Krikor Zohrab: Martyred (5/5)

By Matheos Eblighatian

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian, Ph.D.

Edited by Jack Chelebian, M.D.

 

The same week the Minister of Justice issued a circular barring Krikor Zohrab from practicing law in the Ottoman courts.

From one day to the next, the man who was sprinting started walking on crutches. Henceforth, Zohrab could work only in the courts set by the embassies. He also could work as a legal consultant to lawyers of the  Ottoman court. The ruling reduced his earning potential to a quarter of what it was. He was also afraid of the worst. It was the Hamidian era. Influential persons would disappear without a trace and no one would have the courage to inquire about them with government officials.

A free thinker like Zohrab, naturally, could not be fond of Turkey’s dictatorial regime. And when its heavy hand came down on his head, of course, he reacted. Zohrab started working with the Russian Embassy and was appointed the Embassy’s legal consultant. The Ambassador showed much interest in the plight of the Armenians. Zohrab, in turn, felt the need to do his best to put an end to Sultan Abdul Hamid’s anti-Armenian policies. Zohrab also went to Europe and under an assumed name wrote a book in French on that topic.

These uncertain and dangerous days came to an end. On July 10, 1908, for the second time, the Hamidian constitution was declared. The following year (1909), when Sultan Abdul Hamid was dethroned in early April, Zohrab and Halladjian were elected as Armenian community’s representatives (from Constantinople) in the Turkish Parliament. The same year, I was sent to a remote corner in Turkey called Yania as a judge and moved away from Istanbul when Zohrab was financially very well off. At the same time, new national and political horizons had opened in front of him. Only a gifted individual like him could meet the demands of his office as a parliamentarian.

After moving away from Istanbul until 1912-1913, I followed Zohrab’s activities through the Armenian newspapers and through Turkish newspapers as well. During that time Zohrab had also become a professor in the School of Law. The students would talk about him with admiration. Much like the other Armenian representative Bedros Hallajian, Zohrab had not become a member of the Ittihad party. The Ittihad party leaders admired him but yet were wary of him. Whenever Zohrab articulated about an issue in the parliament, he came across as an authority. Zohrab also shined in the Armenian community. It was not only because he was a member of the parliament. After all, Halajian was a member of the parliament as well. He championed liberal causes, against the conservatives, in the Armenian National Assembly.  He was not a member of Armenian political parties and had no inclination to espouse socialist ideology. He had a powerful personality to be confined by any party ideology.

As I had noted earlier, during the time he was barred from practicing law in Ottoman courts, he had established a close relationship with the Russian Embassy promoting reformation to put an end to the oppression of the Armenian subjects in the interior of the country. He had his considerable input in the Patriarchate to address the grievances of the Armenians. Let us not forget that at that time the name was Ottoman and was not Turkey as it is now. The Armenians, the Turks, the Greeks, the Albanians and the Arabs were constituents of the country. Therefore every one needed to strive to achieve the common good in the country they were part of.

It is known nowadays that the Ottoman Constitution did not achieve that. Those who harbored illusions and hopes had their rude awakening when they read Hussein Jahid’s theory of  “the dominant people”; according to which the rest of the constituents of the Ottoman society were subservient to the dominant Turks. The Turks were not content with monopolizing the country and the government but also resorted to oppressing and massacring the rest.

The Turks wanted the rest to think much like them but without granting the rest the rights and the privileges they enjoyed. We did not even have the right to keep the fruits of our own labor. A healthy, lively, robust and clever Armenian tradesman was not to their liking.  For an Armenian to be wealthy was regarded as some sort of transgression. Establishing amicable relations with foreigners residing in the country was considered an unforgivable sin. Our socio-economic comfort provoked their envy. They considered us having a graceful wife or beautiful daughter were gifts we did not deserve. To top it all, they demanded that we respect them, remain loyal to their individual and national interests. Such was the reigning state of affairs before and after the 1909 Constitution. Naturally, the other ethnic groups did not feel a kinship with the Turks. A Greek parliamentarian at one time said that his relationship with the Ottoman government is like that of the Ottoman Bank’s relationship with the government, that is to say by name only. Zohrab (as an Armenian parliamentarian) likewise had a right for similar perspective, and could act accordingly. Consequently, the Turkish officials’ ceaseless efforts to convince the Armenian community to expect the implementation of reforms solely from the Ottoman government perspective, was futile.  There are those among us who think that that we should have acted this way or that way and that it would have been more favorable for us to concede and get by.  While we looked to foreign powers to bring about reformation to achieve a dignified life, our relations with the Ottoman government always remained lawful.  

Right around this time, Krikor Zohrab wrote an article proposing that the prelates in the provinces be knowledgeable in jurisprudence to best represent the Armenian community to the government. While I appreciated the necessity for this, I had a better grasp of the reality. Consequently, I responded to Zohrab’s article noting that it is not likely that a person who has attained a law degree would choose to be a celibate priest. It is more realistic, I argued, that knowledgeable professionals be appointed as advisors to the prelates. I argued the same in the Armenian National Assembly when it came to appointing officials to the Patriarchate.

