
–– Evidence lacking

** Lack of 40% agreement on the part of the outside readers.
s
TABLE TV
Comparison of Community Cohesion (employing summated
scores), for Sedentary Communities and the
Nomadic Rom, employing Fishers' Exact
T
Community Cohesion
High Low
Sedentary l 7
Communities
Nomadic 3 O
Rom
P & .01 (siegel 1956:257, Table I)
§
TABLE W
Comparison of Family Solidarity (employing summated
scores) for Sedentary Communities and Nomadic
Rom, employing Fisher's Exact T
Family Solidarity
High Low
Sedentary
* = & 4 4
Communities
Nomadic 3 O
Rom
P K .01 (Siegel 1956: 257, Table I)


Conclusions
In relating the findings of this research to the theoretical issues
in community theory, the purpose of this section will be to (1) determine
the extent to which the tribes of the Rom approximate the model of the
vill, (2) determine the taxonomic "position" of the Rom with respect to
Hiller's typology, and (3) explain the theoretical implications related
to the specific hypotheses.
Of primary interest is whether or not the Rom tribes approximate
the model of the vill. The conclusions of this research is that the
characteristics of the tribes of the nomadic Rom do approximate the model
of the vill; only a few attributes of the Rom are not similar to the
model. The only major characteristic that is in variance to the model
is the use of space. The similarities to and variances from the model of the
vi 11 are illustrated in table form (see Table VI) showing; (a.) the com-
ponents of the vill, (b. ) the descriptive characteristics of the vill,
and (c.) the descriptive characteristics of the nomadic Rom. Given
this parsimonious picture, the reader should keep in mind the pariah
nature of the Rom. Likewise the issue of solidarity is difficult and
complex; it may well defy accurate classification at this time. The numer-
ous theoretical implications of this are not within the scope of this
research. Further, it is worthwhile to repeat Gropper's statement
concerning the economic nature of the Rom:
The economic sphere of life is regarded by the Gypsies
as the only link between themselves and the gaje among whom
they live. With few exceptions, no Gypsy group makes its
1iving from other Gypsies. It is for such a reason that
the anthropologist A. L. Kroeber referred to the Gypsies as
a 'half-culture'. . . and that many non-Gypsies called the
122
TABLE WI
A Comparison of the Characteristics of the Will and the Nomadic Rom
Hºt
fº)
Cao
Components of
the Will
1.0 Interaction
1. 1 Personal contact
1.2 Social process
2.0 Space
$:
* *
2. 1 Spatial integra-
tion
Taken from Hillery 1968: 134–136
Descriptive Characteristics
of the Will?:
Interaction varies from an
emphasis on direct inter-
action (in folk villages) to
less of such an emphasis (in
cities); practically every-
one knew everyone else (folk
villages) or strangers could
be integral parts (cities).
Cooperation is most in evi-
dence, though competition
and conflict are also de-
scribed.
Space in folk villages is
integrated politically or
by common recognition
(Mechanically) or both; in
cities, integration is
political, economic, and
organic.
Taken from the summaries of the content analyses of the documents on the Rom.
Descriptive Characteristics
Of the Romº K
Interaction is frequent
among the tribes: strangers
are excluded. Knowledge
of other Rom is similar to
knowledge of others in the
folk village.
Competition and conflict
are noted, but cooperation
is more intense. Compe-
tition seems to be, in fact
an integration factor as
does conflict.
Space among the Rom is in-
tegrated by common recogni-
tion as well as by quasi-
political and quasi-economic
integration, i.e., not in
the same sense as the city
or folk village.
Components of
the Will
2. 2 Spatial pat-
terning
2. 3 Boundaries
3.0 Activities
3. 1 Base of
operations
3.2 Mobility
3. 3 Continuance
TABLE VI
Continued
Descriptive Characteristics
of the Will
Ecological centralization
occurs in both types.
Boundaries are vague.
Wills are bases of opera-
tions for both localistic
and cosmopolitan activities
Mobility varies from 10w in
folk villages to high in
cities.
All cities were more than a
a century old; six of the ten
villages were more than a
century old and two of the re-
mainder might also be included
with majority.
Descriptive Characteristics
of the Rom
Ecological centralization is
not in evidence as class-
ically defined. Concentra-
tion is noted, but is quite
contemporary in nature. Boun-
daries are more flexible than
in folk villages or cities.
Boundaries are vague and
always changing; cultural
boundaries are more important
than physical boundaries.
With broad geographical arenas,
the various tribal kumpania
function as bases of operations.
