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 

Mikis Mantakas: a Prati Story

In April, we found ourselves for the first time living in the della Vittoria quartiere of the city, with Prati--also more or less unknown to us--only steps to the south.  Neighborhoods have their own stories, and we came across one of Prati's stories on our 2nd day in the city.  We were strolling around Piazza dei Quiriti when we saw this poster, which from its condition had been put up some time ago:

We knew then that Mikis Mantakas was no longer alive.  But who was he?  Two days later, in the same area, we found another poster.

Now we knew that Mantakas was, for some, a martyr ("Europe in the struggle for liberty does not forget its martyrs"), and that he had died on February 28, 1975--a victim, it seemed likely, of the political turmoil and violence known as the "Years of Lead, the "Anni di Piombo."

Here's the rest of the story, or some of it.

Mikis Mantakas was born in Athens, Greece on July 23, 1952.  In the 1970s--probably 1974--he came to Rome to study economics.  An activist and militant in Greece, in December 1974 in Rome he became attached to the Greek contingent of FUAN, the Fronte Universitario d'Azione Nationale ("the university front for national action"), a right-wing group known for militancy.

On February 28, 1975, he was shot twice with a .38 caliber pistol by a leftist extremist (some claimed a communist) in front of the offices of MSI, located at via Ottaviano 4, in Prati.  MSI (Movimento Sociale Italiano) was a neo-fascist political party, founded in 1946.

A hostile crowd had gathered around the building, and Mantakas had moved to another side of the building and another exit, this one at Piazza del Risorgimento, 4, close to the walls of the Vatican.  He was shot and killed there by Alvaro Lojacano.  Lojacano was proved to have committed the crime and was sentenced to 16 years in prison.  But before being incarcerated, he fled abroad and never served his sentence.

It's not just a few people who care about Mantakas' death and seek to keep his memory alive.  If one can believe today's right-wing websites, each year on February 28 "nationalists" from many European countries gather in Rome to celebrate Mantakas and affirm their nationalist ideals. They post banners and march west along via Cola di Rienzo to Piazza del Risorgimento, where they rally in front of the site of Mantakas' death, what is now a Foot Locker store.

We're almost never in Rome in February, so we can't confirm that these marches take place every year.  But images on one website make clear that a march did take place in 2015 (the 40th anniversary of Mantakis' death), and that there were dozens, if not hundreds of participants.

"Your memory does not allow surrender." 

And that's the story of Mikis Mantakas, a Greek young man who died in Prati.

Bill

Piero Bruno: Political Soul of Garbatella

"A Piero Bruno...Chi Sogna Non Muore"  (To Piero Bruno...those who dream, never die)

A stroll through Garbatella--a neighborhood south of central Rome, built as public housing in the 1920s and 1930s, and then as now strongly identified with the political left--will inevitably introduce
one to the name and face of Piero Bruno.  In a sense, Bruno represents Garbatella's radical, militant, in-your-face history and image. Knowing something of Bruno's past, you'll understand better what Garbatella is about, and better appreciate the political fissures--rooted in World War II and the postwar era--that continue to divide Romans and Italians.

Marchers from the Armellino Technical Institute

Piero was born on 8 December, 1957.  He lived with his parents and two sisters in Garbatella and attended the Armellino Technical Institute in the next suburb to the south, San Paolo.

The 1970s was an intense political era in Italy--not unlike the late 1960s and early 1970s in the United States.  Piero was involved with the Lotta Continua ("the struggle continues"), a far-left organization founded in 1969 as a spin-off of the student/worker movement in Turin.  Lotta Continua encouraged radicalism and militancy and had a hand in setting up social centers in Italian cities.

Possibly a photo of the demonstration in which Bruno was shot.

On November 22, 1975, Piero participated in a large march/demonstration--some 2,000 people--in support of the Republic of Angola's struggle for independence from the colonial power, Portugal.  As the marchers passed the intersection of via Muratori and largo Mecenate--near the gate of the Zaire embassy--violence broke out (that's vague, yes).  Piero was shot twice--apparently in the shoulder and the back--one shot fired by a Carabinieri (state police) and the second, while Piero lay on the ground, by a Rome police officer.  He died the next day.  No charges were filed.  The website "Maverick" sees the larger issue as the "violence of power" and blames the Christian Democrats (the party that held power through most of the postwar era), including Giulio Andreotti and Aldo Moro, high-ranking Italian politicians, both prime minister at times, for employing a "strategy of tension."

Ahead, the school named after Bruno.  The artwork has changed
little over the years.

Piero is remembered in Garbatella not only through wall paintings and a plaque--and in marches in his honor--but also through La Scuola Popolare Piero Bruno, an after-school help and social center where university students assist middle-school students with their homework on Tuesdays and Thursdays.

Marching to protest Piero Bruno's death.  Judging from the winter clothing, probably fall/winter (1975).

via Passino 20

An element of what may be a Piero Bruno
walking tour in Garbatella

To locate the Piero Bruno images in Garbatella, start from Piazza Pantero Pantera, follow via Luigi Fincati southeast, past the central market and onto via Francesco Passino.  The "Chi Sogna" wall, above, is further ahead in Piazza Damiano Sauli.
Bill

A Tale of Two Suburbs: Balduina, Trionfale, and the 1977 Killing of Walter Rossi

I went for a walk today, and found myself back in--1977.  Alone, abandoned by the wife who had chosen the London granddaughter over me, I headed west from our new digs in Piazza Gentile da Fabriano (Flaminio quartiere, end of via Guido Reni), over the Ponte della Musica and across the Lungotevere to the base of Monte Mario.

