NEW YORK - In 1950, nearly half of the more than 10,000 New Yorkers living in the heart of Little Italy identified as Italian-American. The narrow streets teemed with children and resonated with melodic exchanges in Italian among the one in five residents born in Italy and their second- and third-generation neighbors.

By 2000, the census found that the Italian-American population had dwindled to 6 percent. Only 44 were Italian-born, compared with 2,149 a half-century earlier.

A census survey released in December determined that the proportion of Italian-Americans among the 8,600 residents in the same two-dozen-square-block area of Lower Manhattan had shrunk to about 5 percent.

And, incredibly, the census could not find a single resident who had been born in Italy.

Little Italy is becoming Littler Italy. The encroachment that began decades ago as Chinatown bulged north, SoHo expanded from the west, and other tracts were rebranded more fashionably.

The Little Italy that was once the heart of Italian-American life in the city exists mostly as a nostalgic memory or in the minds of tourists who still make it a must-see on their New York itinerary.

The only streets that really feel like they belong to Little Italy, Mulberry and Grand, are still crammed with venerable Italian restaurants and shops. But Chinese-language advertisements for reflexology spas pepper the sidewalk, a poster announces the lunar new year celebration, and a "for rent" sign hangs on a new seven-story condominium building at 182 Mulberry.

The Gambino crime family's old Ravenite social club at 247 Mulberry is now a shoe and handbag boutique. As recently as 2005, Vincent Gigante, the 77-year-old boss of the Genovese crime family, roamed the neighborhood in a bathrobe and slippers feigning mental illness to avoid prosecution. Last month, more than 100 reputed members of mob families were charged with federal crimes; none lived in Little Italy.

Last year, the National Park Service designated a Chinatown and Little Italy Historic District with no geographic distinction between the neighborhoods. The two neighborhoods have begun organizing a Marco Polo Day and an East Meets West Christmas Parade.

"It's really all Chinatown now," said John A. Zaccaro Sr, owner of the Little Italy real estate company founded by his father in 1935.

Some Little Italy landmarks have not only survived, but appear to be thriving thanks mostly to tourists and to what the author Nicholas Pileggi described decades ago as suburban "Saturday Italians" - the "prospering overweight sons of leaner immigrant fathers".

Di Palo's, an Italian specialty food store at 200 Grand St, opened for business in 1903, a decade after the Alleva dairy at 188 Grand, which advertises itself as the nation's oldest Italian cheese store and which, like Ferrara's, opened in 1892. Fifth-generation family members work in all three stores and all three also sell their products online.

In 1990, Lou Di Palo said, his ailing father handed the next generation the keys.

"We decided we're going to take our business and go backwards - focus the way our grandparents and great-grandparents ran their operation: family-oriented, hands-on customer relations," he said. "We're going to cut your piece of cheese and slice your prosciutto. We're still a neighborhood store, but we took the initiative to make our shop a destination."

New York Times