Mobility is high with regard to
geographical movement and
occupational change; it is low
with regard to exogamy and class
mobility. -
The nomadic Rom are at least
one thousand years old.
§
4.0 Sentiment
4.1 Ethnocentrism
Components of
the Will
4. 2 Awareness
4. 3 Solidarity
5.0 Institutions
5.1 Family .
5.2 Economics
TABLE TV
Continued
Descriptive Characteristics
of the Will
All vills reveal ethnocentric
values directed toward pars of
the system as a whole (complete
data not given in two studies).
Inhabitants of both types of
vills showed awareness of the
vill as a whole (with the ex-
ception of infants).
Mechanical solidarity is more
developed in folk villages,
organic solidarity in cities,
though each type displays some
evidence of both forms.
Family ties are found for most
residents of all vills.
Economic institutions occupy a
dominant place in the social
systems of vills, whether they
concern primary production
(folk villages) or secondary
production, distribution, and
service industries (cities).
Descriptive Characteris-
tics of the Rom
There is tribal ethnoceri-
trism as well as natsia
("National") ethnocentrism.
The Rom make explicit the
distinction between them-
selves and "outsiders"
(gaze). They are intensely
aware of their tribal and
national uniqueness, i.e. ,
'they know that their system
is a unique entity.
The Rom may best be classi-
fied as a pariah group.
Family ties are found for
most and probably all mem-
bers of the tribes. The
extended family is the norm.
Economic flexibility is
dependent upon location and
time. Again, pariah status
may be more appropriate
classification.
§
Components of
the Will
5.3 Religion
5.4 Cooperation
5.5 Government
5. 6 Stratification
5. 7 Socialization
5.8 Recreation
TABLE IV
Continued
Descriptive Characteristics
of the Will
All Wills have religious and
magical institutions and be-
liefs.
Mutual aid characterizes
economic and other institu-
tional behavior in folk
villages; contract supersedes
mutual aid in cities.
Increased specialization
occurs in governmental
activities in cities as
contrasted with folk
villages.
Stratification is always
dependent in part on
family ties; cities add
achievement and possessions
(though some folk villages
have these also).
Socialization is achieved
both in families and
formal schools.
Feasts and festivals, games
and music are institution-
alized and occur at least
in part through cooperative
activities. -
Descriptive Characteris–
tics of the Rom
Religious and magical in-
stitutions are clearly in
evidence.
Mutual aid is clearly pre-
dominant among the Rom.
Contractual relationships
are noted between the Rom
and the gaze.
Governmental specialization
is comparable to that in
folk villages.
Stratification is dependent
on family (much as in the
folk village), vitsi, and
kumpania. TribaTaffilia–
tion is also important.
Achievement and possessions
play minor roles as in the
folk village.
Socialization is achieved
in the family, vitsi, kum-
pania, and to a lesser ex-
tent, the natsia. Formal
schools are not noted ex-
cept those of the gaše.
Feasts, festivals, games,
music, and stories are
relatively institution-
alized and occur within
and among tribes through
cooperative ventures.
§
Romanies 'parasites. ' These remarks are neither fair nor
true; economic interdependence is a form of 'symbiosis', not
'parasitism." It is an established culture pattern in Asia;
the Gypsies have carried it into Europe and the Americas
[1975:30 ).
While the nomadic Rom approximate the vill they certainly are not
a vill, given the constructs of the model and that it is essentially an
elaborate definition. What is clear though, is that any single Rom
tribe does, in fact, constitute a system that does not give primacy to a
specific goal and is relatively institutionalized. It is accurate to say,
then, that any single Rom tribe is a kind of communal organization.
Considering the attributes of the model of the vill, it is evident that
Rom tribes are more inclusive system than neighborhoods (kumpani)
but less inclusive than nations; that is, the neighborhood has less and
the nation has more of these attributes of the vill.
The taxonomic "position" of any one tribe with respect to Hiller's
typology is a central issue. Given the fact that the major variation,
the use of space, from the model of the vill is a unique characteristic
of a system that all of the other characteristics of the Rom closely approx–
imate the model, the system properly belongs close to the vill in Hiller's
taxonomy (see Table VII).
Having more firmly established the taxonomic position of the Rom,
it is necessary to examine the findings of hypotheses one and two. There
is a significant difference in the area of community cohesion found be-
tween the sedentary communities and the nomadic Rom. The nomadic Rom
manifest stronger community cohesion than sedentary communities ; the
level of significance here is at the 1evel .01. One implication of this
finding is that the use of the integrating constructs of the vill are
viable tools in analyzing any given communal organization, especially on
127
the level of community cohesion. Indeed, this view is something more
than tentative. The item by item analyses in the findings serve to
strengthen this position. All of the items, except one, are at the
.05 level of significance. (see Tables II, III, IV and V).
