ENZO FERRARI TIDBITS FROM THE LRB PART 2

THOMAS JONES’ ARTICLE IN LONDON REVIEW OF BOOKS “Lunch With Mussolini” is replete with tidbits continued here in Part 2.

A Young Enzo. Jones relates that Ferrari’s first business venture was not successful: “To finance the enterprise he sold much of what remained of the family property—against the better judgment of his mother, Adalgisa. She wasn’t too pleased the following year, either, when Enzo’s Torinese girlfriend, Laura Garello, moved into his apartment in Modena.”

“He went bust in 1922,” Jones writes, “and Adalgisa sold off her furniture to help pay her son’s debts. When Enzo and Laura married in Turin in April 1923, Adalgisa refused to go to the wedding. She was proved right about that, too: the marriage, emotionally and physically distant, was not a happy one.”

And Then There’s Mussolini. “All of this was taking place under Fascism,” Jones observes (and hence his review’s title). “Mussolini was appointed prime minister by the king of Italy on 30 October 1922. Ferrari, busy at the Alfa Romeo headquarters in Milan, wasn’t paying attention. Italy’s last multi-party elections before 1946 (though they were hardly free or fair) were held on 6 April 1924.”

Benito Mussolini, 1883 – 1945, Italian Fascist dictator, Il Duce, standing; Ercole Boratto, 1886 – 1979, Italian race driver, Mussolini chauffeur and “confidente.” The car is Mussolini’s 1935 Alfa Romeo 6C 2300 Sport Spyder Pescara, Boratto’s Mille Miglia drive in 1936. Image from “Ercole Boratto: Race Driver, Mussolini’s Chauffer—And His Leporello.” 

“By his own account,” Jones notes, “Ferrari met Mussolini once, on 9 April 1924. He was asked to lead the motorcade escorting the prime minister from Modena to Sassuolo for lunch. Ferrari drove so fast that Mussolini couldn’t keep up and nearly skidded off the road. They didn’t eat at the same table. On the way back Ferrari drove more carefully, as requested.”

The years pass. 

Enzo’s Second Son. “Ferrari’s second son, Piero, was born in May 1945,” Jones recounts. “The mother wasn’t Laura but Lina Lardi degli Adelardi, who worked as his secretary and with whom he had been in a semi-clandestine relationship since 1929.”

Piero Lardi Acknowledged. “Through the 1980s, Ferrari became more reclusive than ever. He hadn’t attended a race in person in decades, preferring to watch from home on TV. Since Laura’s death in 1978, he had acknowledged Piero Lardi as his son, allowed him to take his surname and given him an increasingly important role at the company. (Now eighty years old himself, Piero is still vice chair of Ferrari and owns the 10 per cent share in it that he inherited from his father.)

Italian President Sandro Pertini Visits Maranello. Jones describes, “In May 1983 Ferrari received a visit from the Italian president, Sandro Pertini, who arrived in a Maserati limousine. According to protocol, Ferrari was supposed to greet Pertini at the car. But he wouldn’t—‘Enzo Ferrari cannot walk towards a Maserati’—so the president got out of his car and walked over to greet Ferrari.”

A Ferrari Formula 1 front end-plate, retrieved from a Fiorano trash bin. Image from “A Richness of Red.”

Pope John Paul II Visits Maranello. “The papal helicopter,” Jones recounts, “landed at the Circuito di Fiorano, Ferrari’s private test track near Maranello, on the morning of 4 June 1988. Twenty thousand Modenese workers were there, from Ferrari and other local firms, even including Maserati. Piero drove the pope and the bishop of Modena around the track in a red Mondial convertible. John Paul performed Mass before going into the house in the middle of the track, where he met Piero’s wife, Floriana, and three-month-old baby, Enzo.”

“But,” Jones notes, “the baby’s grandfather wasn’t there: Ferrari was at home in bed with a fever. Unable to meet in person, the pope and the engineer spoke over the phone instead. Ferrari died two months later, on 14 August. He was buried in the family vault, in a small private ceremony, before the news of his death was made public.”

Jones’ Conclusion: “A few weeks after my adventure at Vallelunga, a letter arrived from the comune of Magliano Sabina informing me that I’d been caught by a speed camera on the drive home, doing 77 kph in a 70 area. I should have taken the bus. L’auto è passata.”

Yes, “the car passed by.” But what a wake it left. ds 

© Dennis Simanaitis, SimanaitisSays.com, 2025