Case Studies in Survival: Two Armenian Physicians in 1922 Smyrna

“We live in Smyrna…”

With these words Dr. Garabed Hatcherian begins his 1922 journal that was translated into English and published in 1997 by his granddaughter Dora Sakayan. An Armenian Doctor in Turkey: Garabed Hatcherian--My Smyrna Ordeal of 1922, details experiences in Smyrna beginning on August 28, 1922, two days after the successful Turkish offensive began at Afyon Karahisar, which eventually routed the Greek forces in Western Anatolia.[i] Hatcherian’s descriptions include a day-to-day account of how panic finally descended on Smyrna’s Greek and Armenian residents as the Turkish forces advanced upon the city. Initially Hatcherian and his family decide not to leave Smyrna, yet ultimately flee to Mitilini, an island in the Aegean, on September 25, 1922 after Smyrna’s Christian and Armenian quarters are burned down. During that interval Hatcherian himself is captured by Turkish forces and is imprisoned for being Armenian. Hatcherian recounts this prison ordeal, his eventual release, and finally his escape from Smyrna with his family.
Subsequent to this publication, a contemporary work of fiction on Smyrna by Jeffrey Eugenides appeared in the January 5, 1998 issue of the New Yorker magazine. “The Burning of Smyrna: Why can’t the city be found on a map today?” tells the stories of an Armenian physician, Dr. Nishan Philobosian, and of two Greek siblings. Dr. Philobosian and his family, like the Hatcherians, initially decide not to leave Smyrna, which tragically results in the murder of the Philobosian family by Turkish troops. Dr. Philobosian, who survives, tries to commit suicide but is rescued by the Greek siblings who also assist him in fleeing Smyrna.
The release of Eugenides’ text a year after Sakayan’s and the similarities of these two physicians’ experiences in 1922 Smyrna suggest that Philobosian was modeled after Hatcherian. While both texts detail an Armenian experience in 1922 Smyrna by providing insight into socioeconomic status, ethnicity, and profession, Eugenides’s ultimate judgment of his Armenian protagonist contrasts with Hatcherian’s experience, revealing contemporary biases on the nature of personal survival and success.
Smyrna was a focal point in both these men’s lives and yet while descriptions of 1922 Smyrna abound in Eugenides’ text, Hatcherian’s journal is surprisingly sparse in immediate details of life in Smyrna. The descriptions offered by Eugenides may partly explain why many Christians, including these two physicians, were reluctant to leave a city like Smyrna despite the Turkish advance. Eugenides’s contemporary narrator writes about Smyrna, starting with quote from T.S. Eliot:

Smyrna endures today in a few manes and a stanza from “The Wasteland”:

Mr. Eugenides, the Smyrna merchant
Unshaven, with a pocketful of currants
C.i.f. London: documents at sight,
Asked me in demotic French
To Luncheon at the Cannon Street Hotel
Followed by a weekend at the Metropole.

Eugenides’s narrator elaborates on the passage:
Everything you need to know about Smyrna is contained in that. The merchant is rich, and so was Smyrna. His proposal is seductive, and so was Smyrna, the most cosmopolitan city in the Near East. Among its reputed founders were, first, the Amazons and, second, Tantalus himself. Homer was born there, and Aristotle Onasis. In Smyrna, opera and politakia, violin and zourna, piano and daouli, East and West, blended as subtly as did the rose petals and honey in the local pastries…And did I mention how in the summer the streets of Smyrna were bordered with baskets of rose petals? And how everyone in the city could speak French, Italian, Greek, Turkish, English, and Dutch? …I mention these things because all this happened in that city that was no place exactly, that was part of no country, because it was all countries, and because now, if you go there, you see oil refineries and a bus station smelling of gasoline, and a sign erected by the Turkish National Tourist Board which will tell you only that the city, now called Izmir, was won back from the Greeks in 1922, but which won’t mention anything before.[ii]

