The Roman Newsstand: A Sad Story, with (some) Happy Endings

It’s a world-wide story, played out in Rome: the decline of the newsstand. Visually, the decline takes different forms, depending on the place. In Los Angeles, where the one-stop newsstand has not been an important phenomenon for decades, it’s most obvious on streetcorners, where once-active newspaper boxes stand empty and abused, sometimes full of trash rather than the penny saver, a Latino publication, or the Los Angeles Times. There are still many newsstands (edicole) in Rome, but fewer of them every day. In the first 10 months of 2025, 25 edicole closed in the Centro—the city center—and no doubt many more in surrounding areas, even areas that are densely populated. According to Il Messaggero (a Rome daily newspaper), there are 100 newsstands remaining in the city center, and 54 of them are at risk of closing.

Last year, while living near the University of Rome (La Sapienza) we noticed this closed newsstand:

And another that had been decorated on its sides by PONE and HUBE (those words or names appear throughout Rome and usually are a death knell of the enterprise).

This newsstand, also in the University district, is probably open (it still sports advertising) but has been the target of graffiti writers.

We passed by the one below, located on the Lungotevere and (conveniently) associated with a bus stop, on a busy Sunday evening. It was closed, perhaps permanently. 

In 2017 we lived in Ostiense, near a former newsstand was located at the intersection of via Ostiense and via del Gazometro. When we last looked, the structure was still there, side-by-side with outdoor seating for Doppio Zero, the pizzeria (we used to like) on that corner. Here it is in June 2017, for sale (the green sign: vendesi).

The Rome newsstands that still exist couldn’t possibly survive through the sale of newspapers alone. At our local edicola this year at Piazza dei Re di Roma (intersection of Via Pinerolo and Via Vercelli), our giornalaio (news agent) told us that on the average day they sold only about 40 copies (at E1.40) of the most popular newspaper, Il Messaggero, and only about half that of the next most popular, La Repubblica. The Friday edition of La Repubblica sells better, but only because it contains a supplemental magazine (at extra cost). We read the print edition of Il Messaggero every day.

From observation, it appears that many of today’s newsstands make money by selling sunglasses, hats, and souvenirs to tourists, as well as Metro tickets to tourists and some Romans. One of those below is strategically located in Piazzale Flamino. The other, in Tuscolano at the intersection of Via Tuscolana and Via Gela and not far from the train station, appears to specialize in children’s toys—and its awning says it’s open 24 hours.

The local press (yes, it still exists) has taken notice of the problem. Il Messaggero led us to one of the stories of a recently closed edicola, off Metro A in an old stomping grounds of ours (we lived in the area a few years ago), not far from the Cipro Metro stop. We found the edicola at Piazza Francesco Morosini.

It was opened in 1940 (!), surely before some of the surrounding structures were built, and had a role in the 1962 Dino Risi film “Il Sorpasso,” starring Vittorio Gassman. Cesare Monti, the owner since 2000, did well with the edicola for the first years, and was able to buy a house with the earnings. According to Monti, things went downhill with Covid, when clients began abandoning the printed newspaper for the online version. The license to operate, which once was valued at 300,000 Euro, declined in value to about 12,000 Euro—and even then nobody wanted it to purchase it. Monti’s mother, who helped out in the store, added that even the gadgets and toys for children stopped selling—victims of Amazon and other online sellers. The current offer to sell includes the “chiosco” (the physical edicola or kiosk) and the license.

A few weeks ago we spent several hours investigating two edicole that had been featured in the newspaper for having found new uses after ceasing operations as newsstands. On Prati’s Via Cola di Rienzo, two men with restaurant chops have converted a long-standing edicola into the centerpiece of Le Sicilianedde, an indoor/outdoor gourmet restaurant serving breakfast and dinner and featuring Sicilian cuisine (from cannoli to caponnatina) and promoting “Aperi-Edicola.” At streetside, the chiosco, rather than housing diners or drinkers, presents the ceramics of the Sicilian city of Caltagirone.

