L’Avvocato: The Story of the Man Who Invented the 500

The myth of industrialization, of the automobile, of progress. What Fiat embodied in the postwar years now seems to be crumbling, undone by the events that mark the history of the 1970s…

Turin and the whole Piedmont region. But also Bologna, Florence, Naples, Milan, Venice, Genoa, Pisa… With 33 percent of the vote, the Communist Party swallows everything. Some two million members represent something entirely unexpected for the country. In the factories, strikes, protests, and production‐disrupting actions follow one another relentlessly. Thus, in the midst of the Cold War, Italy becomes NATO’s weak link. “If you can’t beat them, befriend them,” goes the old saying. Wise is the Avvocato; shrewd is the Avvocato, and he lives by it.

“Thieves.” Fundamentally, that’s what people on the streets think of the Family. The image of the powerful profiting from the suffering and needs of the hungry masses is wrapped up in a series of attacks that unmistakably carry the scent of revolution. Numerous Fiat executives are shot in the legs, and with the rise of the Red Brigades, the door is thrown wide open to terrorism.

The subversive left’s ideology preaches anarchy and armed agitation. Managers, politicians, journalists… no one is spared under that cyclone of violence. Before long, the stakes rise to kidnappings and murders. It’s war, and in war there are no concessions. On September 21, 1979, Carlo Ghiglieno, Director of Logistics, is executed—seen as a pivotal figure within the Company. Then comes “the Kidnapping.” The abduction of Aldo Moro is more than an incident. The Christian Democratic leader’s hope to pursue disarmament by bringing the Red forces into the corridors of power proves futile.

Of course, Agnelli himself is in the crosshairs. The Avvocato is convinced they want to kill him—so much so that he abandons the 145-hectare estate at Villar Perosa where he usually stays. Yet he remains unchanged. He never leaves the factory, he never abandons Turin; and each morning, he drives to work in his Fiat fitted with a Ferrari engine, delighting in shaking off his escort cars. He changes his route daily but never strays far from the city, ensuring people feel his presence as a constant. A risk he knows well—and one he’s willing to take.

Confronted with yet another strike, Fiat’s mid-level managers organize a march. Forty thousand people demand the right to return to work. This uprising takes on a distinctly bourgeois character and plunges Italy into the 1980s. “La Milano da bere” becomes the emblem of an emancipated nation keeping pace with the times—and Fiat stands at its very pinnacle.

“A Sicilian who makes things happen,” people say—friends and foes alike. “How? Nobody knows.” It’s still Edoardo Cuccia, the “Great Puppeteer,” who, as Gianni is poised to hand control to his brother Umberto, reasserts his power. The Mediobanca–Romiti axis seizes the dynastic inheritance. After all, the man who handles the dirty work knows how to clean up messes and keep Gianni’s image spotless.

What happens when a young man with a gentle soul, intelligent and sensitive, is destined to occupy a role that doesn’t suit him? When he finds himself trapped in a life that passes over him in silences and unspoken words? Edoardo, the intellectual—just like his grandfather. Too thoughtful to appear brave. Too overlooked not to end up lost… So it becomes Giovannino, Umberto’s son, the designated heir. The right man, however, shines only briefly like a meteor. At thirty-two, a tumor consumes him in a matter of months. Then who? John Elkann. The rising star, the favored grandson, is already on the Board of Directors at twenty-one. Who else?

One hundred meters high to touch infinity; to prove that maybe, after all, the daring was there. When Edoardo takes his own life at forty-six, he jumps from a bridge—just three days after another argument with his father. The man who could save the world has failed. He couldn’t save his own flesh and blood. Gianni collapses before the most bitter defeat of his life. The Giant’s legs are broken. The Immortal, dethroned from Olympus, falls to earth. And yet… on the cold morning of January 26, 2003, at the Avvocato’s funeral, everyone is there. Five hundred thousand people ascend to the top of the Lingotto, ready to remember, to give thanks… for that helicopter that, flying over the city, always sounded like the reassuring voice of a father who knows how to care for his children.