Six Miles to Burlingame

memoir
by Greg Larson
Preface (July 2, 2026)

I wrote this blog at a time when Gretta and I were at the peak of our fitness and in good health. Thank you for letting me share it as a tribute to her on the ten-year anniversary of her death from cancer.

            It was one of those memorable spring mornings in Eastern Kansas when I filled my lungs with cool moist air and thought how great it was to be alive. The meadowlark perched on a fencepost and announced the sunrise.  The sun's first rays painted the clouds lavender and pink, and the dew sparkled on the prairie grass. 
 

            Gretta and I pedaled our tandem bicycle to the east, leaving Council Grove behind us.  The Flint Hills stretched to the horizon, like a rumpled green blanket that faded into the early morning haze.  We were riding with a group of two hundred cyclists along a seventy-five mile route of paved roads and highways.  Topeka was our final destination to complete a three-day tour.
 

            We pedaled all morning through a collage of rural scenes: cattle drinking from mirror-surfaced ponds, horses standing beside weathered barns and wild flowers blossoming near the barbed-wire fences.
 

            I guided the bike around a long curve to the north on U.S. Highway 56 and estimated it was about six miles to Burlingame.  The town would be a good spot to stop for lunch.  The clouds thickened during a long and slow ascent to the north.  We crested a hill near Elkhorn Knob and viewed the valley before us. What we saw was both breathtaking and disconcerting.  Burlingame lay in the valley, about four miles ahead, but further northwest, storm clouds were brewing with veils of rain and fingers of lightning.
 

            The valley and the storm made a panoramic, colorful vista, but an urgent question needed to be answered.  Would we . . . could we get to Burlingame before the storm?  I estimated the rain and lightning would hit the town in about ten minutes.  We’d have to muster a bundle of energy and average a speed of twenty-five miles an hour to have the slightest chance of beating the storm.
 

            The bicycle began to coast down the hill.  Sitting on the front seat, I turned my head to the side to talk to Gretta.
 

            “Storm’s comin’.”

            “Yeah, I see it.”

            “Think we can beat it?”

            “We can try.” 

 “We’ll have to pedal like crazy.  We’re talkin’ time trial speed.”

 “Let’s go for it.”
 

            The bike gained momentum as we raced down into the valley . . . twenty-five, thirty . . . over thirty-five miles an hour.  I put my hands down in the drops of the handlebars, and focused on the road ahead.  The road noise and the wind made it impossible to talk anymore, but Gretta knew that once we began pedaling, we would not stop until we made it into Burlingame.
 

            At the bottom of the hill, we stroked a steady pedal motion, seeking a gear and expense of energy that would be consistent all the way to town.  The two of us and the bike became a leg-pounding locomotive. Every so often, I’d glance at the speedometer to make sure we kept our speed above twenty-five miles an hour.  Out of the corner of my eyes I could see the wheat fields begin to stir with the approaching storm.  We rocketed across creek bridges, past thickets and groves of cottonwoods and Osage orange trees.

           
             Rumbles of thunder rolled across the prairie.  One thousand-one, one thousand-two . . . I began counting the time between lightning and thunder.  A ten second delay meant the bolts were less than two miles away.  I could smell the rain in the air. Time was running out.  We kept pushing the pedals, maintaining the speed.
 

            Some of the other riders stopped along the side of the road to put on their bright-colored rain jackets.  Many riders continued, but at a much slower pace than our tandem.  I felt like a Ferrari passing slower cars on the back stretch at Le Mans, pulling the bike wide to pass the riders in a blur.
 

            With a clap of thunder, our adrenaline flowed faster.  Sporadic raindrops, the size of silver dollars began hitting the pavement as we flew past the city limits.  The bike vibrated along the brick-paved street with elm branches waving overhead.
 

            The limestone buildings of downtown came into view, and we turned onto the main street.  Like a port in a storm, the large windows and lace curtains on the storefront at the Santa Fe Trail Café wooed us to a stop, and we parked the bike across the street between two buildings.
 

            Flash, crackle, BOOM . . . the thunder and lightning unleashed torrents of rain.  We ran across the street and rushed into the café.
 

