45. 1897–98, Naples, Italy

A Neapolitan singer-songwriter (whom we will call Composer #1) buys a collection of 23 melodies from another musician (Composer #2), who is also Neapolitan. After turning one of these melodies into a developed composition he invites a poet, Neapolitan as well, to pen lyrics (in Neapolitan dialect) for the tune. Another version of this story holds that the poet first wrote the lyrics and only then asked the Composer #1 to set them to music. In one version, Composer #1 is actually in Odessa, not Naples, on a music tour when he turns Composer #2’s melody into a fully-fledged song. Whatever the case, the finished song becomes famous throughout the world, a symbol of the beauty of the Bay of Naples and of Italy’s musical soul.

The reality is not so pretty: after a low wheat harvest in 1897 and higher prices for wheat imports from the United States because of the Spanish-American War, in 1898 bread riots break out all over Italy, from Sicily to Milan. One contemporary account describes how in April in Naples “the riots are led by women carrying long staves upon which are loaves of bread or red flags. . . .a number of bakeries were sacked by riotous crowds. Women carrying banners inscribed with ‘Down with the taxes on flour’ marched to the Town Hall, where the troops dispersed them.” A month later, under the headline “Bread Riots Continue,” the New York Times reports that “The correspondent of The Daily News at Naples, telegraphing Friday, says: ‘Rioting was renewed to-day. The troops fired upon the rioters, who tried to build barricades, and were pursued by the soldiers at fixed bayonets toward the railway station, where four cannon were in waiting. The prisoners in the jail, hearing the agitation, mutinied, necessitating the soldiers to restore order, which was no accomplished without a serious conflict both inside and outside, the women especially being stubborn even in the face of repeated bayonet charges. Several were wounded, and one has since died in the hospital.’ The Daily News says the telegram indicates that the censor refused to pass the portion giving the number killed.” All three men survive these terrible events.

Composer #1 dies in 1917, in Naples, after years of singing and playing piano in cafes, theaters, and, later, movie houses. Because he sells his songs to publishers outright, he never receives any royalties. He dies, it is said, in extreme poverty. It is also said that his weakness for playing the lottery left his family destitute, and that he had to sell his beloved piano to pay his hospital bills. In 1952, his widow, barely surviving on a small pension, is awarded a a paltry sum for her husband’s most famous song.

The poet dies in 1920, some say in Naples, others in Mexico City. One obituary notes that “30 years of admirable and inimitable work earned [the poet] the title of a ‘sympathetic vagabond of dialect poetry’” and that he “died extremely poor, surrounded by his wife and three children, all of whom adored him, as well as by some good-hearted and devoted friends who helped to make his final suffering more bearable.” The obituary writer can’t resist pointing out that if this “journalist, poet and lyricist had not been forced to struggle just to survive and had he been better able to publicize his exceptional work to the public —he was disgracefully poorly compensated— what great works he might still have given us!”

Composer #2 lives much longer, expiring only in 1972 at the age of 96. Shortly after his death, his daughter lodges a declaration with Italy's Office of Literary, Artistic and Scientific Property asking that he be recognized as co-composer of the famous song, along 17 other works hitherto credited solely to Composer #1. In 2002, a judge in Turin upholds her request. This means that in countries where copyright lasts until 70 years after the death of the author (or, as in this case, co-author), the song will remain under copyright until 2042.

(Eduardo di Capua, Alfredo Mazzucchi, Giovanni Capurro, Concettina Coppola, Emanuele Alfredo Mazzucchi)