Il Buchetto: "Authentic" pizzeria--and a brief tour of via Flaminia

Il Buchetto

Like most tourists, we're always on the lookout for "authentic" Rome eateries--whatever "authentic" means.  Here's our latest recommendation: Il Buchetto ("The Little Hole"), a hole-in-the-wall pizzeria at via Flaminia 119, a 5-10 minute walk from Piazza del Popolo.  We found the place in Mario Matteucci's La via Flaminia (2016), a frustrating yet valuable guide to the street and environs between Piazza del Popolo and the tangenziale highway a few miles north.  Matteucci describes Il Buchetto as famous in the area and beyond, crowded at all hours of the evening, serving the best pizza "del forno."  We can't say the pizza was the best we've ever eaten, but it was good, inexpensive, served promptly--and there's no doubt that the place is "authentic."

Nothing fancy

No such thing as an underage drinker in Rome and teenage boys love plentiful, cheap food, as we know.

While you're in the area, you might take note of some of the nearby "sights."  The building in which the pizzeria is housed (via Flaminia 125) is a worthy one, designed by one of Rome's premier architects, Marcello Piacentini, and completed in 1924.  It's decorated with grotesque masks (mascheroni) and a phrase by Cicerone: homo lucum ornat/non hominem locus, which we surmise has something to do with humanity and its need for the decorative.  The building was originally public housing, and in the early 1930s it housed 45 families made homeless by new construction in the EUR and Appio neighborhoods.

Piacentini building, 1924.  

Just south of the Piacentini building is the home of the Italian navy.  One can't tour the building except on special occasions, but the facade, on the Tiber, is worth a glance, and the giant anchors out front are good for a photo op.  It may be possible to enter and enjoy the great hallway that runs across the front of the building.  We toured the building in 2015.

Still home to small auto shops.  

The area across the street from Il Buchetto (and, if we recall, a bit south) has a long history of automobile repair and construction, dating to the early 20th century.  In 1918, the area housed the Carrozzeria Maraga, the factory where the Maraga roadster was produced.  Mussolini owned a Maraga.   During World War II, the Maraga factory was converted to the production of ambulances and military vehicles.  After the war, the Maraga facilities were abandoned, and some of its buildings became gardens and bed and breakfasts.  Even so, as you walk the lanes off this area of via Flaminia, you'll see that there are still some small automobile repair shops.

Also across the street but further north are the remnants of a much older past.  The large building directly across the street from the pizzeria is la Casina ("the little house") Vagnuzzi, seat of the Accademia Filarmonica Romana (Roman Philharmonic Academy)  (founded 1821).  The building was at one time a part of Villa Giulia, the residence of Pope Julius III (1551-1555).  Composer Franz Liszt stayed here when he was in Rome.

Dianne at the Fontana dell'Arcosolio, struggling with
Matteucci's disorganized (and in Italian) book.  

Beyond la Casina (and moving north), and usually tucked behind a row of garbage dumpsters, is the Fontana dell'Arcosolio.  The tub is of ancient Roman origins.  It wasn't always here, which is probably why Romans refer to it as "la fontana che cammina" ("the fountain that walks").

Nice wood door from 1930 could use some TLC.

Next door (still moving north), is the headquarters of Rome's notaries, a Fascist-era building dating to 1930. The wood door and its handle are of modest interest.

Palazzo Borromeo

Finally, at the intersection of via Flaminia and via delle Belle Arti, you'll find the Palazzo Borromeo . Although it's seen better days and is much changed from the original, it's an historically significant structure.  Dating to 1561, it was designed by architect Pirro Ligorio as a residence for Pope Pius IV.

Bill

Detail.  Hey, it still works! Nice fish.

Rome's Aristides Leonori and the big stones on Buffalo's Waterfront

This journey begins in Buffalo, New York--on its Lake Erie waterfront, to be precise--but ends in Rome.  A bit of patience required.

Marble bench, Wilkeson Point

Late last month the RST dynamic duo headed out to explore an area called the "Outer Harbor."  Buffalo's iconic lighthouse is out there, we knew, but we'd never seen it and, indeed, had never set foot on the huge expanse of woods, marsh, jetties, docks, and beaches known as the outer harbor.  An adventure.  Our first stop was at a delightful, large urban/rural park, Wilkeson Point: walking paths, kinetic sculptures, a mini-bridge, a children's slide, great views of the lake.


And throughout, scattered here and there, functioning as benches and art works, huge pieces of white stone, possibly marble, chunks and columns, that had the look of having been part of some ancient Greek temple.  Lovely and powerful. But where did they come from?

Marbles, dumped in Lake Erie

St. Joseph's "New Cathedral," Buffalo

Well, that's not entirely clear.  Some think the marbles are from St. Joseph's New Cathedral, a
magnificent Gothic revival structure built in Buffalo at Delaware Ave. and W. Utica St., finished in 1915 and torn down in 1976.