Naturally, this was not going to happen overnight. I mention it here to note that all we wanted from the Ottoman Government was securing our lives, honor, and properties through law. We all know it did not happen and in fact, nothing changed. Foreign nationals proposed laws to achieve these objectives. But the persons who were to enact and enforce the proposed laws were the Turkish ministers who chose what suited their sinister goals.

It is often told that Talaat Pasha got emotional and embraced Krikor Zohrab as they parted after socializing at the Circle D’Orient Club, but even Talaat knew the black fate that awaited Zohrab and Vartkes on the very next day. Consequently, some people conclude that Talaat was reluctant to endorse the destruction of his friend. The following day Zohrab and Vartkes were indeed apprehended and sent to face the military tribunal in Dikranagerd and on their way there, they were both killed.

 I knew from reliable sources what Talaat said about Zohrab months after his martyrdom. Talaat claimed that after the declaration of war, the Russian Ambassador had left in a hurry and failed to destroy some of their documents. In those documents, there were reports and suggestions by Zohrab, Talaat claimed, were treasonous. Talaat had added that had he known about these documents, he would not have sent Zohrab to Dikranagerd but would have him hanged in Byazid square in Istanbul and that he would have personally pulled the rope. In this case, Talaat did not hide his origin. In Ottoman Turkey, the hangman’s job was reserved for the gypsies

We have irrefutable proof to conclude that the Turks were thirsty for Krikor Zohrab and his compatriots’ blood and had unanimously voted in the Ittihad center on a plan for their annihilation much in advance. The rest was merely theatrics.

*****

 

The Death of Krikor Zohrab and its reporting in Ottoman Archives (excerpts from historian Taner Akcam’s book titled “Killing Orders”.

“The prominent Armenian parliamentarian, deputy for Istanbul, Krikor Zohrab, was arrested in Istanbul on 2 June 1915. He was sent off to the southeast Anatolian city Diyarbakir on the pretext of standing trial for charges filed in the military tribunal there, but was murdered en route near Urfa on July 19, his head being bashed in with a rock. At the moment that Zohrab was being killed, official documents were already being prepared reporting his demise from a heart attack. According to a report dated 20 July 1915, signed by the Urfa municipality physician, Zohrab experienced chest pain while in Urfa and underwent treatment there. After being treated Zohrab once again was sent on his way to Diyarbakir but was later reported to have died en route. The doctor traveled to the place of the incident and documented the cause of death to be cardiac arrest. 

Another report on the incident was ordered by the priest , Hayrabet, the son of Kurkci Vanis, a member of the clergy of the Armenian church in Urfa. In this report, which bears his own signature, the priest claims that Zohrab died as a result of heart attack and was buried in accordance with (his) religious traditions.. At the bottom of the report, there is a note certifying that it was the personal signature of Hayrabet, son of Vanis, the priests of the Urfa Armenian church, along with the official seal of the Ottoman authorities. We have a third document in hand that also indicates  that Zohrab was not murdered but died as a result of accident. According to an Interior Ministry cable sent to Aleppo on 17 October 1915, it was confirmed through the investigation document number 516, dated 25 September 1915, that Zohrab perished as a result of mishap en route.”

Tamer Ackcam cites these, along with others, as examples of “fact creation” and developing a historical narrative

Krikor Zohrab: Disbarred from the Ottoman Court (4/5)

By Matheos Eblighatian

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

Edited by: Jack Chelebian, M.D.

 

Instead of studying legal cases and preparing for superb defensive arguments, had he devoted to literature, the Armenian literature would have been much richer. However, his contribution to Armenian literature is such that he is regarded among the most famous Armenian writers.  As a publicist, he penned valuable editorials with tight logic. I still remember his column titled (St. Gregory) “The Illuminator’s Broom”, which was reprinted at least a couple times per year by various publications.

Zohrab did not achieve immediate success as a lawyer. His activities in literature, editorials, and articles and his publication of the literary magazine “Massis” with H. Asadour got in the way. However, these initial years were not lost altogether. On one hand, his literary endeavors and on the other hand his successes at small or midsize legal cases reflected positively as his stature grew in Istanbul as well as in cities nearby.

Zohrab was no more the penniless person he had been. Instinctively he also gravitated towards social circles where women and having a good time were of the essence.  His growing prominence in social circles, beyond the Armenian community as well, helped greatly his career in law.

When in 1903, I was able to stay in Istanbul and attend the School of Law, Zohrab had already attained fame as a lawyer. He did not shy away from displaying his wealth. He already had his family. They lived in a house across from the Luxemburg Café’. He had his spacious legal office consisting of a few rooms. He had such charisma that young students like me, who were studying law, would follow him earnestly. Not only I, but students from other races also followed him and attended his legal arguments during court proceedings. In Istanbul court, the proceedings took place from noon until 3 to 4 p.m. We did not have classes during this time and would walk around the hallways of the court waiting for an important case to attend.

