My Intimate Journey Into Taylor Caldwell's Life: The Famous Writer From Buffalo New York

CHRYSOULA GIOULI ANGELOU ARRIVED IN U.S. FROM GREECE 1973

In 1973 I arrived in Jacksonville, Florida from, Athens, Greece, as a guest of Commander and Mrs. Sourbeers, who lived in the officer's quarters' at the Naval Air Station. A few weeks after my arrival I accompanied Commander and Mrs. Sourbeer to a formal cocktail party at the Naval Officers Club. As we opened the heavily trimmed brass door the room was filled with people greeting each other, handshakes and kisses. Many of the Navy wives were from foreign countries. They knew each other well.

Everyone was stylishly dressed as they gracefully moved from one group to another with bright smiles. My ears were filled with, Oh, how are you? How are the children? I love your dress, you look so elegant. As the guests mingled, it seemed as though diamonds, rubies, aquamarines, and sapphires sparkled all over the room. The fragrance of expensive perfumes permeated the air, mixed with the aroma of Cuban cigars and pipe tobacco. The men were so handsome, like Greek gods.

I chatted with everyone the woman next to me said, Hello, my name is Elizabeth and my escort is Mr. Jim Lairdy, and we just love your Greek dress, but you should be wearing something from Germany. No, I replied, I am Greek.

Oh, my goodness, I would have never guessed!

As we talked the liquor flowed freely and hors d'oeuvres were served by waiters. Veiled voices, mixed with ripples of laughter, were studded with an occasional muffled sneeze or cough. As we had another drink, Mr. Lairdy put his arm around my waist, I like the European people, he said, but only the first generation that came to this country with their own special customs and ideologies, They were an emotional people, more sympathetic and generous, friendlier, hospitable, hardworking, trustworthy and family oriented. After a time, they cut the Gordian knot and became Americanized, more selfish, money-hungry, angry. This is the opium of the American life to everyone who comes here. It is after they change attitudes that I lose interest in their unique personalities.

I was delighted with his compliments and managed a small smile. Bending down, he softly whispered in my ear,

Soula, what is your profession?

I am in the cosmetics business.

Where did you study?

I studied in Stuttgart, Germany, and sculpting in England. "

Oh, this is why you look German!"

I smiled mischievously, 'No, no. I am Greek." I could tell that he did not believe me.

Have you traveled to any other countries?

Of course, I've been to Italy, Switzerland, France, Sweden, Holland, Yugoslavia, Bulgaria and England. Which country do you love more?

I think every country has its own magic. I loved them all. Each has its own aroma that separated it from the others."

The conversation then turned to more personal matters, their private lives, their children, mothers-in-law and finances. The main topic centered around where they had obtained their last bargain, be it clothes, food, furniture, etc.

I heard all about their families in less than twenty minutes. I was shocked with the openness. This was an American trait. I was a little hesitant, but adopted quickly to this new custom.

I asked him softly, What is your profession? I'm in the real estate business with Everett Stancell. He took a trip around the world for three months alone. Even he was married to a young French woman with two small children. On the ship, he met a widow that lost her husband, Marcus Reback, on August 13th 1970, at age eighty-one. She traveled with her daughter Peggy.

Everett and Taylor Caldwell's friendship developed very quickly that upon their return he divorced his French wife and married on June 17th, at 72 years of age, to Taylor Caldwell who was 70.

For their honeymoon, Taylor Caldwell and Everett went on the three-month cruise around the world on the same ship that they had met.

Putting his arm around my shoulder, he said, Soula, I have an idea. I think you would be the best and priceless person to stay with Mrs. Caldwell because we don't know what to do with her. She has nobody here except the old Everett. You will rescue us and harmonize the dirty situation before it starts conflict between them. He smiled smugly at his idea, and he said to me in my ear, It was designed by destiny because the first time I escorted Elizabeth to the cocktail party and I met you. His words made me think the following speaks for itself and tells its own tale.

I was surprised, such a strange place, this America anything can happen and everything goes so fast! Suddenly, I was reminded of the words of Aristotle, Everything happens for a reason whether we like it or not.

