Beruflich Dokumente
Kultur Dokumente
magazine
lor men
J Introduction
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lssuc onc
Con|cn|s
7 Editions
D8 Bright sparks Indian matchboxes
ID Ncws Amsterdam urban art, NY Subway
map, AIrican moonshines, Nokia 82I0,
Android tablet PCs, GuarJian Iootball guides
I4 Ordinary world I960s Portobello Road
I6 How to cook a. stcak with Hawksmoor
I7 Lcttcr from. Rome
I8 Q&A: Spcnccr Wclls The author oI
PanJora's SccJ on the bad side oI civilization
2D Our favouritc things Aphex Twin`s
SclcctcJ Amhicnt Works (vinyl edition)
22 Thc simplc plcasurcs of. }apanese curry
23 How to stalk a cclcbrity
25 Field trip
26 This is thc modcrn world North
London`s twin |ewels oI early modernism
28 Bcrlin: thc city thcy forgot to hnish
3D Somcwhcrc for thc wcckcnd Umhrclla
goes Ior a little relaxation at Le Meurice, Paris
32 Cycling Rapha Cycle Club and interview
with author oI Bicylc, Helen Addiss
34 Picturc fcaturc 20th Ccntury Travcl
36 Going Ovcrground London`s new line
38 Maps: the British Library`s great exhibition
4I Stories
4I I99D: Thc ycar that changcd cvcrything
42 Rcmcmbcring thc Poll Tax riot
An account oI an amazing, liIechanging day
45 Spikc Island and Glastonbury
46 Italia `9D
48 Ibiza Kevin Sampson`s I990 classic,
A Short Iilm Ahout Chilling
5D Thc powcr and thc glory Mussolini and
the World Cup
53 Fashion
54 Umbrclla lovcs Ralph Lauren`s
Wimbledon collection cricket |umper
56 Chinos
58 Jackcts MA.Strum and Albam
6D Traincrs Adidas Samba and Vans
62 Vintagc Benetton rugby shirt and Sergio
Tacchni Dallas tracksuit
+
64 Mcn and thcir obscssions
66 Coming ncxt issuc
5 Contents
:|o|lcs
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6 Introduction
Umbrella is published by Wool Media, copyright 2010 Editor Anthony Teasdale (tony@umbrellamagazine.co.uk)
Art Director Matt Reynolds (matt@umbrellamagazine.co.uk) Web Mitch Crease (mitch@umbrellamagazine.co.uk)
Advertising Manager Jon Clements (advertising@umbrellamagazine.co.uk) Fashion Editor Natalie Cornish
(natsyc@hotmail.com) Contributors Jon Boon, Terry Daley, Brett Foraker, Alex Rayner, Kevin Sampson, Nick Soldinger
wool
media
lssuc oncs :on|ri|u|ors
Irom Romc lo Lcwisham via Los Anclcs anJ Livcrpool, lhis issuc`s
wrilcrs rcprcscnl lhc Jivcrsc worlJs oj journalism anJ lmmalin
CONTACT US
info@umbrellamagazine.co.uk
NICK SOLDINGER
Author oI this issue`s piece on the Poll Tax
riot, Nick Soldinger was born and grew up
in southeast London. He`s been Iortunate
enough to have earned a living Irom his
writing Ior the last I6 years in which time
his work has taken him everywhere Irom
Oldham to Iraq. He believes |ournalism to
be the greatest |ob on the planet and wakes
up every day thanking the stars Ior the
Ireedom it allows a man.
KEVIN SAMPSON
Liverpoolborn author Kevin went to Ibiza
in I990 and ended up making the dehnitive
documentary oI the times, A Short Iilm
Ahout Chilling. He talks about it in our I990
special. The hlm version oI Kevin`s classic
book AwayJays is now available on DVD.
His second novel PowJcr has |ust been
made into a movie, too (out summer 20II).
Kevin tells us that "the naughty Ibiza ice
scene made the hnal cut. Hurrah!
NATALIE CORNISH
Natalie Cornish is Umhrclla`s rather lovely
Fashion Lditor. She spends her days
obsessing over men`s clothing trends
(lately, the bow tie and summer |ackets),
running, sewing, travelling and attempting
not to buy shoes (something she Iails
miserably at). This issue, she`s been tracking
down the best chinos, parkas and technical
coats, as well as becoming hxated by cricket
|umpers. She lives in north London.