            As soon as we shut the door, our glasses fogged over.  The only sound that came out of us was heavy breathing.  I peered over the top of my glasses and saw a short grandmotherly woman with rosy cheeks walking towards us.  Her greeting made us feel at home.  “Hi! You folks just made it in the nick of time.  Sit wherever you like.  We’ve got burgers, sandwiches, and homemade pie.”   
       

The spring day was still young, and we had lived life to the fullest.

 

 

The Ultimate Tchotchke

 

The Ultimate Tchotchke

travel memoir

by Greg Larson

 

     You have them.  I have them.  We all have them.  Some have gathered dust.  Some are handled reverently and command a place of prominence in our homes.  Some are expensive, and some are cheap. They’re the trinkets we bring back from our travels near and far.  They trigger fond memories and funny stories of unusual happenings in strange lands.

     Gretta and I don’t spend much time shopping on our trips, but we do like to bring back something to remind us of our travels.  She enjoys finding playing cards that have pictures of the country or area we’ve visited.  She also looks for silver spoons that have a country’s emblem on the handle, or she’ll search for a good refrigerator magnet.  I look for one special thing to bring home . . . something that embodies the essence of our experience in a different place.

     Logic doesn’t always factor into the decision on what to purchase.  In 2007, I noticed a pair of stainless steel coffee cups in the window of a shop in the Latin Quarter in Paris.  I envisioned them full of steaming French coffee and whipped cream.  The cups were made in Brazil.  Go figure.  But I have fond memories of surprising Gretta by sneaking out of the hotel, speaking broken French to the shopkeeper, and seeing Gretta’s big smile when I came back and showed her the treasure.

Brazilian coffee cups from Paris, France

     Knick-knacks were not on our mind as we began an epic bike trip across Italy in 2005.  Every day was its own adventure as we moved from one village to another.  Our starting point was the town of Fano, on the east coast of Italy.  The weekend was in full swing when we arrived, and thousands of people had flocked to the beach.  We discovered they were celebrating the Festival of the Adriatic Sea.  The town had a party atmosphere and was full of vacationers. We ate a seafood dinner in an open air restaurant next to the beach, and were told the festival parade was about to begin, and it was going to come right past us.



Festival parade comes by the restaurant

     Women wearing giant hats with replicas of lobsters and clams danced down the street, followed by a brass band, pirate ship floats, and fire-breathers in Renaissance costumes.  The parade looped around the main boardwalk no less than four times.  As it came near the restaurant, we got up from the dinner table to go watch the revelers and participants, who became more inebriated with each pass. One of the unanswered mysteries was the parading woman in a costume decorated with a vacuum formed aircraft carrier.  It seemed like we were in a very strange dream.

Strange costume



     People on the floats threw candy at our feet, and I picked up the pieces that were close to me.  Nearby, a woman with her three-year-old granddaughter watched while children scooped up the treats.  The little girl was crying because she wasn’t quick enough grab any of the pieces, so I bent down and offered my candy to her.  Immediately, big smiles came to the faces of the girl and her grandmother.  I had just performed my first act of diplomacy with a smile, and without speaking a word of Italian.



     Candy and trinkets kept raining down from the floats.  Gretta lurched for the unopened plastic bags of inflatable beach toys being thrown to the crowd.  In a flash, she grabbed two inflatable pillows.  “These should be good for something!” she exclaimed.

   The next morning we dipped our bike wheels in the Adriatic Sea and began our 450 mile trip westward to cross the Apennine Mountains, with our goal of making it to the Tyrrhenian Sea in eleven days.  After several days of riding past farm fields, vineyards and forests, we pedaled across the Madonna della Cima mountain pass and roared down the highway towards the ancient town of Gubbio, built on the mountainside. Arriving in town, we pedaled up the quaint cobblestone streets and into the town square.

     Gubbio is the quintessential Italian village.  We fell in love with the stone buildings and streets, the carved wooden doorways and the potted plants.  We learned it is a town with an ancient festival celebrating the patron saint, St. Ubaldo, and two other saints, St. Giorgio and St. Antonio.  Every year, three tall wooden boxes topped with figures representing the saints are carried by teams through the streets, and then raced to the top of the mountain to the Church of St. Ubaldo.   Gubbio is also known for the Taverna del Lupo (Tavern of the Wolf), where St. Francis of Asissi visited in the thirteenth century.  Apparently, a wolf was terrorizing the village, and St. Francis was asked to come to coax the wolf out of the village.  He spent time with the wolf and prayed for it, then he asked the tavern to set out food and water each day.  He assured the townspeople if they followed his instructions, the wolf would no longer be a problem.

