Personal Profile:
Claudio Vianello: Park City Pilot
At the June dinner meeting of the Italian American Civic League Men’s Chapter, a new face appeared across the way. One of two guests, accompanied by Italian Vice Consul Giovanni Maschero, the handsome fellow introduced himself as Claudio Vianello. “You know, I have owned a home in Park City for twenty-three years and did not know of this organization,” he admitted. Well, now he does. Vianello represents a number of fairly recently arrived Italian-born and Italian Americans who, for a multitude of reasons, call Utah home, yet remain unaware of the Italian presence in the Beehive state. His story provides yet another look at the continued italianita` in Utah.
In Claudio’s own words:
Born in Venezia on 15 September 1942. My father was a sea captain with the "Adriatica" based in Zattere, Venice. On 24 September 1942, shortly after weighing anchor out of Rhodes, his ship, "Il Fiume" crossed paths with the only submarine in the Greek navy. although a civil ship, the "Fiume" was sent to the bottom. At that time, Mussolini insisted that all civil ships carry armaments, making them legitimate military targets. Virtually all passengers and crew perished.
In 1949, my mother married an Italian American in Venice. We immigrated to the U.S. in 1950 and took residence in New York. I graduated from the Manhattan High School of Aviation Trades" and then went on to college at U.N.M. majoring in physics. During my second year at U.N.M. I was accepted for flight training by the U.S. Marines at Pensacola, Florida. Received my wings and commission December 1963 and was assigned to the 3d Marine Air Wing at El Toro, California. In December, 1964 my squadron was rotated to Da‑Nang air base in the northern part of Viet Nam. I flew 203 missions out of there and also did some carrier flying off the "U.S.S. Iwo Jima." I was downed twice during the tour of duty and earned several decorations.
After my release from the Marine Corps, I was accepted by American Airlines. I retired at age 53 with thirty years of service. I have flown the Boeing 707, 727, 757, 767, the BAC1‑11, and the Douglas MD‑80 and DC‑10. My last five years were spent exclusively over the North Atlantic, mostly flying the Milan to Chicago route.
I have owned a home in Park City for twenty-three years. It is now for sale and it is my intention to relocate back to Italy, probably Verona. Never been married and would now like to change that with a woman that speaks the language and loves opera!
One story told to this writer by Claudio, tells of another Italian visitor to Utah.
To the best of my recollection, the flight was late spring/early summer of 1992. I was the Captain on A.A. flight 95 from MXP (Milan, Malpensa) to ORD (Chicago). Just south of Iceland, one of my Italian speaking flight attendants came up to the cockpit to inform me that the presence of a passenger in coach was causing quite a stir. She asked if I knew who "A. Tomba" was. At the time, I was an active "Master" ski racer. Only Luciano Pavarroti's presence had gotten me more excited several years earlier.
I instructed her to immediately upgrade him and his travel companion to First Class, and extended an invitation to visit the cockpit. After about twenty minutes, Alberto had still not appeared in the "front office." I asked the flight attendant about the delay. She informed me that Signor Tomba was sneaking a smoke in one of the lavatories. In time, he did appear and thanked me for the upgrade. He seemed a bit embarrassed about the coach accommodations, and vowed to bring it to the attention of his agent back in Bologna.
I “pretended” to give him a little "stick time" as he is a licensed helicopter pilot. Not a humble man, he remarked about is flying skills. I never told him I left the autopilot engaged. He gave me some tips on giant slalom, some unsolicited autographed photos, and returned to the cabin. Before landing, I had the First Officer make arrangements for a V.I.P. representative to meet the flight and whisk him through immigration/customs. The next day, I read he had been arrested for speeding in a Ferrari in Key Biscayne, Florida.
I have seen him in Park City on several occasions since our encounter, when he was on the World Cup circuit. This past season, now retired, he was at Deer Valley for a fund‑raiser. He challenged all comers on the hill. No one came close to his time.
Alberto Tomba is probably the best thing to ever happen to ski racing. The sport misses his presence. There is no one around at this time that can match his charm, talent, and libido.
Thanks for your memories, Signor Vianello, and hope your relocation to Verona proves successful. Ci vediamo!