JON BOON
}on Boon, writer oI our How to stalk a
cclchrity Ieature, is a reporter Ior Splash
News and Picture Agency in Los Angeles.
When he`s not working the latest big
Hollywoodbased scoop, or being shouted
at by a number oI celebrities demanding
their privacy, he can be seen propping
up a rock `n` roll bar on Sunset Boulevard
dreaming oI a Guns `n` Roses reunion.
TERRY DALEY
Terry Daley is a |ournalist, translator and
subeditor based in Rome. He started out
at ICL magazine in 2005 and has worked
in various capacities Ior Maxim, Whcn
SaturJay Comcs and La Gazzctta Dcllo Sport.
A resident oI the Italian capital Ior two
years, in this issue oI Umhrclla he details an
odd experience with a mysterious visitor
to his Roman apartment block.
UMB004
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7
SPIKE ISLAND
AND GLASTONBURY
Festivals are now so establishment that the BBC spends
millions ot pounds sending its wildly overenthusiastic/wryly
unimpressed presenters out to cover anything that involves
bales ot hay, unchallenging rock music and attentionseeking
blonde women sitting on people`s shoulders.
All this comes Irom two I990 events: The Stone Roses at Spike
Island and the Happy Mondays` appearance at Glastonbury.
For the - ahem - 'baggy generation`, Spike Island, a nature reserve
in Widnes, was their Woodstock. The chance to see the hottest
group in the country - though, in truth the torpor that would dehne
their later period had already set in - was something thousands
oI people simply haJ to be at. Attending this event, like going to
raves, was partly seen through the prism oI knowing that Iuture
generations would be making telly programmes around it. The Iact
that the day was ultimately a disappointment mattered little. II you
went, you were thcrc. Lven iI being there involved listening to Ian
Brown redehne the word 'singer` (but not in a good way) and
a convoluted |ourney home Irom Widnes.
Glastonbury I990, though seen as Iar less epochal, was actually
more inuential, building as it did on the barriers rave had broken
down and getting working class kids to go to the sort oI events
they would have sneered at a couple oI years previously. The
Mondays appeared on the Iront oI the NML with a miniStonehenge
a la Spinal Tap at their Ieet, heralding a new Iestival spirit that
was moving away Irom the standard indie}rock Iare to something
groovier. Lvery Iestival that`s come since, whether it`s Bestival or
Creamhelds, owes its existence to this one weekend. II it wasn`t
Ior Shaun and the lads, there`d be no Ldith Bowman. Oh.
Primal Scream Loaded
This. More than anything.
A Man Called Adam Barefoot
in The Head
Timeless, sun-soaked Ibizan anthem
Lefteld Not Forgotten
Neil Barnes and Paul Daley invent
progressive house
LFO LFO
Futuristic, bass-heavy techno
St Etienne Only Love Can
BreakYour Heart Immense,
dub-meets-indie cover version
Rhythmatic Take Me Back
The bleepiest bleep techno tune
The Farm Stepping Stone
Scouse indie goes house
Happy Mondays Bobs Yer Uncle
Shufing Balearic from Little Hulton
New Fast Automatic Daffodils Big
Abstract, percussive dance music
with a little touch of out-there indie
|990 Top Ninc
48 Stories
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Covered: Football, World Cup
was to be his last tournament before he crossed the North Sea to take
over at PSV Eindhoven. The island itself prepared itself for the English
invasion with stories running in both the Italian and English media
about what the national teams supporters would get up to. As far as
football journalists were concerned the prospect for an early return was
certain. But they hadnt counted on two things: the rise of Paul John
Gascoigne and a seismic shift in British society.
Two years before Italia 90, the acid house/rave scene kick-started the
most exciting music movement since punk rock. Bands like The Stone
Roses, The Charlatans, Happy Mondays and The Farm became popular
groups who werent afraid to profess their loyalty to football. At the same
time, fanzines like When Saturday Comes gained prominence, detailing
all the quirky, observational stu that football fans loved to talk about.
