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Along the dusty streets of theSicilian mountain town of Ragusa '* the Ducc’s boastful words have■ I • H 1been scratched off the walls or s painted over with white paint. In I their stead, there are massive black I satirical drawings of the Fascist leaders, some stabbing the French• Marianne in the back, others holding their hands over the eyes of an Italian woman who vainly reaches for Allied messages floating down from Flying Forts in the sky. IChildren played barefoot in the] sun, the wind swirled the dirt alongthe unpayed street, and the peoplesitting in their shady doorways! stared at us with the curiosity of peasants who have5 not seen an army vehicle for a good manymonths: IWhen we stopped the car, a halfhundred ragged urchins surrounded us, climbing up on the fenders, fin- . ‘ gering the carbine in its hoster.and begging for carmelli.'I I took a picture of one of the \ political cartoons on the white stone wall, and a kid looked on, eyes wide in wonderment and has ' nose running.M ’’Bocchieri buono artista,” he3 said. . e=’’Si,” I said, ’’where does he live? ’* For a stick otf gum, he was willing to take us along the crowded street to the house of artist Boc- __Ichieri. The front door was made] of sheet iron, with a tiny peephole 61 over the knocker. An old woman H it dressed in plain black with a little of0 red cloth flower over her heart m_ came to the door. D1 —p She motioned us to come into M1 the house, and a young man wearing a ml tie with his blue shirt. Sip and a red handerchietf in his breast w J pocket, came down the stairs to ca greet us. He extended his hand, fil I opened his mouth but he said (nothing audible. sa1 He cannot speak.” his mother nilt;explained. She motioned to her} mouth to be sure that we under- tir1 stood. We walked up the narrow mlt; s stone steps into what appeared to. be the living room. The walls wer •,• pale blue. Under the low ceiling j j hung the paintings of artist Rob- a , erto Bocchieri. ^' When he was small,” the * mother said, ’’the Fascists came j . into the house and they beat me ^ o\(ir the head. He was- very scared m. and he screamed very loud, and l} ‘ I suddenly he was opening his ( mouth and 110 tone came out. He 2 f has never regained the power of ^speech since. J°’•We are . Socialists,” she sa.d, ^pointing at her son’s red handker-chief. We have always been So- j — ciu lists, his father and I. he. and r1ns brothers and hts sisters, who | 1are all artists. Roberto’s brother U Salvatore—he worked hard in the little towns here against Hie swineMussolini and they arrested himsoon. For 17 years they kept him _in prison, until you Americanscame and released him.”j So frequently did the FiwistsJ Ou raid their house Uiat the family £finally was forced to move to Tunis. sh where another brother. Emanuele. Wt ; became a famous painter. Roberto t ,j himself, although lie never spoke i\Vl became a prize fighter there toj s | keep body und soul together. In ! j North Africa, too. the family was un| under close surveillance by the tFascists..,.- . * , . . |;.pelt;Roberto picktxi up two* pot* .offo.r point., One black..*the other whittrJTh| and a few largo brushes, and asked j to be excused, motioning with. ab‘| bands.,/ :■ I • . ; • ]' *-s| ‘.He must go now,” die mother J(said. The children of a little vil- /luge a few hours walk fro/n tier. A say that Mussolini's words are st hj -'}'oh walls of their 'homes. c.” -Of-’The white paint,” she said. is, .to pjjint out Uir dog’s las. XU* i 1i lack Roberto needs to show the! Amu h - V\{ PI it u l \ KS I 1;
Newspaper Details
Sicily Stars and Stripes
Palermo, Sicily, IT
Tue, Apr 18, 1944
Page 2
Full Page
Clipped by
Deanna D.
USA 05 Jul 2023
Other Publications Near Palermo, Sicily
Sicily Stars and Stripes
