Jacques de Spoelberch and Me…
My great friend Jacques de Spoelberch passed away on December 26, 2024 after a long battle with illness, and I wish peace and blessings to his family and friends.He was a kind and gentle soul whose elegance and eloquence was only exceeded by his erudition.
A distinguished man of letters, Jacques was a Princeton graduate who, in his profession as a literary agent and editor for over sixty years, helped authors achieve great success with his guidance, wisdom and steely determination. He was a book man’s book man and a visit to his lair in Rowayton was to be ushered into a timeless salon of unhurried, dreamy excellence, manuscripts and drafts piled high on his desk, notes scattered hither and yon, his bookshelves meticulously turned out, displaying the authors and books he represented or edited. As unruly as his desk might appear, the bookshelves told a different story, a display of his dogged and unremitting resolve which led to the achievements and sustained beauty of his authors. There was no one who was a more tireless and ardent advocate for his authors. I know, I am one.
I first met Jacques nearly twenty-five years ago when Erin and I moved to Weston, Connecticut. I had a great base of friends in recovery in Washington DC and NYC, which I was trying to replicate. I had the great fortune to attend a meeting in Westport on a Saturday morning and met some fabulous men who were likeminded in their commitment to stay sober and help others, men like Gary Stromberg who remains a cherished friend and confidant. Jacques was a whole ‘nother breed. His diction was precise, his manner and mien regal, he would drop bon mots, obscure literary references and very infrequent though well placed F bombs in his shares with equanimity and aplomb. His speaking was not of this world or this century, it had a lilt and cadence that had traces of the Belgian aristocracy from which he descended.
I had the occasion to learn more about this rakishly dapper man as the weeks and months progressed. None of this information was freely disclosed by Jacques, he was far too humble and modest to gloat or brag about any of his exploits. Born in Belgium to one of the great European family dynasties, the de Spoelberchs would later turn their centuries old business into InBev, a beverage and brewing colossus that also acquired the small mom and pop business Anheuser-Busch fifteen years ago. It is a family of nobility and noblesse oblige, Viscounts, Knights and the like, not exactly the Kirk family lineage.
When Jacques was only two, his father tragically died in WWII as a test pilot in the Belgian Royal Air Force. The family moved to the United States and settled on the main line near Philadelphia where Jacques pursued sports and studies with equal rigorous fervor. When he was sixteen, Jacques was signed by the Philadelphia Phillies as a catcher but his knees betrayed him, long before surgeries could repair torn ligaments and broken limbs. Instead, he concentrated on his studies at Princeton and books, lots and lots of books. After Princeton, Jacques worked at Houghton Mifflin where he was the editor on many books including James Dickey’s epochal Deliverance. I once asked Jacques privately, ‘you must have some great stories about Dickey, Cheever and Updike?’ prodigious drinkers all, he smiled, a mischievous smile and with a dismissive wave of his hand said, “Well you know Neil, we all have our stories, don’t we?” That was the extent of our examination, there was no further illumination given, a gentleman need not gossip, a lesson I am still loathe to learn.
Initially, Jacques and I bonded with music. Jacques was a drummer who loved jazz, rhythm and blues, and all things musical. I would share stories of jazz artists whom I had seen recently or in the past, and Jacques had a relentless curiosity, he was inquisitive, a seeker who sought to learn more. About ten years ago, I began to write weekly essays on artists that Erin and I had seen over the years and our attendant interactions with them which I sent out to clients, friends and colleagues. The genesis was simple. I read a lot of music blogs and I came across a poorly written post on John Fahey, an influential guitarist, a musician’s musician. I thought three things: I can write better, I have better stories and our kids see all this junk and memorabilia in our music room and they have no idea who these artists are or their backstories. So the first essay I wrote and sent out was a John Fahey piece. The feedback was great and I have subsequently written over 150 discrete posts, everyone from Sinatra to the Sex Pistols, Johnny Cash to the Grateful Dead, Sonny Rollins to Dizzy Gillespie, James Brown to Lou Rawls and lots in between (all found at vinyl-magic.com).
After a couple years of sending these posts, Jacques requested that I come to his home office for a visit after our Saturday meeting. I was delighted to comply but unsure as to the nature of our visit. After a brief tour of his vast catalog of books, Jacques said, “Neil, I love your writing and I think there’s a coffee table book here with the great album artwork and the attendant stories. What you need is an introduction on how you became so smitten with music and then I’d like to show it to some publishers .” I was dumbfounded, my writing was just an avocation, never something I took seriously, but now I had homework to do and if Jacques said it was credible and potentially commercial, I’d better get to work and try not to disappoint.
