Rome's Police Cabins: a History, the Sad Present, and Alternative Uses

 

This widely circulating photograph of a Rome police officer directing traffic in Piazza Venezia not only suggests that the officer may be auditioning for a a role in the latest Cinecittà epic, but shows the pedestal used by the officer for visibility and protection from the traffic at one of Rome's busiest intersections.

On our latest visit to the Eternal City, we became interested in the city's traffic control structures, usually referred to in Italian as "cabine" (cabins) or, in long form, "cabine per vigili urbani" (municipal police cabins). They are now sometimes referred to, in English, as kiosks or booths.

According to ChatGTP (sorry, but our own searches failed), the first police booths were created under Mussolini, to make it easier for police to keep watch over the major intersections and grand new boulevards favored by the regime. They were not standardized.

The familiar green metal and glass kiosks were installed mostly between 1950 and 1980, to deal with a surge in automobile traffic and to assist tourists with directions, the loss of a passport, or other matters. Another factor was the police need for fixed communication posts, because radio systems were still rather primitive. The booths/kiosks/cabins were placed at major piazzas and intersections. This one is on the left bank of the Lungotevere.

The cabine were in decline as early as the 1980s, as traffic lights increasingly regulated traffic, tourist assistance became more sophisticated, and the police had patrol cars, motorcycles, and portable radios. Some cabine were removed and others were abandoned, like the one at the intersection of via Satrico and via Acaia, graffitied and surrounded by the ubiquitous orange security tape.

A few, like the one below in the Centro near the Italian House of Deputies (Montecitorio), continue to have a function—in this case, security, though there was no one inside when we came by. No graffiti (active police presence), and a chair inside.

Rome's graffiti writers have had a field day with the cabine, and why not? This one, at via La Spezia and via Nola, in the San Giovanni area, would seem to be dysfunctional, with one window totally obscured. The window graffiti, "Meloni a Fette," likely refers to the Italian Prime Minister, Giorgia Meloni. The standard translation of "a fette" is "in slices," or "sliced up." 

The intersection of via Panama and viale Liege is so busy that via Panama was recently (and controversially) redesigned. Nonetheless, the police cabina doesn't appear to be viable.

Cabine at night. Piazza Buenos Aires at via Tagliamento (up the street from via Panama) in the Salario district, with graffiti obscuring one window; and a major intersection in front of San Giovanni in Laterano, the basilica behind, the cabin dark and abandoned (there may be a small light on inside).

One of the more interesting, and puzzling, cabine is located on viale Marconi as it intersects with Lungotevere degli Inventori—i.e., just as viale Marconi crosses the Tevere to San Paolo, south of the center city. Shots of the interior of the cabina reveal 2 chairs and, at the right, a button (to change the street light?).

 

The dysfunctional state of most of the existing cabine in time led to the decision to repurpose at least some of the booths as art installations. Under Mayor Robert Gualtieri, in 2022 the city government, in conjunction with the Zètema Progetto Cultura, held a competition, asking young (18-35) artists to present proposals for the decoration of 8 police cabins in "arte figurativa" (figurative) in the following locations: Piazza Vittorio, via Vico Jugario, via Petroselli, via Casilina, via Tor Pignattara, Piazzale Labicano, Circonvolazione Gianicolense, and Piazza di Villa Carpegna. Six artists were selected, and 6 cabins were decorated. We found some; you can try to find the others.

Here's what the cabina in Piazza Vittorio (outside the fence that surrounds the central piazza) looked like in 2025. It appears more than one artist may have worked on the project. The honeycomb design with bee (right side) was accomplished in 2022 by Biceluna (aka Frederica Mancini).

Two sides feature a hand holding a cell phone:

Finally, we thought it would be fun to come up with some non-art alternative uses for the police cabins. Here are a few:

Puppet Theater
Place for Unwed Mothers to Leave Babies
Doughnut Shop for Police

We regret to report that ChatGTP does it better, and funnier. Asked (by our tech-savvy son) to provide humorous alternative uses for Roman police boxes, the AI system produced 12. Here are 4 we thought worthy:

The World's Smallest Airbnb

"Cozy 0-bedroom micro-suite in the heart of Rome. Fits one human shin. E249/night. Cleaning fee E180. Guests must crouch diagonally. No bathroom. No regrets.