During this time criminal and penal cases did not interest me. We rarely came across significant defensive arguments in such cases. Usually maritime and mercantile cases interested me the most. The French language predominated in court.  Renowned German, Italian, British lawyers along with Zohrab, Stambolian, Ketabian, Yerganian displayed their legal rhetorical skills in eloquent defensive arguments which would last a half an hour, and sometimes even longer. The proceedings would adjourn for the prosecutor’s counter-argument to take place next time.  At that time I was a novice in legal proceedings. I would tend to side with the last argument I heard only to find it dismantled, point by point, the next time.

I recall attending a big case. Attorney Rosenthal and another, whose name I do not remember, were dealing with a case that pertained to two hundred thousand gold coins for a railroad construction project through Hama. It appeared that Rosenthal was about to lose the case and thus had sought Zohrab’s legal assistance. Zohrab had prepared a powerful argument where his engineering knowledge had become a center point in structuring his defense. Zohrab’s argument had carried the day and assured Rosenthal winning the case for which he earned ten thousand gold coins and offered Zohrab only two thousand gold coins. Zohrab sued Rosenthal and demanded five thousand coins instead. The court sided with Zohrab. In another case, in a matter of fifteen days, Zohrab earned two thousand gold coins.

Zohrab was a hedonist. Right after his reimbursement, he frequented Boyukada with mixed company and after a week there, gave the remainder of his money to a troubadour. His wealth gave way to his extravagant spending on women and gambling. It was said that at times he would end up penniless when crossing the bridge from the island and at other times he would be laden with hundreds of gold coins having had success at the gambling table.

However, his indulgence in high life and his pursuit of women did not distract him from carrying the responsibilities of his legal practice professionally. One of Zohrab’s clients happened to be a beautiful European woman. Seeing her, his friend, attorney Diran Yerganian remarked to Zohrab whether she pays for his services with money or by offering her body. To which Zohrab immediately answered: “It would be shameful for me not to reimburse a woman for her services and it would be equally shameful for me to engage in my legal practice without being reimbursed financially.”

*****

I wrote at length about Zohrab’s increasing prominence socially and also professionally. His professional stature enabled him to establish friendship with many influential judges, which did not sit well with the Minister of Justice Germerzade Abdul Rehman Pasha.

Germerzade Abdul Rehman Pasha was the patriarch of a very prominent family and was an ex vizier. He was also the father-in-law of Sultan Abdul Hamid’s favorite daughter. He was not educated but he was very intelligent and surprisingly very decent and an honest man. He strived to keep the legal department on the right track. Sultan Abdul Hamid respected him a lot, that’s why no courtier or highly placed official dared to interfere with the proceedings of the legal department.

In spite of the Minister of Justice’s vigilance, the legal department was not altogether free from corruption. The Minister was very adamant and would right away dismiss corrupt lawyers or would hold them without promotion for years. In spite of the minister’s suspicion about Zohrab’s contacts with prominent judges, I remain convinced that Zohrab never engaged in corrupt practices. He was simply very effective and persuasive. Those who had not heard his powerful defense arguments, including the Minister of Justice, could very well have formed a wrong opinion about him. I would like to present two cases to make my point.

After graduation, most of the students of the law school would apply to the Minister of Education to be assigned to training posts in the courts. The assignment was for two students working together at a time. I had also applied. Almost a year later and after five weeks working in Hmayag Khosrofian’s law office as a secretary, I was informed that I was assigned to a post in Istanbul’s second penal court.

There was a heavy load in the courts. I, and my Turkish classmate, without stipends, went to the court every afternoon and alternately helped the recording secretary. When a lawyer presented his defense without resorting to a written text, we rapidly jotted down in shorthand his argument and afterward finalized it for record keeping. I was present when Krikor Zohrab presented his powerful arguments in two cases.

One day a handsome young man and his attorney Krikor Zohrab appeared in court to appeal the young man’s six months indictment issued by the court earlier in his absence. The young man had intimate relations with a young woman and subsequently refused to marry her. Both were Armenians and were well known in the community, especially the girl’s father, who was affluent.

Legally, an adult man and woman’s intimate relations were not the court’s business as long as they were consensual and were not against public morals. However, having an affair with a woman, after having promised to marry her but not keeping the promise was considered a legal matter, as long as there was tangible proof of the promise, such as letters. In this case, there were letters, which even contained references to the future, but there was no explicit promise of marrying. In short, the circumstances of the case were such that the verdict depended on the judge’s perspective and conscience; a situation that affords the defense lawyer maximum opportunity to display his analytical and persuasive skills. Zohrab was specially brilliant that day as he presented his argument in defense of the young man. The judges sided with Zohrab and exonerated the young man.

The second case was a far more important case that showed Zohrab’s skill as a lawyer. The case had to do with a commercial transaction in hundreds of thousands of gold coins between the French and the Ottoman governments. The proceedings took place in a special mixed tribunal because of Turkish Capitulation, which was grants made by successive Sultans to Christian nations, conferring upon them rights and privileges in favor of their subjects residing or trading in the Ottoman Empire. Consequently, the French Embassy had appointed two French judges out of the five judges. The rest were Ottoman subjects consisting of Osman Bey, another Turk and Stepan Karayan. Naturally, if the three Ottoman appointees voted unanimously, the government would carry the day.

