12 - The Beginning and the End of Duncan

GRAND ALBERGO TIMEO  --Taormina, Sicily

Duncan at the Timeo 1980

             Duncan was conceived at the Timeo Hotel.  At least that is the story he told. 

Americans of  means, his parents came to Europe on their honeymoon a year or so before the outbreak of the First World War.  They spent a season  in Taormina and established a lifelong affection with the Timeo.

The Timeo garden terrace today (photo Orient Express)

 Duncan in 1980 had more than continued the tradition.  A hypochondriac and a perpetual depressive, he had pretty much given up on life and had been living in a room at the Timeo for several years when I met him.

An indiscreet hotel manager confided that Duncan was “not too keen for the ladies” and that his friend had left him several years previous, which had precipitated the permanent move into the Timeo.

He had once been a professional photographer, and had first come to Taormina in the late forties to photograph the majestic mountain and seascapes.

von Gloeden (google)

Taormina historically had an attraction for the gay community.  Before the turn of the 20^th century, the renowned German photographer Wilhem von Gloeden established a somewhat sulphurous reputation in Taormina, photographing local shepherd boys in the nude, often imitating the poses of Greek and Roman statues. 

Early Capote (google)

Oscar Wilde was one of the first British dandies to visit the hilltop town.     Shortly after the end of the Second World War, Truman Capote led a contingent of jet-setting artists there.  He spent over a year, which he wrote about in his essay “Fontana Vecchia.”   

Duncan first arrived at the Timeo at about this time.

All of the Anglo Saxons and most of the Italians staying at the hotel knew him.  He enjoyed telling guests how unhappy he was and how ineffectual was the lithium he took every morning.  Despite his seemingly permanent state of depression, he never left his room without jacket and tie.

  Taormina was no longer exclusively reserved for the happy few.  “Look at those dreadful tour groups”, he said one day, taking his daily stroll down the Corso.  “They all give me the creeps.”  The world was changing, and neither Duncan nor the Timeo wished to follow suit.

“When I wake up, I think ‘Oh, God, no, not another day, I cannot stand another day on this earth !”

The hotel’s concierge sent me a postcard a few months after my last trip there, reporting that the “grim reaper” had finally paid Duncan a visit. 

Corso Umberto, Main Street Taormina (photo Liv-Life)

-o-

A Few Randon Timeo Faces

Anne

 Of all the many photos I seem to remember taking during my stays at the Timeo, only a few remain.  

Claudia

Urzio

Mario

A few years ago, I had the bright idea of getting rid of several boxes of old memorabilia, including clippings and notebooks ... and many photos.   At that time I hadn't looked at them in at least two decades, and I couldn't find a convincing reason to keep them. 

 I was a little obsessed with the memory of my mother on her deathbed, sifting through boxes of family photos, sorting things for different family members and friends to be dispatched after her death.  I couldn’t understand why she never seemed to finish, until I realized that those boxes of memorabilia were somehow the only thing keeping her alive. 

  Although there was nothing exactly negative about this, I did not wish to imagine myself in similar circumstances.  I had enough of an attachment for the memories that those miscellaneous papers documented that I somehow didn't like the idea of them being thrown away by someone else when I would no longer be around or in charge. 

So I chucked out a good part of my old souvenirs and held back a handful of photos for no specific reason.   They are pretty much all that remain of my Timeo-people memories.   Just a few little bits and pieces:  

Maria

 Maria was an English spinster, whose traveling companion (whom we never actually saw) was confined to her room with a sudden, serious illness.  She joined us for Christmas dinner, and I am thoroughly ashamed to say we were most unhappy when she continued to join us in the days that followed.

Pier Luigi

Pier Luigi and Suzanne

     Pier Luigi met his French friend Suzanne at the Timeo every year for a holiday vacation.  He was, according to Suzanne, recovering from a serious  nervous breakdown, though he always seemed in total control.

    





The Augers were an Anglo-American couple, regular returning guests at the Timeo.  Hugh, a rather bombastic retired army major,  was to our eyes --to Anne's and mine-- foolishly pompous.  Betty, despite a softer, warmer facade, bore a sometimes uncanny resemblance in her manner of being and flat American accent to Wallis Simpson, Duchess of Windsor. 

    

The Augers

There was undoubtedly a story somewhere behind each of these faces.  However, the above jottings represent  the extent of my memories.  So the Timeo vignettes end today with Duncan.

Your input is welcomed:  hotel-musings@hotmail.fr

Next Friday:  Silver Spooned Children ...

 [Photos are mine unless otherwise credited]