| The Sheik 
        of Castellaneta 
         By Jeanne 
          Manfredi  
         Most of us have never seen a Rudolph Valentino film, 
          yet we all know his name and many of us recognize movie stills of that 
          romantic figure dressed in the robes of a desert sheik with a melting 
          damsel in his power, and in his arms. To our mothers, or more likely, 
          our grandmothers, in the jazzy slang of the 1920's , he was really "the 
          cat's pajamas"!  
        The world's 
          most famous Latin lover started out life very short on worldly goods 
          but very long on names. Rodolfo Alfonso Raffaele Pierre Filibert Guglielmi 
          di Valentino d'Antonguolla was born in 1889 in the poor, little hill 
          village of Castellaneta in Puglia —around the arch of Italy's 
          boot. Perhaps it was his French mother, stuck in that isolated, forlorn 
          corner of Southern Italy so far from the gay lights of Paris, who wove 
          stories for her favorite child, Rudy, of the wonders and glamour of 
          the wide world beyond the narrow cobbled streets of their poverty-stricken 
          village. She certainly must have wanted to escape, for soon after her 
          husband died, she took her 3 children to live in the nearby city of 
          Taranto. After Rudy had finished his schooling, graduating as an agricultural 
          expert or agronomist, he was finally ready to strike out on his own, 
          to make his way to the promised land —America!  
        This was 
          the era of mass migration for poor Italians of the South. Often, small 
          towns became villages of woman and children when over 75% of the men 
          emigrated to the Americas to find work and a new life. Some managed 
          to earn enough to send for their families and a few returned to their 
          homeland with the money they had been able to save. Those were known 
          as the "Americani".  
        None was 
          able to come back so famous and so rich as "The God of Love", Rudolph 
          Valentino. But, in 1913, when young Rudy landed in New York, he had 
          a hard time just surviving. He had hopes of making enough to get him 
          to California for he had ambitions of becoming, not a movie star, but 
          a citrus grower. First, he worked as a gardener, then as a dish washer, 
          and in his spare time he learned the tango. Soon his dancing feet got 
          him out of the kitchen and into the elegant supper club, Maxim's, where 
          he earned his dinners by dancing with the rich and generous women customers. 
          Meanwhile, he entered dance tournaments and, best of all, began to get 
          bit parts in a few films.  
        In 1921, 
          the big break came! Hollywood needed a hero for their major epic, "The 
          Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse" - -who could dance the tango. That 
          film made the tango the most popular dance in America and it made Rodolfo 
          Guglielmi from Castellaneta into Rudolph Valentino, the hottest star 
          in Hollywood. Overnight, Valentino was the passionate Latin Lover personified, 
          and women from coast to coast swooned at every torrid love scene.  
        Off screen, 
          Valentino played the part of a famous star to the hilt, with his cream-colored 
          Hispano-Suiza and his robin's egg blue Bugatti (the Jaguar and Maserati 
          of the day), and with parties in his Hollywood Hills mansions, "Falcon's 
          Nest" or the Mediterranean-style villa with the big swimming pool lined 
          with imported Italian tiles in the silent screen stars' enclave of Whitley 
          Heights.  
        The great 
          lover was twice married and many of the famous silent screen female 
          stars were rumored to be  pining and/or repining for the love of 
          the Sheik. Despite all that adulation, Rudy never seemed to find lasting 
          happiness with any woman. Charlie Chaplin  wrote, "No man had greater 
          attraction for women than Valentino. No man was more deceived by them." 
           
        Then, in 
          1926, the brightest star in Hollywood suddenly dimmed forever. Still 
          in his thirties, Valentino died from  peritonitis during a whirlwind 
          tour to promote his latest  movie. Tens of thousands of grieving 
          fans attended his funeral in New York, women fainted, and tried to throw  
          themselves on his coffin. When Pola Negri, the torrid  siren of 
          the silver screen, learned of his death, she draped herself in black 
          widow's weeds from head to toe, even though she was never one of his 
          wives.  Soon after, around Rudolph Valentino's burial place, a 
          Hollywood legend was born. Every year on the  anniversary of his 
          death, a mystery woman, heavily veiled in black, appeared at the Hollywood 
          Cemetery  with flowers for his crypt. For the over 40 years, no 
          one ever discovered the identity of the "Woman in Black". Was she a 
          famous actress in disguise? A former lover?  Certainly, her devotion 
          and constancy helped keep alive the "romance", the "mystique" of Valentino. 