Who among the three Ottoman appointees would vote against its government? In such tribunals, there had never been a case where the foreign judges voted against the interest of their citizenry. We studied the phenomenon of Turkish Capitulation as part of our course. It was rumored that the French Embassy had reached out to Stepan Karayan to vote on the side of the French judges, but he had refused to engage in such collusion. Thus the outcome of the trial depended entirely on the skill of the lawyer to convince one of the three Ottoman judges to vote along with the French judges for the French Government to win the case.

I was not present during the defense. Those who were present told me that Krikor Zohrab made such a powerful and irrefutable case that a miracle happened. Osman Bey voted in favor of the French judges forcing the Ottoman government to pay hundreds of thousands of gold coins. Nothing of that sort had happened before. Osman Bey was a just and honest man. He had represented the Ottoman government in the international court of justice in Lahey. He had an international reputation as a knowledgeable jurist. The Minister of Justice, fortunately, knew him personally only to reprimand him saying:

“Again that pig was able to bag us. Did you not have the same patriotic feelings as the giaour (infidel) judge?” The minister was alluding to Stepan Karayan.

The Minister of Justice did not dismiss Osman Bey but assigned him to a secondary post cutting his salary by one third.

The verdict was final, what remained was its implementation. To put an end to the Ottoman government’s procrastination, the French government resorted to dispatching its warship to show resolve in settling the matter for good.

The same week the Minister of Justice issued a circular barring Krikor Zohrab from practicing law in the Ottoman courts.

Krikor Zohrab: The Lawyer and the Writer (3/5)

By Matheos Eblighatian

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

Edited by Jack Chelebian, M.D.

When Zohrab finally understood that his (engineering) post in Trabizond was not to be, he became exceedingly angry. No one understood that he was cut from a different cloth. He was not the type to sit in an office smoking and sipping coffee all day long doing little.  The very next day he tended his resignation from the job offered to him refusing henceforth to be an employee of the state. He returned to his alma mater and registered in its law division subjecting himself to another four years of bread and halva diet.

There also he faced an unexpected development. The engineering and law divisions of the Galatasaray Lycee’ were canceled. A law school opened in Istanbul (at that time the word and the institution of the university did not exist and the faculties were called the medical school, law school). The government had assigned a very strict person of Hungarian descent named Magar Emin Effendi as its director.

The ensuing years were difficult for Zohrab as he anxiously waited for his graduation to practice law whose calling he felt. Here again, his intense desire to become a lawyer met with unexpected difficulties. First, the number of years for studying law was increased from three to four years. More importantly, he got into an argument with the director of the law school and had to leave the school without taking its final examinations.

During that time an enlightened minister by the name Hassan Fehmi Pasha initiated a European based judicial structure. He started the reformation from the province of Edirne, where he appointed his friend Toros Sarajian as the general prosecutor. He also wanted to change the caliber of the lawyers who were practicing law in the courts. They were asked to pass the legal examination to qualify for practicing law. In Istanbul, the examination took place in the Law School. In the provinces, a committee composed of the principal of the central court and a few other members conducted the examinations. Those who passed the examination in a particular province could only practice there.

Zohrab hurried to Edirne where he passed the examination with flying colors. He returned to Istanbul whereby with a special dispensation he also secured the right to practice law there as well. Thus, the graduate from the engineering school who had left that career embarked in the practice of law in a non-conventional way.

*****

I do not have much to say about Krikor Zohrab as an author and publicist. To do so, one needs expertise in the field and a thorough knowledge of the person’s literary output. I lack the former and I do not have sufficient time for the latter.  I know that he started writing at an early age and became a well-liked author and that his writings helped him tremendously in his career as a lawyer and as a community leader. He had mastered the language and had a beautiful style of writing, which I assume was nurtured in the Armenian elementary school he attended. Furthermore, his literary collaboration with H. Asadour surely was beneficial to him. His superb intellect, cultured mind; his capacity for astute observation and sound judgment were more than enough to have catapulted him to social prominence.

By 1880’s Zohrab had already received a sound secondary education in French and subsequently completed his engineering and law courses. Consequently, he had received the best education in his time. Add to that his innate abilities to observe, analyze, judge, articulate and to write, you can picture a multi-talented accomplished person. There may have been others who may have surpassed him in a given trait or another but not in the sum total of these characteristics. No other Armenian came close to his stature.

It was his youthful energy and desire to be known and advance his career that motivated his literary endeavors. It would have been wonderful if he had devoted himself completely to literature. However, he had his passions and a thirst for the pleasures of life that could only be attained by material rewards. In those days achieving material comfort through literature was impossible. The Armenian readership was small and making a comfortable living as an author was almost an impossible dream, a ‘paper glory”.