Taverna del Lupo



     In the late afternoon, Gretta and I walked the narrow streets and discovered some ceramic shops displaying large and colorful plates and vases.  Several pieces with a pattern of grapes, oranges and sunflowers caught my eye.  They were large, and the quality was good.

Ceramic shop in Gubbio



     “Gretta, look at these.”  I showed her the group of pieces with the sunflowers.  “One of these big platters would make a great souvenir."

     Gretta had a concerned look on her face.  “How would we ever get it home in one piece?  I do like the colors.  Maybe we could have it shipped home.”

     I pointed to a square plate that was fourteen inches in width, and asked one of the workers in the shop how much it would cost to have it shipped.  She told us that the shipping cost would be more than the cost of the plate.

     We thanked her for the information and told her we would look around the store.  My mind began to race with thoughts about our bike tour and how nice it would be to have some type of trophy to remind us of the accomplishment.  The British Open golf tournament has a silver claret jug as a prize.  The winner of the Tour de France gets a fancy French bowl.  Some of the competitors get Lalique vases. Although our bike tour was not a competition, certainly an Italian ceramic plate would be something to always remind us of crossing Italy on a bike.

     “Let’s get the plate,” I said to Gretta, “We’ll find a way to get it back home, even if I have to carry it in my lap.”   The shop worker covered the plate with bubble wrap and craft paper.  Once back at our hotel, I packed the plate deep into my suitcase.  It would be safe riding in the van each day.

Vineyards and fields in Italy

     We continued our tour through the countryside and the villages each day, passing vineyards, grassland, and fields of sunflowers, and heard bells toll from villages nearby.  When we dipped our front wheels in the Tyrrhenian Sea, we had emotions of accomplishment, but sadness that our tour was at its end.

   On the train ride back to Rome, Gretta smiled and said, “I think I have a solution for getting our ceramic plate home safely.  Do you remember those inflatable pillows I picked up in Fano?  We can put the plate in a shopping bag and put a pillow on either side of it.  You can take it as one of your carry-on pieces of luggage on our flight home.”

     I thought it was a great idea, and that’s exactly what we did.  Once our flight was in the air, I put the shopping bag on the floor between my legs.  I fell into a deep sleep and dreamt of pedaling the bike across Italy.

     Today, the plate is hanging on the wall of our kitchen, near the entry into the living room.  The colorful tchotchke is a constant reminder of our first bike trip to Italy, and our accomplishment of touring coast to coast.

The Ultimate Tchotchke

 

Football Players: Pawns in a Dangerous Game

         
           Preface: During research on my grandfather, John Beck, who was an all-conference halfback during his senior year of college football, I discovered that football was almost banned in the early twentieth century due to the large number of injuries and deaths that occurred.  The game has changed, but it continues to be a dangerous sport.

          The following essay received first place in non-fiction submittals in a six week writing seminar in which I participated last year.

 

Football Players: Pawns in a Dangerous Game

non-fiction essay

by Gregory E. Larson

 

          The quarterback for the Washington Redskins, Joe Theismann, held the ball on a routine play during the Monday Night Football game with the New York Giants on November 18, 1985.  Two of the Giants’ defensive linebackers, Lawrence Taylor and Harry Carson, tackled Joe, and in an instant both the tibia and fibula in his lower right leg snapped like chicken bones. Theismann, suffering from compound leg fractures, lay motionless on the field.  A nation of football fans was shocked and horrified, and Joe’s professional football career came to an abrupt end.  Television viewers watched the slow motion replay in horror as Taylor’s knee hit Theismann’s lower leg, fracturing the bones and creating a limp attachment.  With each replay, viewers turned their heads away from the television.  The injury was too sickening to watch.  The incident shook the American football fan’s psyche to the core. They wanted to see a clash of modern day gladiators – they just didn’t want to see a career-ending injury.

          Football has been, and always will be, inherently dangerous.  Throughout the history of the sport, both college and professional football organizations have attempted to address various safety issues to help protect the players and make the game more enjoyable for the fans.  As each safety issue is corrected, others arise to be given attention, but the violence and danger continue to be an integral part of the game.  

