Discovering Richard Mellow
Lecchi and Chianti, Italy
“Sandy,” I said as I peered into the rear view mirror of our rental car, “another crazy Italian driver is following us and is driving an old, red BMW with Colorado license plates. It looks as if it’s close enough to drive right into our trunk.”
We were in Italy, driving on a 2-lane rural road outside of Gaiole in Chianti, a small town in the Chianti region of Tuscany, 40 miles southeast of Florence and 18 miles north of Siena. We had rented an apartment in a refurbished farmhouse and were scouting out the location of a cooking class we were taking the next day. We knew it was near the village of Lecchi where he planned to stop to take a look at the Monteluco Castle. One of the many wonderful things about traveling in Italy is the wonderful sites or places that are on the way to another wonderful site or place.
There was nothing particularly unusual about being tailgated in Italy. If you have ever driven there, you know how important it is to keep one eye on the rear view mirror and the other on the road. Proceed at your own risk if you fail to take both of these precautions. Italian drivers love to tailgate and love to drive fast. The tailgating is so aggressive that it looks like the car behind you is pushing you, almost as if it was glued to your rear end. And although the only speed limit seems to be how fast your car can go or road conditions, Italian drivers will never pass you on the inside. So if you’re going to drive slow in Italy, keep to the right.
These “rules of the road” are particularly important if you are driving on the autostrade, but no less important on a windy, rural back road in Tuscany, which is exactly where I found myself when I spotted the BMW in my rear view mirror. It appeared to be driving into my trunk. Unfortunately, the road was too narrow for me to move over so I couldn’t avoid the tailgating.
Sandy turned around to look at the BMW. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a car with a U.S. license plate in this part of Italy, ” she said.
“I know,” I replied. “Neither have I. I wonder if it’s an American who brought his car over for the summer, but it sure is strange. It has to be a lot cheaper to rent one here.”
We continued along the narrow two-lane road on our way to Lecchi, and the BMW continued to tailgate us. I felt tense, unable to relax. I could feel my neck tighten up as I kept one eye on the rear view mirror and the other on the road, anxiously looking for the turnoff to Lecchi. It seemed like an eternity until we found it. At last, I thought, I will be rid of the BMW. I took the right turn and glanced into the rear view mirror, certain that at last I would be rid of the jerk in the BMW. I was wrong!
“Sandy,” I said, I can’t believe this. The Colorado BMW is still following us.”
Sandy turned around and confirmed my reality. “I thought for sure we’d lose him when you made the turn to Lecchi.”
“So did I. He’s got to be following us, but I wonder why? Let’s see what he does when we get to Lecchi.”
A few minutes later we turned off the road to enter Lecchi. The BMW turned with us. Was this just an overwhelming coincidence or were we really being followed?
I immediately looking for a parking space so we could get out of the car and relax. It was not difficult to find one. Lecchi is a very, small town. We got out to walk around. The BMW was nowhere in sight. It appeared as if the overwhelming coincidence was just that.
The main site in Lecchi is the Monteluco Castle. The history of the castle dates back to 1175 when Siena had to surrender it to Florence; being in a strategic point it was always besieged by the Sienese offensive. I spotted the sign for it shortly up the street we had parked on. It was next to the international symbol for “no cars permitted.”
“I guess we’ll have to walk,” I said. It doesn’t look as if it is too far.”
Sandy agreed, and we started to walk up the road to the castle. We hadn’t gotten very far when we heard a car behind us driving up the “no cars permitted” road. The driver pulled along side of us and stopped.
“Are you lost” he asked in perfect English, perfect American English? “Do you want a ride?”
I turned to answer him. Unbelievable! It was the red BMW with Colorado license plates! The driver had a full beard, a very pleasant face and was probably about 70. He was definitely an American. Right at that moment, it felt as if we connected to him like a Siamese twin.
“No thanks,” I responded, “We have a car, but the sign indicated no cars were allowed on this road. So we parked our car and are on our way to take a look at the Monteluco Castle.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t pay any attention to the sign. My wife and I live next to the castle. It’s OK to drive, and there is plenty of parking available. When you’re done looking around and if you still have some time, maybe we can chat for a while.”