I told him I would think about his offer and would let him know about my decision. Two weeks later the Sourbeers took me to meet with Mr. Lairdy at the Caldwell home which was located at 2402 Captain Hook Drive, Holiday Harbor, Porte Verta. There was an abundance of flowers, including petunias, begonias and roses, in various shades of red. There were many windows which faced the street and a white marble lion stood on either side of front entrance of the house.

As I rang the doorbell it was answered by a tall Heavy lady. She introduced herself as Kalina.

Upon entering, I felt that I was visiting a museum because my eyes noticed so many oversized and exquisite places. The huge hall had a red and white mosaic floor with several red oriental rugs of different sizes.

On the left side of the hall stood a large Grandfather clock, and a priceless Chinese vase at least five feet high. A few steps further revealed an enormous red Japanese screen covered with large delicately carved and lacquered jade pieces depicting different poses of geisha girls.

On the right side of the hall, standing on a tall white marble pedestal was a marble statue of the Goddess Aphrodite. It looked very old and expensive.

Strolling down the hall, Kalina pointed to our right saying. This is the breakfast room and the kitchen. The windows looked out over the front yard. Directly to her left, she descended two steps and said, This is the sitting room. It was filled with oriental furniture.

From the sitting room, we followed Kalina down the hallway, which opened into a huge living room where Mr. Lairdy was waiting to greet us. Mrs. Sourbeers asked, Please, could we see the rest of the house before we sit down? He was more than happy to give us a tour.

Certainly, and we can start right here in the living room. Mrs. Caldwell likes to entertain. Her husband, to please her, made this bar. It was fully stocked with costly spirits and cocktail glasses of all shapes and sizes.

On the far wall there was a red brick fireplace. Over that was a large family portrait of a middle-aged couple and a young girl. The young, beautiful girl strongly resembled the man.

An elaborate, large, shimmering crystal chandelier hung over the dining table. On the right wall, was a matching mahogany buffet. Hanging above it was an old, priceless original painting by Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1669-1770), titled Jeremiah the Prophet.

We proceeded to Mrs. Caldwell's writing room. We were amazed to find the room was very plain and medium sized, about nine by twelve. The furniture was old, but well kept. Giving us just a quick glimpse of the room he said, 'This room isn't very much to look at" and he closed the door.

He then guided us to Mrs. Caldwell's bedroom. As we glanced into the room, we could see it was the largest bedroom in the house, papered in a pattern of light pink ribbons.

We then went out the sliding door to the yard. There was a profusion of trees, shrubs and lilac bushes surrounding the house. We walked to the edge of the huge swimming pool where two large trees shaded the left side. A beautiful garden surrounded each side of the pool with colorful roses.

We thanked Mr. Lairdy for his tour of the house. Kalina served us coffee, and when we finished we left.

Two days later, I telephoned Mr. Lairdy to tell him that I would accept his offer. "I am so glad to hear this. I will be very glad to send George to pick you up tomorrow morning.

I'm leaving today to spend some time with my family. Kalina will be leaving to stay with her family for one week. Therefore, you'll be on your own until Mrs. Caldwell arrives. Her husband will be staying in New York for a while, to take care of her business."

Seems to me that destiny loomed for me in the distance. Even the Greeks believe in Moira or Kismet.

On Saturday morning, George came to pick me up. Before long we were at the house.

Despite the oppressive heat outside, the inside of the house was comfortable. I felt very strange due to the vast emptiness of the house and the unfamiliar silence surrounding me.

I found myself standing in front of the door that opened into the writing room. Heavily lined green drapes were closed tightly so that no sunlight came through. After turning on the lights I stood motionless. A large old mahogany desk dominated the room.

On top were a few scattered pencils, a pack of Benson and Hedges cigarettes, an ash tray and few matchbooks. On the right corner lay few books and in the middle there was a round stone grayish color, much like a tennis ball. A long low table sat in front of the desk with a variety of books; Greek version, German version, and one-of the books was Alle Macht Dieser Weld, Einer Gibt Antword, Melissa, even in Sweden, Paulos de Jeeuw Gods.