          In the early years of college football, 1880 to 1905, the deaths and injuries incited a public outcry to ban the sport.  Mass formations and flying wedges (players locked arm-in-arm) were commonplace.   Injury-prone gang-tackling (piling on the ball carrier) and the lack of protective clothing also contributed to player injuries. In 1894, the Harvard versus Yale game became known as the “Hampden Park Blood Bath.”  Four players sustained crippling injuries, and future games were suspended between the two teams until 1897.  There was enough concern about the violence of the Army versus Navy contests that authorities suspended the games from 1894 to 1898.  Deaths and injuries in the sport continued to mount.  In the years between 1880 and 1905, 325 college football players died, and 1,149 were seriously injured.

          In 1905, the public clamored for the President, Teddy Roosevelt to either ban the sport, or bring the colleges together to work to improve the safety of the game.  On October 9, 1905, Roosevelt sat down with representatives of Harvard, Yale, and Princeton to discuss the issues.

          Ironically, on the weekend prior to the Roosevelt football summit, the brutality that occurred during a game between University of Pennsylvania and Swarthmore College highlighted the continued violence. It became known as the Tiny Maxwell Incident. 

Tiny Maxwell was a 240 pound player for Swarthmore College.  He was a brute of a man who played both offense and defense.  When he carried the ball, it took three players to bring him down.  Pennsylvania was a football powerhouse, and they didn’t want little Swarthmore College to ruin their reputation, so they developed a plan to rough up Tiny Maxwell.  On every play, the Penn players gang-tackled Maxwell, and inflicted slugs and punches to his face.  By the end of the game, Maxwell’s nose was broken and his eyes were so swollen that he could hardly see, and he had to be led off the field.

          Supposedly, pictures of Maxwell’s bloody face were given to Roosevelt prior to his meeting with Harvard, Yale and Princeton.  At the very least, the images were a convincing argument that changes were needed.   Roosevelt’s meeting prompted the colleges to create the American Football Rules Committee.  The committee formulated several rule changes which initially reduced injuries by spreading out the game over the entire field of play.  The key changes were:

·        Creation of a neutral zone at the line of scrimmage

·        The distance required for a first down was increased from five to ten yards

·        Mass formations and gang tackling were banned

·        The length of the game was reduced to two thirty-minute halves

·        The forward pass was recognized as a legitimate offensive play

In 1906, college football deaths were reduced to six, of which three were caused by fist fights between Ivy League players. 

          By 1909, the danger returned, with thirty-three football-related deaths.  More changes were made to the game in 1910 and 1912, including a ban on flying tackles.  Field goal points were reduced from four to three, and touchdown points were increased from five to six.

          College Football blossomed as a sport in the years following World War I.  Many of the veterans returned from the war and entered college.  The deaths and violence experienced in Europe made football seem like a parlor game.  The prosperity of the 1920’s, and the relief that war was over, seemed to heighten the enjoyment for the fans during their Saturdays at the stadiums.  The radio broadcasts also created legions of followers.

          But the danger continued to lurk on college football fields throughout the United States during the 1920’s.  At Kansas State Normal (currently Emporia State University), many veterans returned from the war to play football.  Their coach, Bill Hargiss, followed the strategies of Knute Rockne, the coach at Notre Dame, who was perfecting the wide open game of passing and open field running.  It was in the latter part of the 1920 season when tragedy struck the Normal team during a game against Washburn College.  In a light mist on a muddy field, Normal’s big fullback, Jack Reeves, took the ball and plunged through the line.  A sideline tackle by one of Washburn’s players broke Reeve’s neck.  He was carted off the field and died while the game continued.  His teammates were not told of Jack’s death until after the game.  The news broke the spirit of the Normal players.  The game for the next week was cancelled, and the final game of the season was played, but Normal lost to College of Emporia, 24-0.

          Tragedy struck again at Kansas State Normal in 1921.  Don Davis, Normal’s outstanding running back was playing with an ear infection.  He was tackled hard in a game against Baker University, and the infection spread to his sprained and bruised shoulder.  Davis’s condition deteriorated, and he died on November 21, 1921.  The final game of the season was cancelled.

