Francesco Querini | Venice: I am not making this up

everything should be objected to

June 22, 2025 19 Comments

Too much is going on in the world, things that involve life and death — I’m sure you’ve noticed that — so news from Venice is almost forced to verge on the frivolous.

Of course, that doesn’t mean that here in the most-beautiful-city-in-the-world we don’t have our problems. Big ones, small ones, transient, permanent, easily resolvable if one wanted to, of all shapes and sizes and relative atomic masses. It’s very hard to keep track of them all, much less grasp their true importance. They’re all important!

Example: The imminent wedding of Jeff Bezos and Lauren Sanchez here sometime next week, by most reports. The date is being changed secretly, or something, for some reason. I think it’s to avoid protesters, a group of which has already made its views known. There are people who object to everything, and now they’ve got this wedding in their sights. I have to say that although I tend to have an opinion on almost everything, this is one subject that defeats me. Unless “Why should I care?” is an opinion.

Stay with me. As you know, those who objected to the big cruise ships passing in the bacino of San Marco to the Zona Marittima finally succeeded in banishing them. Peace, joy and tranquility has reigned, except among the 5,000 families or so who lost their employment in the managing and supplying of these ships. But fine. No ships. You’d think the protesters would be happy. You’d think.

Now Bezos and Sanchez heave to on the horizon, and millions of dollars are going to be spent here over the course of a few undefined days to get the lovebirds hitched. The “No Bezos” contingent is strenuously opposed to this. (I can understand objecting to him as him, if you like, but I can’t see why his wedding deserves dissent.) I do recall there was justifiable anger from the citizens during last year’s Film Festival, for which all of the taxis had been booked over the course of several days. All. The. Taxis. The mayor has reassured the apprehensive citizens that this would not be repeated during the nuptial festivities.

Fun Fact: The Gazzettino reports that some 80 private planes are expected to arrive for the big event. Let’s see, 200 guests divided by 80 makes 2.5 people per plane. So how are the entourages expected to get here? Or maybe the 80 planes are for the stylists and equerries and the Mistress of the Robes and the Gentlemen of the Privy Chamber and the Master of the Revels and the rest of the swarm? The happy soon-to-be-newlyweds may well be ensconced on Bezos’ 500-million-dollar yacht, which is already here.

Now the objectors are clamoring against the luxury yachts. A number of luxury yachts are also expected — just look at (or imagine) the guest list. But ever since Covid hardly any big yachts stop by anymore. The Riva degli Schiavoni used to be lined with them, but only a few have tentatively returned, briefly. But the protesters are in full sail. First it was No Big Ships! Now it’s No Yachts! Jeez, people. Are you against literally everything?

I love the yachts, I’ll just say it. I could bury you with photos I’ve made. Here’s some more atmosphere:

So you get the idea. Maybe these yachts make you want to protest; I could easily protest that I don’t have one, but I can’t figure out how to object to you having one. Still, it seems clear that the world is in big trouble whether or not the yachts and/or their oligarchs/celebrities come to Venice or anywhere else. So in whatever time is left to us in the apocalyptic period we’re going through, it seems to me that serious complaints should not be wasted on yachts. By all means get out your bedsheets and markers but I hope you won’t be writing “No Yachts.” Because a real oligarch will just get something else, and it still won’t be yours.

“Preparing the days of common resistence where everyone can say ‘No Space for Bezos!'” And up in the right-hand corner somebody who objects to the objectors has scribbled “Rammollitti andate a lavorare!” (“Wimps! Go to work!”).

“Wedding of Bezos in Venice? Also no! Jeff Bezos thinks he can buy the entire city. Let’s organize the party!” That sounds kind of menacing. At the bottom a strip has been torn off that said “No space for oligarchs.” I think we’ve gotten to the root of the problem.

Another famous and important group of protesters has joined the chat. I mean, the celebrations.

Quick promotion of the boat moored nearby and the film they projected aboard last night. They did get the tape-up-the-flags job done quickly and that’s important. This little slip could happen to anybody.

