The death of Marcela Giorgi, the iconic Radio Mitre broadcaster, brought back to the present one of the love stories that marked her life: the one she shared for eight years with Mario Mazzone, a journalist for TN and El Trece, who died in May 2007. They had met in the corridors of a radio station, almost by chance, and built a relationship threaded with humor, complicity, and the small, daily gestures.
Giorgi passed away this Saturday, October 31, at 61. In the past months she had stepped away from the microphones due to illness. The news was announced live during a broadcast with Adriana Verón, when Mariel Di Lenarda, a journalist and friend of the host, confirmed it on air.
With her passing, the memory of that bond with Mazzone resurfaced, a relationship that began in 1999 and ended abruptly eight years later, when the journalist died at the age of 48.
A compliment during a radio handoff and a coffee that changed everything
The story began in the spring of 1999, when they both worked at FM Horizonte. Marcela hosted Music and News, from 7 to 9 a.m., and Mario arrived afterward to continue the programming. In that everyday exchange, between the end of one show and the start of the next, the first approach was born.
According to Giorgi, Mazzone looked at her fixedly and it didn’t take long for him to let her know that he liked her. She rejected him, though she acknowledged that she had liked his attitude. He then decided to approach from another angle: he became a friend and gradually won ground.
Until one day, before going on vacation, he whispered a line that she would always remember: “Do you know how I would split your mouth with a kiss right now?” When Mario returned, Marcela agreed to have a coffee at the Costa Salguero drive-through. That meeting was the beginning of their relationship.
In the early days, Mazzone had a gesture that moved her: when Marcela would leave his apartment, he would pull out a handwritten sign that read “T love you.” “And as soon as I left, I already missed him,” the announcer recalled.
She had also kept another line he said at the start of the relationship: “I’m looking for a woman, but a serious woman.”
Humor, travels and the nicknames they shared
Both had Italian roots and, as Marcela had explained, when they argued they could do so with intensity. But they also reconciled with the same passion: “When we reconciled, we did so with everything,” she had said, between tears and a smile.
Of Mario, what had most captivated her was his sense of humor. “He was always very witty,” she described. He also liked to joke about his preference for dark-haired, strong-willed women: “Why do you think I chose Marce?” he would say.
Mazzone had played rugby at Gimnasia y Esgrima de Buenos Aires and had an imposing build. Later he left that sport for golf, a passion that he eventually shared with Marcela. He called her Muñequex; she called him Mi amor, Negro or Tiger, in reference to his love of that sport.
Born in San Telmo, Mario was, according to Giorgi, “simple, a good son, a good father, and he adapted to any circumstance.” She also remembered, with humor, that he was flirtatious: “He was a real Lothario. He was always flirting… sometimes he took advantage of his looks to please others.”
When they could escape from their work commitments, they traveled together. Rio de Janeiro was one of their favorite destinations. “It has that special climate that always makes you feel optimistic,” Marcela had said. For Mario, however, there was a summer get-together that could not be missed: Miramar, where he met up with his lifelong friends.
Among the announcer’s fondest memories was a handwritten dedication he had given her: “I love you, with you I am happy.”
Mario Mazzone’s illness and an unexpected farewell
In July 2006, Mario began to feel hip pain. Tests led to a cancer diagnosis. During that period, Marcela stayed by his side, accompanying him along with the journalist’s daughters, Florencia and Lucía, his mother —whom everyone called Bochita— and his sister.
“He never showed weakness,” Giorgi recalled. And she described how he tried to project calm: “He drew strength from anywhere. He told me: ‘Muñequex, tomorrow I’ll have a transfusion and in a couple of days they’ll give me iron.’ He had everything planned and a strong will to get well.”
On Sunday May 20, 2007, Mazzone had hosted his program Mirá vos on Radio Continental without incident. Afterwards he drove to Pilar Golf, where he planned to play. He bought golf balls and, as they were heading toward the course, he collapsed.
“He couldn’t even tell me ‘I feel ill’. Nothing,” Marcela recalled. Two friends who were with them, one of them a doctor, tried to assist him. An ambulance arrived as well, but they could not save him. Mazzone died that same day, at 48 years old. According to Giorgi’s account, he had suffered a thrombosis in one leg, linked to the cancer treatment he was receiving.
The death of Mario left a void that Marcela carried with her for the rest of her life. Nevertheless, when she spoke of him, she also chose to recover the happiness of those years and the imprint he had left on her story.
“I can’t believe he’s no longer by my side,” she had said. And she ended that memory with a line that today takes on a special meaning: “I will always carry Mario in my heart, until we meet again. When I am very, very sad, I take comfort knowing that he was the man of my life, the one who made me live the best years.”
