AGNELLI

Arguably, anyone would have felt intimidated (at best) by the military-educated Giovanni Sr. who served also as the mayor of his town, the same Villar Perosa, and was appointed senator for the National Fascist Party by Benito Mussolini himself. In the late 19th century, the Italian entrepreneur heard about the new horseless carriage and seized the opportunity to join a local group of industrialists to establish Fiat. He was as fast as their cars in moving up the company’s ladder from Managing Director to Chairman. At the same time the Lingotto car factory, a big plant in Turin’s outskirts, increased production from 24 cars (made by 35 staff) in 1900 to 1,149 by 1906.
Gianni’s grandfather withstood the harshness of two world wars, the ascent of Fascism and the fierce revolts of his workers. At some point, they even hoisted a communist red flag over the factory and tried to run it themselves, but they had to surrender in the face of their miserably failed attempt at ‘auto-gestione’ (self-management), and marched to their boss’s office to hand him back the keys. He built an empire spanning from cars (also the Ferrari brand), to banks and newspapers. As a truly 19th century “Steam Baron”, he also promoted sports, as entertainment for his employees. In 1923, a century ago, together with his son Edoardo, he bought a young local team which introduced a new sport, in Italy: soccer club Juventus Turin FC had been founded in 1897. 

The patriarch took his grandson under his wing. He offered an affluent and lush training ground to his young namesake who, to avoid any confusion, would become known as ‘Gianni’ and would in turn dedicate his whole life to the family business, always in style. In the sixties, Italy is buzzing and yielding the inebriating fruits of the economic boom. Life has finally become ‘sweet’ after the devastation of the war, and the round-roofed Fiat 500 embodies an economic miracle and mass transportation. Iconic “Topolino” (literally Baby Mice), was a new status symbol, featuring in the automotive world and on cinema screens: it’s La Dolce Vita age. In Rome’s nightlife made of sex, drugs and fast cars, Gianni is not missing a single chance: Anita Ekberg, Rita Hayward or Pamela Churchill Harriman, who even converted to the Catholic faith in the (naive) hope of marrying him, have all been his girlfriends.

After legendary mischiefs and shenanigans, including an allegedly flirt with JFK’s widow herself as well as being a regular in the inner circle of David Rockefeller and Henry Kissinger, the wild industrialist who leapt from Ferraris onto yachts, and jumping directly from helicopters down to his own ski slopes on the Italian Alps, is finally ready to land at Lingotto, at the steering wheel of Fiat as CEO. It’s 1966, Gianni is 45, and what follows is capitalism at its best, years of entrepreneurial excellence twisted together with politics and sport. On weekdays, communist factory workers would stand outside Lingotto striking and shouting against their capitalist boss, come Sunday they would all be inside the stadium in Turin with Agnelli, cheering Juventus: Panem et Circenses was invented in Italy, after all. 
Fiat’s rollercoaster, riding up and down the business charts, and the family's epic turns of success and scandals are a true tale of private power that is inextricably intertwined with Italy’s financial, political and cultural history.
"I was always present” - recounted Agnelli once – “There was a war and I, like many others, took part. Then there were other events such as closer relations with the Americans, and I was there. ... We had difficult moments such as terrorism, and I never pulled back. In the course of our lives, of our generation, there also have been happier moments".

Even a PlayBoy who was nicknamed “The Rake of the Riviera” by locals in Cote Azur, at some point needs to have a spouse. So Gianni picked up the refined Donna Marella Caracciolo di Castagneto, an aristocrat with a tall neck and the elegance of a swan. An exquisite and esteemed presence in elite circles, with the likes of Andy Wharol and Richard Avedon, Marella shared with Gianni the excitement and drama of a life filled with excesses, including his too many mistresses. At their opulent wedding in 1953, at Osthoffen, the village of the ancient royal German family, she was wearing a Balenciaga white dress, when the name was not a street fashion commercial brand but an exclusive couture. Every man in Italy looked at him as his untouchable idol: his clothing quirkiness (such as wearing the watch over the shirt or wearing suede sports shoes over elegant suits), his way of speaking (boosted by his r limp voice) was copied as a distinctive status symbol.
No surprise, then, in January 2003 an entire nation mourned his passing. Trumpet soberly played the notes of “silenzio”, in front of the Avvocato casket, inside Turin’s Cathedral the same hosting the famous Shroud. Adorned with white flowers, Gianni Agnelli’s coffin paraded the cobbled street of the Italian business capital in Piedmont, greeted by a wave of applause. Thousands had flocked to the funeral to have a final glimpse of the legendary jet-setter who had been the “uncrowned king of Italy”. 

Tragedy always went along with fame and wealth for the family, drawing a spooky similarity to the same Kennedy they have often been referred to. On a foggy November morning in the year 2000, when the new millennium was spreading euphoria among people and stock markets, a Fiat Croma sedan is parked beside a tall concrete viaduct on the motorway between seaside Liguria and Turin: it belongs to Edoardo Agnelli. He bears the same name as his grandfather and is the heir apparent to Fiat’s throne, as the only male son of Gianni. Father and son, as often happens, couldn’t be more different though: as much Gianni was larger-than-life as Edoardo was shy and introvert, lacking the charisma and arrogance his future role would demand. The car is empty, two mobile phones (a rarity for the time) are on the backseat, but the driver is nowhere to be found: Edoardo tragically jumped to his death from the viaduct. His body would be recovered 80 meters below on a dry riverbed. At the same age his father took on the Fiat job, he decided to end his life. A former drug addict, a convert to Islam, at odds with his father, from whom he was overshadowed, Edoardo looked like the family’s black sheep. The world gasps at the news, but at the same time, the sad news does not come as a surprise.
A crown too heavy to bear is the global comment for the suicide of the man poised to inherit the biggest Italian industry, a post many would metaphorically die for. Edoardo was indeed too fragile for the role. But conspiracies, like money, never sleep: more than 20 years later that tragic event, rumours about a fake suicide are still going around. Truth is Edoardo was never meant to lead the family empire. The real heir to Agnelli’s throne had already been chosen in Giovannino Agnelli, son of Gianni’s younger brother Umberto. The young boy had been duly groomed for the role, cutting his teeth on mopeds rather than cars. He sat on the directors’ board of Piaggio, historic Italian brand owner of the iconic Vespa, the ultimate symbol of La Dolce Vita and Italian lifestyle. History had other plans, instead: Giovannino never made it to the throne at Fiat. He untimely passed away due to a rare form of cancer in 1997, aged only 33.
This was the ultimate push for Umberto, Giovannino’s father, to step out of the shadow of his glamorous younger brother Gianni. He pushed for a historic deal with American carmaker GM: the US corporation bought a “call option” to take over the company. At the same time, the family got a “put option” (a right to sell) Fiat to the American group. In the next years, Fiat’s crisis deepened so much that GM agreed to pay 1,9 billion Dollars just to avoid the option from the Italian family. A huge gain for the Turin clan, but Fiat was almost dead, anyway. With Gianni no more at the lead, it was Umberto’s time to shine and take the crumbling empire on his shoulders, a role he had been longing for his entire life, suffering for being the “spare”. Destiny has always a sick sense of humour: when Umberto finally gains access to the power room, Fiat is a dead man walking. Its share value was tumbling 80% from its peak in 1998. Now the older brother is the boss, at last, but there’s nothing left for him to do other than sell the company or, worse, shut it down. Umberto stayed in power for one year only as tragedy struck again: He died of cancer too, in 2004. Family and business seem to go side by side in reaching a tragic cliff: the dynasty was no more.