There were three Bibles in different sizes, with gold designs on the right side of the desk was a typing table and on it sat a large old gray Royal typewriter. Next to the table stood a tall lamp, covered with an aged round, off-white shade. An old secretarial chair with cracked, green leather upholstery sat in the corner. Next to her typewriter there was an opened large Oxford dictionary with very tiny letters. It was so new looking that it appeared to me as if it had never been used. The other stand revealed a large bible depicting colorful scenes of the life of Christ.

The Psalms of David were separated by a red satin marker on the desk upon which was embroidered in gold thread, the sign of the cross. Behind the stands was a bookcase filled with books of all kinds including encyclopedias, history books, novels, etc.

There were many honorary diplomas and literary awards from various countries displayed on the walls. Across from her desk, near the doorway hung an eight by ten portrait of a man, about sixty, fair in color with straight hair and a long nose, standing very tall and erect. I remember thinking that this was probably her father because the clothing was of another era. Surprising, she did not seem to have a picture of her mother. There were various rosaries on the tables. Some were Mother-of Pearl, some of wood, and others made of crystal.

All of the items were well kept. It was in those simple surroundings she created all her novels. I was impressed with its simplicity. I wanted to learn more about her, her personality, tastes, likes and dislikes, her peculiarities and idiosyncrasies as well as her character. From what I had observed of the room, I thought her to be a devout Catholic and an extremely neat person. She was obviously tied to her past.

As I walked out of the writing room I entered the living room. What a contrast! I looked over everything carefully. It was very tastefully furnished and cheerful.

As I locked into the garden through the sliding doors I could see beds of full, opened red roses surrounding each side of the pool like fields of fire. I thought that red must be her favorite color. If this were true, she must also have a very volcanic personality. I felt I had found more clues to Mrs. Caldwell's character.

Once again, I stood by the bar curiosity overcame me. I could not help but wonder how many varieties of liquor were stocked. I counted over thirty different kinds of liquor cordials, etc. There were no Greek liquors at all. I visualized men and women of high society flocking around the bar, filling their glasses with drinks; their diamonds, rubies and sapphires sparkling as they lifted their glasses, spreading excitement and laughter, perhaps dancing and exchanging animated intellectual conversation. It was as if I could almost smell the exotic, expensive colognes and perfumes of the men and women. I smiled with pleasure.

Darkness had begun to fall. Everywhere there was silence. No cars in the street, no barking dogs. It was so quiet and serene that I could hear myself breathing.

Pleasurable scenes began to roll before my eyes. I could see myself, Mrs. Caldwell and her husband, sitting in these comfortable brown leather swivel chairs and conversing about her books as well as drinking Ouzo. It was all so very exciting!

I felt overtired and lonesome. I walked to my bedroom and tried to sleep. Every attempt was useless. I tried watching television and was very disappointed to learn that it was an old, black and white-set. Every inch of the house held its own story and every object had its own long history, yet I felt a cold loneliness and fear of what the days ahead would bring.

Finally, Sunday morning arrived! I felt that if I discovered more of the house, I would in turn come to know Janet better before our meeting.

Standing in the doorway of her room I realized it was even more spacious than I had originally remembered. To the right there was a queen-sized bed. Over the bed was a large wooden crucifix. On each side were green hand-painted night tables, graced with sparkling crystal lamps. Several rosary beads lay on each of the tables. On the right side stood a vanity. On top a silver tray holding expensive perfumes and colognes, namely MaGriffe, Chanel, Chalimar, Jungle of Gardenia and Joy. On one wall, there was a marvelous picture grouping of jade roses. I hoped the colors and decor reflected her personality, because everything was tasteful and serene.

On Wednesday, Kalina returned to the house. She was very busy cleaning. Everything sparkled from the silver cigarette boxes to the blinding shine on the floor. All the vases were filled with long-stemmed red and pink roses cut from the garden. The house was ready by Tuesday morning.