     Espresso Bar for Extremely Impatient Romans

A one-customer cafe' featuring:

     One espresso machine

     One barista

     One person yelling "DUE MINUTI!"

You drink standing inside the booth, like a caffeine phone booth.

A Confessional for People Who Don't Want Real Consequences

Step inside, hit a button, and the booth loudly whispers:

"It's okay, everyone hates their coworkers."

Then spits out a tiny printed absolution. 

Gelato Panic Room

For when the heat is unbearable and the line at Giolitti is too long. 

You step inside, the door locks, and it dispenses emergency stracciatella.

Thanks, ChatGTP!

Bill 

Daniel Gelo, San Paolo

Here at RST we've decided we're done with the "best gelato in Rome" debate.  We played that game in our book, Rome the Second Time, and we've been sorry ever since.  In the short run we regretted our choice; in the long run, we came to the conclusion that the question isn't interesting enough to justify all the answers and opinions.  Chorus: "You elitist snobs!  The people who love ice cream are the people who buy your book!"

Anyway, thanks to Katie Parla, we recently found a gelato place worth writing about.  It's in the San Paolo area, about 5 minutes from the Metro stop by the same name, and if you're a gelato freak you can find it easily enough, using the address on the sign in the photo at the end of this post. 

The name is Daniel Gelo.  The shop intrigued us because it's got an old-fashioned, but not old-timey, look.  It's just a shop.  Lots of flavors, including "Spaghettti Gelato" and some frozen things, presented in a semi-chaotic setting featuring lots of hand-lettered signs. 









The gelato is gelato: tasty, and better than most everything in the States.  It's made right there in the back of the shop. Where Daniel Gelo ranks among

Rome's hundreds of ice creams parlors we have no idea--and palates that would not be of much help in finding out.












One distinguishing feature of the shop is a sign on the front window (below).  It looks like it's from the Chiquita Banana/Lena Horne era of the 1950s.  But it's probably more recent.  You won't find a sign like that elsewhere in Rome, or for that matter, in the U.S.   Bill

                      "Sempre Aperto"--literally "always open."  Take that with a grain of salt. 

Gelato anyone? That'll be $3, except for Italian politicians

In these hot days of a very hot Roman summer, we were drawn to this gelato shop in Rome's trendy, though still somewhat authentic, Monti neighborhood, a stone's throw from the Coliseum (this itinerary will get you to the Coliseum).                                 

What really caught our eye was the handwritten post on the door that we've attempted to blow up below:  "For Deputies and Senators, the gelato costs 30 Euro"(close to $40)  That's for a gelato that costs you and me more like $3.00.      

So a small protest for the dysfunctional politicians.  Go for it, Beebop Gelateria!                                                              

      

Dianne

The Pope and Us - views from the bar

With Christmas coming, we think some mention of the Pope is in order.

The photo here, taken at Bar Tony, in Monteverde Nuovo, is a perfect example of the Italians' mix of ... well, just about everything.

As we walked into Tony's this day, the TV was showing the Pope giving an address (I can't recall on what just now). He was framed by two Bar signs: one listed "Happy Hour" (yes, in English - with the picture showing a cup of coffee and a croissant but the wording advertising a buffet and drink), and another listing other tasty items such as sandwiches filled with "Hamburg," along with "Pasta a Peso" - pasta by the weight (1 Euro per etto (about 2.2 ounces) "by Tony".

After snapping this photo, we took our glasses of wine to the side room of this small bar, enjoying a break from the rain showers, when a group of 4 men came in. They were speaking Spanish, ordering and enjoying their beers while they chatted. Then in came a group of mothers with children of various ages, clearly picked up after-school. Gelato was quickly ordered and the children spilled over the tiny tables next to us. And then there was us, trying to get love notes to each other on the TV show by texting into the cell phone #s listed on the screen. The convivial combination of people, ages, classes, languages, media, food, drink... is partly what defines modern Rome.

If you get up to Monteverde Nuovo, and the large street, Circonvallazione Gianicolense, walk just across from the market at Piazza San Giovanni di Dio and try Tony's, reputed for having the best vanilla ice cream (i.e. gelato and flavor/gusto - crema) in the city; sometimes through a window in that side room, you can see them making it.

Dianne