Nobody can say that Rita Jenrette hasn’t had an interesting life. She was, at various times, a Republican Party power figure (although married to a Democratic congressman), a scholar, a big-time real estate wheeler-dealer, a central figure of the ABSCAM scandal, a TV presenter, a Clairol spokesman, a Playboy model, a novelist, an autobiographer, a princess, an actress … and probably many other things I’m forgetting.
She was probably also a power forward in the WNBA and the inventor of insulated gloves, for all I know, even though I just made that shit up.
I’ll let Wikipedia pick up a famous Rita anecdote:
She gave an interview to Playboy that appeared in the April 1981 issue, accompanied by a nude pictorial. The article’s revelation that she and her husband had sex on the steps of the U.S. Capitol during a break in an all-night House session caused a hoopla. The comedy group Capitol Steps takes its name from this escapade.
Years after her party girl days, she is still in the news. The Italian government just chased her out of the home where she has lived for decades, thanks to an inheritance battle between her and the children of her late husband. When she refused a court order to leave, the Carabinieri showed up to to evict her, causing a classic scene right out of an Italian movie, where she evaded arrest by fleeing through the back door of the villa, but tripped in the process, breaking two ribs and her clavicle.
This is no ordinary house they are fighting over. It is said to be the most expensive in the world. It is surrounded by the usual expansive gardens dotted with the obligatory statues of deities. The house itself is six stories tall and covers half of an acre. One of its ceilings is valued at $350 million! You’re wondering how that could be. The ceiling mural was painted by Carafuckingvaggio himself, and is thought to be the only such work of art in existence.
Meh. No big deal. It looks exactly like the ceiling of my trailer, which was coincidentally also painted by Caravaggio – Chuck “Dirty Needles” Caravaggio, a tattoo artist who lives in the next trailer. He painted my ceiling in lieu of repaying the thirty bucks I lent him.
I’m just fuckin’ witcha. I don’t really live in a trailer.
But I am hoping to upgrade to one.
Anyway …
Two years after being in the very lap of luxury, Her Incredibly Serene and Formerly Rich Highness, Princess Rita Boncompagni Ludovisi, is now more like Her Lowness, broke and homeless, essentially couch-surfing. Did she deserve such a fate? I look at it this way. The odds of the Italian legal system producing a fair and correct decision are about the same as the likelihood of Kristi Noem and Michael Vick being named the co-chairs of PETA, so yeah, she probably got hosed. It’s all about the Euros, signore.
Rita did the whole Playboy-and-B-movie thing in the early 80s, and that included Zombie Island Massacre (3.3 at IMDb). Now this is a very sensible film! For example, the first three full minutes of the film consist entirely of Rita naked. That’s followed by a mere six minutes of exposition before it’s back to the fun stuff, with Rita doing a sex scene in perfect light. It’s good to see a director who has his priorities straight, and so soon in his career – Massacre was the very first film he ever directed. It was also the very last, although he lived almost 40 more years.
Hey, by the way, why does anyone go to Zombie Island in the first place? “Hey, Marge, whaddya think? Disney and Europe are so bourgeois. The brochure for this Zombie Island looks nice, and they think the volcano may be dormant now. Plus it’s all-inclusive!”
I hear it’s even all-inclusive for the zombies – all the brains you can eat!
For the non-zombie population, this seems like even a worse vacation choice than Bergman Island …
or worse than this place …
or (and I know this is hard to believe) possibly even worse than Delaware.
But you know, it’s an island, and life’s a beach, so I guess people can put up with a few wandering undead people when it means quality sun-and-snorkel time at an affordable price, especially when unlimited booze is part of the package.
I can see why Rita wasn’t worried. She was a Republican, so she was relatively safe from creatures seeking brains.
Between Amanda Knox and reading The Monster of Florence (amazing book) I’m never even GOING to Italy, nevertheless move there. The criminal justice system is only slightly less skewed than Hazzard County.
