V.H. Apelian's Blog: July 2021

Saturday, July 24, 2021

Antranig Chalabian: A Big Book’s Little Story

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

This article appeared in Antranig Zarougian’s “Nairi” Weekly in Beirut on December 2, 1973, a few months after the publication of “The Lions of Marash”. Antranig Chalabian narrates how Dr. Stanely E. Kerr’s monumental book came about.

“Dr. Stanely E. Kerr was the Chairman of the Biochemistry Department of the American University of Beirut for almost four decades. During the last years of his tenure he had merited the title of Distinguished Professor. For all I know, in the history of the University, few individuals have been conferred with this title. He retired from his post in 1965 and moved to America.

I knew the Professor simply because we worked in the same building. He worked in the second floor of the University’s School of Medicine building while I worked in its fourth floor as Research Assistant. I had heard that the Professor was an Armenophile. A friend had told me that at the aftermath of the First World War he had helped the Armenian refugees.

The American University of Beirut’s School of Medicine building has two storage rooms in its fourth floor where all sorts of equipment, instruments, some usable others not, are kept. When the storage rooms get filled up workers come and remove some of the items that are not needed any more.

It was in the summer of 1966. I heard that workers have come and are emptying the two storage rooms. I went to see that they do not remove instruments and other items we owned we may need in the future. In one corner there was a very old wooden box. “Take this wooden cart away!” I told the workers because of its rough and tumble look and accumulated dust.

I had hardly uttered my order when I noticed that at its bottom there were papers that appeared to be newspaper and envelopes of sorts. The papers appeared to be very old. Had a garbage collector come across the box he would not have wanted to handle the papers inside and would have tossed the box away. I, on the other hand, who has a tendency to wash his hands 50 times a day, do not know how is that I extended my arm into the box and reached the papers. It may be that serendipity would have it that way.

I opened the large envelope with utmost care. There were clippings from an English language newspaper. TODAY IN SVAS A THOUSAND ARMENIANS WERE MASSACRED. I turned my face the other way and shook the fifty years accumulated dust and took the envelope to my office.

I placed the papers on the table next to my desk and started to look into the newspaper clippings. They were clippings from New York Times dating to the Armenian Genocide. There were also correspondences and documents and also Stanley Kerr’s picture (he was not a professor then). His picture appeared in the newspaper on two occasions in a military like uniform. It turned out that they were the uniforms worn by the American Relief Workers. From the correspondences I concluded that the envelope belonged to Dr. Stanley Kerr.

Emotions overtook me as I read the newspaper clippings; Dr. Suhail Jabbour, one of the Professors of the Physiology Department who is a very curious and observant person, happened to step in.

– “What are you reading?” He asked.

– “Papers that belong to Dr. Stanley Kerr” I said “He seems to have left them here”

– “Place them in my office after you are done” He said. “I would like to read them as well”.

Three days later I asked him, “Where are Dr. Stanley Kerr’s papers?” “I sent them to his son”, he said. Professor Stanley Kerr’s son, Malcolm, was a professor at the University’s Political Science Department and is a specialist of Arab history.

I wrote a letter to Dr. Malcolm Kerr at the U.C.L.A. Political Science Department inquiring about his father’s papers. He wrote back letting me know that he had sent the papers to his father who lived in Princeton, NJ.

I wrote to Dr. Stanley Kerr and asked him if he would return the papers he had left behind to me to give to an Armenian editor.

“No, Antranig” he replied. “I had not thrown these papers away. I had lost them. They are very valuable to me. I had collected them to write a book. I am glad that you found them……”.

This incident became the reason that initiated a correspondence between the two of us the outcome of which became the monumental book Dr. Stanley E. Kerr wrote about the massacres of Marash. To write this book, the eminent professor devoted six years and produced a book about the tragedy of Marash that historians may not have anything else to add. We may mention here that Krikor Kaloustian’s book titled “Marash or Kermanic” has only a 30 pages long section about the tragedy of Marash including eyewitness accounts.

Dr.Stanley Kerr

Dr. Kerr has been in Aleppo and Marash between 1919 and 1923 as an American Middle East Relief officer. He has been a witness to the post War massacres by the Kemalists. Before that he has been interested in the Armenian issues and has collected newspaper articles about the Armenian massacres.

