I told my children that just because they behaved correctly and met their obligations, they shouldn’t expect that their efforts would always be appreciated. I encouraged my children to set high standards for themselves, not because they would be rewarded but because that was the right way to live. I told them that if all was proceeding well they should never assume it would remain that way. Life can be treacherous. If things are going badly, however, that doesn’t have to be forever either. They had the power to seize control of their lives and to change course.
It’s easy to have principles but not always so easy to put them into practice. Our desire for our children to lead “normal” lives was tempered by all-too-real security concerns, concerns that, with the painful memory of the assassination of Theodore’s uncle, would always resonate within the family. Nevertheless, when we started sending our children to summer camps, they went without any security people, which many urged us to provide. I felt it was important for our daughter and sons to have a genuine camp experience: to learn to cook their own food, to organize their tents, to swim in cold water, to climb mountains, and—most important—to make new friends. How could they be expected to enjoy any semblance of normality with armed men trailing their every move?
Later, after we returned to Greece, the government urged us to accept extra security. We agreed, and when the boys went to school, they had security guards assigned to them. They hated it. One day I found Panagiotis back at home without his guard. He had sneaked out of school and walked home alone, and he angrily declared he was up to the challenge of eluding his security on a daily basis.
Carolina has a strong personality. (I wonder where she got that!) Divorce is never easy for a child, yet she never complained. I explained to her that her father’s feelings about me should not shape her feelings about him. That she should be patient and form her own judgments. While she and Theodore are very close—she calls him “Dad”—Carolina, to her credit, has kept a balance. But she was brought up by Theodore and me. From the beginning, she was always my daughter and Theodore’s daughter. And to his credit he was and is her confidant.
And, believe it or not, from a very young age, Carolina was my trusted confidant. I had agreed to introduce her to Theodore on just one condition. She couldn’t tell anybody about him. Even though she was just six and a half years old at the time, she did as she was told. She can keep a secret like nobody else. And she’s pretty good at digging up secrets too. When I was pregnant with Dimitris, I took her along on one of my routine visits to the doctor. I didn’t know—and didn’t want to know—what gender my baby was. Somehow when Carolina was alone with the doctor for just a few minutes, she pried the secret out of him, promising him she would never reveal it. When Dimitris was born, Carolina was away on a school ski trip. We called her with the news and she shouted to her friends: “It’s a boy. I knew it! I knew it!” And in truth, she had known.
When she was young, it was as if I had three boys. Carolina never liked to be dressed in fancy clothes or to play with dolls. We once bought her a navy-blue dress with an organdy collar and party shoes to match, for example. I made her wear the outfit to her birthday party and she didn’t try to conceal how miserable she was. There is a wonderful picture that captured her feelings; her eyes reminded me of my father’s—that angry gray green of a wintry rough sea. I knew she would have preferred to shed the outfit for shorts, a T-shirt, and sneakers.
We wanted our children to be secure in our love, but it was just as important that they loved and valued each other. With the boys and Carolina, that was easy. She, being so much older, was like a goddess to them. In their eyes, Carolina knew absolutely everything about life and she was terrific at all sports to boot, from skating to skiing to soccer. All the characteristics she demonstrated as a young girl served her well as a student at the American University of Paris and, later, as a young woman beginning a career in banking—not in a family business. Carolina has always amazed me with the way she deals with whatever life flings in her path. She has great strength, integrity, and discretion, and she works very hard, persevering without complaint. (You’ll read in chapter 24 how I drew upon her abilities during the Athens 2004 Summer Games.) She’s a real tough cookie!
Panagiotis is very well read and well educated and, like his paternal grandfather, is open-minded. As Pan has grown up, Theodore has observed more than once, “I think he has something from you.” But where I was pragmatic, Pan is far more of an intellectual, with a lively mind and a diversity of interests, combined with strong convictions. He has surprised and astonished me with the speed with which he learns, and the speed with which he has matured. He cares about our family’s history, and about the lives that other people live. I remember how surprised I was to learn that without discussing it with me, he had been camping in Crete, exploring villages and places even I hadn’t been. In 2012 Pan graduated from Harvard, where he studied economics and history. In his senior year, he wrote an essay on economics and the global financial crisis for the Harvard Political Review that, despite my law degree and my business experience, I had to read twice to grasp! Dimitris, whom the family affectionately calls Dim, is a “killer,” and I mean that in the very best way. He is realistic, tough, practical, analytical, and focused on his law studies. He is very wise for his age. When we deal with a serious issue, for example, Dim amazes us by totally identifying the situation, clarifying the problem, and calmly pointing us to the solution we are seeking. Like a Doric column, his arguments and presentations stand strong without unnecessary adornment. I see him as someone who is more likely to work inside power structures to make change than to agitate from the outside, though he has not hesitated to be publicly active on behalf of the causes he cares about. He also graduated in 2012, as a pre-law student, from the London School of Economics. That same summer he traveled to Uganda to help build houses for orphans. He will probably practice law for a while, at least to get his feet wet, much as I did.
