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Meet Franco Tassara, Master Shipbuilder, of Cogorno (a small town on the far side of the Valle Fontanabuona, on the other side of the mountain from Rapallo). Studying his photo there are two things I wish I noticed when we were chatting, and that I asked him about them. First, the hat? How did he come to have it and why? Second, why does he wear a small metal pacifier on his necklace, or is that something else, perhaps a microphone? He clearly has a sense of humor as his calling card gives him the honorific Conte Decaduto (Count Decrepit).
In any event, calling Sig. Tassara a Shipbuilder is an exaggeration, if only of scale. He does not build the ships that sail the ocean blue, rather he builds quite lovely model ships, some of which he is willing to sell and which he displays, idiosyncratically, on the roof of his auto.
This whimsical display caught Speedy’s eye as we motored through town a while ago, and we came back to investigate. That is when we met Sig. Tassara and chatted with him about his models. He was most eager that I pose holding them. Perhaps he thought that, like puppies, once you’ve held one you simply can’t live without it. Alas for him, it didn’t work in our case, but we did enjoy getting a close-up look at his meticulous work. He makes models of all different kinds of boats.
Foolishly I forgot to ask what the names of the boats are. Fortunately our friend T. is a nautical wizard, Dinghy Class champion, meticulous sailing judge and general mistress of the wind and seas. She told me the ship below is called a Runabout, and may be a model of the Riva Aquarama, a famous luxury wooden Runabout made by the shipbuilders Riva.
This large one, so intricately detailed, is a “Galeon” with a double deck of guns:
Just thinking about trying to sort out all the rigging was enough to give me a headache. It’s not terribly dissimilar from the Galleone Neptune at the port in Genoa, a ship that was built in 1985 for Roman Polanski’s film “Pirates.” Sig. Tassara’s version is a lot tidier though, to tell the truth, and not covered with all that ridiculous froufrou:

Photo from Daniele Martino’s Flickr Photostream. Thank you Daniele.
Sig. Tassara was a tug-boat captain, so the sea is honestly in his veins. He has made models since retiring and spends many an hour at it. A ship like the Galeon may take him three or four months to complete. One like the Runabout may take only three or four weeks.
Sig. Tassara, along with others with the same hobby, exhibits his boats at the Mare Nostrum show which is held annually in November in the Rapallo Castello (you can read about an earlier iteration of the show here). Living up on the hill as we do we sometimes forget how very central the sea is and has always been to life in Rapallo. This annual exhibition is an always fascinating glimpse of the many facets of the ongoing relationship between the two.
The dates for the 2014 show have not been posted on the Mare Nostrum website yet, but it is most always held in the latter half of November. If you find yourself in Rapallo then, do pay a visit to the show and seek out Sig. Franco Tassara, who will probably be happy to let you hold one of his puppies.
I have a gut feeling that that pacifier thing might have to be a miniature of a sailing tool. The others might be religious medals. Worn on a chain not necklace.
Great post about a very talented and interesting craftsman! I couldn’t even imagine the effort and patience that he puts into creating his ships. he probably got the cap from one of the many US sailors ‘floating’ Italy.
Thanks Gil. I also cannot imagine doing so much fussy work. He must just go someplace in his head and enjoy it. I guess you’re right about the ‘necklace,’ though its meaning has been stretched in recent years. ‘Chain’ is certainly much clearer and exact. I’m waiting to hear from my sailing buddy if she knows what the pacifier thing is…
Somehow that thing reminds me of something I saw at Mystic Seaport. Waiting for your friend’s answer too.
Well, Gil, my friend didn’t answer me yet, and now she’s gone for a month or two – but I will ask her when she’s settled.
Gil – the mystery was solved today when I chatted with another man with the same ornament around his neck – he was a billiard champion, and I suspect our old salt was one too. Italian billiards have these little pins in the middle of the table – you can see them on this blog: http://www.anamericaninitaly.com/2014/01/17/italian-billiards/ Very interesting – I didn’t know that. Anyway, when they won tourneys back in the day they were awarded the lovely golden charm of the skittle, or whatever its correct name is…
Thanks for solving this.
It was such a surprise, Gil – if you’d given me 1,000 years I would not have come up with a skittle.