Instead of studying legal cases and preparing for superb defensive arguments, had he devoted to literature, the Armenian literature would have been much richer. However, his contribution to Armenian literature is such that he is regarded among the most famous Armenian writers.  As a publicist, he penned valuable editorials with tight logic. I still remember his column titled (St. Gregory) “The Illuminator’s Broom”, which was reprinted at least a couple times per year by various publications.

Krikor Zohrab, the Engineer (2/5)

 By Matheos Eblighatian

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian

Edited by Jack Chelebian, M.D.

 

It is to this end that I pen my memories and impressions. I do not have in mind Krikor Zohrab solely as a writer, nor as a lawyer or as a politician. I will write only what I know, have seen or been told I have been able to verify.

Krikor Zohrab did not have a happy childhood. His father died prematurely. His mother remarried a lawyer of ordinary means. After graduating from the local Armenian school, he was enrolled in the Franco-Turkish lycee’ of Galatasaray.

This school was established during the reign of Sultan Abul Aziz at the request of Napoleon III. It had an illustrious period especially during its initial years. Many of its teachers were noted professors who were appointed by the French government. The natural instincts of Turkish politicians were honed in this institution. In the beginning, the Galatasary lycee’ offered courses in law and engineering as well and many Armenian young men took full advantage of these unique opportunities, so did Krikor Zohrab. He studied engineering.

Across the Galatasaray lycee,’ there was a Turkish pastry shop that later became Ohnigian’s tobacco shop. Every morning young Krikor Zohrab would walk from his home (I believe in Ortakoy), to the school. For lunch, he would use his allowance of 50 piasters to buy bread and halvah from the pastry shop. In spite of the fact that the purchasing power of his allowance diminished over time, the kind shopkeeper continued serving Krikor Zohrab the same portions. He liked this poor but intelligent lad.

He was very popular among his classmates. He was the youngest in his class but was always the first in the academic ranking. Years later when Zohrab became a prominent lawyer, his one time classmates, who had become renown engineers, would relate about their former classmate’s uncanny ability to solve accurately and fast complex engineering problems.

It is not hard to envision that after years of living off of bread and halvah and walking for hours under snow or rain, young Zohrab would have been eager to graduate in order to attain a better life for himself. That day came and Zohrab graduated the first in his class.

As it was customary then, the list of the graduating engineering students, with their academic ranking, was sent to the ministry of public works to have each student assigned an appropriate post. The country was just beginning to organize itself along European standards. There were few decent roads and bridges in the country. Even the governing centers of the many provinces did not have engineers or any official worthy of the name.

The ministry assigned Krikor Effendi to an important office commensurate with his academic ranking to be the main engineer of the Trebizond province with a monthly salary of one thousand eight hundred piasters, which with pension and other allowances, added to 16 Ottoman gold coins. His days of bread with halvah were over. Was it a result of his destitute childhood or his innate character? He exhibited early on a deep desire for lavish spending and enjoyment of life.

Like the rest of his classmates, on the assigned day, he presented himself to the minister’s counselor to receive his assignment. The orderly escorted him to an ornately furnished hall where, in one corner, a short man was sitting behind a desk. When the counselor understood what the young lad is here for, he asked:

-       “Well my son, why did not your father come?”

-       “My father is dead”

-       “Who is Krikor then?”

-       “Myself”

-       “How could that be? Are you the first engineer of the Trebizond province?”

-       “Yes, your Excellency”

The counselor rang a bell and ordered to have the young engineer’s dossier brought to him while Krikor remained standing and waiting anxiously.

It took the official ten minutes to study his dossier. He added a few notes on the cover and instructed Zohrab to meet him in a week. Zohrab became very apprehensive and assumed that there were some obstacles in on his way even though at that time there was no overt animosity against the Armenians, but then, was he not a Christian?  Life had not been kind to him yet. He had always encountered difficulties. This delay was an ominous sign for him, Zohrab thought, especially that most of his classmates had already received their assignments and were preparing to transfer to their posts.

Zohrab was so inexperienced then he had not even inquired the name of the official who had suspended his hopes. The following week he presented himself with trepidation. This time around the minister’s counselor spoke to him in Armenian.

“You are lucky, my son. The government has noted your exceptional talents and your age and has assigned you as a vice administrator in this ministry at a salary of 900 piasters monthly”. That post was indeed an exceptional opportunity for him even though the salary was only half as much as it would have been in Trebizond. However, the post was in the capital city, Istanbul, with all its comforts and bearing in mind the expected year-end bonus, the difference in the salary would not have been that much.

Zohrab was taken back and took leave without responding. Once he found out that the person he had met was no other than the well-known Krikor Odian, through intermediaries he sent word to him asking for his other post. Krikor Odian remained puzzled knowing that those in the countryside would have looked forward to changing their position in favor of a lower ranking and paying post in Istanbul. Furthermore, he noted that Zohrab was way too young to have his say over his older subordinates in the distant provinces. He added: “How can I throw him to the beasts?”