But this is just temporary tumult. They’ll be here, with their military security personnel blocking off streets and canals — it will be annoying as all get-out even while the couple assures everybody that they love Venice. But it won’t last long and then it’ll be over.

Moving on! Let’s talk about trees instead. They’ve suddenly become more important than yachts because of a tragedy that struck at Piazzale Roma, a place more banal than which it would be difficult to find. But tragedies — or in this case, trees — don’t have much awareness of banality.

You have to watch out for pickpockets and now you have to also watch out for 50-foot (15 meters) trees. (La Nuova Venezia)

I doubt any visitors have given much thought to Venice, City of Trees, but on June 2 a majestic holm oak at Piazzale Roma was heard creaking (wind was not exceptional that afternoon) and then it suddenly keeled over onto a group of 12 people who were hanging around. Two of the victims were seriously injured, one of them a woman with a fractured spine.

June 2 is a national holiday, so of course there were plenty of people everywhere. But it was also the wedding day (weddings again) of a couple waiting at Palazzo Cavalli for their guests to arrive. Some of the tree’s victims had been heading to the ceremony, which was naturally called off.

So now the city is frantically monitoring the trees and in the Giardini, and undoubtedly elsewhere, we see stumps and cut-up branches waiting to be taken away. But hold on: Some concerned citizens are objecting to all this. They maintain that suddenly the trees are in at least as much danger as the people who walk near them.

Of course it’s wrong to leave trees wobbling with fungus-ridden roots (one hypothesis for the disaster), but there is a case being made that it is just as wrong to remove trees that, according to a new group of protesters, never showed the smallest defect. Obviously we don’t want trees that are going to fall on us, but which ones are we saving? Are honest, law-abiding, tax-paying trees going to be sacrificed because of a few rotten ones? That’s what it looks like to those who are now protesting what suddenly appears to be the the wholesale slaughter of Venetian trees. A group has formed, of course, and the other evening on the Giudecca I passed a table set up by persons collecting signatures on a petition entitled “Save the Trees.”

If Venice is now in the hands of lumberjacks working overtime, all I can say is that clearly it was long past time to have checked the condition of the city’s trees and the city should be ashamed. And I’m sorry that people had to suffer in order for this admittedly pretty important task to finally get bumped way up near the top of the city’s “DO TODAY ASAP URGENT PRIORITY” to-do list.

This statue of Francesco Querini at the “Giardini Pubblici” vaporetto stop has stood for more than a century in the shade of ever-growing trees.

Everything looked fine. But appearance are so deceiving.

Turns out he was in mortal danger. Now he’s baking in the sun after the potentially dangerous trees have been excised. Even half of a magnolia was ready to strike.

Suddenly there’s wood everywhere. The newspaper said that at least seven trees had been earmarked for removal in the viale Garibaldi alone, that long shady stretch between via Garibaldi and the vaporetto stop at the Giardini. Seven. And we just kept traipsing along as if everything was fine.

I can see how this tree was harboring a secret.

Hey, stop for a minute. While everybody’s losing sleep about dangerous trees, it seems that nobody’s interested in objecting to the blatant neglect of simple things that make a city look decent. Thousands of locals and tourists walk through the Giardini Pubblici every day. Why do the benches have to look like they’ve been salvaged from some shipwreck? This didn’t happen overnight. There’s no money for paint? This is just dumb. Yes, I object.

Even my sainted mother would have objected to this. First, that this misfortune occurred, and second, that it has been left like that for weeks. It looks stupid. This is how “Save the Benches” groups (I made that up) get organized.

Some protests, however, are about things that are more important than weddings and forestry. I’m thinking about the proposed re-routing of the 4.1 and 4.2 vaporettos. There are two objections to this notion. One is convenience (sudden lack of), and the other is probable damage to the fondamente of the Arsenal canal. Plenty of people are now up in arms and collecting signatures against this potential change.

This route used to exist; I remember passing this way back in the mid-Eighties — it was convenient and a heck of a way to see a glimpse of the city that’s closed to the public.

But then it was decided to send the boats the long way around Sant’ Elena on their path from the Arsenale stop to the Fondamente Nove, as a clear and wonderful service to the semi-isolated residents of the area who needed more than just one line.