Quotes from Albert Camus and Bill Shankly started appearing on T-shirts
with even style magazine The Face running a piece about the iconic No
Alla Violenza tees worn by London and Manchesters hippest young
things. The iconography of football, so common today, began here.
And to cap it all, New Order went and recorded World In Motion, a
brilliant melange of sun-soaked house music, British pop and terrace
cheekiness. It zoomed into the charts at number one.
Peter Hooton, singer with The Farm, explains its appeal.
The track was so good even if it hadnt been a football
record it would have been played everywhere. The fact that
John Barnes did the rap just made it even better. Listening to it
even now just makes me feel happy.
England, as is often the way, started the tournament o
slowly. Placed in a group alongside Holland, Egypt and Ireland,
they ground out two less-than-inspiring draws against the Dutch
and Irish, meaning that to qualify theyd
have to beat the Egyptians in their
nal game in Cagliari, the Sardinian
capital. Happily, a oated free kick
from Paul Gascoigne landed on the
head of Mark Wright, who powered
the ball into the net for a 1-0 victory.
It wasnt pretty and in truth,
apart from the Dutch game when
Robson had experimented with a
3-5-2 formation, England had been
ordinary. But it didnt matter they
were o to Bologna to play Belgium.
Bologna is Italys Oxford, boasting the worlds oldest university and a
beguiling architectural mix of the medieval and renaissance. It is certain
that this ne old town had never seen anything like Paul Gascoigne when
he stepped onto the turf for the game between England and Belgium.
Theyre not big on hyperactive Geordies in the universities of northern
Italy (well not then anyway), but Gazzas beautifully weighted free kick
that David Platt managed to turn in on the volley with just 32 seconds of
extra time left was pure poetry.
In an absorbing, tense match, the goal was the only dierence between
two teams. At the end of game, Terry Butcher and Chris Waddle went
over to the England fans and did a daft dance as the supporters sang,
Lets all have a disco, lets all have disco And at home, people not
just football fans were starting to get excited, inspired by the team, by
Gascoigne and even the Nessun Dorma theme used by the BBC in their
World Cup coverage. Cameroon, the Indomitable Lions were up next.
For those outside of England, the real hero of Italia 90 was Roger Milla,
Cameroons veteran 38-year-old striker whod taken the tournament
by storm with his urry of goals and dance-around-the corner ag
celebration. In the July 1 quarter-nal in Naples, the African side came
very close to putting England out in fact, with eight minutes to go
Cameroon were actually 2-1 up. Thankfully, their clumsy defending came
to Englands rescue, when they gave away a penalty with eight minutes
left Gary Lineker slotting the ball home. In extra time, a precision pass
from Gascoigne set up Lineker for a run on goal but he was scythed down
in the box. Lineker did the business again from the spot and England
were 3-2 winners. England fan, Phil Sherwin was there.
The Cameroon game was very nerve-wracking. I couldnt believe it
when we nally won thanks to Linekerss penalties. This result meant
a bit more to me because I was due to y home the next day to go back
to work, but with a semi-nal against Germany looming that wasnt an
option. I went to Turin and found a hotel.
Back home, the press had forgotten the pre-World Cup doom and were
now in full-on, ag-on-front-page patriotism mode. At the centre of this
mania was Paul Gascoigne, as England player Chris Waddle remembers.
Paul had no fear, he played like he was on the park. He just enjoyed
himself, he was a young lad with no pressure on him. He didnt care
about reputations and thought, Im going to enjoy myself .
Naples was steamy and hot that July 4 evening when Germany faced
England in the semi-nal. England fans, so long derided and maltreated,
outnumbered and out-sang the Germans as the teams prepared to kick
o. Inspired by their supporters and with belief oozing from every pore,
Gascoigne, Beardsley and Lineker set about their opponents, mixing
passion with skill and imagination. For the rst half, the Germans
were rattled. Then on 59 minutes they got a free kick on the edge
of the box. It cannoned o Paul Parker in such a way that it
span into the night sky and back into the top of Shiltons
goal. Never has a goal felt more like being kicked in
the stomach. But the England team, this England
team didnt panic, they carried on with their pressing,
precise football and with ten minutes to go, a cross from
Paul Parker landed on the thigh of Gary Lineker, who took the ball
past two defenders and swept it into the net. One-all.