Of general importance is the applicability of these findings to
other human groups. If the components of a group are known and if Hillery's
model closely approaches reality, then general predictions about the effect
of modification (s) of the various integrating constructs in any given
communal organization (at approximately the 1evel of analysis of the
vill) can be made. It is in regard to these kinds of predictions that
SOIſle speculations can be offered. With the Rom as a limiting case with
relationship to the parameters of communal organizations (with the unique
use of space by the Rom as the focus of attention) at the level of analysis
of the vill, it is possible that it can be known to what degree the inte-
grating constructs of the model can be "stretched" or modified without the
demise of any given system. The Rom have similar characteristics to the
folk village, including an extended family structure (that shows "High"
family solidarity), and yet have geographical mobility that is higher than
that in the city. These characteristics seem to contradict the views of
Parsons (1953) and Klapp (1969) that industrialization and geographical dis-
persal of the extended family necessarily forces the disorganization or
demise of that system.
128
Institutionalized
Relatively un-
institutionalized
TABLE VII
A general typology of human groups*
The system has primacy to specific goals:
Yes NO
(Formal organi- (Communal organi-
zations) zations)
Commonweal organ- Nation
izations
Service Organi- Will
zations Romani tribe
Business con-
Ce r11S Neighborhood
Mutual benefit
associations Family
(Expressive (Informal
groups) groups)
Social movements Ethnic
groups
Crowds Cliques
* (Hiller 1968: 151).
Inclusiveness
relative to the
smaller systems:
Maximum
Minimum
Maximum
Minimum

§
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133
NOTES ON THE CONTRIBUTORS
Ruth Andersen
Andersen, a doctoral candidate in the Folklore and Folklife Program
at the University of Pennsylvania, is currently working on her dissertation
entitled Romani Fortune-telling as a Folkloristic Performance.
Rena Gropper
An associate professor of Anthropology at Hunter College, CUNY,
Gropper is the author of the earliest anthropological study on Gypsies
in the U.S. : The Fork In The Road: A Study of Acculturation among the
American Kalderaš Gypsies (Ph.D. Thesis. Columbia University 1950). She
is an author of several articles and a book, Gypsies In The City: Cultural
Patterns and Survival (Princeton, New Jersey: Darwin Press, 1975).
John Kearney
An associate professor of Sociology at George Williams College,
Kearney earned his doctorate with a dissertation The Kalderaš Gypsies:
Problems of Acculturation and Assimilation (Loyola University of Chicago
1978).
David Nemeth
- A visiting professor in The Department of Tourism, Che-Ju National
University, Korea. Nemeth did his Master's. Thesis in Geography: Nomad
Gypsies in Los Angeles (Fernando Valley State College 1970).
Roland N. Pippin
An associate professor of Sociology at Northwestern State University
of Louisiana, Pippin's major interests are social organization and community
theory. His dissertation Toward the Classification of Nomadic Gypsies:
A Taxonomic and Theoretical Treatise (Virginia Polytechnic Institute and
State University 1978), reflects these interests. .
Matt T. Salo
Salo is an assistant professor of Anthropology and Sociology in The
Department of Social and Behavioral Sciences, Centenary College, New Jersey.
He is an author of several articles on Gypsies and a co-author with Sheila
Salo of The Kalderaš in Eastern Canada. He is also a co-editor of the
Newsletter of The Gypsy Lore Society, North American Chapter.
135
Carol Silverman
Silverman teaches in The Folklore and Ethnic Studies Program at
University of Oregon, Eugene. Her doctoral dissertation is entitled
Expressive Behavior as Adaptive Strategy among American Gypsies (University
of Pennsylvania 1979). She has also presented papers at conferences and
published articles on the woman's role in the American Rom society.
*-
136
The North American Chapter of the Gypsy Lore Society was
founded in 1977 to promote the study of the Gypsy peoples
and analogous groups and to foster better communications
among scholars and others interested in Gypsy Studies -
The Chapter has established the Victor Weybright Archives
of Gypsy Studies, located at the Research Institute for
the Study of Man, New York City, and sponsors symposia
focusing on various aspects of Gypsy Studies. The quarterly
Newsletter features news of current research, conferences
and papers as well as reviews and notices of books and
other materials in the field - Membership, including
subscription to the Newsletter, is $5 for individuals,
$7.50 for institutions. Write to Newsletter GLSNA,
Division of Social/Behavioral Sciences, Centenary College,
Hackettstown, NJ O784O =