The passion of Europeans for street naming
is old and intractable. As effective as the numbered streets and avenues
of the USA could be, they remain far from our hearts. Europeans favour streets
with names, even in America: we like Broadway, Lexington . . . even
Wall Street, whilst we are instinctively puzzled by 5th Avenue’s insufficiency,
even if it is fashionable and excellent, as only an avenue in NYC could
be. Street naming has been a constant
exercise for centuries in this continent, and still continues. For example,
in Lewisham (UK) you may ask for a brand new street name for yourself and
get it signed and sealed at the affordable price of 462 pounds. The passion
for street naming is one of the few common traits that all Europeans have
in common, over and above any other. Trafalgar Square in London echoes Les
Champs Elysées in Paris, ideally extending their charms to the Nevsky
Prospect in St. Petersburg, but we know that ‘all roads lead to Rome’,
where Piazza Navona welcomes you with its almost oval embrace, thus evoking
ancient Roman ship battles (naumachia).
Every European city has a road, a street or
a square to remember. Even the smallest alleyways have their names, which
proudly connect you with personalities or events in history or geography.
In my home town, Turin, significant names affixed at road corners evoke
famous Romans like Julius Caesar, emperors like Trajan or even the locally
relevant Madame
Royale Christine Marie. We even have a big thoroughfare, still called
Soviet Union Avenue, more than thirty years after the demise of the political
entity it celebrates. Some have a different story to tell, though, not connected
with power, empire and territory, but with transport, logistics and trade.
This is the story of a tunnel that my friend Rosalba Graglia and I want
to tell you today. Rosalba is a friend, a former school mate of mine, for
years active as an independent journalist writing for a number of media,
including Corriere della Sera and Bell’Italia. As
in all stories, there is a plot, but there is also an exception. So let
us start with the exception, as it manages to connect street names and transport
infrastructure, which is the reason why we write this for the FT.
Passenger transport being outside of FT’s interests and our
common practice, we shall solely deal with aspects affecting the trade of
goods. SITO,
the transport and logistics terminal
of Turin has streets with numbers and no names and remains with the
simplicity of 1st street, 2nd street etc. This inland port is the combined
road-rail terminal that years ago was conceived to receive the cargo volumes
generated by the high-speed rail connecting Italy and France: the Turin
– Lyon 5th corridor, as was named at inception. More in general this
rail connection was supposed to speed traffic between Paris, Lyon, Turin
and Milan, and Venice for that matter, up to Budapest and Kiev, whilst also
ensuring the long awaited high speed connection between Paris and Rome.
To date, several decades after its debut as a concept, we are still many
years away from its completion. High speed exists either sides of the Alps,
not in between. So much for EU’s grand infrastructure plan, recently
re-baptised “Connecting
Europe Facility”! For the record, the Swiss have constructed three
tunnels of similar impact in the meantime, with their own money and without
making a buzz… As we know only
too well, it could be even worse! For two years even the old rail line was
discontinued due to a landslide and we were isolated again after one and
half centuries. We do not need to build walls here in Europe: we may simply
sit idle and let the mountains separate us and seal the borders. What an
evolution! Getting back to SITO, the terminal
with no street names, it was launched in 1980. “The Piedmont Region,
implementing the regional transport plan to promote the reorganisation and
rationalisation of freight transport, promoted the construction of public
works of infrastructure for the handling of goods and for the interchange
between road, rail and other transport modes . . . ”
The publicly declared Company's purpose was “the promotion, planning,
financing, and possibly direct and indirect construction of a multifunctional
inland port in the areas adjacent to the Orbassano railway shunting yard
. . . ” Since
the first stone was laid in 1985, the terminal has been developed to include
