My father knew Vartan Gregorian and met him in the hotel when young Vartan had just arrived in Beirut from Iran on his way to continue his studies in Jemaran. Later on, as a student in Jemarant, Vartan lived with an Armenian family in a building next to the one we lived with my uncle's family in Zokak-El-Blat neighborhood in West Beirut, a few blocks away from Jemaran.
Hotel Lux was in downtown Beirut, not far from the parliament building. My father worked in the hotel when he left his native village Keurkune, Kessab in mid to late 1930;s when he was still in his later teens. Many Kessabtsi young men who left Kessab for Lebanon to escape possible conscription in the Turkish army had not learned any trade, as there were few such as tailoring the late Catholicos Karekin I/II had apprenticed in his youth. Thus, most of them worked as waiters and made their living by serving. Later on he ran that Armenian landmark inn, having added another floor, until its demise in 1976 because of the civil war in Lebanon.
The star marked on the picture above depicts the entrance of Hotel Lux, from Allenby Street but the main entrance of the hotel or rather the inn, was from the side street. Customers would be lifted to the upper floors of the building with an old-fashioned elevator, which constituted the famed Hotel Lux. Many in the close-knit Armenian community knew it as Tourig’s hotel. Mehran Tourigian had started it in late 1920’s or early 1930’s.
It would not surprise me that the white colored Volkswagen Beetle in the attached picture was actually the VW we owned. As to that corner store, it is from there that my father and later on I, bought the newly issued stamps for my Lebanese stamps collection, I still have. Along with the stamps, Chiclets gum, two in a small package and Cadbury chocolate bars, we fondly remember purchasing from that store. Regretfully downtown Lebanon became a casualty of the Lebanese civil war and was eventually bought by a company that the late PM Hariri owned or was its major stockholder. Visitors claim that t downtown Beirut has become an upper scale but a stale neighborhood as it has lost its charm.
The quotation below is from Vartan Gregorian's book "The Road to Home" (pages 65 and 66, 2003), where he describes his first day in Beirut having just arrived from Iran. I remember meeting him and his wife while we, as a family were taking a promenade along the coast, not far from the hotel. I remember Vartan and my parents speaking. Vartan was with his wife. That must have been when he returned to Beirut after receiving his PhD to teach and do research. I met Vartan the last time a few year's ago at the gala for the opening of the NAASR's new wing named after him. During the gala he stopped at each table. When I introduced myself, he remembered my father who had passed away in 2007.
This is how Vartan Gregorian's recalls his first day in Beirut ("The Road to Home", pages 65,66, 2003)
“Once in Beirut, I had stage fright. My Persian, Armenian, Turkish, even some Russian, proved insufficient as a means of communication. One of my companions on the IranAir flight came to my assistance. He helped me change Iranian rials to Lebanese pounds, negotiated the cab fare for me, and gave the driver the address of my destination in Beirut: Hotel Luxe. “Which one?” the driver asked. I said, “The one, the famous one. It is a well-known hotel.” The driver shook his head. “I know about the location,” he said, “but I have never heard about Hotel Lux.”
After a wild taxicab ride and an inquiry or two, the driver located the Hotel Luxe. It was in one of the busiest sections of the business district. Buried among a myriad of signs was a discreet, small sign indicating the exact location of the hotel. It was on the fifth floor of a building and was reached by a crude elevator. The hotel had six or seven rooms and a nice, large, airy rooftop terrace. The owner, Mr. Toorigian, and his family lived on the top floor. The kitchen served the family as well as the guests. It was a lively Armenian hotel. In the evenings, it served as a gathering place for several writers, or backgammon players, and discuss a variety of pressing national and international issues. It was sort of a modern-day salon.
The hotel’s rooms were occupied by visiting writers, teachers, and businessmen from Syria, Egypt, and Iraq. I was the first guest from Iran. I handed Mr. Maloyan’s letter to Mr. Toorigian. He extended a warm welcome and gave me a room, and asked me to join him, his family, and guests for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. The guests, all Armenians, spoke the western Armenian dialect. I spoke the eastern one, but we understood each other. My first night in Beirut was depressing. All of a sudden, I felt alone in the world. I was in a faraway place, in a strange city and strange hotel and bed, uprooted and transplanted to follow the unknown. I had neither friends nor acquaintances.
My first two weeks in Beirut were memorable even though I was alone and lonely. I found the city intoxicating. It was my first encounter with a foreign metropolis, a seaport, and ships. I experienced, for the first time, the distinctive smell of the sea, and the oppressive late summer heat and humidity of the city. This was offset by the clean air and gentle breeze of its beautiful nights.”
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| On the veranda of Hotel Lux in 1963, your humble blogger Vahe H. Apelian |
Revised on 4/15/2021
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