commission looking into the activities of the P2 masonic lodge, on 9 September 1983, to ‘firmly reject’ the hypothesis ‘that an agent of the finance police had infiltrated the organization and execution of Roberto Calvi’s flight from Italy’. It would be deeply embarrassing for the Italian state to have its representatives so close to the action, particularly in view of its tragic, criminal conclusion under Blackfriars Bridge. Paoli’s evidence also places Sergio Vaccari at the heart of the operation: a man, though ‘Podgora’ may not have known it at the time, whose profile fits that of a CIA informant. Little wonder then that his information caused disquiet in official circles and that little was done to follow up his leads.
3
God’s Banker
Roberto Calvi was ideally suited for membership of a secret society . . . and made its perfect victim too. A man with deep-seated insecurities, from a relatively humble background, it helped that he believed the world was run by conspiracies. Without a powerful patron – a
santo in paradiso –
one could not expect to get anywhere in the shark-infested waters of Italian finance, he was convinced. Of the Italy of the 1970s and 1980s, the period when his career was approaching its apex, with its nepotism and ubiquitous political patronage, he was not wholly wrong.
Roberto Calvi was born in Milan on 13 April 1920. His father, Giacomo Calvi, came from the village of Tremenico in the Valtellina, an Alpine valley running north towards the Swiss border from Lake Como. His mother, Maria Rubini, was born in Venice but her family too hailed originally from Tremenico. Despite the move to Milan, the Calvi family retained the dour, canny, austere qualities of mountain folk. Giacomo Calvi’s successful career at the Banca Commerciale Italiana, Milan’s largest bank, did little to change that.
As a small child Roberto was difficult and trouble-prone, often involved in fights with other children. At school he was a bright student who rounded out his pocket money by doing homework for fellow pupils, his widow Clara recalled many years later. ‘His parents were rather mean. With the money he earned he used to go riding at San Siro [a Milan suburb,now home to the city’s football stadium]. All his friends were rich.’ 1 Roberto studied at the smart Cesare Beccaria secondary school, mastering Latin and Ancient Greek and showing a flair for modern languages – French and German – too. His natural diffidence was increased by his mother’s insistence that he wear ‘sensible clothes’, which marked him out from his fashionably dressed young contemporaries. In later years she would disapprove of her attractive daughter-in-law’s taste for elegant apparel. Roberto moved on to the prestigious Bocconi university, but dropped out before taking a degree. ‘He wanted to become a lawyer, but his parents signed him up to read business and economics at university. To get his own back he dropped out and volunteered for the army. They couldn’t stop him,’ Clara Calvi recollected.
In 1939, a year before Italy joined the Second World War on the side of Nazi Germany, Calvi enrolled at Pinerolo, a prestigious military academy near Turin where cavalry officers underwent their initial training. He had opted for the Novara lancers, an aristocratic regiment where he would again be rubbing shoulders with the social elite. A fondness for the nobility would remain with him throughout his life and would be responsible for the generous sprinkling of aristocrats on the Banco Ambrosiano board in later years: there were three counts and a marquis under Calvi’s chairmanship.
Calvi was a lifelong conservative but the anti-communism he professed in later years was more of a sop to his powerful sponsors than a fervently held personal belief. At university he had signed up for the student fascist association, lending a hand to support its propaganda activities. ‘We were all fascists then,’ said Clara
3
God’s Banker
Roberto Calvi was ideally suited for membership of a secret society . . . and made its perfect victim too. A man with deep-seated insecurities, from a relatively humble background, it helped that he believed the world was run by conspiracies. Without a powerful patron – a
santo in paradiso –
one could not expect to get anywhere in the shark-infested waters of Italian finance, he was convinced. Of the Italy of the 1970s and 1980s, the period when his career was approaching its apex, with its nepotism and ubiquitous political patronage, he was not wholly wrong.
Roberto Calvi was born in Milan on 13 April 1920. His father, Giacomo Calvi, came from the village of Tremenico in the Valtellina, an Alpine valley running north towards the Swiss border from Lake Como. His mother, Maria Rubini, was born in Venice but her family too hailed originally from Tremenico. Despite the move to Milan, the Calvi family retained the dour, canny, austere qualities of mountain folk. Giacomo Calvi’s successful career at the Banca Commerciale Italiana, Milan’s largest bank, did little to change that.
As a small child Roberto was difficult and trouble-prone, often involved in fights with other children. At school he was a bright student who rounded out his pocket money by doing homework for fellow pupils, his widow Clara recalled many years later. ‘His parents were rather mean. With the money he earned he used to go riding at San Siro [a Milan suburb,now home to the city’s football stadium]. All his friends were rich.’ 1 Roberto studied at the smart Cesare Beccaria secondary school, mastering Latin and Ancient Greek and showing a flair for modern languages – French and German – too. His natural diffidence was increased by his mother’s insistence that he wear ‘sensible clothes’, which marked him out from his fashionably dressed young contemporaries. In later years she would disapprove of her attractive daughter-in-law’s taste for elegant apparel. Roberto moved on to the prestigious Bocconi university, but dropped out before taking a degree. ‘He wanted to become a lawyer, but his parents signed him up to read business and economics at university. To get his own back he dropped out and volunteered for the army. They couldn’t stop him,’ Clara Calvi recollected.
In 1939, a year before Italy joined the Second World War on the side of Nazi Germany, Calvi enrolled at Pinerolo, a prestigious military academy near Turin where cavalry officers underwent their initial training. He had opted for the Novara lancers, an aristocratic regiment where he would again be rubbing shoulders with the social elite. A fondness for the nobility would remain with him throughout his life and would be responsible for the generous sprinkling of aristocrats on the Banco Ambrosiano board in later years: there were three counts and a marquis under Calvi’s chairmanship.
Calvi was a lifelong conservative but the anti-communism he professed in later years was more of a sop to his powerful sponsors than a fervently held personal belief. At university he had signed up for the student fascist association, lending a hand to support its propaganda activities. ‘We were all fascists then,’ said Clara
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