Finally We Are Here. Angelo Grassia

the fulfilment of his duties.

      But the career required more sacrifices, still other journeys. In June of 1912 they offered my father the summer season at the Palace Hotel in Livorno and he, always for that famous issue of the "Certificates", gladly accepted. In fact, at the end of the same, he saw his dream of returning to Naples crowned, which pleased my mother too, since Naples was her native city and the usual residence of her family. We see him as 1st Maître at the Gran Hotel Eden in Naples from 23 April 1913 to 19 February 1914 and, immediately afterwards, always in the city, at the Savoy Hotel, precisely on 20 February 1914.

      In Naples, favoured by an old friend, my father managed to have a small but comfortable house in a building on the Riviera of Chiaia 211, owned by the Duca Maresca of Serracapriola. Then, the Riviera of Chiaia was the most beautiful and elegant artery of Naples, both for the grandeur of its buildings, its thick walls, (so with warm rooms in winter and cool in summer: in those days there were no heaters!) and for natural exposure to the South. In front of the Riviera there is the Villa Comunale, through which you find yourself in the much vaunted Via Caracciolo, flanked for a long stretch from that "always blue" sea, as one of the most famous Neapolitan songs says.

      In that road there is no stranger, or tourist who does not stop to look at the beauty of the landscape: the characteristic Vesuvius, the old and artistic Castel of the Ovo and on the right, at the top, the much-vaunted Hill of Posillipo, destination of all the lovers and inspirer of the great Neapolitan poets.

      The Via Caracciolo, in the past, was considered the "living room of Naples", the place of the elegant walk, especially on Sunday morning, after the ritual listening to Mass in the nearby Church of Santa Caterina da Siena. In this way, the most high-ranking ladies of the city agreed to show off their lavish toilets, as well as all the youths or for the pre-arranged meetings or even for the hoped for first encounters.

      I still remember when this street, in the evening and at night, was illuminated by the famous "gas lamp posts". The walk at that time was even more suggestive: how many words and phrases of love were uttered in it; how many oaths and promises of love, how many tender and passionate kisses have been exchanged! (it is worth remembering the verses of this old and beautiful song: "Tutto passa, fernesce e se scored....’o destino d’ ‘o munno è accussì ...").

      This road is also famous abroad for the fame of its large hotels, as well as its restaurants: those who do not remember the famous "Zi 'Teresa", the "Bersagliera" the "Transatlantico" open day and night and the famous hotels scattered along the entire coast: the "Excelsior" the "Santa Lucia" the "Vesuvio" the "Royal" and the "Continental", all sources of happiness for the countless tourists, coming from all parts of the world and wealth for part of the population, used to living mainly with tourism.

      9

      Meanwhile, our country, neutral after the siege of Sarajevo, began to intervene in the conflict: the symptoms were everywhere evident. The war was soon declared and my father, belonging to the class of 1885, was mobilized in January 1916. Naples was not a very populated city: it could be considered, at that time, a great country: everyone knew each other. Did you want to find someone to talk to? It was enough to go to Piazza S. Ferdinando to see, after a short time, the person you wished to meet, or else in a position to immediately give you news of what you were looking for.

      My father had made a name for himself in the hotel environment, both for the expertise acquired by travelling half the world, and because he was known as an affable and kind person.

      The president of the Italian Red Cross, Marquis La Via, knew very well my father, as a close friend of the owner of the Hotel Santa Lucia. Having heard of my father's call to arms, he sent someone to call him and he asked if he would be willing to work with Major Pavone in the opening of a Territorial Hospital for War Injuries, planted in Naples, in the immediate vicinity of the Mergellina Metro, at the beginning of Corso Vittorio Emanuele. My father accepted the job very willingly and, after a few hardships and setbacks, the hospital in question, called "Regina Elena", was ready to work. My father wore the gray-green uniform and, after a brief interview, they gave him the rank of health sergeant, with the specific task of providing the provisioning, the canteen and many other tasks only he knew how to disengage thanks to his competence, given the scarcity of the staff assigned to the hospital itself.