          In 1923, Normal was renamed Kansas State Teachers College.  For the football players, the deaths of years past were behind them.  The college fans looked up to those who continued to play the game.  To them, the players were heroes, and carried an aura of invincibility and machismo. 

The senior quarterback and halfback, John Beck, had the best game of his career at the beginning of the season, scoring three touchdowns and two drop-kick field goals.  He paid a heavy price through the physical pounding he received from the opposing players.  The coach put him on the bench for the better part of two games to allow him to recuperate from his injuries.  While Beck sat on the bench during a game against Southwestern College, KSTC tied the score, and then intercepted a pass.  Time was running out and KSTC was within field goal range.  This prompted coach Hargiss to call time-out and walk over to Beck, who was known by the fans as Johnnie with the educated toe.  They knew he was suffering, but they yelled for the coach to put him in the game.  A great cheer went out from the crowd as Beck stood up and did his best to mask the pain as he limped out onto the field.  He kicked the winning field goal and became the hero, upholding the macho image of a football player who ignores pain and injury to do anything for the team.

While college football continued to grow as a sport, there wasn’t much public interest in professional football in the early twentieth century.  After World War II, the National Football League grew in popularity as the public sought out sporting and recreational venues.  The league’s largest expansion occurred in 1970 when it merged with the American Football League and expanded to twenty-six teams.  The players continued to increase their size and speed, due to improved nutrition and physical training, which included major emphasis on weight lifting. 

With larger, faster athletes, new safety issues have emerged, such as concussions and bone/joint injuries.  In 2004, the average weight of an NFL defensive tackle exceeded 300 pounds.  Quarterbacks, running backs and wide receivers have become open targets for massive defensive players who move at lightning speed. The Joe Theismann injury is a prime example of this vulnerability of the ball carrier.  The defensive players have learned to be effective by lowering their heads just prior to executing a tackle, thus creating a battering ram of tremendous force.  The NFL has attempted to counteract these issues by imposing new rules to penalize players for intentional use of the helmet as a weapon, and for late tackles or hits to the quarterback.  The immediate injuries are obvious, but there is now concern among the players and the league regarding long-term effects from the heavy and repeated blows a player receives during his career.  One recent NFL study determined that football veterans over the age of fifty are five times more likely than the average population to exhibit some form of dementia.

Will the danger in football ever be eliminated?  The NFL history has shown that violence continues regardless of rule changes and fines to players and teams.  The constant changes to the rules seem like a whack-a-mole strategy.  When one safety issue is solved, another pops up.  Fans enjoy the violence as long as it doesn’t get out of control.  They see the players as gladiators on the field, and get a rush from screaming out their anger or their joy, releasing all their pent-up emotions each weekend.

The NFL has attempted to address player safety through rule changes, but the recent discovery of the bounty system that existed within the New Orleans Saints team has shocked coaches, players and fans.  The NFL alleges the Saints organization promoted and supported cash payments of $1,000 to $1,500 to defensive players if they were able to inflict enough pain to cause the opposing players to be carted off the field.  The Saints have been fined $500,000, and the head coach, Sean Payton, has been suspended for the entire 2012 season.  The defensive coordinator, Gregg Williams, has been suspended indefinitely.

The story continues to unfold, but the existence of a locker room tape provides a glimpse into the attitude and directives of Gregg Williams as he prepared his team for a game with the San Francisco 49ers. 

Williams’ instructions to “kill Frank Gore’s head” seem eerily similar to Pennsylvania’s pre-game plan to injure Tiny Maxwell over 100 years ago. Williams told his players to turn Gore’s head “sideways.” He also directed them to inflict injury on Kyle Williams, a San Francisco wide receiver, who was recovering from a concussion:  “No. 10 [Williams] . . . about his concussion.  We need to put a (expletive) lock on him right now.”

It causes the fans to ask, “Has anything really changed?”

If football safety were taken to the extreme, the players would suit up in marshmallow-like suits, wearing foam helmets the size of pumpkins, chasing each other like Michelen men, bouncing and rolling around on the field.  Football would be in danger of losing its soul if that scenario became reality.  Fans want to see the physical strengths and weaknesses of the players tested on the field.  They want to see the muscles and the sweat, the action and the glory.

