Diario di Roma II (Rome Diary 2)
Wednesday October 14, 2015
Cloudy 68°F/20°C in Roma
Sunny 90°F/32°C in Rancho Santa
Margarita
Buongiorno,
One of the highlights of my entire Roman
Holiday this time were my moments with No
Funny Stuff, my son, Michael’s new Jug
Band. That’s right, a down home aggregation of musicians who join
in the
singing and play not only the traditional instruments but also some unusual
ones. Here’s the line-up: Michael
Botula on voice Ukulele, Kazoo, and slide whistle. Giuseppe “Beppe” Cassa on Guitar, Mandolin, Oil
can guitar, Dobro guitar, Saw, Watering Can-o-Fone, and Glockenspiel. Gabbo
Hintermann plays Double Bass, and Cello.
Rounding out the NFS line-up is Giuseppe Petti who plays Washboard,
Bells and Whistles, Olin (whatever that is), cymbal, and bicycle bell,
among others. It’s a down-home bluegrass ensemble transplanted from the mountains
of Appalachia to the Seven Hills of Rome, and they are turning the Eternal City
on its ear. Starting as one of Rome’s Busker
bands, or street musicians who set up one step ahead of the cops and leave
Gabbo’s top silk hat on the ground to collect tips, No Funny Stuff has
progressed to music festivals all over Italy as well as a few other European
countries. And, based on the track record of Michael’s old band, Inbred Knucklehead, No Funny Stuff is
now doing a lot of pub dates and club gigs around Rome. Their unique sound has
now been heard on several popular Rome radio stations.
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| Michael Botula and NFS |
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| No Funny Stuff at the Coliseum |
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| No Funny Stuff - Tolfa Busker Festa |
The day after I arrived in Rome on a hot August night, Laura loaded me
into her car and we drove north to the medieval town of Tolfa for a Festa that had attracted Buskers from all over Italy. It seemed
that every piazza in that 12th
century mountain top village had a soundstage set up for the many bands of all
types who were scheduled to play that weekend. Where the music of the Buskers left off, an art festival
continued. Italians really know how to throw a Festa and the Busker Festa
was first cabin. It was here that I met Rachel, who was auditioning live
that night for washboard and vocal, to temporarily replace Seppe Petti, who had been unavoidable sidelined. Laura and I
arrived just as the band finished its sound check and we all sat down to dinner
in a nearby piazza before the show. We finished with plenty of time to spare
because No Funny Stuff didn’t take
the stage until well after 1 a.m. It was my introduction to Michael’s new band,
and I became a die-hard fan quicker than you can ring a cow bell at a
Sacramento Kings game.
Naturally, I kept a keen ear on Mike Jr.’s performance. He plays a mean guitar,
and is a solid vocalist but I had never heard him play the ukulele at a
performance, much less the kazoo and slide whistle, and I listened proudly.
Then Beppe Cassa stepped to the front to solo, first with his mandolin, then
with the electric guitar he built out of a one gallon olive oil can. Finally,
Beppe soloed on Over the Rainbow on
his carpenter’s saw using a violin bow to make the saw sound like the music
from It Came From Outer Space, or
some other old ‘50s science-fiction movie. Rachel, meanwhile was kickin’ butt
on the washboard with its bicycle bell and cymbal and belting out This Train is Bound for Glory, This Train! They
were rocking the walls of the medieval village. By the time the band finished,
it was well after 2:30 in the morning but the piazza was still packed with
fans, and several other bands were lined up to play. The sun was high in the
sky before the last group left the stage. Even the Oktoberfest in Mϋnich closes up before Midnight.
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| At Dinner in Tolfa |
To be honest, I didn’t give this much thought beyond, That’s nice, we’re invited to a friend’s
house for a barbecue! I didn’t even think much about the invitation until
Michael asked me for my US Passport number. Why
do you need that? I asked. Because, he
replied, Rachel is “house-sitting” at
Villa Taverna, which is the official residence of the U.S. Ambassador to Italy.
They need your passport information for security! Whoa! I thought, does my kid have friends in interesting
places, or what? I remembered Rachel saying she worked for the government. And was house-sitting for her boss. But, I was new in town, how am I
supposed to know stuff like this.
So, a few days later, Michael, Laura, and Sofia and I (Sofia is their
dog, a black Volpino) with Beppe
following behind, arrived at the main gate of
Villa Taverna, which was flanked by two soldiers with automatic assault rifles.
One of them spoke into his walkie-talkie and they were joined by a third
soldier armed with a Beretta pistol and a clip board. After giving him our
names, (Sofia doesn’t have a passport, but she has an honest face) he gestured
to another guard in the booth behind him and the huge steel gates swung,
silently open. Beppe Cassa, the guitar, mandolin and musical saw virtuoso
followed right behind. To me, the whole thing seemed Medieval. Rachel was
waiting in front of the 15th century palazzo, and greeted us like
long-lost relatives. After the appropriate number of Ciao’s, salve’s and buona sera’s she showed us to the garden where an Olympic size swimming pool and a
barbecue grill awaited. During dinner, she told us “the interesting story”
behind the swimming pool.
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| The Earlier Houseguest(L) and Il Papa |
Villa Taverna has been the
official residence of our ambassadors since 1933, she told us. On his visit to Rome in July, 1963, President
John F. Kennedy stayed here as a guest of the ambassador.
That’s normal
protocol when the President travels. He always stays at the residence of the
American ambassador. Mr. Kennedy spotted the garden on his way into the villa
and concluded that the ambassador’s swimming pool must be right there. Early
the next morning, as the story goes, J.F.K. slipped past his Secret Service
detail, clad in swim trunks and bathrobe and slippers and went down to the
garden expecting to take his usual early morning swim. But when he got there,
all he saw was the vast expanse of lawn. Just then, his security detail,
accompanied by the ambassador caught up with him. Mr. President, they asked, why are you down here in your bathrobe?
With a puzzled look, JFK explained, I –
er – was headed to the pool, to take a swim! But, sir! The ambassador
responded, Villa Taverna doesn’t have a
swimming pool. Just this big yard! Still in his bathrobe, slippers and swim
trunks holding a towel over his arm, the 35th President of the
United States intoned, Well, gentlemen, I
intend to visit Rome again in the near future, and, while this beautiful
residence does not have a swimming pool at this moment, rest assured that there
will be a swimming pool in this garden when I return! The pool was built
right after the President departed, but he never returned to Rome or the Villa
Taverna. He had an event in Dallas to attend in November, 1963.
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| NOT JFK and Rachel |
After our barbecue, Mike and Beppe retrieved their instruments from the car, set them up under the garden lamp,
and the jam session got under way. Every few minutes, an armed security guard
strolled through the pool area as he made his rounds of the villa. I couldn’t
help but wonder how he felt about the music he was listening to. No Funny Stuff’s sound isn’t exactly the
music that’s played at state dinners in the East Room of the White House. Listen for yourself - No Funny Stuff is on YouTube and Facebook. Next time, I'll include a song or two.
Ciao,
MikeBo
© By Mike Botula 2015
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