The bar is close to Parco delle Basiliche. I thought it would be nice for young people to have a place when they can get a cheap beer to enjoy the park and the square, Rattazzo said. "Especially in the summers, who wants to drink inside four walls?"

The idea was a hit. Rattazzo added panino and meatballs to the menu. Artists and journalists living in Ticinese also began coming to eat and discuss political issues. They were known collectively as theGioventú Bruciata, or Wasted Youth, a reference to the Italian title for the 1950 film Rebel Without a Cause. These students and workers began challenging the status quo in both employment and education. In 1968 and 1969, it came to a head when students occupied universities and workers led strikes across the north, a time now referred to as the Hot Autumn.

By 1971, Bar Rattazzo was well known as the unofficial speakeasy of Milan’s far-left movement. Throughout the ‘70s, anarchists, socialists, and communists met to write manifestos over beers and cheap eats. Revolutionary writer Mario Capanna, street artist Davide Tinelli and Anarcho-punk author Primo Moroni are just a few of the legendary Ticinese residents who became regulars at Bar Rattazzo.

As the 1970s came to a close, the idealism of the era lost focus during the heroin epidemic of the late ‘70s and early ‘80s. The parks and piazzas near Bar Rattazzo became increasingly dangerous; muggings were a constant concern. Most famously, the fugitive gangster Renato Vallanzasca, “Il Bel René” (the pretty boy Renè) began to lurk in Parco delle Basiliche, bringing with him the air of lawlessness that permeated the time.

Junkies were snatching necklaces right outside my shop. It was a scary time. Things are much better now, Rattazzo said.

In response, the city closed parks after sunset and the once youthful surroundings were cloaked in the shadow of drugs and crime. Without a place to congregate, the neighbourhood lost its centre and students were forced to move from one place to another as cops and criminals harassed them after dark. It wasn’t until the 1990s that drug use declined and crime was brought under control.

In the early 2000s, Italian brands like Armani and Dolce & Gabbana saw Ticinese as a place to market to young people. They tried to buy out storeowners in hopes of turning the main street, Corso di Porta Ticinese, into a fashion hub. Rattazzo was approached by both to sell his shop and refused. He finally relented and sold the store to the now defunct fashion brand, Guru, moving his shop in the alley Via Vetere, a few metres closer to the park.

I never plan to close or retire. Being around young people keeps me young. That’s why I’m still here, Rattazzo said.

Nowadays, the neighbourhood, once a mecca of the Milanese left, is filled with families and tourists. Chinese immigrants have revitalized the area with restaurants and bars. Armani and Dolce & Gabbana have moved on, but in their place are younger fashion brands like Carhartt and Camper. The young people are still here, too, hanging out on the steps of the Piazza della Vetra and drinking cheap beers on the lawn of Parco delle Basiliche. Most are unaware that the old man selling beers from the small bar in the alley is a legend, who fostered the atmosphere of freedom they now enjoy.