My task became collecting references about the Armenian Genocide and the Cilician tragedy. I translated into English almost all the Armenian references available about the tragedy of Marash and the Cilician calamity. Fortunately the Professor’s knowledge of German, French and Turkish greatly facilitated our searches.

In the spring of 1967, a year after the initiation of the work, the Professor came to Lebanon in search of sources. We looked for a book but we could not find it. I checked almost all the bookstores in the city but I could not locate a copy. The title of the book was “La Cilicie 1919-1920” by Edmond Brimond. I was told that the Armenian Catholic Library in Zmar had a copy.

The 1967 Israeli six-days long war started. The city was very tense. It was the third day of the war and the city was at a heightened mood. People were protesting all over and the streets were littered with glass fragments. The schools were closed and people were indoors; I was concerned that the Professor would soon leave due to rising anti-American sentiments without the reference. I decided to go to Zmar but I did not own a car then. I ventured out of the house, crossed the city center and walked to my friend Yervant Grboyan’s house and knocked at the door. He was still in his bed.

– “Take me to Zmar” I said.

– “Are you crazy or what?” He said. “Who goes out in these times leaving his house?” He added.

We drove to Zmar. We were sipping tasty wine when the Vartabed went to fetch the book from the library. He came back. “We do not have the copy” he said. “It is in our registry but it appears that Father Gergerian has taken the book with him to Philadelphia”.

In the afternoon I went to the University and found that Dr. Stanley Kerr and all the American nationals had left the country early that morning at 7 a.m.

I continued to search for the book through Librarie Du Liban. I wrote to friends in Paris, but to no avail. Then someone told me to check Vahe Setian’s private collection. Giving the benefit of the doubt that a personal collector would have a book the libraries did not, I visited Vahe Setian to inquire. Not only I found the book I was looking for in his collection, I also found additional seven historical books in French about the Cilician tragedy. In President Hoover’s Library we found another French book we needed titled “Historique du 412n Regiment d’Enfanterie” by Captain C. Tribault.

“The Lions of Marash” was printed by the State University of New York Press and was published on July 2, 1973. It retails for $15. Few copies have arrived to Beirut. I do not want to be misunderstood. The author has purchased few copies and gifted to friends.

I am pleased that an eminent American Professor wrote this book. The Professor has shown his greatness early on. Just imagine that a young 20 to 22 years old student leaves America and volunteers to help Armenian orphans in a foreign land.

I narrated the story of a big book. Let the Marashtsi intellectuals evaluate the book.”

Note: Dr. Stanley E. Kerr’s son – Dr. Malcolm Kerr – became the President of the American University of Beirut but was gunned down in his office. Malcolm’s son – Steve Kerr – is a retired professional basketball player and a 5-time National Basketball Association (NBA) Champion.

Note: First published on Keghart.com on September 1, 2012

Sunday, July 18, 2021

Tzolag Hovsepian: “Familiar Faces” – “Հարազատ Դէմքեր”

Reviewed by: Vahe H. Apelian

Admittedly it was a late purchase. Tzolag Hovsepian’s photo book was printed in 2013 in Los Angeles and was presented to the public, with the traditional toasting the occasion with wine, in September of the same year. The event was held under the auspices Archbishop Moushegh Mardirossian, the prelate of the Western U.S., and was organized by Asbarez Newspaper and Sardarabad bookstore. Its only a few days ago that I received my copy from the few remaining in the bookstore.

The photo book, not to call it a mere album, is a coffee table size. It measures 9.5 x 13 inches and is 208 pages long. It starts with a dedication “To the builders of the state of Armenia and to the freedom fighters” and is followed by the photographer Tzolag Hovsepian thanking those who collaborated as the editorial board members and financially supported the publication of this expensive album containing some over 300 colored photographs printed on quality paper. The sponsors are: Mr & Mrs: Vache and Lena Fermanian, Garo and Sossi Eshgian, Zareh and Seta Markarian, Vicken and Nora Hovsepian, Vicken and Lucine Hovsepian, Isahag and Janet Kazanjian, Vahe and Hasmig Hovagimian, Garo and Vicky Kurkjian, Hagop and Sona Chopourian, Varant and Tamar Melkonian, Souren and Tamar Garabedian, Noris and Anahid Sarkissian, Dr. Albert Karamanougian, and Koko Topalian.

