By Anietie anii-bassey
When Mario Gargiulo boarded a train from Naples to attend the 1956 Winter Olympics in Cortina d’Ampezzo, he was a 20-year-old driven by curiosity and a desire to see something beyond the familiar horizons of southern Italy.
He could not have imagined that seven decades later he would once again find himself at the heart of the Olympic Games — this time not as a wide-eyed spectator, but as the oldest volunteer of the Milan Cortina Winter Olympics and a featured participant in the closing ceremony in Verona.
Now 89, Gargiulo has earned the affectionate nickname “King of the Volunteers” after becoming one of the first of 18,000 people to sign up to help stage the 2026 Games. On Sunday evening, he is set to take the stage at the historic Verona Arena, just steps from his home, playing a prominent role in the closing ceremony.
“To be part of it is incredible,” Gargiulo said earlier in the day, reflecting on the journey that brought him back to the Olympic spotlight. “I’ll wake up tomorrow and I’ll be wondering what happened to me. It’s beyond imagination.”
Earlier in the evening, he joined warm-up presenters addressing spectators as they filtered into the ancient Roman amphitheater. Speaking about his memories of the 1956 Games in Cortina d’Ampezzo, he painted a picture of a very different Olympic landscape.
“Cortina in 1956 was a mountain village,” he told the gathering crowd. “Now the Games are spread out in Bormio, Milan and other places. But the spirit has not changed. There is the same sporting enthusiasm.”
In 1956, Cortina was still largely a quiet alpine retreat, known mainly among Italy’s elite. The Olympics transformed it, gradually turning it into an international destination often referred to as the “Queen of the Dolomites.” For Gargiulo, the experience was transformative on a personal level as well.
At the time, he had never traveled north of Rome. Compelled by what he described as a sudden desire to do something extraordinary, he made the journey alone after failing to persuade friends to accompany him. Money was tight; he could only afford an unheated room during the winter chill and slept wearing every layer of clothing he had brought.
Yet discomfort faded in the face of wonder. He remembers being captivated by the sight of flags from around the world and the energy of competition. Watching figure skating and speedskating events, he felt the unifying force of sport.
“I was astounded because seeing all these flags, people of different countries,” he recalled. “Sport is a common tie for everybody. And after a while, even if you don’t know anything about the sport you’re watching, the competition, you become a fan.”
His affection for Cortina endured. After marrying an American woman, the couple chose the alpine town for their honeymoon, returning to the place where his Olympic connection began.
Gargiulo’s life would take him far beyond Italy. He enlisted in the U.S. Army, eventually rising to the rank of captain before becoming a U.S. citizen. Over a 27-year military career, his linguistic skills saw him stationed across the United States and deployed to Korea, Vietnam, Germany and Russia. He retired in 1994 as a lieutenant colonel, having led what he describes as a globe-spanning life.
When he volunteered for the 2026 Winter Games, he hoped he might be assigned to Cortina or Milan, reliving his earlier experience in the alpine setting where it all began. Instead, organizers had something else in mind. After receiving notice that he would remain in Verona, he wrote to them, asking for reconsideration.
“They said, ‘We have a different plan for you,’” Gargiulo said with a smile. That plan turned out to be a starring role in the closing ceremony — a symbolic bridge between two eras of Olympic history.
Throughout the Games, he followed key moments closely, including Italian Alpine skier Federica Brignone’s super-G triumph, achieved just months after she had broken multiple bones in her left leg. He also kept track of speedskating and freestyle skiing events, maintaining the same enthusiasm he first felt 70 years ago.
Standing on the brink of another Olympic memory, Gargiulo acknowledges that age has slowed his physical pace. “My pace, my tempo, has slowed down a bit,” he said. “But my heartbeat is still the same.”
As the Olympic flame prepares to be extinguished in Verona, Gargiulo’s presence on stage serves as a reminder of the enduring power of the Games — not only to crown champions, but to connect generations.
From a young man sleeping in a freezing room in 1956 to an 89-year-old volunteer honored before a global audience, his journey embodies the continuity of the Olympic spirit across time.
Original article
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