NEW YORK: Reunion

Angelo Michieli left his native Italian village, sailed to the U. S. to make a new home. His wife and infant son he had to leave behind until he had their passage money saved.

He did it—by three years of working in kitchens, fierce economy, single-minded loyalty. Last week Angelo met the liner Rex, joyfully took into his arms brown-eyed Amelia and their four-year-old bambino, Bruno.

The home was ready, three neat rooms on Manhattan's East Side. Most magnificent of all its furnishings was the gas range. Dazzled Amelia had never even seen one. Angelo proudly showed her how it worked, went off to his job.

At midnight came the end of Angelo's day. He hurried home, shouted for Amelia at the door. No answer. He pushed inside, was met by blackness and the overpowering smell of gas.

The coffee pot had boiled over on the new stove, extinguished the flame. Little Bruno lay on the floor, Amelia on the bed. The emergency crew worked on the two for a fruitless hour before they finally gave up. Angelo's three years had become a life sentence.