Extra-time both England and Germany came agonisingly close
to scoring, but the real story was Gascoigne. The worlds second best
player was booked for an innocuous
challenge that meant if England won
the semi, he would miss the nal
through the accumulation of his
second yellow card in the tournament.
The tears of course, came. How could
they not? To Gascoigne, the World
Cup nal was where he was destined
to have that taken away from him
nearly destroyed him. But it didnt.
Because after the initial shock, after
Linekers Have a word, Gazza came
back, ghting for his team. And yet, the
deadlock in this magnicent match could not be broken.
And so to penalties. And we all know what happened there. We know
the heartbreak, the disbelief and the sight of countless mulleted Germans
in their terrible kit jumping on top of each other with unrestrained joy
as the Neapolitan ball boys tried in vain to locate the football from Chris
Waddles penalty. It was over, the daft dream that people had only just
started to believe in was nished. Today, Waddle is philosophical.
Our defeat wasnt unjust, it was unlucky. We hit the bar and post, they
hit the post and missed chances. Its like any competition, you need luck.
When we had our chances they didnt go in. Ask the Germans or anyone
else, theyd tell you England were the best team in the tournament.
But later, out of this wrenching defeat came rejuvenation. The defeat
was put into perspective as the England team came back heroes and
Paul Gascoigne was put on a pedestal he could never come down from.
Paul Simpson, author of Gascoigne sums up his contribution:
You look at every English midelder since the war and only him and
Bobby Charlton have managed to perform at that level. After that, the
tears gave us a classic image to sum up the experience.
And football itself ? It changed forever. Dont believe it? Read this quote
from an England fan in Italy taken from Pete Davies excellent account of
England at the 1990 World Cup, All Played Out.
I went for a beer last night (during the Czech-Italian game) and all
these birds walk in and theyve got their faces painted red, white and
green you cant imagine the girls back home sitting watching in the pub
with the St George cross on their faces, can you?
You can now.
ondon, June 2010. Wherever you looked there were St Georges
ags. Flying from cabs, draped over balconies, stuck to the walls
of seemingly every pub in town. Talk was of nothing but the
World Cup and how England were going to do in it. Plans were hatched
for afternoons o to watch games, while barbecues got organised around
possible xtures in the second phase. The new England away kit was on
the backs of countless individuals, from pop stars to new born babies not
old enough to understand what football is. No matter, because more than
the election and certainly more than the forthcoming 2012 Olympics
how England perform in the worlds biggest sporting event matters for
a vast swathe of the population of this country. How it could not be so?
But turn the clock back 20 years and the mood before the Italia 90
tournament was very dierent. The national side was routinely vilied
by the media for its unimpressive record, while every paper ran stories
of the inevitability of large scale aggro involving England supporters.
The very publications that the fans read themselves (The Sun, The Star)
gleefully anticipated their violent end at the hands (and batons) of the
ruthless Italian police, the Carabinieri. A fate, their blustering editorials
assured readers, that they would most certainly deserve.
Bobby Robson had been in the England managers job eight years when
his team boarded the plane to Sardinia for their group matches in June,
1990. Unloved and constantly criticised by a hostile English press, this
L
How Italia 90 gave birth to modern football
FORZA GAZZA!
PAUL GASCOIGNE
HAD NO FEAR, HE
PLAYED LIKE HE WAS
ON THE PARK
50 Stories
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Covered: Ibiza, club culture
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990. I was living in Clerkenwell, London EC1 and working
at Channel 4. In those days C4 had a budget especially ring
fenced for youth programming, and I was number two
in a department of three people who decided how to spend it. It
was great. We commissioned programmes like Network 7, The Tube,
Soul Train, The Chart Show and spent the rest of the time going
to clubs and fending o slobbering charlatans telling us about The
Next Big Thing. But I was 28 and already feeling too old for such
a whippersnappers job. So I left Channel 4, set up a company,
Kinesis Films, with an old pal Paul Oremland, and set about
trying to make and sell TV programmes to the only two channels
interested in youth culture BBC2 and C4.