The photographs are introduced with a bilingual reflection by the editorial titling it: “The “Why” and “How” of the Album”, and also about the photographer Tzolag, who also reflects on his photography.

The introduction is followed by the preface consisting of testimonials and the correspondence Tzolag Hovsepian has had with the famous photographer Youssed Karsh.

The photographs of the Tzolag Hovsepian’s familiar faces begin on page 27 and end on page 184, totaling, give a take a photograph or two, 316 photographs, “from the thousands before us, each more moving than the other”, the editorial board noted. They are mostly in color and overwhelmingly are of those who have left us for good after having served the nation honorably.

Subsequent to the photographs of the individuals, in a section titled “Tzolag Hovsepian In Intimacy With Legends” depict pictures of the Tzolag with others in a group setting. This section starts from page 187 and end on page 208, totaling 41 photographs give and take one or two.

Tzolag Hovsepian with two friends

Many of the photographs do not bear his name. Some of them are familiar, such as Antranig Zarougian posed leaning against a railing on a coastal boulevard in Beirut. The photograph does not bear Tzolag's name, much like many others. Had it not been for this album, the photographer would have remained unknown. Tsolag claims that these photographs belong to the nation and he claims no ownership.

Tzolag Hovsepian was born in Baghdad on February 18, 1918. Along with his youthful academic education he has remained fascinated with cameras. In 1945 with his brother, he set up a studio on one of Baghdad’s main thoroughfares and ran it for the next 27 years making the studio not only a reputable institution where who's who would gravitate to be photographed but also an Armenian community hub.

Throughout those years and thereafter, the camera has remained his steadfast companion be it in Iraq, Lebanon, France, Armenia, Artsakh and the U.S. where he immigrated due to the political situation in Iraq. Wherever he has been, a camera has always accompanied him, the editorial board noted. He thus "immortalized not himself, but those celebrities, artists, and national figures who have crossed his path”, the editorial board noted.

My youthful impression of him is from those years when he stayed in Hotel Lux while visiting Lebanon from Iraq. I have not met him in person since those days, for the past sixty years or so, but he has remained etched in my memory as a handsome, energetic, Clark Cable look alike. Recently, when I called me him, I was surprised to learn that not only he remembered my parents well, but through the years, from his large social network, he had amassed up to date information, not only about my parents but also about me. Looking at his picture in the album, I realize that my youthful impressions of the handsome, charismatic and a lively man was right on the money! How else to explain the sharp mind of a 103-year-old man who not only is a pleasant conversationalist who, as his friends attest, likes to call them to chat and to reminisce.

The editorial board rightfully notes that "The publication of this album is underpinned by two wishes: First that this will be the inaugural edition in a series of albums to come; and second, that Tzolag Hovsepian will one day put his experiences, his unique narrative, into words. This would undoubtedly give us a more complete understanding of the tableau that represents the most unique meeting points of persons and personalities made possible by Tzolag Hovsepian’s unparalleled lens.”"

Editorial Board:
Center Tsolag Hovsepian
LtoR; Zareh Markarian, Garo Eshgian, George Adourian, Sarkis Mahserejian
******
Cover Conceptualization: George Adourian
Book Layout: Hovig Mahserejian
Printer: "Hay Kir" «Հայ Գիր»

Thursday, July 15, 2021

Shant and Nigol: “Unlike Twins" - "Հակադիր Երկուորեակներ"

"Unlike Twins - Հակադիր Երկուորեակներ": Nigol Aghpalian and Levon Shant

The attached, in five segments, is my abridged translation of the first chapter of Antranig Zarougian’s book titled “The Greats and the Others” ("ՄԵԾԵՐԸ ԵՒ ՄԻՒՍՆԵՐԸ» published in Beirut in 1992.

The chapter is titled “Unlike Twins” (Հակադիր Երկուորեակներ) where Antranig Zarougian paints a student’s impression and a grown-up man’s appreciation of these two famed educators, Nigol Aghpalian and Levon Shant, who toiled side by side in the famed Jermaran of Beirut. The narration also gives a glimpse of the norms and values prevailing when these two educators pooled their knowhow and efforts in educating a cadre of Armenian students, naturally including Antranig Zarougian as one of their students, who would assume leadership roles in the post genocide Armenian community.

