In England it was a symbol of cowardice, in the United States of courage. In many cases it rewarded pacifism, in others it punished it. In short, everything and the opposite of everything. But the nickname "White Feather" attributed to Angelo Conterno has a much simpler meaning: it indicated that streak of white hair in the center of hair wavy from thousands of kilometers pedaled as an amateur and professional. When he continued to pedal as a veteran, with the title and jersey of world champion, Conterno was no longer White Feather but, now gray-haired, was rather a White Head, or better yet, a Candid Head.

Angelo Conterno was candid. Candid in soul. A gentleman. And there was no rider in the group who did not uphold his nobility, who did not recognize his generosity, who did not admire his purity of spirit. From Turin, born in 1925, a year ago—with the simplicity and reserve he would have greatly valued—the centenary of his birth was celebrated. Raised with football, converted to cycling, first in the Uisp then in the Uvi, finally turning professional at 25 after only a year and a half of racing, Conterno proved to be a complete rider. Not one of those, as riders joke, who go slow everywhere, but one you never drop from your wheel. On the flat or in stage races, climbing or in breakaways, Conterno was a "tough dog", a definition that sounds derogatory, yet in cycling it is a compliment.

Fifteen years as a professional plus a prologue as an independent, sixteen victories, the first Italian to conquer the Vuelta (it was 1956, seventy years ago, for more details https://www.tuttobiciweb.it/article/2025/09/06/1756656634/ciclismo-storia-del-ciclismo-vuelta-1956-angelo-conterno), the White Feather of cycling seemed to improve by turning white, that is, by aging, which in his case meant making experience count. But often, on the verge of victory, he stumbled into bad luck. In 1959 bad luck struck hard. Tour of Tuscany, finish in Florence, sprint on the Cascine track, Conterno was pushed onto the grass by Rino Benedetti, he protested, was classified second behind Adriano Zamboni. Milan-Vignola, 50 meters from the finish line, clearly in first place, he saw a police motorcycle officer fall, he braked, finished fourth, with Zamboni winning again. Tour of Lazio, valid as the Italian championship, sprint of four with Ercole Baldini, Diego Ronchini and the usual Zamboni, 20 meters from the finish line, once again clearly in first place, his path was cut off by a photographer, he instinctively braked, finished third, then the inevitable impact, him with 15 stitches, the photographer in critical condition and Ronchini as national champion.

The most convincing recognition—a sort of Nobel Prize, more than an Oscar, of cycling—is the one that his friend Nino Defilippis told Gino Sala of L'Unità (and Tuttobici): "The Gran Premio Valperga was being contested, a classic of amateur racing that I cared deeply about. Always in a breakaway, always in the lead despite five punctures. At the sixth breakdown I was caught by Conterno who handed me his tubular tire. Two of us toward the finish line. I didn't want to win, I wanted my breakaway companion to take the victory because of his gesture of generosity, but he was careful not to contest the sprint. With everything that's happened to you, this race must be yours, he told me. And he followed his words with actions, conceding me the victory without the slightest resistance".

(end of first installment – to be continued)