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

An Evening in Rome. Best-laid plans, and all that....

What do you do in Rome? As a friend once said, “you walk out the door.” So true, though these days we often walk out the door with a plan. Sometimes things go “according to plan” and sometimes, especially in Rome, they don’t. This is the story of one of those days—an evening, to be precise. With a “lieto” (happy) ending.

Our day began, as usual, at our coffee bar of choice, based on a couple of good experiences we had had there over the past two days, including one just the day before, when we had enjoyed a couple of Campari “Spritz” in the cool night air. The bar, on Via Pomezia at Via Cerveteri, is Bar Anima Nera (Black Soul), though we call it the "Mad Hatter," after the fine drawings that grace the inside walls. The structure in front of the bar is on most days a vegetable stand.

A chilly morning drove us inside, pleasant enough with our daily newspaper (“Il Messaggero”) but when we went to pay the new Italian guy got the price of our caffè Americani wrong (E2.50 rather than the customary E1.50), and another new Italian guy served us our cornetto with a cough. Perhaps a harbinger of things to come.

Our mid-day adventure—a Metro A excursion to Aurelia and Prati to see a couple of closed edicole (newsstands) worked out fine. After doing some work at home in our rented apartment at Piazza dei Re di Roma, our plan was to take the Metro to Piazza Repubblica and a 64 (or 40) bus to Chiesa Nuova for an opening at Maja Arte Contemporanea, via di Monserrato 20, then tack to nearby Bar Peru, a favorite of ours in years past, for an aperitivo and cena—apericena, a one-price drink and plate of good food selected from a variety of prepared dishes available at the bar.

The opening was well attended and the wine (a Ribolla Gialla) was nice, but the art, while colorful and organic in a Victorian sort of way, was not of the sort to invite our serious consideration.

After a few minutes, we departed for Bar Peru.

Lo and behold, Bar Peru had, so it seemed, changed hands and look. The stools on the street were gone (maybe the police objected), replaced by tables across the street in the piazza. Inside, there was no apericena to be had.

We ordered two Campari “Spritz,” took a raised table inside, and lamented the changes. The new ownership appeared to be Asian.

The Spritz were excellent (the bar is amply supplied with Campari), the bartender terrific, and we enjoyed the chips and the peanuts in a Depero Campari & soda bottle. But what to do now, early in the evening. Via Giulia was just a block away, toward the Tevere, and we headed there, not knowing what we’d find. The street was dark and mostly quiet. The Accademia of Hungary in Rome, in a palazzo designed by Borromini mid-17th century and one of our favorite places, was open, and a sign mentioned a concert of piano, violin and flute. “First floor,” said the bored attendant, and up the stone stairs we went, just as the flautist was wrapping up the first performance. We took seats and for 45 minutes were thoroughly entertained by a remarkable 24-year-old woman violinist (Ludovica Mastrostefano) and her equally compelling piano accompanist (Sara Damiani). Popular Romanian tunes by Béla Bartók; Sonata n.3 by Edvard Grieg. Delightful!

So far so good. Afterwards, Dianne wanted to eat, Bill to drink, and we settled on Il Goccetto, our favorite wine bar (on nearby via dei Banchi Vecchi), which has both. It was absolutely full, spilling out onto the street (as it usually does). Disappointed, we left. Checked some other places, then decided (it was about 8:30) to head home. Caught the 64 bus (the "watch your wallet" bus) on Corso Vittorio Emanuele II. A man on the bus warned a tourist with luggage that a sciopero (a strike) of some transport services had already begun. Rumor was that the subway wouldn’t run after 9 p.m. We thought he was wrong. We ended up near the controversial Pope John Paul II statue/sculpture in Piazza dei Cinquecento, where a small ProPal (pro-Palestinian) protest was going on. 

Walked toward the lit-up Termini station, avoiding the buses. Found 5 clustered Carabinieri (state police) just outside the station, and we inquired, in Italian, if there was a strike going on at that moment. Yes, said one of them, a woman, authoritatively. The Metro (the subway), she added, was not running.