3,000,000 sqm of surface with 400,000 sqm of equipped areas and services,
100,000 sqm of office space, 900,000 sqm of storage areas and 60,000 sqm
of rail connected warehouses. 150 companies work in the compound employing
4000 FTE’s in logistics, all busy along 13 kilometres of rail tracks
surrounded by 150,000 sqm of outdoor storage terminal and 100,000 sqm terminal
area, catering for 4,55 million vehicles annually. In 2023 500 trains, with
16,430 wagons, 85% of these from intermodal traffic, as well as 30,000 containers
were handled. We shall spare you greater details, diligently supplied by
SITO, just to tell you that these figures would probably be considerably
higher, had the Frejus
base Tunnel been completed in time. In
1980 we had hopes to see the high speed rail to Paris before the year 2000
and today we still have hope to see it before we die. This is probably the
biggest shortcoming in transport infrastructure, in EU’s development
and transport policy that I have witnessed so far. And the disillusion is
bitter, if you check the records and see what happened in this part of the
world one and a half centuries ago. Quite the opposite was normal and exceptional
at the same time, in fact! Let us then
get back to the time when we were able to think, lay-out and construct the
longest
rail tunnel in the world, in record timing, too . . . But
we shall also explain how this connects with our street naming passion:
the names of those involved in the project and implementation of this grand
plan are all affixed at the corners of our urban streets. Not all of them
are so easy to find, tough. In Turin there are signs – and stories
– that appear in ways you do not expect, in particular, since the
genteel habit of affixing road signs bearing some kind of information gave
way to the usage of plaques bearing nothing more than a name and surname
(at times just the latter). So you have to go and find it out for yourself
what it means. That
is the lot of the street named after Angelo Sismonda, an important and alas
almost forgotten Piedmontese, who was born in Corneliano d’Alba in
1807, studied pharmacy in Turin, but never graduated, preferring physics,
chemistry and above all mineralogy. For this reason, age 21, he moved to
Paris, where he attended the lectures given by the famous mineralogists
and geologists of the Sorbonne, the École des Mines and the Musée
d’Histoire Naturelle. He then returned to Turin, became a professor
at the local university and the director of the Museum of Geology and Mineralogy.
In 1834 he made a scientific excursion to the Maritime Alps and the Apennines
of Liguria, trying to create a geological map of Piedmont and Savoy, writing
reports for the Academy of Sciences. His fame reached as far as the Court
and in 1836 King
Carlo Alberto entrusted him with teaching geology and mineralogy to
his two sons. Sismonda’s geological map of Savoy, Piedmont and Liguria
was published in 1862.
In the meantime, Sismonda was already
pursuing an even bigger scheme. In 1841, a Customs inspector from Bardonecchia,
Giuseppe Medail, had presented Carlo Alberto with the project for a railway
tunnel through the Alps, under Mont Cenis, to connect Piedmont with Savoy
and the rest of Europe. A visionary project for the times, considered unfeasible
by most geologists due to its length (about 12 km), but the king liked it.
Carlo Alberto was instantly convinced: for a king who went down in history
with the nickname of “Re Tentenna” i.e. the king hesitates,
that was remarkable. In 1845 Sismonda began his surveys in the Alps and
transformed a crazy idea into a feasibility plan that was approved twelve
years later. The project was presented
to the government of the Kingdom
of Sardinia by Pietro Paleocapa, Minister of Public Works, on May 13th
1857 and was immediately adopted. In memory of this, just a block away from
the Porta Nuova main station, Turin dedicated a very central square, completed
by his statue, to Mr. Paleocapa, a great promoter of the railway development
of Piedmont. Work for the tunnel began immediately and the three design
engineers and directors of the works were officially called “Fréjus
drillers”, as is readable on an inscription in Grandis St. The three
drillers patented a new model of automatic pneumatic drill that allowed
a 40 years’ job to be done in 13. This new drill was developed by
Germain Sommeiller (works’ director) with Grandis and Grattoni, both
engineers.
