Venetia and Niko
They were an odd looking couple, he was tall, slim, angular; his face was thin and long, he had a full head of curly, gray hair. She was short and stout, her face was round and the years had mellowed her features into skin that was soft to the touch. Her hair was gray, more curlier than his; when she was working hard, strands of her hair would stick out of her head, like railroad crossing signals. She kept her hair cut short; an odd habit for Greek women of the 1920s and 30s, who usually kept their hair long and in a bun at the back of their necks. When looking at Theo Niko and Thea Venetia, one got the feeling of a Greek Mutt and Jeff couple.
Although my sister, brothers, and I called them "thea" Venetia and "theo" Niko, as if they were our aunt and uncle, they were not close relatives. Theo Niko was a distant relative of my mother's. Yet, our families were very close.
My earliest recollection of them was as a young child in the early thirties, when they unexpectedly arrived at our home one day. They came from a small coal mining town, West Frankfort, Illinois, about an hour's drive away from St. Louis. About ten years earlier theo Niko had sold his shoe shine, hat and dry cleaning business at 4966 Delmar Boulevard in St. Louis to move to West Frankfort on the recommendation of friends, the two Notaras brothers, who lived nearby in another Illinois small town, DuQuion. They told theo Niko of a Greek man in West Frankfort who wanted to sell his hat and dry cleaning business to move back to Greece to live. Intrigued by the thought of an opportunity to purchase a thriving business, he sold the store on Delmar, and he and thea Venetia moved to West Frankfort.
Unfortunately, as the Depression hit, the coal mine in West Frankfort closed. Unable to keep the business, they drove back to St. Louis, in their old black Model T Ford crammed full of all their belongings. My parents had no indication they were coming to St. Louis and they appeared at our home with no place to stay, there was no one else who could take them in. My parents felt sorry for them, and agreed to allow them to stay in our home until they got on their feet.
Our family was living on Aubert Avenue then. The Depression as yet had not affected my father's business, financially our family was in good condition. Our home had two bedrooms, the one Olympia and I had, and the other one my parents had. My parents gave them our bedroom, it had a double bed in it. My mother put another double bed in the dining room, and Olympia and I slept there. My brothers slept on the daybed in my parent's bedroom.
Theo Niko and thea Venetia stayed with our family six months. In all that time, and for all the years we knew theo Niko, no matter what his financial situation, he always managed to have a car. He did not want to work for anyone else, the Greek desire of having his own business prevailed, and he looked around for a store to start his own cleaners again. After several months theo Niko was able to rent a small store on Union Avenue, put in a pressing machine, a few blocks for hats, and he was in business.
Thea Venetia was able to get a job through a Greek friend, Annie Marcellos, a patriotisa, who lived across the street from us on Aubert Avenue, and who worked in a laundry owned by a Greek man. Thea Venetia's job was to iron laundry, and she did that work standing on her feet all day long. She kept that job for about a year, until her husband's new venture began to show some success. She left the laundry, and worked in the cleaners with him, as a seamstress.
Theo Niko had been born and raised in Smyrna. He had come to the United States in the early 1900's, under what circumstances I never knew. I wonder, perhaps, when the Turkish government passed a law in 1910 stating that all Greek men were subject to serve in the Turkish army, had prompted his move to the United States. Many Greek men had immigrated to this country at that time. He had no close relatives in this country, he was all alone. On several occasions he was fond of telling the story that when he was a youngster in Smyrna, he had a job going door to door selling milk. He would furbish the story by telling us how he watered the milk down before setting out on his rounds. He was particularly elated when he told of how the housewives were unaware that he had to put one over on them, by selling them the watered down milk.
Thea Venetia had been born on the island of Chios. As a child, she had been sent to Smyrna to work in a wealthy home as a maid, which was a common practice of the time for the children of poor families. She was a very good cook, and that ability she attributed to the fact that she learned her cooking skills from the cooks in the wealthy home where she was a maid. She too had no relatives in the United States. I had never heard her speak of the Catastrophe of Smyrna, I believe she had left Turkey before that holocaust.