In truth I really don’t know what any of our children will wind up doing professionally, or where their lives will ultimately take them.
I have always liked the imagery of Turkish poet Nâzim Hikmet that pictures parenting as “a bow and arrow.” The parents are the bow and they launch their children, the arrows. The arrows land—often far away—and each will be his or her own person. Don’t think because you invested so much love, time, energy, or money in them that you in any way own your children. Don’t think they will be like you or that they will think like you. I have been very blessed in life and have achieved a great deal. But my children have turned out spectacularly and are by far my greatest pride.
THEODORE HAS ALWAYS HAD A STRONG SENSE OF DUTY when it comes to ensuring the futures of his wife and children. In his mind, this required far more than cutting a check. The extended Angelopoulos family was involved together in so many businesses and other ventures with so many potential financial repercussions that he worried. “What if something happens to me? Who will watch out for my family’s interests?” He didn’t want us to be totally dependent on anyone else, not even his father and certainly not the lawyers and accountants who worked with him. It didn’t take him long to decide that the solution was close at hand. If he were gone, he decided, I should be the one in charge or at least the one responsible for making the critical decisions affecting our family.
Obviously I hadn’t brought any business experience or financial expertise to our marriage. But Theodore admired my intelligence, my boldness, and my willingness to take action when it was required. He knew what an absolute tiger I could be in pursuit of what I believed was my right or the right path. (He once told me that, after all his years in Switzerland, he was delighted that we could have marital spats in Greek. He swore best in his native tongue, and he appreciated that I was a worthy combatant who could dish it out as well as take it.) He resolved to school me and involve me in his businesses so that if I had to act sometime in the future—when a tigress was needed to protect the family—I w
ould understand the issues and know the right answers.
Essentially, it was back to university for me, except there were no formal lectures. Theodore simply began talking to me about his management approach.
The lessons ran the gamut from his mundane daily tasks to the strengths and weaknesses of key employees to how to read balance sheets and accounting ledgers. He particularly wanted to familiarize me with the shipping businesses, which are his strongest suit. His father and uncles had pioneered the family’s steel business, but shipping had been Theodore’s baby. He was ushering me into a new world, one with its own language that was completely foreign to me. At first I had difficulty keeping track of the names of the various types of ships—bulk carriers, tankers, aframaxes, suezmaxes, VLCCs, handymaxes—and the numerous shipyards as well as the financial aspects of the business. But I soon caught on.
In addition to delivering his steady discourse on all matters business, Theodore would come home from the office and dump piles of documents on the table for me to read. He absorbed these materials like a computer, but I didn’t even know where to start reading. They covered matters like wet markets and dry markets that I couldn’t yet define let alone understand. There were complex analyses of international trends in shipping and product demand. I had no recourse but to jump in because that’s the way I’ve always tackled big challenges. Theodore wasn’t always patient with me and sometimes got frustrated by my inability to master the materials as quickly as he had hoped. I understood his feelings. Patience had never been one of my strong suits either. In hindsight, his assessment of my struggle to grasp the complex material was much more generous. He would say that he marveled at how I soaked up information like a sponge.
On top of the business curriculum, there were language lessons: I was starting German as well as trying to improve my English. I had already studied French at my school in Heraklion.
Unlike during my first academic sojourn, this university—as long as Theodore remained Dean of students—wouldn’t tolerate my skipping classes. And the Dean couldn’t be charmed into giving me a better grade than I deserved. This was business, and the thing I learned most quickly from Theodore was that business was serious business.
I would compare the learning curve, at least for me, to attending a play by Shakespeare or Sophocles. At first the words and the rhythms of the language sound strange and it’s hard to fathom their meaning. And then, at some magical moment, it all clicks and begins to make sense. So it was for me with the language and practices of business. One day it began to click and Theodore’s world opened up to me. It was clear that my husband was developing more confidence in me. I began going to the office regularly and staying there for several hours or longer. And I attended business meetings. Not all of his lawyers, accountants, and other executives were happy when I began showing up. Nor were all the family members thrilled to have me on board.
I no doubt contributed some to this tension. I hadn’t yet learned how to make a quiet entrance. Nobody would ever have said of me, “I didn’t even know she was here.” My voice, my laugh, and my sharp tongue—I always made my presence known. But whatever the employees or family members thought, Theodore’s was the only opinion that counted. And while he may have been a tough taskmaster, he privately encouraged me and urged me on. “There are so many things you have to be aware of. You have to know the rules of the game. You have to know the information and the data. You have to have some plans, some courses of action mapped out. That’s the way it works.”
