Nearly 100-year-old Dante monument's connection to Belle Isle is somewhat obscure

One of the beauties of public art is that it both tells us who we are and reminds us of who we were.

Backtrack a century, and we were irate about a bust of the great poet Dante Alighieri, ordered in tribute by a largely immigrant Italian American population.

Retreat to Thursday on Belle Isle, and people were jubilant over the refurbishing of a better bust, a finished project unveiled with a mayoral proclamation and an authentic Italian Carabinieri officer in a majestic plumed hat.

Dante, generally known in English by his first name, now reigns above the corner of Vista and Central avenues with his restored white head and shoulders atop a new, light gray pedestal and base.

As for his somewhat obscure connection to the park, it's tied to the likeness nobody liked — meaning the original bust was a bust — and then a replacement that was much better, but too big.

He represents metro Detroit's vibrant Italian American community, said Allegra Baistrocchi, the Consul of Italy in Detroit, and symbolizes Italy's rich culture.

He also harkens silently to more difficult times for many ethnic groups in the city — and fortuitously, he is not Christopher Columbus, which means he's unlikely to be splashed with paint or yanked to the ground.

That's a lot to connect to a sunlit two-hour celebration near a picnic area and the Detroit River, but Dante is a towering figure even when he's not chiseled in marble, and it took a fair amount of love and money to return him to glory.

Italy's writer and uniter

A good place to start explaining everything is Dante himself, a writer and philosopher who was born in 1265 in Florence and died at 56 in Ravenna, 703 years ago Saturday.

He is mostly revered for "The Divine Comedy," a narrative poem that famously outlined the nine circles of hell. Aside from being brilliant, it was written in Italian, at a time when serious thoughts were expected to be expressed in Latin.

More: Belle Isle welcomes back Detroit Goodfellows founder statue

More: Bone cancer survivor swims across Belle Isle to raise money for research

"He is the father of the Italian language," said Lia Adelfi, 64, of West Bloomfield, the president of the Dante Alighieri Society of Michigan. "He unified Italy before it was really unified."

Her booster organization for Italian culture helped foot a bill of nearly $100,000 for the pedestal, base and restoration, joined by the Societa Dante Alighieri mother ship in Rome, the consulate and private donors.

They were proud to do it, she said, for a piece of history with a history.

Back in 1921, when Italians here were still struggling for respect, they raised money for a likeness of Dante to be placed in the main branch of the Detroit Public Library. Whether blame lay with prominent Italian sculptor Carlo Rivalta or squabbles among committees, when the artwork arrived, it was rejected.

A replacement carved by another Italian, Raffaello Romanelli, was accepted in 1925, but it was too large for the display space and was shuffled into storage. The city planning commission finally saw the light — or la luce, if you prefer — and approved the spot on Belle Isle two years later.

Monuments to pride

Dante's position on the island has become a nice piece of real estate, visible from four directions. Across Central Avenue, a former hero of Detroit's German population has grown obscure and obscured.

Influential writer Johann von Schiller was cast in bronze after a fundraising campaign the year before Ford launched the Model T. "Erected by citizens of German descent, Detroit, Mich., 1907," says the inscription carved into the pedestal.

Tucked in a grassy alcove with a brown slat fence as a backdrop, Schiller is easier to miss than notice. But he served his purpose as a point of pride and legitimacy for a population working to be respected.

Former Detroit Historical Museum curator Joel Stone once referred to dueling monuments as genial ethnic jousting. The Germans bankrolled Schiller, and in 1910, Italians commissioned a bronze bust of Columbus, amid complaints from some donors that he deserved an entire statue.

Back then, students were still being told he discovered America. By the summer of 2020, when Black Lives Matter protests were roiling America, Columbus had been reevaluated.

Someone draped a red-on-white placard around the neck of his monument near the Detroit-Windsor Tunnel: "Looter. Rapist. Slave trader." The artwork was hauled into storage, and later donated to a local Italian American group.

Baistrocchi, the consul, is diplomatic on the subject. Columbus gets mischaracterized, she suggested, as the ultimate old white male.

As for Columbus Day, she said, Americans forget that President Benjamin Harrison instituted the first one, albeit only for 1892, as a peace offering after 11 Italian immigrants were lynched in New Orleans and Italy cut off relations with the United States.

Still, Dante and Detroit are safer subjects.

Building for the future

Baistrocchi, 44, arrived in Detroit in 2021 with a 4-year-old and an infant. The infant is now 3, and can speak to one grandparent in English and then translate what he said in Italian for the other.

She and her husband, Fabio, also have a baby boy — "Made in Detroit," she said.

She requested a posting here, she said, after four years in Sri Lanka, where the museum of design was closed for renovations for her entire stay.

In Detroit, she loves the culture. The DIA with its Italian masters. The DSO with its Italian music director, Jader Bignamini. The old buildings like the Fisher, Guardian and Masonic, with their embellishments by architectural sculptor Corrado Parducci.

And then there's Belle Isle, where her first official event was a 700-year commemoration of Dante's demise, back when the bust was stained and the supports were pitted.

"Unfortunately," she said, when the original base and pedestal were broken apart, "there was no hidden treasure."

There wasn't even a time capsule, and darn it, she didn't think to include one in the new construction.

But the good news — la buona notizia — is, "We feel confident that it should be around another hundred years."

Someone can fill a box then, with a note: Remember Dante, and remember to open in 2224.

Neal Rubin and consul Allegra Baistrocchi share a fondness for SheWolf Pastificio in Detroit, where the cuisine reminds her of her native Rome. She'll rotate home in 2025, which gives her a year to try his favorite, Giovanni's Ristorante. Reach Neal at NARubin@freepress.com.

This article originally appeared on Detroit Free Press: Dante Alighieri bust on Belle Isle gets renewed: History of monument