IN THE BEGINNING THIS IS NOT A JOYFUL CHRISTMAS STORY. It's about the George Xenopoulos
Christopher Xenopoulos Janus
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Janus family who emigrated to America in 1910 and first settled in Charleston, West Virginia where I was born. For reasons I've never known, we moved in 1914 from Charleston, the capital, to a picturesque and very prosperous little town called Sistersville. Here my father who was always an enterprising and optimistic man established a kind of general store which also served snacks which you could eat on a few tables around a friendly potbellied iron stove. I suspect you could also get a shot of moonshine whiskey if you knew the owner, but this was not advertised.
In a few months the store was a great success and we were able to buy a small house right on the Ohio river which ran through the town. The river setting and the home, which was a white limestone, always reminded my father, he would tell us, of his first home in Zakinthos where he was born. I remember when we first moved in there was a rope around the front porch and quite excited I crawled under the rope to first look in the windows before my father untied the rope to open up the house. In addition to my father, George, there was Olympia, my mother, my brother, Alexander and my young, beautiful sister Androniki.
The first few months in Sistersville we were very happy. The problem was that we were the only Greek family, the only foreign family in Sistersville (also there were no Negro families) and the general store was popular and so successful and our natural Greek enthusiasm (especially young Niki's) was so conspicuous that instead of becoming more welcome in the town, certain envious or "purist" persons found us a threat to their way of life. There was a saying in Sistersville that the only thing that could compare to the purity of their race was the limestone for which Sistersville is also renowned. Also our skin was darker than most of the people living there.
At this time, Sistersville had a population of about 1,500 people. They prided themselves on being a deeply religious and close knit community. Oil was discovered in Sistersville in 1891 and the famous "Polecat Well" is still producin
There was a knock on the door and I went to answer it. The Mayor of Sistersville, the Sheriff and the Minister of the Baptist church were calling on us.
"Young man, is your Dad at home?" asked the Mayor. Then my mother came to the door and asked the group to come in. She invited them to have some refreshments but the Mayor said, "Thank you, but no this is not a social call." Then the Minister, looking at our little Christmas tree, said, "Oh, I didn' t know you people celebrated Christmas."
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g, maintaining the town's prosperity. There was a Baptist and Methodist church and the citizens were glad to point out that there was no jail in Sistersville although they did have a sheriff "who had nothing to do" since there was no crime. The teachers at the school were all from Sistersville and there was a nice library where Niki used to go nearly every day though she complained she could never find books on foreign affairs or interesting novels -- only books the library advertised as "fit to read."
Then it happened to us. It was on a Sunday just before Christmas right after a lunch that my mother had prepared for us, the luscious lamb and the yogurt with nuts and honey. My father was just up from his siesta; Niki was playing the piano. My brother had gone fishing and I was playing with my Tinker Toys, an advance Christmas present.
There was a knock on the door and I went to answer it. The Mayor of Sistersville, the Sheriff and the Minister of the Baptist church were calling on us.
"Young man, is your Dad at home?" asked the Mayor. Then my mother came to the door and asked the group to come in. She invited them to have some refreshments but the Mayor said, "Thank you, but no this is not a social call." Then the Minister, looking at our little Christmas tree, said, "Oh, I didn' t know you people celebrated Christmas."
I'll never forget the shock and look on my mother's face. In Greek she said something like this to my father. "Tell this stupid man that Apostle Paul introduced Christmas to Greece more than a thousand years before there was an America. George, what do these people want?"
The Mayor, still standing and without any explanation said to my father: "Mr. Janus, here is a check for $6,200 which we think is a fair price for your store and this house and a little extra for your transportation. We want you and your family out of Sistersville within 24 hours."
Then the Sheriff said, "We made reservations for you on the 4 o'clock bus to Charleston where I think you came from. Make sure you all are on it," and left.
We spent Christmas day traveling from Sistersville to Charleston and then to Montgomery, West Virginia where my father had a cousin who owned the Crystal Cafe.
Montgomery was also a picturesque little town situated on the beautiful Kanauah River. My father got a job with the Union Carbide Company and most people in Montgomery were friendly to us. Unlike Sistersville there was a black community, though segregated. There were two Jewish families (tailors) living there and one family from Germany. I have to add, unfortunately, the Ku Klux Klan had a strong presence in Montgomery which brought us all much unhappiness, especially for the blacks but also for about 100 Catholics and their church.
I have written at great length about our life in Montgomery in my book Miss 4th Of July, Goodbye. My sister, Niki, at the age of 15, was honored by the town of Montgomery for her fight to rid the town of the KKK but her life was cut short by the great flu plague which also killed my father and my brother. More than 26 million people died worldwide from the "Spanish Flu."
Shortly after Miss 4th Of July was published in 1975, 1 was sent on a book signing tour which included West Virginia and I insisted, for obvious reasons, that Sistersville be included in the tour.
I was interviewed at great length by a bright, young reporter from the local newspaper. And I, of course, told him about the tragic experience our family had in Sistersville. He was very sympathetic and apologetic saying I was now most welcome in Sistersville.
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I arrived in Sistersville on a Tuesday morning and I registered in their best suite at the Wells Inn which was founded in 1894 and is today one of the towns most famous landmarks.
A press conference and the book signing were held at the Wells Inn in my suite. I was interviewed at great length by a bright, young reporter from the local newspaper. And I, of course, told him about the tragic experience our family had in Sistersville. He was very sympathetic and apologetic saying I was now most welcome in Sistersville. He had also reviewed my book for his paper and said that things were much different now. He wrote a nice picture story about my visit, and again praised Miss 4th Of July, but didn't write one word about our being ordered out of town years ago.
I phoned him the next morning to thank him for the picture story and I couldn't resist asking him if there were any foreign families or Negroes living in Sistersville.
"Oh, yes," he said. "We have a fine black family in town. The husband is a janitor at City Hall and his wife does the cleaning. They have two children too young for school. We have an Italian family that have a shoe repair store. There is also a Chinese restaurant that is quite popular. "
Before I left, I visited the local library and they asked me for copies of all my books and a promise that I would write more about West Virginia. I was glad to see that they were showing a copy of Miss 4th Of July, Goodbye on the front book shelf among books fit to be read.
Today, Sistersville is, according to their Chamber of Commerce, the richest city in the United States per capita. There are seven organized churches in the city limits. Statesmen, business people, and professionals from all around the world attend its annual oil and gas festival to display their antique gas engines, antique cars and unique whistles. There is also a unique marble festival where glass blowers demonstrate how they make marbles. Children and adults shoot marbles on platforms on the street, along with marble tournaments.
More importantly, there is no censorship at the library, no signs "books fit to read". And Miss 4th Of July, Goodbye is part of the curriculum in the schools. Incidentally, a member of the Mayor's office in Sistersville offered to pick up my bill at the Wells Inn, which I declined, but I did accept his invitation for dinner in his home.
So there really is a happy ending to my sad Christmas story.
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