THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, February 8, 1995 TAG: 9502080047
SECTION: DAILY BREAK PAGE: E1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: LAWRENCE MADDRY
LENGTH: Long : 114 lines
HE's THERE EVERY workday in the dimly lit office at Norfolk Coffee & Tea Co., with its cluttered desk, old photos hanging on the wall, dusty filing cabinets and a glass jug filled with unshelled pecans on the windowsill.
At 9 a.m. Jerry Stephens, 84, steps onto the floor of the plant and watches the spinning cast iron roaster tumble green coffee beans picked from trees on South American plantations.
He inhales the heady aroma, pungent and rich, seeping from the 100-year-old roaster and smiles. It is the perfume of success, filling the plant he built with his own hands.
``I had a couple of fellows helping me,'' he said. `` But most of it I did myself,'' Jerry said, with a sweep of his hand.
After pouring the concrete for the foundation, he planted a gold coin in it for good luck.
``It was an English gold pound that was worth $25. . . . It must be worth close to $200 now,'' he said.
Jerry's real name is Jerome. Jerome Stephanitsis. He came from a small island off the coast of Greece. There's a yellowing photo of the town on his office wall. Kefalonia. It's a picturesque place with stucco houses hugging the hillside and olive trees in every yard.
He's a feisty, likeable man who bounces around the plant at 18th Street and Monticello Avenue in Norfolk in an old blue sweater greeting friends and longtime customers with a joke or a challenge. He loves to talk.
He built a prosperous business over that gold coin. Norfolk Coffee & Tea Co. roasts, blends and packs coffee for hotels and restaurants in Virginia and North Carolina. Jerry's sons - Chris and Nick - run the family business now. He hopes it will still be around for his eight grandchildren.
Jerry ushered me into the cluttered office, pointing to the photo of his wife, Irene, taken when she was a young woman. She died about 12 years ago. The photo was of a woman with a pretty face, pleasant smile, dark eyes and black hair. She and Jerry were from the same village on the island.
The marriage had been arranged by mail. He hadn't laid eyes on her until she came to the United States to marry him.
``I knew her family,'' he explained. ``That's the way things were done on Kefalonia. Family-arranged marriages. I knew what she looked like. We had exchanged photographs. She was a country girl. Just like me, a country boy.''
Jerry came to this country when he was 14. He was the son of a baker and baked bread in the jungles of the South Pacific for GIs while serving with the U.S. Army in World War II.
When the war ended, he became supervisor for the Mary Jane bakery in Norfolk. He had a reputation for being hard-working and honest. ``The honest little Greek,'' they called him. And still do.
After marrying Irene, he wanted to be his own boss. He bought a failing coffee business on Church Street in Norfolk and lost his shirt after one year, he said.
So how did he become owner of a successful coffee and tea wholesale house?
He rose from his chair, hands on hips, fixing me in his gaze.
``Do you believe in God?'' he asked.
``Yes.''
``Well, I want to tell you a story,'' he said. ``In 1961, I was flat broke looking at myself in the mirror. I had four little children and a wife to support. I was 51 years old. And I prayed. I said, `God please help me!' ''
He turned his head toward the window, silent. ``I tell this and tears come out of my eyes,'' he said, brushing a knuckle at his cheek. He was determined to start a new coffee business despite his hard luck. If he just had a new location, a little land, maybe he could build his own plant.
``I had seen a place on 18th Street that was next to a place that sold boats,'' he said. ``It was here. The land was low. Wet. I walked into that boat place next door. I didn't know who owned it. While I was waiting to talk to the owner, I heard him talking on the phone. I heard the name Strole.''
When the owner got around to him Jerry asked if he knew a man named Strole who had once run a hardware store on Church Street.
``Of course, I know him,'' Jack Strole replied. ``He was my father. He's 80 now. He keeps a garden out back here. Why do you ask?''
Jerry remembered the man's father well. They had become friendly when Jerry was with the bakery and bought parts from the hardware store. Jerry told Jack of his plans for a coffee business. He wanted to rent the land and build a factory on it. Just how he wasn't sure.
``Come back later,'' he was told.
Days later Jerry returned to the boat sales business. ``My father says you are an honest little Greek and he loves you,'' Jack Strole said. ``I'll help you any way I can.''
Strole offered to build the plant building for Jerry and rent it to him for $350 a month. ``It wouldn't work,'' Jerry recalled. ``I told him I couldn't afford $50 a month. He asked if he could build his own building and pay Strole $100 a month for rent.''
Where was he going to get the money? ``I didn't know,'' Jerry said. He needed $15,000 for materials to build the plant. But he was broke. He went to a bank. ``The banker said I can give you $5,000 because you're dirty and sweaty. But no more.''
Pushing his luck he went back to Jack Strole. ``I need $10,000 to build the plant,'' he said.
``Get outta here,'' Strole said.
Jerry placed a hand on my knee. ``Then you know what happened?'' he asked.
``Nope.''
``It was a miracle,'' he said. ``A week later Mr. Strole phoned. He said an aunt had just died and left him $10,000. He said to me: `I'm gonna loan it to you because my daddy says you're an honest little Greek.' ''
He pointed to a photograph of Jack Strole on his wall. ``That's him,'' he said. ``Someone asks me who that is. . . . I say it's a saint. That's who it is.''
Jerry walked me to the car. I congratulated him on a fine family and business.
``It's all because of God,'' he said, glancing upward.
With a bit of help from an honest little Greek. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo
MARTIN SMITH-RODDEN/Staff
Jerry Stephens, 84, built Norfolk Coffee and Tea Co. with his own
hands.
by CNB