M & T Bank, Bflo.  Probable origin of the marbles. 

Others argue--with more logic, we think--that the waterfront stones were once part of the old M & T Bank building at Main and Swan streets.  The bank building had fluted columns of the sort found on the waterfront, the church did not.


Regardless of their origin, they ended up as trash on the shores of Lake Erie.



While researching one problem, we came upon another, one that led us to a Rome connection. The New Cathedral was quite "young" when it was retired from service, and there is disagreement about why.  Some believe that the edifice was in fine shape but that Buffalo's then Bishop, Edward D. Head, wanted it torn down so that he could build something else on the valuable and central site.  Others argued that the church had begun deteriorating soon after it was built.  Twin spires were taken down in 1927/28, little more than a decade after its consecration, and at great costs.  Chunks of the ceiling were falling, and pews had to be cordoned off.  The stones on the church's facade began to pull away from the brick wall behind them.  In the 1970s, Bishop Head argued that the structure was the "victim of bad design or bad construction."  One view was that the stones were poorly attached, primarily because the architect had no experience in stonework of that kind,  According to one website, "descendants of the general contractor and the architect blamed each other."

Aristides Leonori

The architect was Aristides Leonori, and he was from Rome.

And not just any architect.  Leonori (1856-1928) was widely known as a devout Catholic.  A member of the 3rd order of St. Francis, he designed the Franciscan Church and Monastery of the Holy Sepulcher in Washington, D.C., where a mosaic of his face resides.  Having graduated with a degree in civil engineering, he designed buildings all over the world--in Cairo (a magnificent church), Pompeii, St. Louis, Buffalo--an important city when he worked there--and, of course, Rome.

His Rome buildings include several hospitals and at least 5 churches, among them the Irish National Church in Rome (1892), a church in the Trionfale quarter and, perhaps his best Rome work, the church known as Santa Croce in via Flaminia (1912).




Having lived in Flaminio twice, we recognized Santa Croce immediately, and were surprised by its name, because it's not on via Flaminia, but just around the corner on via Guido Reni, just a few steps from the MAXXI art gallery.  It's an elegant, refined piece of work on a relatively modest scale, and
it doesn't look anything like the dramatic church he built in Buffalo just a few years later. And unlike the ill-fated Buffalo structure, this one appears to be in holding up well.  

Santa Croce in via Flaminia (except it isn't), Rome

.And that's what we learned from the big stones on Buffalo's waterfront.

Bill

When Rome was French

It could be an item from Ripley's Believe It Or Not:  There was a time when Rome was French.  Not French in spirit.  Not French in culture.  Not French in tradition.  But French in the sense that Rome was French property and decisions with regard to religion, governance, social welfare, and urban planning were made by the French. 

Rome's French period began in 1798, when the French revolutionary army, taking advantage of the weak defenses of the sprawling Papal States, entered the city along via Flaminia, through the Porta del Popolo, down the via del Corso, and up the capital steps, where the "Republic" was declared.  Under what was known as the "repubblica per ridere" (The Ridiculous Republic, or, more literally, the Laughable Republic), the Pope was deported, enemies of the regime were executed in Piazza del Popolo and the Piazza of Santa Maria in Trastevere, and increases in the price of bread led to riots in the streets. 

He loved Rome--or perhaps the idea of Rome--but he would never see the city.  The painting is in the Museo Napoleonico

Villa Medici, inhabited by the French since 1803

The Republic, such as it was, lasted only as long--about two years--as the French military was there to support it.  Yet even after 1800, as Napoleon's forces took control of much of Italy (though not yet Rome), the city remained under French sway.  The Pope was restored, though dependent on Napoleon for his post; a French ambassador arrived, taking up lodgings in the Corsini Palace; the French Academy took over the Villa Medici (1803); and wealthy French flowed into the city, preening from their fancy carriages on the via del Corso, irritating the Romans, who jeered and threw things.

Castel Sant'Angelo, where French troops were
quartered.

This period of (relative) accommodation ended in 1808, when the French army--the army of Napoleon, not the Revolution--entered the city and found quarters in Castel Sant'Angelo.  The Pope withdrew to the Quirinal Palace, a virtual prisoner.  Things got worse for the Romans on June 10, 1809, when Rome was officially absorbed into the French Empire as an imperial city.  Napoleon--who would never visit Rome--was thrilled by the prospect of joining the Eternal City with the French jewel, Paris.  The proclamation was read on the Capitoline Hill--"Napoleon the Great wants only the glory of giving you, after so many centuries of oblivion, a fate more worthy of your ancient destiny"--and an elaborate procession followed, with stops at Piazza Venezia, Piazza Colonna and, further along the via del Corso, Piazza del Popolo. 

The Quirinal Palace, where a captive Pope
excommunicated Napoleon, among others.