“That sounds great,” I responded.
“Good. I’ll look for you in about a half an hour. See you later,” he said and proceeded to drive up the hill toward the castle.
Sandy and I look at each other in amazement. One minute we are being tailgated by a crazy, Italian driver and the next minute the crazy Italian turns out to be a friendly American. This is what makes traveling so interesting and so much fun. And now maybe we would discover the mystery behind the Colorado plates.
We got back in our car and drove up to the castle. The parking lot was at the end of the road. We parked next to the Colorado BMW and got out to look around. All that was left of the castle was a long, stone wall with an opening into a courtyard. We peered into the courtyard and saw some children playing. There appeared to be a number of apartments so we decided not to intrude. The other side of the wall overlooks the valley of the River Massallone. Looking down into the valley, the landscape presents an extraordinarily rich tapestry of olive groves, old farmhouses with wonderful gardens and orchards, ranks of bay cypresses, the signature tree of Tuscany, and terraced slopes and wooded hilltops � all stretching upward to a vast blue sky. It was like looking at an immense impressionist painting. We were mesmerized by the beauty.
Our trance was broken by the voice of the bearded American. “Isn’t it an incredible view?” he asked. “Nancy and I feel very fortunate to live here and to be able to look down into that valley whenever we choose. It’s an instant remedy for any complaints we might have. If you still have a few minutes, c’mon into the courtyard and I’ll show you where we live.”
We had nothing but time and were delighted to have the opportunity to learn more about this man. He introduced himself as Richard Mellow. He and his wife, Nancy, owned and lived in one of four condominium units that had been developed out of the castle ruins inside the courtyard. Richard had been stationed in Italy during World War II and became very friendly with an Italian soldier who now lives in Florence. Richard and Nancy visited him in Florence in 1993 and were introduced to the architect who designed the castle condos. They drove down to Lecchi to see the development and fell in love with it. A year later they bought the unit they now live in.
Richard and Nancy divide their time between Lecchi and Colorado Springs, living six months in each location. They live in Lecchi during September, October and November, when grapes are harvested and most of the tourists have gone home, and in March, April and May, when the spring planting is done and before the summer tourists arrive. They like to be in Colorado for winter skiing and out of Italy during the hot summer months.
I told Richard our experience of being tailgated by him and how strange it was to see a Colorado license plate in my rear view mirror.
“I guess I have been here too long,” Richard said, “I’m driving like an Italian.”
He explained that he had brought his BMW over 5-years earlier with the Colorado license plates on it. He has never been stopped. No one has ever told him he had to have Italian plates. So, in Richard’s own words, “why look for trouble when there isn’t any?” The BMW lives in Italy year round.
Richard lived in Boston most of his life and worked there as a graphic artist. He married Nancy Shrover Howard, who writes educational books for children and formerly worked at the Boston Museum of Fine Arts and The Museum at the State University in New York, Stony Brook. It was a second marriage for both of them. They are both avid skiers, and moved to Colorado Springs where they could continue to ski without having to put up with the harsh New England winters.
This conversation took place in the courtyard in front of Richard’s condo. We were very curious about how it was to live in this remote town and how it worked for them going back and forth every three months between Lecchi and Colorado Springs. Sensing our curiosity, he invited us to come in to look at his home. There were 3-floors, including the basement where Nancy had her office and did her writing. We did not see this floor. We entered the house on the first floor, which included the living room, a bedroom and a small kitchen. All of the rooms were small, but very comfortable. At Richard’s suggestion, we walked up the stairs to the second story. There was a long, narrow hallway leading in to a large room with windows looking out to the courtyard. The walls of the room were filled with paintings and there were unfinished pieces stacked on the floor, leaning against the walls. In the hallway was an easel with an unfinished work resting on it. The subjects of the paintings were still lives or views of the Tuscan countryside. Both Sandy and I had the feeling the artist was waiting for us on the first floor.
“Richard,” I called downstairs, “are you the artist?
“Yes, I am.” He explained to us that he had been a graphic artist during his working years and took up pointing when they bought this condo. “The colors and light in Tuscany make this an inspiring place to paint,” he told us.