Perhaps students are the best judge of the characters of their teachers. Zarougian reminisces episodes that reflect the characters of these two great educators, their pedagogical methods, their ideology and their devotion to education.

Vahe H. Apelian.

Segment 1: Levon Shant and Nigol Aghbalian: Contrasting Twins

http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2019/12/levon-shant-and-nigol-aghpalian-no-1.html

Segment 2: Levon Shant and Nigol Aghpalian: Contrasting Twins

http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2020/02/levon-shant-and-nigol-aghpalian-no-2.html

Segment 3: Levon Shant as an Educator

http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2020/02/levon-shant-and-nigol-aghpalian-no-3.html

Segment 4: Levon Shant and Nigol Aghpalian: Anectordes

http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2020/02/levon-shant-and-nigol-aghpalian.html

Segment 5: Levon Shant and Nigol Agphalian: Ideology

http://vhapelian.blogspot.com/2020/03/levon-shant-and-nigol-aghpalian-ideolgy.html

They Were, are No More (Կային, Չկան)։ Nshan and Nigoghos (No. 8)

“They Were, (and) are no more” (Կային, Չկան) is the title of the last chapter of Antranig Zarougian’s “The Greats and the Others” (Մեծերը եւ Միւսները) book where he casts a glimpse of the way Diaspora writers related to each other, as poets, novelists, journalists, and editors and in doing so propelled the post genocide Western Armenian literature to new heights that subsided with their passing away. The attached is my abridged translated segment from that chapter. Vahe H. Apelian

Nigoghos Sarafian, Nshan Beshigtashlian, Arpik Missakian

“We were on the outskirts of Bois de Vincennes, in Nigoghos Sarafian’s (Նիկողոս Սարաֆեան)¹ house, with Nshan Beshigtashlian (Նշան Պէշիկթաշլեան)²and their spouses. I immediately took a liking of Sarafian and we became bosom friends. After I left Paris, I read in “Haratch” an article Sarafian had written about our meeting and his impressions. It felt that our rapport was mutual. It continued this way for many years until one day when we became estranged from each other and ignored each other for good.

Sarafian did not have a telephone. Every time I visited Paris; I would send word to him through Arpik (Missakian – Արփիկ Միսաքեան)^3. He would come to the hotel and we would spend the whole day together, dining in a restaurant on Eiffel Tower, or cruising on boat on the River Seine, or in a restaurant on its boardwalk that would last well into mid-night. When taking leave of each other, we would embrace and he would say:

- “ This was the best day of the year.”

In spite of our closeness, after taking leave of me, he would confront Arpik and ask her.

- “Arpik, be truthful. Did you remind Zarougian, or it was he who initiated contacting me?”

He was extremely mistrustful, egotistical, and self-absorbed, bordering to paranoia and entangled in his deep-seated anxieties. He thought that we were not sincere towards him. When I told Nshan Beshigtashlian about it, he raised his two arms wide upward swearing by the heaven above and summing up the situation with one word.

- “He is paranoid.”

Indeed, he was. Not in his literature, but in his social dealings. Although it makes no sense to dwell on the social for someone who did not socialize with anyone.

- “I am alone here, all alone.” He would always lament to me in his letters, writing: “Do they read what I write? Do they not read? I have no clue. You are fortunate there for you have people around you. I am in a desert, in a desert…”

In fact, Paris was not a desert during those years. But Sarafian had succeeded exiling himself to an internal desert where he stayed alone and bitter. In order to bring him out the self-isolation, a few of us came with the idea of devoting an entire issue of “Nayiri”⁴(Նայիրի) to him. All our contributors penned appreciative articles in that issue. It was a magnificent issue. No other of his contemporaries had merited such an accolade while still alive. I had a few copies printed on special quality paper and had them sent to him by airmail. “Come now,” I said to myself, “dare say that people don’t read your writings, they do not like you and they do not understand you.“

That issue of “Nayiri” was a bouquet of love and admiration. I envisioned, upon receiving the issue, his joy, even his tears, as I had seen it often on his cheeks. I was expecting a heartfelt letter from him. The letter arrived not long after. Sarafian who used to write to me pages and pages long, unending letters; this was what he had written to me acknowledging the receipt noting: “I received the issue. Thank you.” All together three words - (in Armenian: «Թերթը ստացայ։ Շնորհակալութիւն») – and his signature. That was all.