But no longer. The residents of farthest Castello and their needs/desires have dropped off the list of municipal priorities (I’m beginning to wonder if there even is such a list), and the people aren’t happy. Yes, the 5.1 and 5.2 will continue to serve San Pietro di Castello, but there is also that pervasive sensation that tourists take precedence over the locals (let’s speed up the trip to Murano and not waste time going around the touristic dead-end of Sant’ Elena). And, as I say, there’s also the likelihood that waves will damage the walls of the canal, which somebody ought to be thinking about in whatever time is left over from felling lumber.

Without the 4.1, anyone at Sant’ Elena that needs to go to the hospital will have to take the 5.1 to the Lido and change there for the 4.1. Anyone at San Pietro di Castello who needs to go to San Zaccaria will have to take the 5.1 and go to the Lido and change there for the 5.2. Does that sound like anybody at the ACTV Planning Office and Marching and Chowder Society is particularly interested in life at the local level?

The rio dell’Arsenale leads from the lagoon toward the Arsenal. One hopes the schedule will ensure that the northbound and southbound vaporettos don’t meet here. The more serious consideration is the effect of the waves on the fondamente lining the canal.

I realize that, as I mentioned, the vaporettos managed to pass through here several decades ago. I just have a different outlook on the procedure this time. Looks kind of tight here between the pilings and the footbridge. Both of which can be adjusted. Somewhat. Looking at you, high tide.

I see four tricky little points to get through, but I know there won’t be any problems. The vaporetto captains are fine. Not sure about the waves hitting the fondamente in what is still an area belonging to the Navy, but I suspect the city is working to resolve that issue. Navy proprietorship, I mean, not the waves. The city doesn’t care about waves.

I can tell you from experience that the force of the tide through this very narrow space is something to take into consideration. But the vaporettos have motors, so no worries.

Looking at the entrance into the Arsenal from the northern lagoon. The hole in the wall was made years ago for the express purpose of creating a space for the vaporettos to pass through, so why am I wasting time thinking about all this? What really matters is the enormous inconvenience this new plan would impose on the locals. But, like the waves, that doesn’t seem to matter.

In conclusion, let me bring up a genuine problem. There is a desperate need to find and keep enough family doctors to care for the admittedly dwindling population. They are called “medici di base,” or basic doctors, and under the national health system you have to have one. Whatever procedure you may require has to start with an official request (I call it a work order) from your assigned doctor, and some doctors have up to 1,000 assigned patients. The older doctors retire, the younger doctors don’t stick around. You can wake up and find yourself literally without an assigned doctor, it has happened to us more than once. This will never make international, news (celebrity weddings are so much more engrossing), but I can assure you it’s one of the most important problems that eastern Castello, if not Venetians everywhere, is worried about.

A few days ago a big public meeting was held in via Garibaldi at which various citizens’ groups expressed their complaints — and not for the first time — to assorted official representatives (politicians and representatives of the health system). Their thoughts were clear from the home-made banners, and I expect that these banners are stored close at hand for the next inevitable outcry from the struggling locals. Note: AULSS stands for Azienda Unita’ Locale Socio Sanitaria, or Unified Local Social Health Agency. Venice’s section is #3.

(L to R, translated by me): The family doctor is a right. AULSS 3 less propaganda and more territorial services. AULSS we’re fed up. We want family doctors. AULSS We’re fed up. Family doctors an adequate number at Castello and Sant’ Elena. We’re indignant!!

I sometimes think the city is just waiting us out, considering that the population is falling by 1,500 per year.

So problems! There are plenty to choose from, and these aren’t even all of them. I’m beginning to suspect that the city government has become desensitized. Maybe all this is just background noise to them by now.

Meanwhile, all these annoying little issues will be swamped for the next week by the drama and glamor of Bezos/Sanchez. We should be glad of a little change of pace?

Venice’s defenders may seem to be mere shadows, but they’re still there.

Venetian History

Querini addition

August 25, 2018 No Comments

I mentioned in my last post that the duke of the Abruzzi also caused a memorial to be made to Felice Ollier, one of the two men lost with Querini.