“Wow, I am really impressed. I love your work, especially the scenes of Tuscany.” Meanwhile, Sandy was looking at a still life hanging on one of the walls and I was focusing on the unfinished work on the easel, which was a view of the Valley of Massellone we had just looked down upon from outside of the Castle’s wall.
“Are they for sale,” Sandy asked?
“Yes they are. But please don’t feel any obligation to buy anything. I’m happy to have you just look around.”
“Well,” I said, “your work is very interesting and we do like to collect art.”
“Please feel free to continue looking. I’ll leave you to yourselves so you can look without any pressure from me. Take your time and when you’re finished looking, come on downstairs. I’ll wait for you there.”
I couldn’t believe where we were and what we were doing. I was a little bit skeptical about how “friendly” Richard really was. I whispered to Sandy, “do you think his ‘hospitality’ is just a ruse to sell us some paintings?”
“Don’t be so cynical,” Sandy answered. “He is nice and this is a great opportunity to meet him and to see his work.”
So we continued to look around. We agreed that we would like to buy one of the paintings, depending on the price of course, but we couldn’t decide between the still life and the unfinished landscape on the easel. We went back downstairs and told Richard our dilemma.
“Well, that’s not really a problem, Richard said. “Why don’t you think it over and when you make up your mind, come back? That will give me some time to complete the unfinished piece in the event you choose to buy it.”
Before I could respond, Nancy, Richard’s wife came up from her office and we were introduced. Nancy looked about 10 years younger than Richard. She was short, had brown hair and smiling, brown eyes and was as friendly as Richard. The subject changed from Richard’s painting to living in Lecchi. Nancy told us how much they loved living there part time. The people were very friendly; she and Richard felt that they have become part of the Lecchi community.
Nancy has written a book, illustrated by Richard, about their experience in finding their home, living in Italy and their resulting “Italinization.” It is titled In a Tuscan Castle. There were some copies in their living room and, of course, we purchased one of them. Their story is fascinating. It reminds me of Peter Mayle’s memoir, A Year in Provence and Frances Mayes’ Under the Tuscan Sun.
Nancy and Sandy hit it off instantly. They talked about their work, Nancy as a writer of children’s books and Sandy as a jewelry artist. Both Nancy and Richard were very interested in Sandy’s jewelry, and asked her to bring some examples of her work when we returned. Before we left, I asked Richard the price of the two paintings we were considering. We liked his answer. We would be able to afford either one.
It took us about a week to return. This time we ignored the “no cars permitted” sign, drove up the short hill to the castle and parked our car in the lot next to the castle. The Colorado BMW was also parked there, a good sign that Richard and Nancy were home. When we walked into the courtyard, there was Richard was standing in the courtyard in front of his condo.
“Hi. Welcome back,” Richard greeted us. “I’m glad to see you. Nancy and I thought you might have already left for home.”
“No, ” I responded, “This was really the first chance we’ve had to come back. We took a cooking class for a day, spent a day dealing with some car problems and then we’ve been touring. We still have another week before we head back to the States.”
“Good. Well, come on in. Nancy’s in the house. We have a houseguest, an old friend from Australia, staying with us for a few days.”
We followed Richard into the condo where Nancy greeted us with open arms, literally. She introduced us to Gloria and the five of us sat around chatting and had tea. Sandy did bring some of her jewelry, which both women were very interested in seeing. They loved her work.
Finally, it was decision time on the paintings. We went upstairs to Richard’s studio to take a final look at the two paintings we were considering. It was a tough decision, but we opted for the painting of the Valley of Massellone, which was now finished. We thought it would be a wonderful memory of our experience with the Mellos and of our trip to Italy. Richard was pleased with our choice. He said it was one of his favorites. In order to avoid the cost of shipping the painting back to the United States, Richard gave us a deposit slip for his bank account in Colorado Springs and asked us to deposit our payment for the painting in mid-December when he and Nancy would be back in Colorado Springs. He would bring the painting with him and ship it to us from Colorado. And that is exactly how it worked, smooth as silk.
The painting now hangs in my office in Minneapolis, there to remind me of the special experience of meeting Richard and Nancy. Every time I look at it, I think of them and yearn to be back in Italy.