When I was evaluating markets for the oil companies, the locals would often ask me for my unvarnished opinion of what it was like to do business there, compared to other places. I really had to use some circumlocution to dodge the question in Italy, because I love the country, I love the people, I love the food, I love their sense of style, and I love to study both ancient history and the Renaissance, two fields where Italy is not only ground zero, but has done a great job of preserving everything.
Having established that, I told all international companies to avoid Southern Italy, which was utterly corrupt, and I (less certainly) recommended leaving Northern Italy to the Italian companies, because relationships are more important than laws there, and while it is sometimes clear what you can’t do, it is never clear what you CAN do. Every time you need a decision it seems to funnel down to local officials with their hands out.
I would have loved to say to Shell or FINA, “Hey, great market for convenience stores, and I’d love to go there and run the operation myself.” But there was no way.
I once heard a Swedish guy with an Italian wife talking to Italian reporters on TV. They spoke in English because that was the common ground between them. They asked him to compare life in Italy to life in Sweden. His blunt answer, “From the time you are born until your death, the Swedish government tries to make sure you are fed, clothed, educated, sheltered and receive all proper medical care. Although life there is so expensive that luxuries are difficult to obtain, the government does everything they can to allow you to succeed. On the other hand, from the day you are born until the day you die, the Italian government is trying to fuck you.” Not only did the Italians not bleep that, they nodded and offered no rebuttal.
My ex-girlfriend was a sales rep for a theatrical supply company. Each year, her company would offer an incentive trip to its dealers. If a dealer bought enough of their products, they would get a “free” trip for two. If enough of her dealers earned the trip, my ex also got 2 tickets for the trip. In December 1998, the trip was to Dublin. Not only was the country beautiful, so long as we were eating or drinking with one of her dealers, she could put everything on her expense account. That is a really fun way to vacation.
We also went on the trip in 1999. That trip was to Giardini Naxos in Sicily, and it was amazing. Our hotel room had an unobstructed view of Mount Etna. Giardini Naxos is primarily a beach resort, and it was definitely too cold for the beach. However, our hotel was close to the historic town of Taormina, which had amazing shops. We were able to take day trips to Syracuse and the top of Mount Etna. Of course, the best part was the amazing food and wine, which all went on to my girlfriend’s expense account.
I have no idea how corrupt the Italian/Sicilian government was because we never had any legal problems while we were there. We didn’t go on the trip to Russia the next year for a couple of reasons. First, my girlfriend left her job to go to Cornell for an MBA. We had also broken up by that point, and her company didn’t invite me on the trip, which I understood.
I would love to go back to Italy. I’ve technically been to Milan and Rome because we had to change planes at those airports. I think it would be wonderful to explore more of Rome than the airport. However, I currently take both Oxycodone (with a prescription) and “medical” marijuana. I wouldn’t have a problem leaving the marijuana home, but I can’t really stop taking Oxycodone while I’m on vacation. I’ve been taking it for more than 11 years. Supposedly, I shouldn’t have a problem so long as I have a prescription and declare the Oxycodone at customs, but I wouldn’t trust that if I were taking a trip to Russia. If Italy is that corrupt, maybe I am better off taking a stay-cation in the Bronx.
Funny, I just read a book set in that precise region of Sicily (the fake town even had an unobstructed view of Etna). It involved an ancient demon-worshipping cult, though, so it did no extra to encourage me to go.
Based on the Knox and Florence cases, the issue is simple: travel there, see the sights, enjoy. Don’t move there, and pray you don’t get involved with the police: they don’t even pretend to follow the rules.
Even after everything with Knox, she can never return, because she’s wanted there, effectively, for insulting the crooked police and prosecution for trying to railroad her.
The writer and detective behind Monster of Florence? Same thing! They literally figured out who a serial killer was, but because they made the police look bad and complained publicly when they tried to railroad them on bogus charges (even insinuating they were accomplices of the killer!) now they’re banned from the country and will be arrested if they return.
Rita used to do the family shopping at my favorite little market in the Capitol Hill neighborhood after hubby John (the “larceny in my heart” guy) was spotted attempting to shoplift by the proprietor who bellowed out “Can I help you, Mr. Jenrette?” (and Pop Weisfeld had some lungs on him). Gorgeous and friendly.