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

Open at 5:30 a.m., close at 9 p.m., no vacations: the life of a newsstand owner in Rome

Open at 5:30 a.m., close at 9 p.m., take 4 days off a year.  That's the life of our local Italian newsstand owners.  Perhaps understandably, their children don't want to inherit the business. 

Sonia and Alessandro  - a lot of togetherness.

We've been buying our daily paper the last few weeks--since we moved into the Ostiense neighborhood--at this (photo above), our closest "edicola" or newsstand.  Because we never saw anyone except the same man and woman in the small stand--which seemed open every minute we walked by it, and because the two of them seem to have an amiable relationship in a very small space, we asked one day about their working relationship.  

Alessandro's father is in the stand, in this photo
from the 1950s, before the stand was moved
to the other side of the railway overpass.

Alessandro and Sonia, both good-natured and seemingly happy, explained they've been married for almost 35 years, and they own and run, without help from anyone else, this classic Italian "edicola."  

Now on the other side of the overpass.

In fact, the stand has been in Alessandro's family since 1929, when his grandfather started with a smaller stand on via Ostiense, just on the other side of the railroad overpass that is one of the markers of this neighborhood.  His father continued the business and moved it to the location it's in now, after the war damaged some of the infrastructure around it and the bridge was widened to handle more traffic.  

One can barely see Sonia and Alessandro; the edicola is crowded with
items to sell - from toys to tomes.

We asked Alessandro when he started working in this family business.  "Sempre" [always], he said; essentially, as we would say, "forever."  We asked the couple when they eat lunch or dinner. Dinner, they said, is usually at 10 or 10:30 p.m.  Alessandro ticked off the days they were closed:  Christmas, "Santo Stefano"  (the day after Christmas), New Year's Day, and Easter.  That's it.  It gives new meaning to 24/7. 

The newspaper business, said Alessandro, is "in crisi" (in crisis), and so is the newspaper stand business, it appears.  A stand even closer to us remains shuttered with a "vendesi" and "affitasi" (for sale or for rent) sign on it. And one reason the couple never has anyone else help them is, as Alessandro said, because they don't have the "soldi" (money) to pay anyone else.

Nearby stand with "for sale/for rent" sign.

Alessandro is constantly rearranging the
merchandise - to sell more.

Looking at the stand, it is, as most of them, very "vistoso" (showy, colorful), because in addition to selling print media--magazines, newspapers, books--they sell lots of toys, as well as CDs, DVDs, maps, wrapping paper, some arts and crafts, lottery tickets, used books and vintage comic books.  We have seen Alessandro constantly arranging and rearranging the enormous display that surrounds the edicola, inside and out.  The "gadgets," as Alessandro referred to them, are promoted by the publishers to help the newsstand--and the publishers--survive.

Also critical to the stand's economic well-being are its regular customers, Alessandro said.  The neighborhood has changed dramatically since the huge central fruit and vegetable market (I mercati generali) closed in 2002, after more than 80 years of operation.  Now instead of the "piu' sano lavoratori" (more sane, normal laborers), said Alessandro, there are people coming to the neighborhood in the evening to eat at the many new upscale restaurants and, he said, get drunk. This isn't the clientele that will buy his products.  

In many ways the edicola is another example of the changing demographics of Rome neighborhoods and the demise of the Italian small business owner and, yes, the artisan, a demise often lamented in the newspapers Alessandro and Sonia sell.  

Alessandro, laughing, described himself as the last man standing.  And what will happen when he retires?  Their four adult children all have college degrees, of which they are rightly proud, and they will not take over the business.  He and Sonia hope to sell the stand - that's their retirement.

 Dianne