What looks like another success is in the Centro near the Spanish Steps, where a smallish edicola has been converted into a bar where you can get an on-the-street spritz—and pay for it with cash from the built-in ATM. 

A third converted edicola is in our own neighborhood this year, in Piazza Imola, off Via Taranto a few blocks from our place. Dianne had read that the edicola had closed but been transformed into an art space—a gallery of sorts. Here’s what we found:

When we returned on the evening of October 18 for the opening, the same view confirmed the success of the transformation. 

And here's the view from in front:

And from the side:

Wine was served, and inside a dj presenting a lively dj set. The group involved in this conversion, and apparently others, is known as "Santedicola." This show features photos of the community of Lanterna Beach. 

Among the strangest edicole in Rome is the one standing in the corner of Piazza Colonna in the city center. This newsstand was once the flagship edicola of the Rome newspaper "Il Tempo," founded in 1944 and still published, albeit with a minimal circulation (about 8,000 copies in 2021). Just steps away is Palazzo Wedekind, which housed the offices of "Il Tempo" for many years. Today one can still purchase newspapers and magazines at the kiosk, but only through machines; there is no giornolaio, no one selling newspapers or anything else. The last photo is of the edicola's interior. Kind of eerie. 

Bill 

For a story of a couple owning a newsstand in Ostiense (the one we bought from when we lived there), and their pessimism about their future (the kids don't want to work that hard), see Dianne's post from 2017 here: https://www.romethesecondtime.com/2017/06/open-at-530-am-close-at-9-pm-no.html

La Scoperta del Giorno: a Halloween Surprise

La Scoperta del Giorno (Today’s Discovery)

The latest in the now-and-then RST feature, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or “discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

It wasn't so long ago that Halloween was a non-event in Italy, and Rome. No more. McDonald's is into it, and when McDonald's gets on board, you know it's a thing. We noticed the electronic poster on the wall of a bus stop in Flaminia (we're all about buses now).

But that isn't today's Scoperta. 

Returning to our Piazza dei Re di Roma abode on the evening of Halloween, we noticed--on busy via Appia Nuova, a major thoroughfare, that Moms were escorting their costumed little ones into stores--commercial establishments--that line the streets, including a PAM supermarket and a flower shop. 

Faced with the difficulties of penetrating apartment buildings that line every street in most neighborhoods, Rome's kids trick-or-treat at area businesses! That's La Scoperta del Giorno for October 31, 2025!

 Bill 

From Quadraro, La Scoperta del Giorno

The latest in the now-and-then RST feature, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or “discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

Yesterday we returned to Quadraro, a center of street art that occupies both sides of Via Tuscolana in the heartt of Tuscolano. We  couldn't resist a look at the short tunnel that runs under Via Tuscolana between Via Decio Mure (on the west) and Via Lentuli (on the east). Below, what the west entrance looked like 9 years ago, in 2016. Even then, the black interior of the tunnel had been painted white, probably to encourage pedestrian use. The artist is Mr. Thoms.  (See our post on street art in Quadraro, including a now-defunct app, here: https://www.romethesecondtime.com/2016/11/quadraro-street-art-center-of-romes.html) 

Here's what it looked like a few weeks ago:

And that's the Scoperta del Giorno for October 9, 2025!

Bar Latteria - Bar and "Milk Store" - What's Up?

Latteria? Having spent 2 months each year in Rome for more than 2 decades, we had seen the word hundreds of times, often in combination with Bar, as in "Bar Latteria," or with Caffè, as in "Caffè Latteria," or even, curiously, with Cocktails, as in "Cocktails Latteria," And we knew enough to know that a "latteria" meant a "milk shop" or a "milk store." OK. But one can buy milk at the supermarket or at any mini-market. So what's the deal with the "latteria"?

Through conversations with our Roman friends, we pieced together the story of the Roman latteria.  

