The Lost Legend of the Little Church of Saint Nicholas in Turi, a Memory of Stone and Voice

Just a few metres from the Marchesale Castle of Turi, there once stood a small stone chapel dedicated to Saint Nicholas of Bari. Today it no longer exists, having been demolished in 1970 to make way for a small square. Yet around that spot, which the locals called "the little chapel of Saint Nicholas," history and legend intertwine.

According to popular tradition, inside the chapel there was a fresco depicting Saint Nicholas. Whenever, through neglect or attempts to erase it, someone covered the image with lime, the saint’s figure would reappear, as if insisting on maintaining his presence among the community. This story nurtured centuries of devotion and the mysterious allure surrounding this sacred place.

Documented evidence also survives. A record from 1606 describes the building as “renovated but lacking an altar and images.” In 1659, further documents attest to restoration work aimed at restoring the small temple’s liturgical function. For a long time, the apse — the so-called “scarsella” — preserved the fresco of Saint Nicholas, accompanied until the 1960s by an image of the Virgin Mary.

Over the centuries, the chapel lost its original purpose. Converted into a private residence, it later served as a cellar and storage space. In the 1960s, it was owned by Rocco Rizzi, a wine producer, and subsequently by a florist, Andrea Di Pinto. In 1970, amid the wave of urban modernisation, the ancient building was demolished without any historical surveys or archaeological investigations.

The loss did not end with its demolition. When the area, renamed “Larghetto di San Nicola,” was repaved in 2003, no preliminary studies were conducted that might have uncovered artefacts or traces of the original structure. A double missed opportunity that still leaves local history enthusiasts with a sense of regret.

Today, all that remains of the little chapel of Saint Nicholas is memory: preserved in archival documents, historical studies, and above all in the voices of Turi residents who passed down the legend of the miraculous image. A fragile memory, at risk of fading, yet kept alive by those who continue to tell its story, transforming a forgotten corner of the town into a symbol of identity and devotion.