A friend who often goes to Courmayeur has sent me this photograph of the statue, so I add this to our communal fund of knowledge. I’m struck by the difference between this monument and the one of Querini. Here we have a cross, and the dog is center stage — there’s no man at all. Yet each seems correctly attuned to its setting and culture, if you will.

Memorial to Felice Ollier in Courmayeur. (Photo: Giorgio Scattola)

The plaque reads: A FELICE OLLIER / GUIDA ALPINA / SCOMPARSO SUI GHIACCI DELL’OCEANO GLACIALE ARTICO / NELLA SPEDIZIONE COLLE SLITTE DIRETTA AL POLO NORD / MARZO 1900 / LUIGI DI SAVOIA “To Felice Ollier / Alpine guide / lost on the ice of the glacial Arctic ocean / in the expedition with the sleds to the North Pole / March 1900 / Luigi di Savoia.” (rete comuni italiani)

Venetian History

The Garden of the Forgotten Venetians: Francesco Querini

August 20, 2018 2 Comments

Count Francesco Querini, lieutenant of the Italian Navy, scientific researcher, and doomed explorer. Querini is one of two Venetians fatally involved in Arctic exploration; a few decades later Pier Luigi Penzo also didn’t make it home (his story will be coming later). The statue is by Achille Tamburlini, inaugurated November 20, 1905.

Francesco Querini isn’t exactly forgotten, even if the inscription on his monument has become totally illegible, but the casual passerby has no way of identifying him. He’s hard to miss, though, considering that his statue has a front-row seat in the Gardens, and he makes quite an impression — in Venice one certainly doesn’t expect to see a man in Arctic gear with his huskies, staring at the horizon.

No, he did not bring the serum to Nome. I suppose he could have, but he had been dead for 24 years by then. Oh wait — we don’t actually know when he died. We only know when he was last seen: March 23, 1900. So basically he’s famous not for what he did, but for what he didn’t do: Make it home safe from the North Pole.

Querini was born on December 16, 1867, a member of the San Silvestro branch of one of Venice’s most illustrious and ancient families; he was also a decorated naval officer, and a scientist. He spoke English, French and German perfectly, and he was up to speed in Latin, though it probably wasn’t something he often needed in conversation. He was prepared for many things in life, but he wanted more than what even the most eventful naval career could offer.

He looks better as a human than as a statue. Writing home from his foreign stations — Somalia, Eritrea, Zanzibar, Crete — he signed his letters with the affectionate nickname “Checco” (KEH-ko). It’s very depressing to be known to history as a victim, because look at him. He was ready for more.

In 1899 Prince Luigi Amedeo of Savoia-Aosta, duke of the Abruzzi, organized an expedition to the North Pole, and asked Querini to join; his responsibilities were to be the collection of minerals and acting as the right-hand man of Captain Umberto Cagni (KAN-yee) for the scientific observations.

This may not sound like anything impressive today, but theirs was the latest in an already long series of efforts to certifiably reach the North Pole. It had become something of an international competition.

The immediately preceding attempt had been Nansen and Johansen in April 1895, who reached latitude 86°14′ North on skis before they turned back. Each expedition was getting closer to the goal, and the duke, already famous for his extreme adventures, was determined to be the one to get there.

The group of 21 members departed from Archangel on July 12, 1899 aboard the revised whaling ship “Stella Polare,” and in the course of the expedition various members suffered the usual Arctic horrors, from frostbite to amputations to their eyes freezing shut. On March 11, 1900, after the long winter in the ship preparing for the assault, and a failed first start, it was off for the Pole.

Ten men were divided into three sections. The duke had to stay in camp due to slow recovery from the aforementioned amputation (of two frozen fingers). Cagni had three men, Cavalli Molinelli had two men, and Querini had two men. I don’t know how the 104 sled dogs and ten sleds were apportioned.