When Zohrab finally understood that his post in Trabizond was not to be, he became exceedingly angry. No one understood that he was cut from a different cloth. He was not the type to sit in an office smoking and sipping coffee all day long doing little.  The very next day he tended his resignation from the job offered to him refusing henceforth to be an employee of the state.

Krikor Zohrab (Memories and Impressions) Part 1/5

By Matheos Eblghatian

Translated by Vahe H. Apelian
Edited by Jack Chelebian, M.D.

June 26 (1861) marks the birthday of one of the most colorful personalities in modern Armenian history, Krikor Zohrab. He was an enigneer who studied and became a prominent lawyer, politician and writer. He was endearingly called the “Prince of the Armenian (short) Novel”  (Նորապէպի իշխան). Matheos Eblighatian,  a lawyer himself, had remained from his youth fascinated by the larger than life Krikor Zohrab, and devoted  a whole section of his memoir (A Life in the Life of My Nation – Կեանք մը Ազգիս Կեանքին Մէջ) to  Krikor Zohrab  claiming to write “ what I know, have seen or been told I have been able to verify”. Matheos Eblgihatians memories of Krikor Zohrab make for a fascinating reading about the man. I have attached in five parts my translation of the segment, which was edited by Jack Chelebian M.D.  Krikor Zohrab was martyred in 1915.

 

"I wanted to study law at the university. Therefore, I had to go to Istanbul because, at that time, the branch in Konia had not opened.

In those days, the Turkish Armenians were living their darkest days. Hamid’s government had forbidden the Armenians to travel from one province to another without permission. Going to Istanbul was almost impossible. I had attempted twice and in both instances, I had permission from Izmir’s all-powerful governor Kamil Pasha. However, in both instances, I was sent back. I succeeded in my third attempt, in 1903.

Even after arriving in Istanbul, remaining there had become exceedingly difficult, especially during the celebrations of Hamid’s birthday and enthronement. The Red Sultan’s secret police were checking all the hotels and all the houses that rented out rooms, looking for Armenian migrants from the interior of the country and were sending them back.

As an Armenian law student, naturally I was interested in the lives of Armenian judges and lawyers. Goes without saying, Krikor Zohrab was the most brilliant representative of the latter. Since my course load consisted of two or three periods per day, I had the afternoons free to look for a job to get by financially and at the same time to gain experience by working in a law office. Naturally, I tried my luck first with Krikor Zohrab’s office.

A high-ranking judge, who was my sponsor and also an old family friend, gave me a reference. When I presented myself to Krikor Zohrab’s office I saw two young men, Arshag and Armenag, working in the reception area. I waited there until Krikor Zohrab became available to see me, I entered his office and presented my reference to him.

At that time Krikor Zohrab was a handsome mature man in his 40’s with round face, mid-height, and had piercing eyes. In this harmonious whole, the only exception was his voice, which was cracked and unpleasant.

He took my reference and read it carefully and asked me a few questions and said – “give my regards to the Effendi. I will see him later”.

In fact, the next day, he had explained to my sponsor that being a student, I would be distracted with my studies in the office and naturally would not be able to concentrate on my office work to be of much assistance to him. Likewise, he would not want me to leave my studies, as many students would do, to make a living. Naturally, his response saddened me and I got sadder as I started getting used to life in Istanbul. I devoted my free time dabbling in literature and started writing under the pen names Norayr Bared or simply Bared.  In time my adulation of Krikor Zohrab bordered on reverence.

During that time Zohrab was at the pinnacle of his career. He did not have time anymore to continue writing. He had long ceased publishing “Massis” with his literary friend H. Asadour. I, on the other hand, while contributing to Z. Yousefian’s “Arevelk” and Dikran Arpiarian’s “Massis” literary journals, had come to appreciate Zohrab the core, both as an author and as a lawyer and jurist. He was a lighthouse for me. Emulating the status he had attained, both socially and professionally, became my greatest wish. My interest in him knew no bound.

On all occasions, with whoever I might be in contact, be it a lawyer, a judge, or an author, I would direct the course of my conversation in such a way that it would include Krikor Zohrab’s life, whether personal or public. The person told me the most about Krikor Zohrab was my sponsor who was the general prosecutor of Pera. The next person was H. Asadour, whom I often met in M. Asasian’s law office.  Editors, officials in the Patriarchate, casual conversations in the court hallways, all became avenues for me to gather information about Krikor Zohrab.

A different life, different atmosphere, and different perspectives took over in 1908, at the dawn of the Constitution. The cowed, silenced life of the Hamidian’s regime era ended. Everyone’s life became much like an open book. Our ideas and aspirations crystallized were transparent while our eternal enemy stealthily penetrated our core – our thoughts and instincts waiting for the opportune time to strike. Years went by and Krikor Zohrab was martyred.  

