ELECTION TIME

 Italians often complain that in classifications of the various productive, cultural, commercial sectors, etc., they are frequently listed amongst the last, when compared with other Western countries. In one thing, however, they are surely unbeatable: the number of elections expected. They are of all types, and use the most bizarre and diverse methods, except not by scholastic means which are methodically postponed, anyway, there’s nothing to steal. We were going to say that they take place in all seasons, but, in the 1960’s, our many ingenuous protean politicians, invented the so-called “beach government”, that is the quintessential “cast to live” put together with the sole idea of avoiding tiresome electoral campaigns in the middle of their summer holidays. Following the fashion, according to which the names of everything need to be changed, similar governments today are called technocrats. What can we say about the elections in Torricella in the ‘50’s and ‘60’s? Political ones, naturally, reflected the atmosphere prevalent within the entire Nation. For the Town Hall ones a short history is needed. When there were more than three thousand inhabitants in our village, there were twenty councillors. Today, due to depopulation and recent reform, there are only twelve. In the past there was a majority system similar to the present, so interruptions of the administration were infrequent (it only ever happened twice). The Mayor was not elected directly.
To put it mildly, the climate was red-hot, in all its phases, pre- and post-electoral. Ruptures that were permanently present between inhabitants, in that period became abysses. Supporters of the two rival factions avoided meeting each other, husbands forbade their wives to mix with friends from the other “side”. The hunt began for candidates who would gain large numbers of votes, especially in the districts. Their level of culture was immaterial, on the contrary, the less they understood about politics the better they could be trained. In case of victory, moreover, these people, usually tireless workers who from morn until night were fully occupied in cultivating their fields, guaranteed lavish meals, not only for the leader, but also for the large swarm of supporters and bag-carriers. The wives were not greatly enthusiastic about these sudden brainwaves about the political battlefield of their consorts: "Siend na nzì. Ma mo chi te l'ha fatt fà a méttete mmèzz a ssi mbicce? Tenéme tand da fà a la ngott e ngh li bièstie! Chiss é tutt na manijate” (Listen up. But who made you put yourself in the middle of these concerns? We have so much to do in the countryside and with the animals! Those people are all made of the same stuff). The hot and bothered husband would have liked to agree with his woman’s affirmations, but by now he was in the set and had to dance the steps (alas, with ballerinas far more “shrewd” than him!).
 Meetings were held every Sunday afternoon, which, from the formal point of view, in some cases, not many, revealed clear, flowing eloquence and persuasive oratory, sufficient to excite the crowd ready to underline with thunderous applause the skill of the speaker. In other cases (many) the speeches were shoddy and plagiarised in the best way, here and there by obscure scribes, with phrases “fried and refried”. Moreover: extreme cases. Here it bordered on dementia aggravated by early onset of memory loss. Listen to this: “Friends  and companions of Gessopalena, I have the honour to present to you the honourable.... (Embarrassed pause followed by a flash of genius) Mbè mo ve le dice èss" (he’ll tell you himself). There was no lack of genuine speakers, however, who, notwithstanding a fleeting scholastic experience and a limited or non-existent knowledge of books or linguistic manuals, had a natural power of speech with which they succeeded in bravely haranguing their own supporters. As for the contents of the speeches, there was an extremely variegated repertory. A large number of them, apart from subjects of public interest, referred to the most intimate behaviours of the candidates and their respective spouses or sisters and, since no-one in this world is without sin, there were reasons galore for causing distress to their adversaries. Those called to the cause, however, were not at all intimidated, but counterattacked repaying their detractors in the same coinage, plus interest.

THE RED FLAG OR THE WHITE FLOWER.
Before every meeting a couple of youths with loudspeakers mounted in an old car almost ready for the scrapheap, drove around blaring out rambling ungrammatical propaganda slogans, interspersed by the strident notes of the Red Flag[1] or the White Flower[2]. Some days before election day, there was always a telegram from Rome, pinned to the mirror in the Bar: "Approved the sum of Lire (various hundreds of millions) for drains or resurfacing the road, Via Such and Such”. Just enough to remind the most hesitant where the power of command lay! The Friday before voting Sunday, the two opposing lines put on display all their potential tactics and strategies. One after the other the local stars would appear on the balconies, followed, like a final bang, by those of the honourables from our zone, who had been elected to the National Parliament. Meanwhile people backed the forecasts of the possible winners of the contest. The count took place at small tables by self-styled experts, who, however, could not carry out any surveys at all, since about fifty people had openly declared their preferences, whilst the others said they were available for one list or the other. Thus the only clue was a greeting, given or lacking, a smile, a glance, to assign an elector to his own parish or to the other. With this system, which for good reason we can call “intuitive” both parties believed themselves to be victorious by a wide margin over their adversaries. The last act took place on the Sunday morning, with a hunt for the oldest people having walking difficulties: they needed someone to go and collect them and bring them to the polling stations. It was a real true competition to grab votes, admitting and not conceding that the old person would fulfil the hopes of these sudden and interested “benefactors”.
Finally at two o’clock on the Monday afternoon, the fateful hour of truth approached, bitter for the losers, very happy for the winners, especially if the victory was topped by an overturning of the predictions, in spite of the proclamations of the previous day, based on a triumphal presumption of overwhelming success. The fact is that in the sections, as the opening of the forms proceeded, the ranks of those taking the side of the probable winner increased, at the same time as those supporting the loser thinned out, until they disappeared completely. Once mathematical certainty of a good result from the polls had been reached, processions would form, singing and extolling the newly elected, with quips and jests against the defeated.
A rich meal, reserved for the directors and the relevant entourage from the predominant party marked the end of the electoral contest.
Certainly not to the rancour, swearing, lies, obscene language and similar, destined to perpetuate themselves in the century of centuries.

16 Ottobre 1952
Visita del prefetto Caso per le opere della ricostruzione post bellica. Lo riceve l’amministrazione di sinistra con a sindaco Don Domenico Testa, il penultimo sulla destra.L’amministrazione reggerà sino al 1959 quando ci furono elezioni molto dure da cui uscì vincitrice la Democrazia Cristiana con a sindaco Nicola Rotondo.

Anni 60
Qui accanto c’è il sindaco  della  DC Nicola Rotondo ( il primo a sinistra)  che riceve la visita di Remo Gaspari, più volte ministro della DC e plenipotenziario  per almeno tre decenni della Democrazia Cristiana abruzzese.