It was a friend from Paris who entangled the knot. In the same issue we had printed Sarafian’s address so that interested readers might write to him. Someone – most likely playing a cruel joke on him, or might be out of maliciousness – had told Sarafian – “You know why they had printed your address? They meant to say that no one likes you here and they are appealing to readers to take pity on you and write letters to you from there.”

Our Sarafian, a veritable Nicholas; I would have responded but I kept my peace taking into consideration Nshan Beshigtashlian’s diagnosis, “he is paranoid”.

That kind of sickness is not curable. Neither I, nor the weekly were all too well-off either. To obtain that issue of “Nayiri” from the printer I had to borrow a few hundred liras (with interest !). But our hero from Paris, would send me a rancorous “thanks”, which was much more a swearing not only at me, but also two of my friends with whom we had conceived the idea: Yetvart (Boyajian – Եդուարդ Պոյաճեան)⁵ and Boghos (Snabian – Պօղոս Սնապեան).⁶

It should not have happened, but it happened.

Nigoghos Sarafian was a real poet. He had a super sensitive soul and was a good man. He is no less poetic in his prose than in his poetry. Aghpalian was dismissive to some of his early works but over time he matured. He contributed to the “Nayiri” monthly what might be considered his literary opus, “The Woods of Vincennes» – «Վէնսինի Անտառը»։

I have now in front of me his letters, written in a small script and crowding the page. I compare his to the letters from Nshan Beshigtashlian written in large legible scripts. In these letters as well, they are fundamentally different from each other, much like they were in person, in character and in their perception of life.

Beshigtashlian and Sarafian; both will remain in our literature with the best of their literary works. As the saying goes – “the wind will blow away the lighter chaff and leave the grain”; and the lighter chaff will go in the abyss of the time much like they went to the bosom of the earth but their literary works remain.

They were and are no more.

Notes:

1. Nigoghos Sarafian (Նիկողոս Սարաֆեան), March 30, 1902, Varna Bulgarian – 1972, Paris, France. He was an Armenian writer, poet, editor, and journalist.

2. Nshan Beshigtashlian (Նշան Պէշիկթաշլեան), 1898, Constantinople, Ottoma Empmre – 1972, Paris, France. He was an Armenian poet, writer, satirist, and novelist.

3. Arpik Alice Missakian - Միսաքեան Արփիկ Միսաքեան, 1926 – June 19, 2015, France. She was an Armenian journalist, editor-in-chief “Haratch” (1957 - 2009). She was the daughter of the journalist and founder of the journal, Chavarche Missakian. Arpik acquired the practical experience of the problems posed by the printing, distribution and financial management of a daily newspaper from her father. In addition, she learned Western Armenian in the family circle as well as by being with Armenian intellectuals settled or passing through Paris.

After the death of her father in 1957, Arpik Missakian took over the newspaper and vowed to continue it as an independent Armenian journal. She launched the monthly literary and artistic supplement entitled “Midk yèv Arvest” (in Armenian Միտք եւ արուեստ, literally “Thought and Art”

From 1984 she was supported by another journalist, Arpi Totoyan, born in 1945 in Istanbul and speaker of Western Armenian and Turkish, Arpik Missakian kept the newspaper until 2009.

She died on June 19, 2015, in Paris at the age of 89. She was buried in the family vault in the Père-Lachaise cemetery (88th division) on June 25. Her death was deplored by the Armenian community in France, because Arpik Missakian was an undeniable pillar.

Her death marked an end to the era of the pioneers of the Armenian press in France.

4. Nayiri (Armenian: Նայիրի), 1941-1989. It was a prominent, long-running Armenian language literary, cultural and social publication established by the Armenian literary figure Antranig Dzarugian. It was published in various frequencies as a weekly, biweekly and monthly in Aleppo, Syria and later on in Beirut, Lebanon.

5. Yetvart (Boyajian – Եդուարդ Պոյաճեան), 1915, Khdr Bek, Musa Dagh – 1966, Beirut, Lebanon. He was an Armenian writer, editor, a founder of the literary magazine “Pakin” and a teacher.

6 Boghos (Snabian – Պօղոս Սնապեան), August 11, 1927 Bitias, Musa Dagh – June 14, 2014, Beirut, Lebanon. He was an Armenian writer, editor, a founder of the literary magazine “Pakin” and a teacher.