One day, during 1919-1920, when I was the general director of the National Relief organization, in a steamship going from Boyukada to Istanbul, I was reading philologist A. Alboyajian book about Krikor Zohrab.  That book, along with the rest of my library remained behind in Istanbul. Others also wrote their memories and impressions of him. All these publications will one day serve as a primary source for anyone who might be interested in studying the life and contribution of Krikor Zohrab and the rest of our luminaries who shared his fate. I believe that there will be writers who will write about them and will offer the fruits of their research as a monument in the pantheon, which as yet does not exist in a material sense.

It is to this end that I pen my memories and impressions. I do not have in mind Krikor Zohrab solely as a writer, nor as a lawyer or as a politician. I will write only what I know, have seen or been told I have been able to verify."

THE 1913 WINTER IN VAN

Matheos Eblighatian

Translated: Vahe H. Apelian
Edited: Jack Chelebian, M.D.

In 1913 Matheos Eblighatian was appointed as the prosecutor general in Van. No Armenian in the Ottoman Empire had occupied such a high judicial position before, at least not in Van. Interestingly he regarded his assignment as a service in the fatherland, that to say Armenia. After a long journey starting on May 15 through Constantinople Batumi, Tiflisi Yerevan, Igdir, he arrived to Van on July 12. In his memoir (A Life in the Life of My Nation – Կեանք մը Ազգիս Կեանքին Մէջ) he narrated his first winter in Van, alluding to them as “long nights in Armenia”. Attached is my translation of that segment.

"The winter that year was harsher than usual. The snow, I was told, was more abundant that winter. Sometime in early November, I woke up to a blanket of snow. The snowflakes were piling on each other.

From our house in Aykestan, which was close to Khach Street, to my office in the center of the city, took three-quarter of an hour to cross on foot. It was impossible to travel by cart because of the snow. The snow sleighs were not ready yet. Consequently, with 8 to 10 Armenian lawyers and employees, we set foot walking. By the time we arrived to the court some nine centimeters of snow had piled on our shoulders. Fortunately, although the building was old, the floors were carpeted and the furnaces were red hot. I was accustomed to snow. I had experienced snow blizzard in the outskirt of Istanbul, where I lived. But the situation in Van was completely different.

As the days went by, the snow fell with abundance and settled. Until the beginning of spring, we had between one to one and a half meter snow accumulations. On both sides of the streets, a narrow passage would always be formed and on the larger avenues, the sleighs did the same. The greatest unease was the realization that we were besieged and imprisoned of sorts. There was an overwhelming whiteness all over. For short travels, it did not affect adversely, but after traveling for hours, the never ending snow white pierced the eye and people would end up suffering from pain for long periods of time. Of course, the snow had also its appeal. The city would look marvelous in the moonlight.

The nights were long. There were no occasions left for murder to have me bothered at any moment of the day. Therefore we spent every evening visiting colleagues. Most of them were not from Van. At times we also visited few local colleagues. In these situations, the women would stay in a separate room leaving the males alone. The people were used visiting each other during these long nights in Armenia. Telling stories and jokes were the orders of the day. My colleagues respected my abstinence (from alcohol) and they would not drink.  Usually, after dinner, we would take a walk outside.

The situation was altogether different when the governor and high placed officials got together. After drinking all night long, they would eat close to midnight. The governor had initiated these invitations. The rest took a turn to do the same.

Among the Armenians, Terzibashian initiated inviting us, followed by Tutunjian. The Party (i.e. ARF) invited the governor and his entourage in Ishkhan’s house. The second invitation was in honor of the Armenian lawyers. In the preliminary court, there were two Armenian judges and an assistant judge. With me, there were four lawyers. There were two other Armenian judges in the investigation tribunal. Thus, there were six Armenian lawyers in Van in those days. Along with the host, Aram (Manougian) was also present, who enlivened the evening. Along with us, there was a senior guest who was a Russian Armenian architect. He was a quiet man who spoke seldom and looked more studying us.

Needless to say Ishkhan and Aram did their best to entertain as well. Since it was a purely Armenian gathering, the Armenian issue and the everlasting call for the sanctity of life, honor, and property would follow after each salutation speech. Finally, the Russian Armenian guest spoke and said that he was very pleased to see that the present Armenian government officials did not resemble the ones Raffi had described in his novels. It was true. Not only us, as newly appointed government officials in the era of the constitution, but most of the Armenian government officials preceding us, thought and acted as an Armenian as much as each could.

Among the Armenian government officials, there were those who pursued their national aspiration had thus left their offices. Unfortunately, the period of the constitution did not last long and the people did not get to know the state of the Armenian government officials and hence being “Turk’s official”, generally elicited contempt. I elaborated on this point when I was given the concluding speech and I explained at length to the Russian Armenian guest the current relationship between the Armenian officials and the government.

Imagine my astonishment when years later on my way to America on an ocean liner, while passing through Istanbul, I visited Hovhannes Katchaznouni. I found out that the Russian Armenian architect we had as a guest that day, was he. He was accused in a lawsuit in Petersburg against the Tashnagtsoutiun. He had come to Istanbul evading the trial and had found refuge in Ishkhan’s house. Later on, I met him again in Istanbul and in Roumania and later in Athens the day before his departure to Armenia."