TAYLOR CALDWELL MEETS SOULA ANGELOU 1973

On Tuesday, April 7, 1973, Taylor Caldwell arrived at 2402 Captain Hook Drive, Holiday Harbor in Jacksonville, Florida in a new red Cadillac late in the afternoon. She was about five feet seven inches tall, with an imposing, powerful English figure. She was stylishly dressed in a low-cut red crepe-de-chine dress with a slit up the side. She was wearing black ballet shoes, which contrasted with the rest of her attire. I noticed that she paid particular attention to the placement of her feet, as if she were walking on fire.

On her ears were stunning diamond and ruby earrings surrounded by dainty pearls. Diamond and ruby rings sparkled brilliantly on her well-manicured hands, and two long strands of pearls graced her neck. She wore a curly auburn wig of medium length. Her complexion was so pale and delicate it was obvious that she never exposed herself to the sun. Her eyes were behind a pair of large sunglasses perched on her aquiline nose. She was generously rouged and her heavy lipstick accentuated her rather large mouth and full lips. Her smile revealed well-cared-for teeth, slightly discolored from smoking. She exuded a strong aroma of Jungle of Gardenia. One would never say that her face was pretty, but it did reveal a lot of character.

Mrs. Caldwell (Stancell) walked slowly and steadily towards the house as I followed behind her. Once in the hall she stopped, stood directly in front of me and stared into my eyes. How are you my dear Greek?

Very well.

Sitting down heavily in a nearby armchair, she stated, Dear, there's no place like home. She kept repeating this phrase over and over and over again. Even if it's not my hometown of Buffalo. She took her gold compact out of her purse and gazing at her face and said, I'm tired. I look awful. God I look awful.

George, the butler, carried her luggage into the house. Luggage? There were at least fifteen different suitcases and bags of different sizes, each of a different make and color, no doubt collected over many years. After inspecting these possessions, she turned to me with searching eyes. She said softly The Greek gods brought you to me from Greece. I am very happy dear. I think I will see you at seven in the breakfast room. Make my house your home. She walked slowly to her bedroom.

By five minutes to seven Kalina had already set the table with a white lace linen tablecloth. In the center was a low crystal vase filled with fresh red roses, and on a porcelain dish there were some hor d'oevres bleu cheese, Beluga caviar and crackers.

Mrs. Caldwell walked gracefully towards us like a peacock. Wrapped loosely around her was a long white cotton Kimono with a large red bird embroidered on it. She executed a strong aroma of Jungle of Gardenia. She placed the Kleenex box on her right and pulled out her cigarettes and gold lighter. I had a few hours rest she stated but I still feel tired because I am a night person. I am glad that my husband stayed in New York for a few days to take care of some business. And I will have time to be accustomed to my new home. In a very friendly voice she said, Come join me! Have a drink! As a Greek you must like to drink Ouzo. Yes I like it."

Greek people, they are jolly people who like to sing and dance. I find it absolutely fascinating, when I was in Athens, that both the men and women of Greece could drink Ouzo or Retzina any time of the day. I hope you do Soula. I promise you that tomorrow; you will have your Ouzo. I myself like either Ouzo or Retzina. I prefer straight 101 proof Wild Turkey, with a glass of water on the side every day at cocktail hour. I am a late riser. I have my breakfast at 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Usually just a poached egg with toast and jelly. I also like a cup of Sanka coffee with milk and two spoonfuls of sugar.

Please, do have a Rosé to keep me company. I had a glass of Rosé wine and we sipped our drinks slowly and in silence.

Do you have any relatives here, Soula?

No, I am alone.

A small, secret smile crept into the corner of her lips and with a clear resounding voice she said, I am alone too. I have no family here in Jacksonville - only my husband, you and Kalina and the sun, which I hate.

As we continued sipping, Mrs. Caldwell sitting leisurely in the soft brown chair, she inadvertently moved so that her robe exposed her legs. I glanced quickly and could not believe my eyes. Her ankles were swollen to the size of an earthen water pot. She noted the expression on my face and I was ready to exclaim, Oh my God!

She took my hand and in a soft voice said, Don't be concerned about my feet. This is a problem that I have learned to live with. What really upsets me is my tush! She smiled. I am very displeased with it.

Why? I asked.

I don't have a round tush. The kind men like. I smiled at her.