It was the consensus that the Bar Latteria (above) located in the large via Catania public market (in the orbit of Piazza Bologna), 150 vendor stalls, was "authentic." One could downplay the "Bar" part of the name, if only because the market itself closes for the day at about 1 p.m. No late afternoon Campari Spritz to be served here, although, as the bottles on the shelf would suggest, you can still get an a.m. Scotch.

A "milk board" posted outside (photo below), listing milk products that seemed to be unusual, also lends the place an air of authenticity. Then we learned that those milk products weren't so unusual—in fact they could be purchased at any supermarket, or even down the street at the mini-market. So much for authenticity.

It was not long before the very concept of authenticity was undermined. And that brings us to the history of the Latteria, insofar as we know it. A friend and professional chauffeur, who drives us to and from the airport, grew up in the 1970s in San Lorenzo—Scalo San Lorenzo to be precise. He remembers picking up milk for the family at the neighborhood latteria—one of about 4 in San Lorenzo at the time, as he recalls. He also remembers that in those days there was a central latteria in Rome, a distribution center from which all the city's latterie (the Italian plural of latteria) were supplied. 

It's unlikely that the signage of this Bar Latteria on via dei Sabelli in today's San Lorenzo dates to the 1970s—we think the term "Snack Bar" is a more recent invention. In the mornings it's full of mothers who have dropped their kids off at the school just down the block.

The first coffee bar we tried in San Lorenzo was a traditional establishment on Piazza dei Sanniti. Later we noticed a sign on the via dei Volsci side of the caffè. Missing the "L," it reads "atteria" (below the word "BAR").We asked the barista, a man in his 70s, if the bar was a latteria. "Not for a long time," he replied. I asked how long it had been since it was, in fact, a latteria. "Cinquant'anni" was his answer—dating the end of its days as a latteria to the mid-1970s. Indeed, the city's latterias ceased to exist as legal entities in 1975.

Before 1975—how far back we don't know, yet—milk distribution in Rome (and doubtless other cities) was regulated for health purposes. Milk was available only through licensed vendors—the latterias. When it became clear that this regulatory regime was no longer necessary, the latteria as a legal entity ceased to exist. That was, as the barista—and our driver—confirmed, almost 50 years ago. The year was 1975.

Even then, latterie didn't just disappear. The "milk store" was by then a tradition, and milk stores continued to exist, and even to open anew. This latteria, on via Tiburtina in San Lorenzo, was—according to its window signage—founded in 1980, 5 years after the law changed.

In our fall, 2025 Re di Roma neighborhood, a small, old sign suggests that a coffee shop we frequent, Anima Nera (Black Soul), was once a latteria:

The latteria survives in the memories of Romans, and in the signs of an earlier era. So, stop into your local milk store—and have a Jack Daniels. 

Bill 

Toilet Equipment, and La Scoperta del Giorno

The latest in the now-and-then RST feature, La Scoperta del Giorno (the discovery of the day or, better put in English, Today’s Discovery). The Italian word “scoperta,” and its English equivalent, “discovery,” are similarly constructed; each is based on the verb “to cover” (coprire/to cover) and each is converted into “uncover” or “discover” with a prefix (the “s” in Italian, the “dis” in English).

We reported on gentrification in 2019, and one of the neighborhoods we included was Quadraro, which occupies both sides of Via Tuscolana just south of the Porta Furba Metro stop on the A line. Quadraro made some sense as a locus of anti-gentrification sentiment, because it's a leftist, working-class neighborhood, while also being one of several Rome street art/murales centers, and hence associated with artistic elites.

That said, Tuscolano to Quadraro's south had always seemed to us relentlessly middle-class, impervious to gentrification. Until yesterday, when, window shopping, we were shocked to realize that we could have walked into a store in the heart of Tuscolano and come out with a $400 toilet brush! 

                    And that's La Scoperta del Giorno for an afternoon in October, 2025!