She and theo Niko had fallen in love, but it was ten years after he left Smyrna that they were reunited and she was able to come to the United States where they were married..
I always had a soft spot in my heart for thea Venetia because she had no children. She would have made a wonderful mother because she was a loving, kind hearted, warm person. She did not criticize or malign other people; she constantly strove to help her husband in any and every way she could, and to take care of both their needs.
One year for Mother's Day, when I was about 10 or 11 years old, I asked my mother if we could get thea Venetia a gift since she had no children of her own. My mother agreed. My mother had a planter which she didn't want anymore. I thought it was very nice, I liked it. It wasn't very big, about 8 inches long, and 6 inches high. It had the shape of two small elephants, side by side, open at the top, for a plant. My mother and I went to a florist, who put a plant in it. I don't remember what kind of leaf plant we got her, but it looked very good. By that time, theo Niko and thea Venetia were living in a three room house across the street from us.
It was similar to a row house; upon entering there was a living room, then a bedroom, a kitchen and a bathroom, all in a straight line, from the front to the back of the house.
On Mother's Day we took the plant to her house. She was so pleased, she actually was speechless, saying, "For me? For me? Why? Why?" I don't know if she knew the significance of Mother's Day. She was visibly touched. It made me feel good, just as good as when I gave my mother her Mother's Day gift.
I recently found a diary I had kept when I was thirteen years old, and after reading it I remembered the many times our families shared special occasions. One entry I have is Saturday, January 1, 1938, that I had written, "Last night theo Niko and thea Venetia, with theo Demo, thea Anna and my cousins Johanna, Marie and Dessie, my parents, sister and brothers, welcomed the New Year by playing cards, the game of 31."
In 1938 money was hard to come by, particularly for children, and no matter how small the amount, it had a special meaning. St. John's feastday is January 7. In my diary I had written that on January 9, when our family was celebrating the religious holiday, thea Venetia gave me a dime for my nameday. It was an important moment for me, and the significance of it made a lasting impression on me so that I recorded it in my diary. I don't remember what I did with the money. On that day we also celebrated Johnny's and Joanna's nameday, besides Platon's birthday. I don't know if thea Venetia rewarded them also.
Even though at the time I was only thirteen years old, I was knowledgeable of the city of St. Louis, and with public transportation, could find my way fairly easily around the city. I was also bilingual, knowing Greek almost as well as the English language. I served as interpreter for my mother frequently. In my diary, I have two notations, one for Thursday March 3 when after school I walked one block south from Blewett highschool from Enright Avenue to Delmar Avenue. I boarded the Delmar streetcar going east. I got off at Jefferson and Washington Avenues where theo Niko's cleaners were, and met thea Venetia, to take her downtown to shop for furniture.
We boarded the Delmar streetcar at Washington Avenue, going east, and got off at Sixth Street. Thea Venetia did buy something, I don't record in my diary what it was, but I made the comment it was "very pretty".
Thea Venetia must have been pleased with my navigational and interpretative skills, because almost a week later, on Wednesday March 9, I again went to theo Niko's cleaners by streetcar. I followed the same routine, walking from Blewett highschool one block south from Enright Avenue to Delmar Avenue, taking the Delmar streetcar going east. Again I got off at Jefferson and Washington Avenues where theo Niko's cleaners were, and met thea Venetia. She and I again boarded the Delmar streetcar at Washington Avenue, going east to downtown, and got off at Sixth street. She again bought furniture.
On another occasion, on April 3, when my parents had theo Demos' family, George, Tula and Mrs. Alexandres, Mrs. Laskaris, Alex's mother and stepfather Mr. and Mrs. Charbas, Christopher and his mother Mrs Vlahopoulos, thea Venetia and theo Niko were also there.
When Elia and I started going together, he was staying with the Paspalas', his aunt, uncle and cousins. However, it came time for him to move out of his uncle's home. He asked thea Venetia if she would rent him a room in the flat they were renting on Wells Avenue, because there was a small, vacant room at the front of the house she was not using. She agreed, and Elia lived there for about a year until we got married.