          As the years passed, people still gathered each August 23rd to see if 
          the unknown "Woman in Black" would once again appear at the last resting 
          place of her beloved Sheik.  
        In Castellaneta, 
          too, they never forgot their most illustrious native son. At the height 
          of his brief five years  of fame and fortune, he returned to his 
          birthplace. The  English travel writer, H. V. Morton, in his wonderful  
          book, A Traveller in Southern Italy, who visited Castellaneta 
          in the late 1960s, writes that he met a  couple of old-timers who 
          remembered over 40 years  before when Valentino had arrived in 
          town in a large  motor car. But, they reported, he didn't stay 
          long  before driving on to Taranto for lunch.  One can't help 
          wondering what memories were evoked as Valentino made what must have 
          been a triumphal return. Did he think of that poor 12-year-old boy, 
          who with his widowed mother and his little brother and sister had walked 
          down off that same hill that he was  now gliding up in an elegant 
          automobile? Did he recall lines from his favorite poet, Walt Whitman, 
          that expressed his emotions at that moment? Or did he feel that it was  
          all part of his pre-ordained Destiny? --for he was a true  believer 
          in Spiritualism. Or, perhaps he was just thankful he hadn't missed that 
          boat for America back in  1913.  
        Now, as 
          you wind up the road into Castellaneta, at one end of a belvedere overlooking 
          the valley below, you come upon a larger then life-size, ceramic statue 
          of a  desert sheik dressed in a bright-purplish blue robe with  
          a white headdress. To complete the ensemble, there is  a vertical 
          stone slab standing beside it with a ceramic tablet attached which has 
          incised into it an outline of film impedimenta, such as movie camera 
          and a movie reel, all brightly colored in reds, yellows, oranges and 
          blues.  
        Hometown 
          Valentino fans had to wait until 1961 before this memorial was finally 
          erected —and this one isn't at all like the beautiful bronze bust 
          of Valentino that arrived in 1928, two years after his death. That one 
          was sent by a group of devoted Italian-Americans who also sent a check 
          to cover the cost of installing it. For one reason or another, the bust 
          was never displayed, and not much later both gifts mysteriously disappeared. 
          It would be nice to believe that one day, in some deserted shed or in 
          some dark corner of a basement, someone might unearth a bronze likeness 
          of the Sheik of Castellaneta. Probably a more realistic guess is that 
          it was melted down during one of Mussolini's wars.  
        Castellaneta 
          is in ceramic country. The nearby village of Grottaglie, has been the 
          ceramic capital of the area for 2000 years. So perhaps it is not surprising 
          that the statue of Valentino is fashioned in ceramic. As to its artistic 
          merit, you will have to decide for  yourselves. Some may view it 
          as a genuine expression of local folk art; others may decide it is just 
          some ghastly, garish mistake. Certainly, it is unique!  
        Any adventurous 
          travellers who take the turnoff to Castellaneta, along the main highway 
          between Taranto and Metaponto, shouldn't fail to stop for a bit of refreshment 
          at the Bar Rudi once they arrive. Also, if they are truly 
          devoted pilgrims, and are of the right sex, they can even get a haircut 
          and a shave at the barber shop called, "Basette di Valentino" ("Whiskers 
          of Valentino"). However, the most moving tribute to the Sheik of Castellaneta 
          is to be found right up the street from the ceramic Figures. It is a 
          very graceful, pretty, decorated bronze plaque attached to the wall 
          of the modest house in which he was born. It was commissioned and erected 
          in loving memory by the Rudolph Valentino Fan Club of Cleveland, Ohio. 
         
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