So for the time being, college and professional football will roll the dice and let the game continue to be played in a heady mix of television money, fanatical followers, packed stadiums and slow motion replays . . . and they’ll wait for the next tragedy to occur.  

*  *  *

Sources:

History of American Football – Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia, Violence and Controversy (1905)

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/History_of_American_football

Miller, John J.  How Teddy Roosevelt Saved Football.  Wall Street Journal, Thursday, April 21, 2011, page A13.

Pagano, Richard.  Robert ‘Tiny’ Maxwell.  College Football Historical Society, Volume I, No. IV, May 1988.

Keyes, Ralph.  Tiny Maxwell Cut a Wide Swath As a Football Player, Ref and Writer. 

http://sportsillustrated.cnn.com/vault/article/magazine/MAG1122810/1/index.htm

Markowitz, Fred A.  Football – For the Sport of It (A history of football from 1893 to 1962 at the Kansas State Teachers College of Emporia).

Football game summaries, Kansas State Teachers College, Yearbook, The Sunflower 1924, pages 116 - 117.

Wallace, Francis.  Knute Rockne.  Garden City, New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1960

Futterman, Matthew and Albergotti, Reed, NFL Flags Saints for Bounty Hunting.  Wall Street Journal, Thursday, March 22, 2012, page A1.

Mellinger, Sam.  NFL, Fans Share Blame for Pain.  The Kansas City Star, Thursday, March 22, 2012, page A1.

Babb, Kent.  A Stunning Penalty.  The Kansas City Star, Thursday, March 22, 2012, page B1.

MercuryNews.com, 04/04/12, Bounty Tape Transcript: Saints assistant Gregg Williams tells his players to try to seriously hurt 49ers players.

http://www.mercurynews.com/49ers/ci_20332637/bounty-tape-transcript-ex-saints-assistant-gregg-williams

 

 

Broken, then Baroque: Triumph over a Sicilian Tragedy

Basilica della Collegiata - Catania, Sicily



Broken, then Baroque: Triumph over a Sicilian Tragedy

non-fiction research and photos

by Gregory E. Larson, AIA

 

     All was at peace over the Sicilian landscape on the Sunday evening of January 11, 1693.  The fields were in their winter sleep.  The farmers and the shopkeepers were at rest, full of food and time spent with family.  An earthquake had given them a shake two days earlier. Some damage occurred along the east coast, but it was assumed that the worst was over.  They did not know that a stronger quake was yet to come.

     At 9:00 P.M. their world was rocked with an estimated 7.4 (Richter) magnitude earthquake, centered off the east coast of Sicily.  The quake was so violent, that in Palermo, over 100 miles west of the epicenter, parents and children, shopkeepers and laborers, all ran out into the streets in panic.  They thought their world was coming to an end.  Sure, there was significant damage to their city, but what they didn’t know was that the eastern third of Sicily was destroyed – cities unrecognizalbe, structures leveled.  Over seventy cities were destroyed and an estimated 60,000 people lost their lives.  The ocean surge on the east coast (now known as a tsunami) added to the destruction.

Ancient ruins - Siricusa, Sicily

     Slowly, the plans to rebuild emerged city by city.  At the time, Spain ruled the island of Sicily.  The Viceroy in Madrid appointed the Duke of Camastra to be responsible for organizing the rebuilding process.  The Duke collaborated with agricultural aristocrats in Sicily, who were the main economic force behind the cities and churches. There were immediate issues to resolve in each city and village.  Should the rebuilding occur on the same spot as the original city?  Should they rebuild in a new location?  Gradually, the reconstruction began, but many of the homeless endured the hardship of living in temporary camps for years after the earthquake.  Many assumed that God had punished Sicily for various sins.                                                                   

     For the churches, civic buildings and palaces, the aristocracy decided to use the Baroque style of architecture, which was already firmly established on the mainland of Italy in the 17^th Century.  The original Baroque style was born out of a desire to break away from the stiff traditions and rules of the Renaissance period, where building facades seemed too predictable, too static and plain.  The term baroque comes from the Italian word barocco, which means bizarre.  Architects and designers wanted to add more movement, more feeling of three dimensions and more personality into the churches and important civic buildings.  The architects for the rebuilding of Sicily took the baroque style to a whole new level – and it is now recognized as Sicilian Baroque, and yes, some of it seems bizarre and a bit cartoonish, or whimsical.