Memorial Day: Camp Lutherlyn, Camp Haiastan, and “Pumpkin Suni”

Remembering David on Memorial Day

Vahe H. Apelian

Reproduced from Armenian Weekly (2000).

BUTTLER, PA:  Driving our children to the annual AYF Junior Seminar in Camp Lutherlyn became an annual ritual in our family since we moved to Cincinnati in 1995. Camp Lutherlyn is located in Prospect, Pennsylvania, 325 miles or so from us. There is no AYF chapter in Cincinnati, which is why we took upon ourselves to drive our sons to the camp.

This was the last time that David, our youngest son would attend the seminar as a junior participant. He was placed in the grown-ups cabin, a situation that made us realize that a phase in our lives has now come to its end.  Butler, the town next to Prospect, had become our Memorial Day weekend gateway. My wife and I rummaged the local antique shops and the flea markets or fairs and enjoyed Pennsylvania outdoors as our children attended the seminar these past six years.

Most parents have not visited Camp Lutherlyn and for good reason. The AYF chapters bus the children there, covering a distance which is not meant for the faint-hearted or for those who have not set their minds for making the long journey a memorable experience. Ours was no different. During the past years, we accumulated our share of experiences of missed exits, wrong routes, memorable lunch stops and familiar landmarks.

But none of these will ever come close to the way I related to the camp and to our son's experience there. It was on our way there, on the highlands of Pennsylvania, some five seminars back. It was to be David’s second attendance. I asked him if he remembers anything from the educational from the previous seminar. He said he remembered well what “Pumpkin” Suni and his friends did for the Armenian cause. David’s slip of toque was agonizingly evident and yet conspicuously innocent and it took me to my youthful days. Born in America and now growing up in the Mid-West, tonque twists of Armenian names or wrong connotation, is the least I would have been concerned.  I was sure that in time, he would learn the correct pronunciation of the name that had fired the imagination of countless children and youth, including mine.

My father enrolled me in the Papken Suni Badanegan (Youth) Mioutyun (Association) when I was David’s age. We held our meeting on Saturday afternoons in the old building of the Beirut Gomideh. At least once a year we held the same debate over whether Papken Suni and his friends served the Armenian cause by their deed, or whether it was a reckless act. We knew the outcome of the debate and few us ever volunteered to be in the team that negated the act. But at times we did since someone had to.

And now Papken Suni’s name had acquired a new twist with my American born son who was growing up trick or treating the neighbors on Halloween day with their overgrown pumpkins. But the spirit of the act had now caught his imagination too. The passage of the legacy of sorts had indeed taken place.

For three days, during the long Memorial Day Weekend, Camp Lutherlyn becomes the microcosm of the best the Armenian community offers to its children. Arriving from different states of the East Coast, the kids get together to renew their friendship and relate to the past year’s camp experiences as if it had happened only yesterday. Soon they realize what was meant to be only yesterday is in fact 365 days old now. Nature has taken its course and they are now a year older. For all those parents who are not there to see, we bear witness of the joy of their children seeing each other and for being together for one more time and the all too evident sadness at the departure time after three memorable days. And yes, sadly, we will miss that too. Come next year we will not be there anymore.

For the past six years, we witnessed the dedicated work of the AYFers who organize the annual Junior Seminar. It’s a huge undertaking and is well organized by the AYF Seniors or Alumni who are now shouldering their own personal responsibilities. These dedicated young men and women devoted countless hours to make the Junior Seminar a memorable event for the few hundred kids who attend.

David is an AYF member-at-large and attends the seminar independently. However, right upon our arrival, he fits with the crowd. By now we know what to do. After we pull our car on the campground and see David saluting and hugging his fellow campers of past years, we head towards the main station and give David’s name. The attendant pulls a file bearing his name. In that file, we find the program, the layout of the camp, his assigned cabin and the names of the kids who will be with him in the cabin. A similar file is prepared for each and every camper.

Each cabin is given the name of a memorable ARFer. This year David’s cabin was called Mikaelian. The next cabin was named after Palabegh Garabed, the next one over, the inevitable Papken Suni. Along with the names, a brief biography of the person with a picture is also posted on the door of the cabin. On this Memorial Days weekend, past ARFers who also sacrificed, at times with their lives, are also remembered.  Each cabin has one or two councilors. Along with the educational, the dances, the three evenings in the cabins, the long drive to and from the camp, constitute the bulk of the experience for that year.

In August David will attend Camp Haiastan for the last time as a camper. Daniel, our elder son, is now a former camper, counselor, and lifeguard at Camp Haisastan. David may follow in his footsteps and may opt to become a councilor too in the future. However, their time as an impressionable youth has now come to pass.

On behalf of our family, I would like to thank all those who organized these seminars and the experiences both at Camp Lutherlyn and at Camp Haiastan. Unknowingly maybe, they opened a window for our children in ways that we, as parents, would not have been able to do by ourselves. And for all those who made these experiences possible and memorable for our sons, we remain ever grateful.