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The drill was actually not used directly
for excavation, but to make the holes where the explosive could be placed
for drilling and blasting. And here another key figure comes into play:
Ascanio
Sobrero, the discoverer of nitro-glycerine,
which was used in these mountains. Sobrero also has his own street in
town and, for good measure, even a plaque on one of the pillars of the
porticoes of the Po St. close to the Academy of Medicine. The use of innovative
machinery and the nitro-glycerine invented by Ascanio Sobrero were all
elements of quick progress.
Despite a stop in 1861 due to the transfer
of Savoy from the Kingdom of Sardinia to France, the tunnel was completed
ahead of schedule and was inaugurated on Christmas Day in 1870, no longer
as national infrastructure, but as an international connection. The first
train, the “Valigia delle Indie” i.e. the
train which connected London to Brindisi, passed through the tunnel
on January 5th 1872. When it was inaugurated, the Fréjus was the
longest railway tunnel in the world and Turin became rapidly a record
setting city in many areas of industry and production. Those were the
days . . . Obviously the tunnel, which made it all possible,
also deserves street naming: Fréjus St. in the Borgo San Paolo
district carries its memory to this day.
After
a brilliant career and even a mineral compound labelled in his name, Angelo
Sismonda, shaken by ill health and the death of his brother, died in Turin
on December 30th 1878. It was said then that "Sismonda had made the
mountains transparent". If you live in a place like Turin, which
is surrounded 360° by the sight of high and awesome mountains, one
day in your life you would wish a faraway horizon to appear by the magic
of transparency, and imagine a world that exists nonetheless beyond the
peaks, despite the limits imposed by our geography, and now even by politics.
So where are we today? In a month or so,
after nearly two years’ stop due to a big landslide on the other
side, the trains to and from France will start running again through the
tunnel, which we owe to Sismonda’s and his colleagues’ visionary
obstinacy; we hope regularly, if not at high speed, the train will take
us again to Paris!
Sismonda,
Sommeiller, Medail, Grattoni, Grandis, Sobrero, Paleocapa: perhaps no
city in the world has engraved in its toponymical grid the names of all
the architects of a large (and for that time unheard of) infrastructure.
An epic undertaking was decisive for the economy of Piedmont and Italy
as a whole, for its trade and development. We could argue that, without
Sismonda, there would have been no FIAT Cinquecento, no Olivetti typewriters
and no Nutella for the world to appreciate, as no entrepreneur would have
dared to set up shop in a place which was rich with hydroelectricity,
but isolated from the rest of world by the Alps.
A monument in Piazza Statuto, the most esoteric
square in Turin, inaugurated 135 years ago in 1890, celebrates the building
of the tunnel, a monument studded with symbols that lend themselves to
different interpretations: does it tell us the story of the defeat of
the Titans, as it is supposed to do, or does it commemorate the 48 workers
who lost their lives in the infrastructure building? Is it surmounted
by a winged genie, like the one on the Mole
Antonelliana (with a five-pointed star, which later disappeared) or
is it Lucifer, signalling the gates of Hell?
In any case, the names of the three engineers
who built the tunnel are engraved on it: Sommeiller, Grattoni and Grandis.
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In this unusual case, perhaps unique, the toponymical
force of Turin has done more than just registering names at random. All
the protagonists of this adventure have a dedicated street right in the
area close to the railway line: Sommeiller Ave. overpasses the railway
tracks which start from the nearby station of Porta Nuova, Grandis and
Grattoni gave their name to neighbouring streets close to Porta Susa,
which was in the meantime made Turin’s main station, yet indefinitely
waiting for a high speed train that indeed should have arrived a long
time ago.
Sooner or later the high-speed rail will
connect Paris to Rome: even if this happens more than thirty years after
its due time, we would like to be there alive, and see it. Another 150
years from now, I wonder what kind of record will be kept of those women
and men, who created fetters and difficulties, thus actively contributing
to making it next to impossible to secure a future of development in trade
and tourism for this part of Europe and its citizens.
Rosalba Graglia and Marco Sorgetti |