Around the same time, myself and (Madness frontman) Suggs
started working with the Liverpool-based indie band The Farm.
There was an element of frustration from The Farm that, although
theyd cultivated a loyal, predominantly male following right from
their conception in the early 80s, the music press and record
industry had dismissed them as a football band, largely on the
basis of this boisterous fan core. But in 1990 football became
fashionable, and bands like James, Inspiral Carpets and, especially,
the Happy Mondays tapped into that same laddish fan base
The Farm had come to think of as their own. Baggy was born
and The Farm found themselves isolated; excluded from their own
party and, to all intents and purposes, irrelevant. While the nation
was going potty for Madchesters
dislocated groove, The Farm
were the cod-reggae band
with the brass section whod
supported The Housemartins on
their last tour. The group needed
a complete remix, and the rst
step for me and Suggs was to
get them in the studio with a
credible DJ/Producer.
EC1 still hadnt been trendied
in 1990. It was one of the
few aordable postcodes within
walking distance of the West End, and as such attracted the
creative community. My local was the Duke of York on the corner
of Vine Hill and Clerkenwell Road. Just around the corner was
Heavenly, Je Barretts PR agency and edgling record label. Over
the road was Creation Records. Everyone used to drink in the
Duke, and it was here I rst met a ginger-haired rockabilly called
Angus Cameron. Angus had just made his rst promo for Creation
a brilliant, psychotic cut-up job for Primal Screams Loaded.
Immediately I saw it, I wanted to work with Angus. I blagged him
repeatedly about directing a full-length lm for Kinesis I just
didnt know what, at that point.
Back to The Farm; we persuaded the DJ Terry Farley to work on
the bands rst recording session. Terry had seen his Boys Own
comrade Andy Weatherall hit the heights with Primal Screams
Loaded, and fancied the challenge of giving The Farm a similar
makeover. We brought the band down to work, initially, in Suggss
Liquidator studios and after-hours they took to Londons nascent
Balearic scene like ducks to water. Places like Ziggys in Streatham,
Gosh!, The Milk Bar and Flying were all embracing a slowed-down,
laid-back, Ibiza-kissed soundscape and the clubs took The Farm to
their bosom.
And it wasnt just the clubs who were transforming The Farm
there was a whole community, loosely linked by Boys Own
magazine, whose input could be felt and valued; Fiona from Sign
of The Times, Jonathan Richardson at POP, Matthew Collin, the
photographer Glen Lutchford, hairdresser James Worrall at CUTS.
All of them, along with underground mags like The Positive Energy
of Madness, embraced their new Scouse house guests.
Perhaps the biggest ally, though, was club-runner Charlie Chester.
Charlie was the ebullient entrepreneur behind Flying Records.
He also ran the up-and-coming Flying nights at The Soho Theatre
Club on Charing Cross Road. I struck up an instant rapport with
him, and over the course of a vodka jelly session one Saturday
afternoon, he told of his plans to run a bespoke clubbers holiday to
Ibiza. It was to be in June 1990. Flyings galaxy of regular DJs would
be there Harvey, Dean Thatcher, Rocky & Diesel, Glen Gunner,
Ashley Beadle, Scott James and, naturally, Terry Farley along with
a whole tribe of guest jocks, too; Orde Miekle, Danny Rampling
and Andy Weatherall among the glitterati. And it was one of those
moments many of my stories come along in one, fully-formed
blast like this when everything fell into place all at once in my
vodka-stoked bonce. Wed get The Farm out to Ibiza. Kinesis would
take a lm crew. And Angus Cameron would direct. It all seemed
deliciously simple and crystal clear we were going to make the
greatest lmic testimony to a living, live youth culture, ever.
The lm wasnt without its hiccups and dramas; but it was
inspired. It was inspirational. I knew from the very rst night that
we were getting we were going to get something exceptional.
Our cameraman Tim Maurice-Jones found Herculean reserves of
strength to haul his tank-like gear around the Ku Club (as it was
then), dipping in and out of the bacchanalian crowd, somehow
managing to capture the essence of a danceoor that has just gone
o, lit up, ignited in the way that
club nights just do without
anyone noticing he was there.