I began to grasp his meaning. The dynamics of business are somewhat like a game or sport. First you have to learn the rules. Then you have to play enough so that you improve. I learned some discretion. I learned that sometimes you could hold back your opinion to better effect. Like every challenge I have taken on in my life, I engaged it totally. I wanted to be an asset for the business, but not as a clone of Theodore ready to step into his shoes. Rather, I sought to complement him as a consultant and, later, as I learned more and more about his business and his world, as his partner and most trusted ally. I wanted to show Theodore that not only could he trust me in his arena but also that, ultimately, he would be foolish to trust anyone else.
It was a tremendous challenge, especially because so much went against my natural style. I had always instinctively gone forward and now I was learning to hold back. At times, especially early in the game, I stumbled. Sometimes my impatience showed. I remember one meeting in Theodore’s office that was being conducted in English. I was tired of sitting there just listening and was anxious to show off my improved command of the language. So I said something I thought was reasonable or, at the very least, innocuous. Theodore was visibly unimpressed. Afterward, he scolded me: “Are you still a politician? Do you think you are in Parliament or running for an election? Talk about things you know. If you don’t know don’t talk. People won’t underestimate you if you stay quiet. But you are in danger of having them laugh at you if you say stupid things.” I was quite upset and protested that what I had said wasn’t stupid at all. “Maybe not, but you were talking about things that the people there knew you don’t know about yet.”
Within a few years, I did know about most relevant matters and, more important, felt no need to show off my knowledge in meetings because Theodore knew I knew. He liked the way I analyzed things, a helpful by-product of my legal experience. And he liked my fighting spirit, how I never wanted to give up on a good idea. If he said, “We just can’t do it,” he could count on me demanding: “Why not? Tell me why not.” Even from my husband, even from this brilliant businessman, I wasn’t willing to take no for an answer. If he had a good idea, I was willing to push—and push him if necessary—to make it happen.
Working alongside Theodore only made my admiration for him grow. He is a straight shooter in a world where so many people throw curves. Theodore is such an honorable businessman and so respected by those with whom he conducts business that he can seal multimillion-dollar deals without a signature. Just his word—“Let’s do the deal”—in any of the five languages (Greek, English, French, German, Italian) that he speaks—is sufficient.
I remember one time he agreed to purchase six ships for $32 million each, but he hadn’t yet signed any contracts. Very soon thereafter we had an opportunity to buy the same vessels from another seller at $28 million each. “Talk to your lawyers,” I urged Theodore. “You haven’t signed any contract.”
“My word is my contract,” he replied. I kept arguing that it had just been a phone conversation. And I pointed out, as if he didn’t know it, that the $24 million we would save was an awful lot of money. Finally, he just stopped me in my tracks by repeating his decision loudly and clearly so that we would never again have this kind of discussion: “I gave my word.”
I was continually struck by the differences between the world of politics and the world of business. Many Greek politicians only talk. They never take action. They rarely make decisions. They don’t reach goals. No one knows whose interest they are working for. Is it their own or someone else’s? As we say in Greece, “They only keep stirring the pot.”
Business, on the other hand, is all about goals, action, decisions. You identify your goals, you take action, and you make decisions. Business appealed to me because, at least on the surface, it was straightforward. We needed ships, we negotiated until we reached an agreement, we signed a deal, we paid the money, and the ships were delivered. It was a logical and coherent process to follow in solving a problem. It wasn’t always as simple as all that. It could be arduous, involve complex negotiations, and produce its share of surprises and treacheries. But there wasn’t the constant b.s. that plagues politics and government. When I would take charge of the Greek Olympic Games efforts, first the bidding competition and later the Athens organizing committee, my experience in both these worlds, politics and business, would prove invaluable.
My education wasn’t confined to meetings, documents, language teachers, and Theodore’s tutorials. The
world was my university now. We traveled extensively around the globe and met, socialized with, and entertained prominent businessmen, powerful politicians, and royalty. I noticed that the bigger the name or the greater the person’s responsibilities, the sooner we would hear back from the individual with a report on our meeting, a proposal, a solution, or just an immediate note thanking us for the hospitality or the pleasure of our company. The social notes always included some specifics about the occasion, if only a mention of some lovely item I wore or some delectable food we shared. It was an invaluable lesson that, beyond good manners, demonstrated how to connect with people and make a favorable impression. Simple courtesies can go a long way to bolstering a relationship—and not just a business relationship.
I taught my kids from an early age to send thank-you notes, birthday cards, and holiday greetings to their family and friends. I told them that a handwritten message was much more valuable than any expensive gift. The important thing was to communicate their love, respect, and gratitude in a meaningful way. To this day, I value the cards, the simple drawings, and the collages my kids sent me as my most treasured collection of art (and, believe me, we have a world-class art collection). Maybe we have all inherited my father’s insistence on the personal touch, even when we are touching thousands of people.
My Greek Drama: Life, Love, and One Woman's Olympic Effort to Bring Glory to Her Country Page 13