     Catania, the largest city on the east coast of Sicily, was totally destroyed.  Giovanni Battista Vaccarini (1702-1769), a native Sicilian architect, was trained on the mainland in the Renaissance and Baroque styles.  He returned to the island to assist in the rebuilding process, and was selected to plan the main square and church.  Many younger Sicilian architects became involved in the design process, and their work overlapped, due to the length of time required to build the stone structures.  Vaccarini’s design for the Catania Cathedral can be described as a hybrid of Renaissance and Baroque Style.  Overall, the appearance is a bit stiff, but the main façade begins to show the Baroque elements of balcony and movement in the sculpture, as well as various colors of stone.  Vaccarini is now considered the father of the Sicilian Baroque style. 


Cathedral in Catania, Italy

     Many architects who were originally from Sicily came back for the reconstruction.  They were well-versed in Baroque design, and once they became engrossed in their work, the Baroque style began to flourish beyond the unusual style seen on the mainland. 

     The façade designs of Sicilian Baroque each have their own personality, but they have very similar elements, such as balconies, belfries, animated sculpture, curves, and three-dimensional depth.  One of the best examples of a Sicilian Baroque façade is the Basilica della Collegiata in the City of Catania on Via Etna.  It was designed in the latter period of Sicilian Baroque (1768) by Stefano Ittar (1730-1789).  Ittar arrived in Sicily after Catania’s reconstruction was well underway.  He assisted in the design work on the Palazzo Biscari, working for Francesco Battaglia, the main architect for Prince Biscari. Stefano Ittar eventually met and married Francesco’s daughter, Rosaria Battaglia.      
 

Basilica della Collegiata - Catania, Sicily

      Ittar's front elevation of the Basilica della Collegiata exudes many of the Baroque elements (balcony, belfry, etc.) used in the Sicilian structures.  The main façade column bases seem to pierce the steps, rather than sit atop them, adding to the dynamic quality of the front of the church.

     The palaces of the aristocrats give us an additional glimpse of the Baroque details.  The balconies on the upper floor of the Palazzo Cosentini in Ragusa Ibla are constructed of outward-curving iron railings which allowed space for the women’s billowing skirts.  The stone supports for the balcony are full of grotesque and playful figures ranging from sea creatures to musicians.

Cosentini Palace - Ragusa Ibla, Sicily

Looking up at Cosentini Palace balcony

Balcony detail - Ragusa Ibla, Sicily

     The Church of San Giorgio in Ragusa Ibla is another fine example of Sicilian Baroque style.  The architect, Rosario Gagliardi (1700-1770), was born in Sicily, and amazingly, never left the island.  He developed a great understanding for the elements of Baroque architecture, and designed many churches during the reconstruction, of which two are located in Ragusa Ibla: the Church of San Giorgio and the Church of San Giuseppe.  His design for the Church of San Giorgio (1738) includes a daunting entrance of angled steps, and a façade that blossoms forth with huge oval scrolls and dynamic statues and details.


Church of San Giorgio - Ragusa Ibla, Sicily

Church of San Guiseppe - Ragusa Ibla, Sicily

    The rebuilding process continued for decades.  Many of the elders who lived through the 1693 earthquake did not experience the final fruition of church designs nor were they alive at the time the church rebuilding was complete.  But the human spirit and the Sicilian spirit prevailed, and the reconstruction provided them pride and hope for a better future beyond the natural tragedy.

     What remains today is a magnificent collection of structures that were the response of the vision of the Sicilian leaders and designers at the beginning of the 18^th century.  Many of the structures are now listed on UNESCO’s World Heritage Sites.  There is much to think about when looking at the buildings today – mostly the hardships and sacrifices endured by the Sicilians through the natural disaster, and the joy the Sicilians felt when a new church was dedicated.  It makes one realize the Sicilians hearts and minds were stronger than the stone they cut.

Additional Photos:


Church detail - Caltigirone, Italy

Church of San Giovanni Battista - Monterosso Almo, Sicily

Church of the Souls of Purgatory - Ragusa Ibla, Sicily

Town square and Cathedral Church - Grammichele, Sicily