Thea Venetia liked Elia, and on one occasion she said to him, "Let me adopt you as my son!" Of course, theo Niko was still alive then, and that would have been impossible to do.
Shortly after World War II, they bought a piece of property, a city lot on a side street near the Small Arms plant on Goodfellow and Natural Bridge Avenues. They were very proud of it. It was a topic of many conversations they had with friends. They originally bought the lot to build a house on it, but as the years passed by, theo Niko's health deteriorated. He developed diabetes, which in time caused the amputation of both of his legs, each at a different time. Before his illness, theo Niko spent many Sunday mornings at the lot, planting a vegetable garden, cutting the grass. For them, after all the years of hard work, living in rented houses, the lot was an achievement and an accomplishment for them, with the promise of the dream to build a home on it and finally own their own home. But it was not to be.
In 1957 during the early morning hours, a tornado hit the city of St. Louis. By then Elia and I owned our own home on Melvin Avenue. We were fortunate, the tornado had taken a northeast direction through the city, avoiding our area. The telephone lines were still functioning, and I immediately called my family; my mother, my sister Olympia, my brother Platon to inquire about tornado damage. All were safe. No damage had been done to their homes. I heard on the news the path the tornado had taken was into the area where thea Venetia and theo Niko lived, Grand and Garrison Avenues. I called thea Venetia and she told me their home had been damaged by the tornado, windows had been blown out, the wind and rain had damaged the interior, and they wouldn't be able to spend the night there.
Elia and I told her I would go after school that day and bring them to our house to stay until their home was repaired and in livable condition. When I went to pick them up at 4 o'clock I had to pick my way across the sidewalk, a large tree had been uprooted, and was in my way. Glass from broken windows was in the back bedroom and in the living room, with water on the furniture and floor. The broken windows had been covered by plywood. The Greek owner of the house who lived upstairs, Kyria Despina, came down, and assured us that more help was on the way. She had been notified by the authorities that cleanup crews provided by the Red Cross and city would take care of the damage from the water. She assured us it would be safe to leave the house, and theo Niko and thea Venetia could come with me. When I first entered the house, theo Niko and thea Venetia were wearing their coats, and were huddled in the kitchen in front of the oven, trying to keep warm. By that time, theo Niko had been forced into retirement by the loss of a leg due to his illness, diabetes. I helped them gather up a few belongings, and I drove them to our home on Melvin Avenue.
Elia and I gave up our bedroom to theo Niko and thea Venetia; Elia sleeping in the children's room, in one of the twin beds that the children had. Evangeline and Eliake slept in the other twin bed, they were small enough the bed accommodated them. I remember sleeping on the living room couch.
We kept them at our home for a week, long enough for their home to be made livable again, repaired and cleaned up. Then we drove them back to their home.
Both theo Niko and thea Venetia were frugal in their habits. Around 1952, theo Niko did indulge himself in buying a new car, green in color, a Plymouth. His only vice was smoking cigarettes. Thea Venetia was even more frugal than her husband, watching every penny spent carefully. She spent very little money on herself, but did manage to look presentable and neat in public. When they died they left a bank account of $33,000, which for that period of time, was a good deal of money. She was not even aware of how much money they had.
On St. Nicholas Day, December 6, thea Venetia always celebrated her husband's nameday. We always enjoyed going there for his nameday, because we were impressed with several items she had brought from Smyrna as part of her trousseau. In her bedroom, on the dresser, she had a beautiful icon of the Virgin Mary and Christ Child, which she had originally gotten in Chios. Painted on the bottom of the left hand corner was a small picture of St. George slaying the dragon, and on the right hand corner, at the bottom, was a painting of St. Kyriaki. Between these two portrayals, were hand written letters that stated "by hand dimitriou x lambrinou". The artist's name is completely written in small letters, with no capital letters for the first and last names. The date, July 26, 1833. A silver replica of the icon covered it, obviously hammered by hand. The silver was covered in black, from the candle smoke of the votive offering. The size of the icon was eighteen inches high and thirteen and a half inches across. The date on the icon is July 26, 1839. There is a discrepancy on the date of the year, from the painting to the silver cover, of six years. All the children in the house were attracted to the icon because of its beauty, and the unusual silver covering. No one that we knew had such a beautiful religious object. However, there were several other items from thea Venetia's dowry that elicited remarks of delight, with exclamations and requests that in the future, she might consider bequeathing to one of them.