Romans failed to appreciate their new status, as did Pope Pius VI, who from the Quirinal Palace issued a general excommunication of those who cooperated with the takeover of the Papal States--an order that obviously included Napoleon.  Angry at the pontiff's intransigence--he had thought that
the Pope would be willing to compromise in exchange for protection--he had Pius kidnapped and removed from the city to Savona.  The attack on the Church continued with the removal of the stations of the cross from the Coliseum, the deportation of hundreds of clerics, and the closing down of the Papal welfare state, which had supported thousands of Romans unable (or sometimes unwilling) to work. 

The French under Napoleon were reformers, standard-bearers of the Enlightenment, and they made every effort to bring their modernizing perspective to a Rome that clung to its medieval ways with tenacity.  Like Mussolini, the French disliked and feared Rome's physical complexity.  They believed that its narrow, winding streets--perhaps especially the warrens of Trastevere--and its nameless streets and numberless houses--reinforced the insularity and hostility of the population, including the Trasteverini.  The French were not in power long enough to do much in the way of urban renewal, but they did manage to number the houses and install street signage and street lights, as well as prohibit concealed weapons in a violent city where nearly every man carried a knife. 

The ban on concealed weapons was not popular with the Romans, nor was military conscription, the forcing of able-bodied men to work on public projects, depots for the storage of vagrants, or efforts to suppress the lottery (Romans loved to gamble).  The new "scientific" guillotine was introduced in 1813, and torture was outlawed. 

Giuseppe Valadier's Casina, on the Pincio

The French were planners, too.  By 1810 there were plans for an enormous imperial palace, one that would have dwarfed the monument to Vittorio Emanuele II.  There were plans to turn the Lateran Palace into a hospice for beggars, to create open piazzas around Trajan's column, the Pantheon, and the Trevi fountain, and to cut new boulevards in the city.  Mussolini would have understood. 






Imagine the Tevere, navigable for large vessels,
all the way to Perugia.  The French did. 

There was a plan to open the Tevere to large vessels, all the way to Perugia, and another to create an enormous garden from the Pincian Hill to the Tevere. 

The Verano cemetery

Perhaps for health reasons, the French planned to build two cemeteries as part of an effort to bury the dead outside the city walls. 

Of all these plans, few came to fruition.  The Pincian/Tevere garden was in the works when the French departed, and one element in that larger plans remains to this day: the Casina by Italian architect Giuseppe Valadier.  The Verano cemetery, located adjacent to the Basilica of San Lorenzo fuori le mura, was another French achievement.   

Canova's Pauline (Napoleon's sister), in
the Borghese Museum

The French made contributions to the arts.  Their enlightenment ideology included an interest in archaeology, and some progress was made in that area, notably in the Coliseum and at the Temple of Jupiter.  In the fall of 1809, the brilliant sculptor Antonio Canova was called back to Rome from his native Possagno to head the city's arts program.  One of his most famous works, the Venus Victrix, for which Napoleon's beautiful sister Pauline was the model, is on view in the Borghese Museum.  (Pauline eventually bought a villa--now the French embassy--just inside the walls at Porta Pia.)

The unassuming Pasquino, where
Romans expressed their dislike of the French.

As we have seen, the Romans were not pleased to be governed by the French.  As historian Susan Vandiver Nicassio writes in Imperial City: Rome Under Napoleon, "Napoleon loved Rome like a bridegroom; Rome did not love Napoleon.  The affair progressed from courtship to rape and ended, as such affairs must end, in mutual destruction."  What could the Romans do?  The Pasquino--the statue near Piazza Navona on which generations of Romans had posted their views and complaints--was covered with denunciations of the emperor and his infant son, crowned King of Rome in 1810 ("the little bastard has been crowned").  Napoleon, baffled by the Pasquino tradition of dissent, announced that "Rome has become a theatre for defamation, a headquarters for libel."  Although one would imagine that the populace would have been grateful when the French authorities decided to allow "carnival" to take place as scheduled, Romans chose to express their dislike of the occupation by refusing to participate (refusing to party!). 

It would all be over soon.  French influence in the city was dramatically reduced in 1812, when Napoleon's armies ran into trouble in Russia.  In May of 1814, Pope Pius VII entered Rome in triumph over the Ponte Milvio, the same route into the city taken by the French revolutionary forces some 16 years before.  The Romans got their city back. 

The Museo Napoleonico

Lucien, Napoleon's brother, lived in Rome from 1804 to 1808, and he returned to the city after his sibling's fall.  One of Lucien's descendants founded the Museo Napoleonico.  The museum is at Piazza di Ponte Umberto I, 1, just north of Piazza Navona. 

Bill

This account is based on Susan Vandiver Nicassio's informative and entertaining history, Imperial City: Rome Under Napoleon (The University of Chicago Press, 2005).  It is available from the publisher and on amazon.com (paper and Kindle).