Don't tell me you don't know what I mean. Oh yes, you know Soula. Greeks, Turks, Italians - they are famous for pinching women's bump de ayes. It's a pleasurable habit with them, I was in Europe and I know them. We both laughed loudly, on our second drink she steadily looked into my eyes and said Have you ever talked with a deaf person? Don't be afraid my dear, I'm deaf. It will be better if we communicate writing notes to each other, right small letters, not large and you must print. You write down your question or whatever you want to say and I too will write back or I will talk most of the time."

I thought to myself what a different world this is going to be. One advantage, of course was that she would not notice the mistakes in my English and the Greek intonation.

Nevertheless, I knew I would have to adapt to this unusual circumstance. When I tried to speak to her, I thought that if I employed hand gestures it would be more helpful. What are you trying to tell me, Soula? I don't understand when you talk using gestures.

I immediately stopped. Okay, dear? Okay? I know this will be difficult for you, but you will adapt. You are Greek and I am deaf, we make a good pair. She picked up a pencil and wrote, I like you very much. You grew up in a century of culture, rich in stories and traditions, and myths which invoke feelings. You play a traditional role and you are alive. It is a part of the human collective inheritance. Greek myths have a ring of truth in them about shared human experiences – better to have grown up with all this culture than with none at all.

I can see it in your personality, because children who have memories of loving parents and grandparents and comfort and a pleasant childhood, with laughter and singing, can cope with the calamities that they come across later in life. If you don't have pleasant memories, it will be a terror of the soul.

Soula, I am happy for you. You will have the strength to face the sharks, the liars and the manipulators. If you cry in this country the people will tell you that you are weak. They expect you to be a stone without feelings. I am afraid that in a short time, this country will convert any good qualities you have into selfishness, greed, and dishonesty.

I have to warn you that all your emotions will be cut with sharp knife. Only in this way can you survive in this jungle.

She looked at me with hardened eyes. "Don't look at me like that, Soula! You will become just as I have told you. You will become cruel, vicious, cold, selfish, greedy, and most of all, a professional liar and a user to achieve your dreams.

This is the law in this country and if you read the stories about the Kennedys, Rockefellers, and Onassis', you will understand what I have told you. Honesty doesn't exist! At least not if you want to succeed and make money, it doesn't!"

Although I was shocked by her statements, to some extent I realized that she was right.

By the way, Soula, what part of Greece are you from?

I answered slowly and in a deliberately low tone. I was born in Thessaloniki. I am a real Macedonian.

Ah! A Macedonian, Mrs. Caldwell smiled. I know your ancestors' background very well. I could talk to you all night about them. Macedonia was a small country and the population consisted of barbaric peasants. Who considered your country a pestilent one? The Athenians did not even take slaves from Macedonia because they were not of intellectual stock. Phillip became their leader and a king. He was first among his peers. Though barbaric, he was a shrewd and intelligent man. Phillip married Olympia, who was the daughter of the King of Epirus. She had a peculiar religion.

What religion?

Witchcraft, my dear. Witchcraft! They used magic circles all the time. Queen Olympia became an expert in the use of tame serpents in the 'pious' ceremonies. You would be amazed if you knew how this religion still survives throughout Europe and even in this country. Janet smiled at me and said, Maybe you have inherited some of these beliefs from her, eh, Soula?

I don't think so. But I believe in some fortune tellers.

"So do I. Ha! We have both inherited something from Queen Olympia. King Phillip and Olympia had a child named Alexander.

Do you know, Angie, when Alexander was thirteen years of age, King Phillip brought Aristotle from Athens to the Courts of Macedonia to tutor his son. Aristotle also participated in Alexander's military career. They say he inherited his father's strength and ambition, and from his mother he inherited craziness and religion."

"Alexander knew every word of The Iliad. He admired Greek literature, philosophers and the theatre. When he became a man, he conquered the world. He loved many women and practiced many religions. Sadly, he died at only thirty-three years of age.