There were other sublime
moments; A Man Called Adam on
the rocks by Caf del Mar, tablets
just kicking in as the sun set,
smiling beatically as they got to
the heart of Ibizas spiritual side:
How can somewhere so
beautiful be so mad?
There was writer Jane Bussman
ripping up the danceoor all by
herself in Es Paradis as she had a rave-o with a non-existent
groover (it was a massive big PA cabinet); and one of those
moments you just wish the cameras could have been there for
the great and the good of the London club scene o their trolleys
on chocolate brandies and MDMA powder, all sat cross-legged in
perfect serenity, making animal noises. Andy Weatherall was a frog.
The lm made its debut on Channel 4 on August 31, 1990. It was
loved by the people we made the lm for the club kids, old and
young. Many of the artistes featured on the lm went on to more
mainstream success; The Source, The Shamen, Saint Etienne and,
gladly, The Farm all had mega hit records thereafter; A Man Called
Adams Paul Daley formed Lefteld, while tracks by The Grid
and My Bloody Valentine underscored, I think, some of the most
stunningly moving melanges of music and images youll ever see
prompting many a request for a soundtrack CD and (initially) a
video and ultimately a DVD release. For me though, Ibiza: A Short
Film About Chilling was denitive of its time. It spawned many
imitators, and many a monster, Ibiza Uncovered perhaps being the
nadir. Yet the lm is no more or less than the joint inspiration of a
scene and its people coming together at the right time, in the right
place, with the right attitude. Without wanting to sound too hippy-
spiritual about it, ASFAC was and is an organic moment, captured
and sealed in a time capsule. Its online if people want to nd it.
I dearly hope it will remain elusive and semi-mythologised, out
there in the ether pure, original, innocent and joyful.
The lm of Kevins second novel Powder will be out next year.
Awaydays, his rst movie, is available now on DVD
1
Twenty years ago, a group of DJs, bands and ravers went out to Ibiza in search of the perfect clubbing
experience. Filmmaker Kevin Sampson recorded their antics and in doing so made a timeless
testament to the last great pop music movement
ENDLESS SUMMER
WE WERE GOING TO
MAKE THE GREATEST
FILMIC TESTIMONY
TO YOUTH CULTURE
52 Stories
www.umbrellamagazine.co.uk www.umbrellamagazine.co.uk
Covered: Football, Italy, fascism
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ow distinctly unsteady on his feet, former junior sprinter
and long-jump champion Giovanni Maifredi is largely
reliant on his son Enzo to ferry him around Rome. Its an
arrangement which constantly irritates Maifredi Jr, especially as
his ageing father insists on carrying his Young Fascist black shirt
(unworn for more than 60 years) and a photograph of the preening
Il Duce, with jaw tilted at an outrageous angle, around with him,
which he shows to passers-by.
The pair spend most of the time
arguing, not always in a good-
natured way either. The situation
isnt helped by the fact that
Giovannis blind and incontinent
Labrador continually yelps
during our conversation.
The dog should be put down,
and my father is a crazy old
man, Enzo tells me before
adding, with deliberate volume
for his fathers benet, but hell
be dead soon, like his dog, I suppose. Enzos cheek earns him a
clout around the ear from Maifredi Sr. Seventy years ago, Giovanni
was an enthusiastic member of Mussolinis Young Fascists when
Italy hosted the second World Cup and he keeps his black shirt as
a reminder of the time when, Italy felt like it was aiming for the
stars. The national team was Il Duces football soldiers.
Giovanni has plenty of time to think about his life, and football
in particular. Italy has won the World Cup four times, he says.
Twice, in the 1930s, there were strong links with fascism. And in
1982 and 2006, both triumphs came as scandal [Totonero which saw
Paolo Rossi suspended for a year before the tournament and the
Moggiopoli bribery and match-xing scandal which broke during
the 2006 World Cup] engulfed the domestic league. Whenever
Italy wins on the grand stage, there is trouble. Whenever we dont
win, conspiracies y around. Always, there is trouble, whatever
happens. This is Italy, he shrugs. His biggest regret is being ill on
the day he was supposed to parade in front of Mussolini in Rome.