The temperature dropped to -53 degrees C (-63 F) but worse than the cold were the ridges. Colliding ice floes often create ridges, and progress was much slower than the men had anticipated (four kilometers in 12 hours, or 33 meters/100 feet per hour, or a little more than one foot per minute). Supplies began to dwindle, and after 12 days of struggle forward it was clear that there wouldn’t be enough food for everybody to reach the Pole and return.

On March 23, 1900 Cagni ordered Querini and his men to turn back toward base, and shortly thereafter Cavalli also headed back. Cavalli made it, after 24 days of trekking, and Cagni also made it after a harrowing two solid months (subtracting dogs and abandoning equipment along the way). But Querini and his two intrepid companions, Felice Ollier (a mountain guide from the Val d’Aosta, 30 years old) and first macchinista* Enrico Alfredo Stokken (Norwegian, 24 years old, who had asked to be taken along), were never seen again.

Picture this, but without land on the horizon. (NOAA)

Cagni’s four-man squad had reached latitude 86°34′ on 25 April — Saint Mark’s day! — setting a new record by beating Nansen’s result by 35 to 40 km (22 to 25 miles), stopping at about 382 km/237 miles short of the Pole. I’d like the fact to sink in that an Italian team established a polar record that stood until May 12, 1926, when Amundsen and another Italian, Umberto Nobile, verifiably attained the Pole. More about them in the next installment.

Naturally the whole expedition was aghast at Querini’s disappearance. The duke organized a search party that went east for 12 days. But by August 16 the group decided they finally had to depart, and the “Stella Polare” weighed anchor from its harbor on Prince Rudolf Island. They left abundant provisions of every kind, as well as eight dogs (and food for same), plus a small boat, and shaped their course for Norway.

The route of Cagni’s team; “April 25” is marked at the topmost point.

Does it seem strange that somebody could just disappear? It’s strange that it didn’t happen more often, up there surrounded by several million square kilometers of empty white.

They were walking on ice, which tends to form in ridges, “small ‘mountain ranges’ that form on top of the ice…that can easily be two meters/six feet or higher,” states the National Snow and Ice Data Center. “Ridges create significant obstacles to anyone trying to traverse the ice. One usually encounters 4 or 5 pressure ridges per kilometer, but the number may rise to 30 per kilometer in places.”

One of many formations of pressure ridges in Arctic ice. Not what you want to see on your way home. (Liquid Adventuring)

Furthermore, the ice is floating. Setting aside the dread danger of “leads,” or water breaking open between the stretches of ice, the men were trudging across floes that were subject to four forces: “Wind drag, water drag (current), Coriolis force (a force resulting from the earth’s rotation, which acts at right angles to the velocity vector of the ice …), and lateral forces resulting from the pressure of the surrounding ice floes,” as explained in “The Physics of Ice.” ” The earth is rotating from west to east. If the forces of wind and current move the floe to the south… the floe tends to lag, and acts as if a force were pushing it westward.” The motion of the ice was one reason Cagni’s team took two months to make it back, as whole days were lost as the men walked forward on ice which was moving backward.

As Querini’s fate was reluctantly accepted, the memorials began to appear.

In November of 1900, the Italian Geographic Society awarded its silver medal to “the Hero fallen in one of the most arduous battles of science.” Dramatic as their race to the Pole was, the men were also pursuing important research, among which were the exact determination of the oceanic circulation, the location of the magnetic pole and its influence, light phenomena in the polar night, the thermal economy of the atmosphere and the Arctic seas, the formation and drift of the ice, the force of gravity, and measuring the depression of the planet toward the North Pole.

Early in 1901, the city of Venice advertised a large reward to anyone able to give news of the men. On May 22, 1901, Count Filippo Grimani, mayor of Venice, bestowed on Querini’s father, Nunzio, a gold medal as a token of “the city’s sentiment toward the memory of his son.”

On May 16, 1901, Count Piero Foscari met with 20 dissatisfied members of the Royal Rowing Society Bucintoro and founded a new rowing club named in honor of his lost friend: the Royal Rowing Society Francesco Querini.