My plan was to take the stone path up the mountain (it's on Itinerary 9 in Rome the Second Time) and, once over the top, explore the nearby fringe of Balduina before heading north/northeast for a look at another near-in suburb, Trionfale.

The Flaminio quartiere, seen from the bar/restaurant Lo Zodiaco on Monte Mario.  The rounded buildings in the center are
Parco della Musica.  The large mountain at center-left is Monte Gennaro, "Rome's mountain."  

All that worked.  Wearing my altimeter watch, I measured Monte Mario at precisely 400 feet--to the bar/restaurant Lo Zodiaco on top, with great views of the city and surrounding mountain ranges.  On the other side,

Piazza Walter Rossi.  The painting, by Spanish artist, Borondo, is on all four
sides of this small building.  The red increases until on the last side, it
obliterates the image.   

I found my way down to Piazzale Medaglie d'Oro, took a left on viale Medaglie d'Oro, turned around after a few blocks and, 45 minutes later, was in Largo Cervinia, a thriving business district. I turned east (right) from there. Two blocks further on, I saw this painting--and there I was, back in 1977 and the Anni di Piombo ("years of lead").

I was in Piazza Walter Rossi. Once known as Piazza Igea, it was renamed in honor of Walter Rossi, killed on September 30, 1977 at age 20, on viale Medaglie d'Oro--I had been there less than an hour before--by a bullet in the back of the head.

Rossi, right.

There is a bit more to the "full" story.   Like so many young people at the time, Rossi was a militant Communist, affiliated with the group Lotta Continua ("The Struggle Continues"). The previous day, September 29, 19-year old Elena Pacinelli was shot 3 times and killed in Piazza Igea--that is, today's Piazza Walter Rossi, in the Trionfale Quartiere, right where I was standing--while in front of an [illegally] occupied house (i.e., one occupied by squatters).



The next day, September 30, the leafletting in which Rossi participated was organized, and the participants, including Rossi, were handing out their leaflets in viale delle Medaglie d'Oro. They were in Balduina, an area known as a stronghold of the MSI-DN [Movimento Sociale Italiano - Destra Nazionale], a militant right-wing group.

Affixing a plaque commemorating Rossi.  Date unknown.

They were near a "section" (local offices) of the MSI when a fight--mostly rock-throwing--broke out.  Merchants quickly closed their metal shutters and bystanders fled.  At some point in the melee, Rossi was killed.

Despite the presence of about a dozen police, no charges were filed with respect to Rossi's death.




Besides the painting, there's a piece of sculpture in the small park that centers Piazza Rossi.  It appears to feature Rossi, dead yet struggling for life, encased in cement.  A plaque on the sculpture

Sculpture in the piazza, dedicated to Walter Rossi

reads:  "Hanno spento la tua giovane vita/Hanno fermato il tuo forte corpo/Ma non potranno mai/Distruggere i tuoi ideali/Che rimarranno sempre vivi nel tempo" ("They snuffed out your short life/They stilled your strong body/But they will never be able to destroy your ideals/Which will always remain alive").

A torn poster from the previous September features a photo of Rossi--and a call to his memory and ideals--and describes a 3-day program of anti-fascist events, including speakers on the history of the struggles of the 1970s.

I found nothing in the Piazza related to the death of Elena Pacinelli.

Alemanno (left), Francesco Rossi (center)

Perhaps because Rossi's killer was never found, his name, and the piazza that now carries it, remain political lighting rods.  At a commemoration in the piazza in 2009, right-wing Mayor Gianni Alemanno, once a militant ring-wing punk himself, attempted something of a rapproachment, and did so in the presence of Francesco Rossi, Walter's father.

Right-wing mayor, father of left-wing son, shaking hands

"This day is very important for me," Alemanno said in a brief address, "because it's the first time that I have honored and commemorated fully ("fino in fondo") a young man of the left killed in his city."  Alemanno saw his action as "breaking a tabu."  He and Francesco shook hands.

Two years later, at the 2011 commemoration, members of Lotta Continua--Walter Rossi's organization, 34 years later--prevented Vice-Mayor Sveva Belviso (Alemanno's 2nd in command) from entering the piazza to present a wreath, arguing that her presence involved a "false pacification" and that she represented the "fascist" mayor.

Bill

A demonstration on behalf of Rossi, the banner reflecting a case still open

Audrey, Shopping in Rome

Yes, that's Audrey Hepburn, maybe at her skinniest, which is saying something, and in era bellbottoms, and sporting the oversize sunglasses that would again be in style in 2012.  Accompanied, we were told, by her grandson.  It's 1972, and they're in Piazza Fiume, in front of the famed and architecturally significant (still extant and newly remodeled - and - the subject of an earlier post) department store, la Rinascente.  We saw the photo for the first time just months ago, when we were in an underground bookstore (accessed by the stairs beyond Audrey).  When we admired the photo, the proprietor insisted on printing us a copy.  (It's a good bookstore, btw, and has Roman ruins within it.)

As RST regulars know, Audrey is iconic in Rome and environs. 

Here (and now), she's selling a purse (E25, about $33)



And here, her image is used to market beauty services in the
upscale Trieste quartiere.  (A permanent is
E60, or about $90).



With the photo in hand, we reenacted the Audrey shopping scene, with Dianne as Audrey and minus the sullen teen.