She had, as was the Greek custom of the day, and any housewife would be sure to have, a silver cup, with cutout silver figures on it. The top of it had small turrets, so that the spoons could be placed on the lip of the cup. The spoons were symmetrically twisted in the middle of the handle. There were also forks, in the same pattern, to go with the spoons. There were twelve of each, and on the back of each was the stamp, Smyrna. There were two round silver dishes to accompany the cup and spoons. They were used to put jelly in when serving guests. 7
Thea Venetia also had an oval shaped serving tray, with a coffee pot. Those she had obviously gotten in the United States, because their appearance resembled American made products.
The summer theo Niko bought his new Plymouth, he and Elia and George Vagen went to the Lake of the Ozarks for a few days. The following summer theo Niko and thea Venetia asked us if we wold like to drive and go for several days to the Lake of the Ozarks with them. Evangeline was almost six years old and Eliake was almost three years old. We stayed at the Pla-Port Resort, where Elia and I had stayed several times before. We had a pleasant time with them. Elia and theo Niko went fishing with Eliake.
In February of 1960 theo Niko was at Barnes Hospital. By that time diabetes had claimed both his legs, amputated at the knees. He died in the hospital. Thea Venetia was living at her home, with longtime friends to keep her company. She was also fortunate in that the woman who owned the flat that thea Venetia rented was Greek, and was of assistance to her.
Shortly before theo Niko died, he had two wills made out, one for her, and one for him. His will left all their assets to her, and upon her death, to his relatives in Greece. He had named Ted Stamos as executor of the will. He had signed his will. Her will had the same stipulations. She had not signed her will. She had not agreed with him. A day after the funeral, she asked me to take her to the lawyer to change her will. His office was half a block from her home, on Grand Avenue. She was going to leave it in our favor, because as she told us, she only had a sister who was living in Greece. She did not know where, because they had not been in touch for many years, but she thought in Piraeus. I called the lawyer, and made an appointment for Friday afternoon, at four o'clock. Unfortunately, snow had started falling during the day, and because she was old and had difficulty walking, and because I did not want to appear greedy, I called her from school and told her we should change the appointment with the lawyer to Monday afternoon. She agreed.
Exactly a week to the day he died, on a Saturday night, Elia and I with Evangeline and Eliake were to spend the night there. Elia and I were to go to the Greek Professional Club meeting, and the children were to stay there with thea Venetia until we came home. We went for dinner there. We sat in the kitchen around the table. She had cooked pork chops with spinach. While she was chewing on a piece of pork, she said, "This is very tasty". As she said that, her eyes rolled, and she slumped, and fell off her chair. We quickly jumped up to help her. I told the children to go into the living room and wait. They held on to each other in the darkened room, afraid. I called the police emergency number. A heavy snow had begun to fall, with thick blinding flakes.
When the paramedics arrived, they pronounced thea Venetia dead. Unknown to us, her doctor, Dr. Vournas, had diagnosed her with a heart problem. She died of a heart attack.
I called Kyria Despina from upstairs. Then I called my mother to tell her the sad news. Thea Venetia died exactly a week to the day theo Niko died.
We made the funeral arrangements.
© 2003 by Jennie Constantinides Vlanton
Arrival | Alex John | Nerazakia | Backyard | Platon’s Birth | Greek School | Swimming
Fare Saved, Five Cents | Lost Money | Venetia and Niko | Tony, the Ice Cream Man | Muny Opera
The Red-Gold Flowered China | 4480 Easton Avenue | Maro | Truck Ice | College
Dandelions | Quarantine | Mission Accomplished| Picnics| Home Page