What to do? Dianne’s app said it was a 40-minute walk to our Re di Roma digs, and, having done the walk just the other day, we headed off on foot, down Via Cavour and into the piazza behind Santa Maria Maggiore, soon coming upon a Metro entrance. The electronic signed warned that service was "non garantite," but people were entering, and so we did.

Below, at the turnstiles of the Piazza Vittorio Emanuele stop, we asked a woman employee if there was service in our direction. Before she could answer she scurried away to deter several people whom she deemed not to have paid. We decided to give it a try. The train came. We took it. Finally secure at home, and having reached 19,000 steps (about 8 miles) for the day, we relished a plate of cold cuts and cheeses and a bottle of Circeo doc, as Bill called it, in our cozy living room, excited at having “sopravissuti” (survived) and had such an exhilarating time doing it. What do you do in Rome? Walk out the door!

Bill

PS from Dianne: Sometimes you get what you need.

A Tomb in Appio Latino, Newly Discovered

 

The headline reads: "A tomb in via Latina. Valeria died 1900 years ago."

We read in Il Messaggero (a Rome daily newspaper) one morning this month (5/4/22) of an archaeological discovery in the Appio Latino neighborhood, about a mile from our current location, near Piazza Re di Roma. We couldn't resist the temptation to find the site, and headed there on our mid-day walk. We found the excavation at one end of via Luigi Tosti--a cross street along the famous consular road, via Latina--not far, as it turns out, from one of our previous (28 of them) Rome addresses.    

There was a guy there eating his lunch, who turned out to be an archaeologist on the project.  He said he was present when the discovery was made, in the course of very ordinary work on old water pipes a meter or two below the surface.

What the workers found was a portion of a necropolis that exists on both sides of the length of via Latina. More specifically, a funerial altar in marble, inscribed to "Valeria Laeta, daughter of Publio, who lived 13 years and 7 months." According to the archaeologists, the altar and the tomb date to the 2nd century a.d. (CE in woke speak)--1900 years ago. It is not clear if they found Valeria's remains. 

Dianne chatted up the archaeologist, who said the first hint of significant remains was a Roman wall--the one directly in from of him in the photo above. He said the presence of archaeologists was typical (even required) on projects that involved digging at any significant depth. Some neighbors were interested, too. 

The altar has been removed to the care of the superintendent who presides over such issues, to protect against the risk of theft, according to the Messaggero story. The archeologist confirmed to us that is had been removed for "conservation." When it will see the light of day for the public is anyone's guess. Don't hold your breath. 

Bill 

Sweet Guest: 2019's Ad Campaign of the "Year"

When we're in Rome we read the Rome edition of one of Italy's national newspapers. These days we're reading Il Messaggero, mostly for its local coverage of city issues, from the garbage problem to the closing of Metro stations.  Now and then we are also attracted to an ad campaign.

This year's favorite advertising campaign featured a company known as "Sweet Guest," which apparently has a relationship to the home rental company Airbnb.  Most of the Sweet Guest ads ask, "Do you want to get more from your rented apartment?"  The company offers to help the owner value the property correctly, and it manages the rental, freeing the owner, as the ad says, from all worries.

Our interest in the ads had little to do with the company's purpose or business model, and much to do with the old folks used in the ads--the same man and woman every time--and the way they were presented.  Over two months, we found 4 different ads.  The first one is at the top of the post.  Here  are the others, in chronological order:

The ad directly above makes a somewhat different pitch: "You've hit the ground running, now you can only accelerate."  Beyond the words, our first reaction was that the characters in the ads were simply designed to attract attention, because they're so different--and not just in age--from the younger people that dominate advertising.

On second thought, the ads seemed to be targeted at the older people who, in a rapidly aging Italy, own the majority of Rome apartments.  They suggest--possibly, we're not sure--that if you use Sweet Guest, you'll have time for, and be in a relaxed mood for, leisure pursuits: playing basketball (make sure to wear goggles), serving donuts in your stylish clothes, riding a motorcycle (without helmets), and....well, we're not sure what's going on with the short-sleeved, striped 1980s shirts, white undershirts, and winter hats--maybe just enjoying one's bad taste.

Bill