What do you think, Soula, of Onassis naming his son Alexander? He was a shrewd man, Onassis, a drinker and a womanizer, like King Phillip. He wanted his son and his ships to conquer the world, but fate was cruel. You can take what you want from life, but you must pay. We all pay. Mrs. Caldwell held up her glass as high as she could, To you, Soula, to your country of Greece, to the brilliant and famous Athenian men who gave the world their best."

She lay back in her chair and said, Athens produced many intellectual men and one of them was Plato. He was a delicate writer, very temperamental. Like Socrates, he was one of the greatest thinkers of mankind.

Looking at me, she said, I am glad you are Greek, as it gives us a lot to talk about -- Greek history, Greek traditions, the Greek life, the love affairs like Pericles, Aspasia, Hippocrates, Aristotelis, even the gods of mythology -- it all fascinates me. I am interested always in Greek history, Soula.

It was after nine o'clock and time for dinner. Kalina served New England clam chowder. There were broiled lamb chops with a small dish of mint jelly, baby potatoes and green beans. I was surprised that Kalina did not serve a salad.

As if she were reading my mind, Mrs. Caldwell said, Salad is only for rabbits. It is bad for your intestines. You must know this, Soula, because you are in the cosmetics business.

I nodded my head, although I had never heard of this. While we were eating, her eyes stole many quick glimpses of me, how I was using my knife and fork. In a very low tone she said, What a relief it is to eat with someone who possesses manners. I become aggravated with women who don't know how to hold their utensils. They hold them as if they were sticks!

I was surprised that she was so particular about eating habits, and said to myself, God, here is the stiff English way. Every moment with her I learned more and more about her character. All this time, however, I was confused as to how to address her. I would alternate with Mrs. Caldwell and then, Mrs. Stancell.

Dear, she said, "it seems to me you have a problem. You don't know what to call me. It will be easier for both of us if I call you 'Angie' and you call me 'Janet,' and my husband, 'Everett.' As for my new name, 'Angie,' because my family name is Angelou, I liked it very much.

The Grandfather clock chimed and it was now eleven o'clock. It's late, Angie. We two girls must go to bed. I will see you tomorrow.

Goodnight, Janet

Janet got up at four o'clock in the afternoon. She immediately went over and closed the drapes. She then turned and walked slowly to the breakfast room and seated herself in the same chair as she had the evening before. With annoyance in her voice, she said, How I hate the sun. It never stops shining all day. If I lived alone, I would keep all the drapes closed.

After breakfast, she would remain at the table, open her mail and leisurely read her newspaper. Later, she wandered through the house like a detective, investigating everything to make sure things were in their exact places. At the least detection of a misplaced item, she called, Kalina! Dear, my mind cannot work if anything is moved. That applies to everything in the house, but especially my books, papers, any small thing on my desk, and the chair in my writing room.

When we were enjoying our cocktails that evening and have a pleasant time, Janet asked me, What were your impressions of the people in this country when you first arrived?

Well, Janet, I first noticed that most of the people have a very youthful appearance. They all wear colorful clothes, even though some of them are very aged. Why do you think this is, Angie?

I simply smiled in reply.

Of course, Janet said. Women are very sexually active nowadays, and they plaster their faces with expensive American and French face creams. They make up their faces to keep themselves looking young. And if this doesn't work, they resort to plastic surgery. All this so they can get two, three, or four husbands, to make money, to be wealthy bitches with someone else's money! What else caught your attention, Angie?

The air itself seems to be filled with many different fragrances. Hmm, Janet said, you're right. We use too much perfume, scented soap, bubble baths and body creams. Even our detergents are more strongly scented than necessary. Did you notice anything else?

Well, I said, when the young people talk they smile constantly. I can never tell if they're serious or not.

You're absolutely right! I'm pleased at how quickly you became aware of these things, dear. They irritate me so much that sometimes I would really like to shoot them. They look like fools with no character whosoever!

What sign are you, Angie?

I am an Aries.

She seemed pleased and broke into an explosive laughter. "Hmm, it is a good sign, Angie. Aries are independent and make good leaders. You strive for the best though your temperament causes you to feel unfulfilled and unhappy.

I think we are a good combination, dear. Do you know what sign I am?"

I shrugged my shoulders, as I had no idea.

"I was born under the