Marcello Dell’Oglio works at the Palermo building turned symbol of anti-Mafia resistance
Marcello Dell’Oglio is a radiant, happy, elegant man, but above all, he is “serene,” as he says when talking about his life. “We are all a book to be read,” he adds, with his characteristic kindness. Marcello was born in 1961 in Palermo. His father Filippo was a tailor and cutter, and he has never forgotten the motto of the family clothing store: “Dell’Oglio doesn’t just cover you, it dresses you.”
But according to his father, Marcello was not cut out for life as a merchant: he lacked business sense. He gave discounts and deferred payments, “I always put myself in other people’s shoes,” he says–which was a problem for the shop’s finances, but not for his friendships, as he was well-liked by everyone. With the arrival of the euro, it became harder to make ends meet and Marcello was forced to close the shop and start his current career as a condominium doorman. It’s a life that brings him joy.
The building where he works, at Via Notarbartolo 23, is not just any building. It’s where the national hero, Judge Giovanni Falcone lived. Falcone fought against the Mafia until he was brutally murdered on May 23, 1992– in an attack that also claimed the lives of his wife Francesca Morvillo and three of his bodyguards—on a stretch of highway A29 near Capaci, just outside Palermo.
Marcello’s work is anything but ordinary, primarily because of the enormous tree in front of the building: a Ficus Magnolia planted around the 1950s, even before the building was constructed. It was planted there by the owner of the land–unaware of the fate that lay in store for it–who built a reinforced concrete cage around it to limit its expansion.
Despite the cage, the tree continues to thrive, and not only in terms of its roots, leaves, and branches. A few days after the famous judge’s death, a woman left a note to commemorate his life, hanging it on the tree. From there, a tradition was born that continues to this day. The Falcone Tree, as it was renamed, has become a destination for those who want to leave a memento, a poem, a photo, or a phrase dedicated to the fight against the mafia attached to its trunk or branches. Every year, a large event is held in front of the tree in memory of the massacre of May 23. It’s “triple duty” for Marcello: famous guests crowd the concierge’s office and at the end of the event he has a heavy clean up.
This isn’t, however, the only reason why the building is famous, and it’s no coincidence that Marcello has been interviewed by the most important Italian newspapers. Thanks to him, the concierge’s office has become a library, even though there are no formalities of any kind. He created it in 2018 by bringing in some of the books he had at home, then the residents added many more, with the result that there are now about a thousand volumes available to everyone, residents and passers-by alike, in the entrance hall. The library has an area dedicated entirely to the mafia.
Towards the end of our meeting, Marcello tells me how, a couple of years ago, the tree underwent an “MRI scan”, an experiment that took place at 1 a.m., involving numerous experts and blocking the road. The tree was hooked up to a truck which, by pulling on its branches, verified its perfect state of health. Another assessment was made on the roots, which turned out to be about 60 centimeters deep, the minimum size for such a large tree, while the others “no one knows where they go,” Marcello tells us. It’s a curious metaphor for a city that has too often been plagued by mafia abuse: the Falcone Tree is there, and no one knows how far it reaches.
A few years ago, Marcello was awarded a prize for culture. “Me! I’m nobody!” he exclaims humorously. He recalls that when he was in the milittary his supriors told him: “Dell’Oglio, what do you need a shop for? You’re cut out for military life.” We beg to differ with the general, and we’re happy that at Via Notarbartolo 23 there’s a well-dressed man directing visitors to the offices and residences, greeting passers-by and lending books knowing that they will often not be returned. All in all, preserving the memory of Giovanni Falcone.