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A Prize for the Big Balloon. The frustrated Communists howled. "They are pulling a fast one," shrieked a party newspaper Il Paesa. "The Feast of Us Others is being changed to the Feast of Them There . . . Them There are the people who argue only with 1,000 lira bills . . . people who would change into toothpaste advertising even the pictures of Raphael . . ." The Communists' final blow came when they discovered that the opposition had cornered all police permits for the feast. The police took the position that if the Communists and the anti-Communists both hold processions for the Madonna del Carmine, blood would probably flow in the streets. As gracefully as they could, the Communists beat a retreat, agreed to join E.N.A.L. and the Giornale d'ltalia as co-sponsors of a unified celebration.
Last week, under a huge canopy of festive lights paid for by the Giornale, Trasteverini thronged happily to the feast. The sponsors had discarded an original plan to crown as "Miss Vino" the Trastevere girl who could drink the most wine, thought it would be even more imprudent to hold a regular beauty contest. "The first," explained a committeeman, "would not be dignified in these times; the second would be too dangerous, because there are too many girls in Trastevere who are the most beautiful."
But scores of other contests came off in style. The Big Balloon, an undersized young hawker in the piazza of San Cosimato, won 20,000 lira (about $35) for his exceptional fruit stand, which boasted 15 varieties of fruit and a trimming of laurel and myrtle leaves. Grazie Ceci, who is 90 years old and who shares three rooms in Bologna alley with 22 relatives and acquaintances, won a 1,000 lira prize as the oldest grandmother, announced she would spend a good part of it on wine.
The Poppy & the Cricket. The fiesta committee scored its most resounding triumph with the return of the Bersaglieri, the proudest troops of Italy. The Bersaglieri wear plumes of cock feathers in their caps, run instead of march, and in Trastevere, which always had its own regiment, have been a tradition for almost 100 years. Since World War II, however, Trastevere's regiment had been quartered in Milan. With the opening of this year's feast, the first units of the old Trastevere Bersagliere regiment came home, ran heroically through the twisting streets blowing bugles while exuberant Trasteverini welcomed them with flowers, Frascati and frenzied cheers.
The Trasteverini could remember few finer fiestas. Only the Communists still grumbled dourly that they could have done it better. At Romolo's wineshop, a Communist stronghold, the potbellied Cricket argued sharply with the Poppy, a Red. The Poppy had just remarked snidely: "Someone is getting fat from the festa this year." "Had you your way," said the Cricket, "the walls would have been plastered with newspapers, the Madonna would have been ashamed to show herself in your presence, and the Bersaglieri would have stayed where they were."