Tuesday, July 13, 2021

They were, are No More (Կային, Չկան): Avedis Aharonian (No. 9/9)

“They Were, (and) are no more” (Կային, Չկան) is the title of the last chapter of Antranig Zarougian’s “The Greats and the Others” (Մեծերը եւ Միւսները) book where he casts a glimpse of the way an intellectual group of writers related to each other, as poets, novelists, journalists, and editors who propelled the post genocide Western Armenian literature to new heights that subsided with their passing away. The attached is the last abridged translated segment from that chapter. Vahe H. Apelian

Aramazd

“After Paris I went to Marseille just and only just to visit Avedis Aharonian¹, whom Zabel Yessaian had likened to the Armenian pagan mythical god Aramazd². He was bedridden for over a decade, due to a stroke, lying in bed immobile and unspeaking. All those who had heard him speak, vouched that he was regarded the most eloquent orator. But the wizard of the words could no more utter a single sentence. It was a gross tragedy.

It was a bright and a sunny day, in an upscale neighborhood, Hagop Babigian and I were heading to visit him. A considerate Armenian family, a husband and a wife, had vacated the upper floor of their beautiful villa and made room for the care of Aharonian, as they moved downstairs.

Right after receiving us, Mrs. Aharonian advised us not to enter his room to see him. Had I been by myself I would have most likely heeded to her advice and not entered his room. But Hagop Babigian was with me as his guardian. He insisted visiting him and thus we entered in.

A big bald head was resting over a white pillow, and on it two sparkling eyes, that is all to it, much like a dry clay jar the middle of which were two shiny lights. Mrs. Aharonian approached him shouting loud to his ear said:

- “Dear Avo, he is one of our ungers (comrades) from Syria, the poet….”

Suddenly the lights extinguished from his eyes, and I heard a voice as if coming from a deep grave:

- “No, no, no…..”

Three times “no”. It is the only word he can utter and that one word is the whole lexicon for someone who was the king of the spoken words, the mythical god Aramazd of the Armenian literature. Do you have pain? No! Do you need anything? No!, and nothing else. A ravished body, but a sharp mind, and a single word, “no”, that is all to it. My God, I thought, what a miserable luck had been in store for him, what a disaster!

- “Did I not tell you not to enter?” Gently reprimanded me Mrs. Aharonian at the same time caringly caressing my shoulder.

I almost fled the scene feeling guilty. The whole visit had hardly lasted ten minutes. I was in a shock. Babigian who was more familiar with the situation was not affected. When we were in the street, he said:

- “ I think you need a strong drink to get you out of this state.” We entered a pub.

No less memorable was Avedis Aharonian’s wife. She was tall, graceful much like a palm tree, but emaciated and worn out, but beautiful in spite of her septuagenarian age. She was the sister of Mikayel Varandian³. In her youth, there wasn’t a young man who did not pursue her, like bees buzzing around her. Among them were two Avos – Avedis Aharonian and Avedik Isahagian³. Hagop Babigian, who had been close to Mikael Varantian, remembered her brother telling him that it’s only one of the two who could hold the rein of our stallion.

The “Black Stallion” of the past had been transformed into a care giver for the past fifteen years. Not a single day had she left her critically wounded Aramazd. Every day, twice she would change his body posture in the bed with the help of a care giver or on her own, and take care of him, change the linens, wash them and then wait on him. She had been doing this daily for the past fifteen years. There still are people who look for saints in the Bible.

They were, are no more.

Notes:

1. Avetis Aharonian (Աւետիս ԱհարոնեանՕ, January 9, 1866, Iğdır, Turkey - March 20, 1948, Paris, France. He was an Armenian politician, writer, public figure and revolutionary, also part of the Armenian national movement. In 1919, he was the head the Armenian delegation at the Paris Peace Conference with Boghos Nubar, where he signed the Treaty of Sèvres formulating the "Wilsonian Armenia" in direct collaboration with the Armenian Diaspora. (Wikipedia)

2. Aramazd was the chief and creator god in pre-Christian Armenian mythology. The deity and his name were derived from the Zoroastrian deity Ahura Mazda after the Median conquest of Armenia in the 6th century BCE. (Wikipedia)

3. Mikayel Varandian (Միքայել Վարանդյան). 1870 Shushi – April 27, 1934, Marseille, France. He was an Armenian historian and the main theoretician of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation. Varandian was born Mikayel Hovhannisian in the village of Kyatuk in the Varanda canton of the region of Karabakh. He took the penname Varandian in honor of his home province. (Wikipedia)

4. Avetik Isahakyan (Armenian: Ավետիք Իսահակյան; October 30, 1875 – Gyumri, Armenia - October 17, 1957, Yerevan, Armenia. He was a prominent Armenian lyric poet, writer and public activist.