Over the next month or so, we went back and forth. I wrote an intro which he liked, he added some careful and thoughtful edits, and we complied 35 vignettes with the glorious signed album cover artwork, including photos by Richard Avedon and illustrations by Andy Warhol. Jacques then brought our proposal along with a framing letter to the market in 2016/2017. While the response to the writing and artwork was favorable, the publishing market was in disarray. As such, a collectibles book like mine was not deemed to be as commercially viable as a first person account or direct offering from a Bob Dylan or an Eric Clapton. Undaunted, I kept on writing and Jacques kept on encouraging me, our friendship deepening as we talked about the really important stuff, our wives, our kids, our friends and how lucky we were to be sober and surrounded by such a supportive community.
About a year ago, Jacques contacted me again via email and asked if I could come by his house for a visit. I was only too happy to comply. Jacques was in physical discomfort, the toll of aging had begun its ravaging and unrelenting descent. As he wrote to me in an email in April of this year, “I said this morning at my morning meeting, I’m still just an ordinary gent trying hard to stay alive as cheerfully as possible day by day. And though my aged corpus is fragmenting annoyingly, my work truly does keep me in decent spirits, and grateful.” No one could turn a phrase like Jacques and I was delighted to be summoned. He was elated when I got there, and he insisted on taking a picture with me in front of his bookshelf as one of his authors. I demurred, I said, ‘I love you Jacques but I’m not published like all these others.’ He said, “That’s nonsense, you are an author and your book should be on the shelf behind me with all the others.” So I smiled and shut up while his beautiful wife Elaine took a picture. Unfortunately, the reception in early Spring 2024 to the handful of publishers which Jacques solicited on my behalf remained the same, it was well written and charming but…
While visiting with Jacques, I told him how much I admired the photos which were displayed throughout his bookshelves. “This one may be my favorite,” he said pointing to a picture of his two grandsons huddled near, faces obscured, sitting on the steps looking out at the vista beyond. ‘Why is this so special?’ I asked. “I love this, it was totally unscripted, it was not posed,” he said, pointing to the spaces between the participants, “We are together yet alone. It is is like life, we are together and alone.” A profound observation that only Jacques would make, a rather mundane family photo thus becomes a metaphysical and deeply meaningful expression of life.
The last time I saw Jacques was in mid November, a scant six weeks ago, I had heard that he was not looking well so I went to his house unannounced. I knocked on the door and his wife let me in and I walked down the hall to his beautifully appointed office. He was seated in his chair, holding a magnifying glass, scouring the NY Post sports section. An inveterate sports junkie, I asked him what he was reading? “Oh, I’m figuring out what games and sports I’m going to watch on TV,” he replied brightly. We talked about the upcoming holidays, our kids, music and, of course, books. “I just signed someone, I must send you their draft, I think you’ll really like it,” eighty-eight years young and still hustling and flogging books. Though his body was frail and worn, his spirit was free and the twinkle and gleam in his eye never dissipated. I crouched down to be near him, he seemed too fragile to hug, I put my arm around him, ‘Jacques, I just want you to know that you are deeply loved, you have helped so many and I’m at the top of the list. I love you. Thank you for all you have done for me and my family.” He seemed a little embarrassed yet oddly moved.
I took my leave, but not before he told me that he still had a couple of publishers who he thought would be good fits for Vinyl Magic: An Eclectic Journey. After our visit, he sent me an email on Thanksgiving, November 28, 2024:
What a good friend you are, Neil, to have stopped in to shore up my spirits.
Trust you’re having a pleasant and happy day.
Affectionate best,
Jacques
To which I replied:
Luv you Jacques, always precious to spend time with you. The sun is coming out and we will be sitting down for a sumptuous feast. We are so blessed to be sober.
Have a joyous Thanksgiving, you’ve already brightened mine.
Xxxxoooo
Yes, Jacques de Spoelberch brightened many days and many lives. He certainly brightened mine and his indomitable spirit lives on in all he touched. Thank you Jacques for your steadfast belief in me. I am an author, though unpublished. I am an author because you told me so.
I luv Jacques de Spoelberch.
Peace and blessings to his beautiful wife Elaine and their three sons and families.
I am so blessed our paths crossed
http://www.jdesassociates.com/authors.html