I had food poisoning, he laments. Others in my regiment saluted
him, and he met some of them individually and shook their hands.
It still gives me sleepless nights.
N
The World Cup proved that politicians of every hue are desperate to align themselves with
the beautiful game. But, as Jon Spurling reveals, it was Italian fascist Benito Mussolini
who rst realised that football could be an invaluable propaganda
tool way back in the 1930s
THE POWER
AND THE GLORY
Mussolini was thrilled, describing
it as further evidence of Italys
emergence into genuine power.
Mussolini revelled in the glory
of war, and in the 30s, football
was an entirely new ideological
battleeld. By 1932, there were
sucient modern stadia for Italy
to launch a successful bid for the
World Cup. Il Duce was thrilled at
the prospect of his country hosting
the tournament and not only did he
seek to use it as a propagandist tool
but he also demanded nothing less
than an Italian victory. With backing
from Comitato Olimpico Nazionale
Italiano (CONI), he challenged the
nations foremost sculptors to create
a special trophy (to be presented
to the triumphant Italian side,
obviously), which would reect
the glory of the nation.
The result was the Coppa del
Duce, which consisted of a group
of footballers xed in an action
scene in front of the fasces a
central bundle of rods carried by
magistrates in ancient Rome. It was
carved in bronze by the sculptor
Grazes, who had been responsible
for the winged statue of Victory on
the roof of the Littoriales Marathon
Tower. Standing at almost six times
the height of the Jules Rimet trophy
and laden with fascist iconography
of pure physical power, it was the
ultimate statement of intent by
Mussolini. One ocial press release
announced: Besides the World Cup
oered by FIFA, the football world
championship is blessed by some
of the richest prizes among which,
unique in moral value, is that oered
by Il Duce, who wanted to recognise
the exceptional importance of the
event in such a way. Shortly before
the nals, Mussolini had informed
Italian journalists: Good kicking
is good politics, and it quickly
became clear that Mussolini had no
intention of presenting the trophy to
any other team but his own.
This is an
excerpt from
Death
or Glory, by Jon
Spurling.
Published by
Vision Sports
Publishing, it
is available at
all major book
stores, inc. Waterstones and Amazon.
An ebook can be downloaded for the
Kindle. www.visionsp.co.uk
Father and son are in the midst of packing for their annual
excursion to the Museo del Calcio in Florence. Giovanni insists on
travelling there every April to see the Coppa del Duce, the bronze
trophy awarded to the victorious Italian side in 1934 by Mussolini,
and taking his son with him. My father is just a crazy old fascist,
grumbles Enzo, looking at his dad. Couldnt he just have died
in the war like most of the others?
After seizing control of Italy
in 1922, Mussolini stated his
intention to make the country
great, respected and feared.
During the 1930s, he embarked
on a series of lightning-fast
invasions of Libya and Ethiopia
in a bid to build his new Roman
Empire and gain respect as
an international statesman.
He needed football in order to
mobilise the masses at home
but, added to his military success,
if the national team gained plaudits in the World Cup, it would
conrm his standing, ocial party propaganda claimed, as
our new Julius Caesar.
Under Mussolinis regime, the country embarked upon an
ambitious construction programme, and sporting facilities and
stadia were right at the top of the list. Sports buildings, often with
marble statues nearby glorifying the beauty of the human body,
were designed to showpiece strength and athleticism and act as
a signpost to a new, vibrant Italian youth that the country was in
the ascendancy. Mussolini had a desire to propagate his image
of the new Italian as courageous, physically attractive, vigorous,
sporting, explains Angela Tegy of Rome University. He liked
to think he could lead from the front on this. Newsreel footage
regularly showed a bare chested Italian leader skiing or horse
riding. He loved ashy demonstrations of raw Italian power and
sponsored Major de Bernardis successful attempt to break the
water speed record. Before the Schneider Cup race in Norfolk,
Il Duce sent him a telegram saying, All Italy prays for your
success, as Bernardi prepared to y a Macchi Fiat monoplane.
In front of 60,000, he reached a maximum speed of 246 mph.
MUSSOLINI NEEDED
FOOTBALL IN ORDER
TO MOBILISE THE
MASSES AT HOME
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