They Were, are No More (Կային, Չկան): Nshan and Nigoghos (No. 8/9)

Nigoghos Sarafian, Nshan Beshigtashlian, Arpik Minassian.

- “ This was the best day of the year.”

In spite of our closeness, after taking leave of me, he would confront Arpik and ask her.

- “Arpik, be truthful. Did you remind Zarougian, or it was he who initiated contacting me?”

- “He is paranoid.”

Indeed, he was. Not in his literature, but in his social dealings. Although it makes no sense to dwell on the social for someone who did not socialize with anyone.

In fact, Paris was that a desert during those years. But Sarafian had succeeded exiling himself to an internal desert where he stayed alone and bitter. In order to bring him out the self-isolation, a few of us came with the idea of devoting an entire issue of “Nayiri”⁴(Նայիրի) to him. All our contributors penned appreciative articles in that issue. It was a magnificent issue. No other of his contemporaries had merited such an accolade while still alive. I had a few copies printed on special quality paper and had them sent to him by airmail. “Come now,” I said to myself, “dare say that people don’t read your writings, they do not like you and they do not understand you.“

That issue of “Nayiri” was a bouquet of love and admiration. I envisioned his joy, even his tears, upon receiving the issue, as I had seen it often on his cheeks. I was expecting a heartfelt letter from him. The letter arrived not long after. Sarafian who used to write to me pages and pages long, unending letters; this was what he had written to me acknowledging the receipt noting: “I received the issue. Thank you.” All together three words - (in Armenian: «Թերթը ստացայ։ Շնորհակալութիւն») – and his signature. That was all.

Our Sarafian, a veritable Nicholas; I would have responded but I kept my peace taking into consideration Nshan Beshigtashlian’s diagnosis, “he is paranoid”.

That kind of sickness is not curable. Neither I, nor the weekly were all too well either. To obtain that issue of “Nayiri” from the printer I had to borrow a few hundred liras (with interest !). But our hero from Paris, would send me a rancorous “thanks”, which was much more a swearing not only at me, but also two of my friends with whom we had conceived the idea: Yetvart (Boyajian – Եդուարդ Պոյաճեան)⁵ and Boghos (Snabian – Պօղոս Սնապեան).⁶

It should not have happened, but it happened.

They were, are no more.

Notes:

1. Nigoghos Sarafian (Նիկողոս Սարաֆեան), March 30, 1902, Varna Bulgarian – 1972, Paris, France. He was an Armenian writer, poet, editor, and journalist.

2. Nshan Beshigtashlian (Նշան Պէշիկթաշլեան), 1898, Constantinople, Ottoma Empmre – 1972, Paris, France. He was an Armenian poet, writer, satirist, and novelist.

From 1984 she was supported by another journalist, Arpi Totoyan, born in 1945 in Istanbul and speaker of Western Armenian and Turkish, Arpik Missakian kept the newspaper until 2009.

Her death marked an end to the era of the pioneers of the Armenian press in France.

Saturday, July 10, 2021

Antranig Zarougian: They Were, are No More” (Կային, Չկան) -

Vahe H. Apelian

“They Were, are no more” (Կային, Չկան) is the title of the last chapter of Antranig Zarougian’s “The Greats and the Others” (Մեծերը եւ Միւսները) book where he casts a glimpse of the way a group of intellectuals as writers, novelists, journalists, and editors related to each other in and propelled the post genocide Western Armenian literature in France to new heights that subsided with their passing away.

The first segment is my introducing the book and its last chapter to the readers. Henceforth, I abridged and translated the lat chapter in segments noting in the headline the protagonist of that segment.

The book as a whole and that last chapter, which is preceded by a notation that it is a traveler’s notes, make for fascinating reading thanks to Antranig Zarougian’s superb narration.

The nine segments, which includes the introduction also, are presented below.