The rowing club founded in Querini’s honor still holds forth on the Fondamente Nuove, a few steps from the hospital. “Canottieri” refers to those who row in the English style, a sport known as “canottaggio,” which was then something of an aristocratic undertaking. It was certainly distinct from rowing in the Venetian way, which everybody did. In the early 1900s the only rowing club was the Canottieri Bucintoro, followed decades later by the Canottieri Diadora, Canottieri Giudecca, Canottieri Mestre, and Canottieri Cannaregio.

The club’s magnificent “disdotona” is the only 18-oar gondola in the city.

Refusing to abandon all hope, even after frequent questioning of whaling crews brought no information, the duke sent a ship to Franz Josef Land in the summer of 1901, commanded by the father of machinist Stokken. They too returned with no news whatever.

In May of 1903, the Italian Navy sent the family a medal honoring all the members of the expedition.

On October 12, 1903, the city council of Venice unanimously approved the commissioning of a monument to Querini (the famous statue), to which the duke of the Abruzzi contributed 10,000 lire (this was only slightly more than the annual salary of an upper-echelon civil servant). It also voted to establish a scholarship in Querini’s honor for the sons of Venetian seamen or military officers applying to the Naval Academy at Livorno.

The invisible inscription reads: A FRANCESCO QUERINI / DALLA PIU’ ARDITA SPEDIZIONE AL POLO ARTICO / ATTESO INVANO IL RITORNO / LUIGI DI SAVOJA DUCA DEGLI ABRUZZI / CHE L’AUDACE IMPRESA LIETA DI NUOVI TRIONFI / IDEO’ E CON ALTRI GENEROSI COMPI’ / VENEZIA / CUI E’ VANTO E DOLORE IL SACRIFICIO DI TANTO FIGLIO / MCMV “To Francesco Querini / of the most daring expedition to the North Pole / His return awaited in vain / Luigi of Savoia duke of the Abruzzi / who conceived and with other generous persons accomplished the most audacious undertaking happy with new triumphs / Venice / of which the sacrifice of such a son is the boast and grief / 1905.”

It is reported that a further phrase was incised — if it was on the pedestal, it also has disappeared — to honor Querini’s comrades. It said “A PERENNE MEMORIA / SI SCRIVONO QUI I NOMI / DEGLI ALTRI DUE COMPAGNI PERITI NELLA SPEDIZIONE / ENRICO ALFREDO STOKKEN 1 MACCHINISTA / FELICE OLLIER GUIDA.” “In perpetual memory / are written here the names / of the other two companions who perished in the expedition / Enrico Alfredo Stokken first macchinista / Felice Ollier guide.”

For the record, there is a monument to Felice Ollier in Courmayeur in the Val d’Aosta, also offered by the duke. I have yet to locate any mention of a memorial to Enrico Alfredo Stokken.

One doesn’t want to imagine Querini’s last days, or at what point he and his companions realized it was over, or when it actually was over for the last of them. Did they starve? Freeze? Drown? Were they killed by polar bears? It seems as if they simply evaporated, and I, for one, profoundly wish that could have been true.

Querini’s home on Piscina San Samuele. A plaque was placed over the side door in 1904. At least this way the family didn’t have to look straight at it every day.

This plaque was added in 1904 (translated by me): FRANCESCO QUERINI / MOVED FROM HERE / TO ATTEMPT THE UNEXPLORED PATHS OF THE ARCTIC / BUT HE DID NOT RETURN WITH THE VICTORIOUS ONES / THE ICE OF THE POLE /CLOSED IN ETERNAL SECRECY / YOUTH COURAGE AND HOPES / ALMOST AS IF TO REMIND US / THAT NO HUMAN ENTERPRISE IS GLORIOUS / IF NOT GROWN / IN SACRIFICE AND IN PAIN The Society of M.S. among the personnel of the Veneta Laguna Society.” M.S. stands for “mutuo soccorso” (mutual aid), and the Veneta Laguna Society was a precursor of ACTV, the current public transport company.

On a steamship, the macchinista was responsible for operating the machinery in the engine room in response to the captain’s orders from the bridge. Before automated controls, when the man at the wheel would call an order (“full steam ahead,” for example), the macchinista did whatever was necessary to whatever machines were required for the maneuver.