It was this Smyrna that Dr. Hatcherian and his family tried to start a new life in 1918 as noted in the biography provided by Dora Sakayan.[iii] Hatcherian was born in 1876 in Bardizag, a predominantly Armenian village not far from Constantinople/Istanbul. He received his early education at a variety of schools and in 1901 graduated from the Constantinople School of Medicine, specializing in General Medicine and Gynecology. After working as a municipal doctor in Bursa for ten years, he opened a private practice in Bardizag until he was conscripted into the Turkish army during World War I. Hatcherian served as a medical officer in Constantinople, Smyrna, Romania, and the Dardanelles, achieving the title of Captain. Since Hatcherian’s native Armenian Bardizag was destroyed in 1915, upon discharge from the military in 1918, Hatcherian and his family settled down in Smyrna to be closer to his wife’s family. The Hatcherian family of three boys and two girls, along with Dr. and Mrs. Hatcherian, lived on the northern fringes of the Armenian Quarter in Smyrna. There Hatcherian worked in the Armenian National Hospital and held the position of general surgeon and gynecologist, as well as physician in charge of general and internal medicine for the outpatient clinic. A measure of his accomplishment and his reputation as a physician in Smyrna is noted in his journal entry for August 28, 1922:
After three years of hard work in Smyrna, I had achieved a measure of success. I was doing well, having become the physician of a great number of wealthy families. I had also obtained an important position as a doctor in the National Hospital which secured for me a number of financial and social benefits…. In short, my situation in Smyrna was by this time secured, and I hoped, with steady work, to lead a peaceful and decent life and to be able to attend to my children’s upbringing and education.[iv]
Hatcherian felt that he was doing well, economically and socially, in Smyrna as evidenced in the prior passage. He uses these criteria as a measure of his success. He also indicates with pride that he has become a physician to wealthy clientele, no doubt a sign of respect for his abilities as a physician. Even though Smyrna was able to give Hatcherian the opportunity to excel, his journal sparsely records his emotions for Smyrna the city. Smyrna simply has become a locale in which he prospers.
Philobosian’s response when asked why he was not fleeing the advancing Turkish army was that Smyrna was his home.[v] Whereas Philobosian had a more psychological attachment to Smyrna, Hatcherian’s connection appears primarily economic. Even though detailed descriptions about Philobosian’s socioeconomic status are not so readily supplied by Eugenides, we do learn that Philobosian had a medical office near the harbor and that he lived in the Armenian Quarter with his wife and family of four, including two daughters and two sons.[vi] These details suggest that he was well-to-do and that he probably had a successful practice given that it was in such a prominent area of the city. Philobosian considered Smyrna a “home,” revealing an emotional attachment to a place that makes any separation difficult and replication impossible. If Philobosian’s psychological attachment to a specific geographic locale is intended as an observation of Armenian behavior by Eugenides, Hatcherian contradicts his premise. The sentiment is that Hatcherian would do well anywhere, not just Smyrna, and would be content. His priority was his family and himself, not his attachment to a city or surroundings.
Even though Smyrna provided much for both these men, there were underlying political and financial insecurities even before the Turks appeared in the city. That Eugenides’s Philobosian hid a “thick wad of money” in his medical office, away from his home, may indicate his material wealth but it could also reveal a sense of financial and political uncertainty. A wealthy, educated man would have been expected to place his monies in a Smyrna banking system that had the assurance of European trade interests. His retrieval of this hidden money during an imminent Turkish advance further reinforces this sense of insecurity not only about Smyrna but also about the ability of the western powers to protect the Christians. Yet interestingly Philobosian denies to himself that he feels vulnerable despite his actions. In his own thoughts Philobosian argues that:
The European powers would never let the Turk enter the city…But if they did the warships in the harbor would stop the Turks from looting. And finally—for his own family, at least—there was always the letter…

Philobosian had an important letter that he kept at his medical office hidden inside the envelope enclosing his medical diploma. It stated:

This letter certifies that Dr. Nishan Philobosian, M.D., did, on April 3, 1919, treat Mustafa Kemal for diverticulitis. Dr. Philobosian is respectfully recommended by Kemal to the esteem, confidence, and protection of all persons to whom he may present this letter.[vii]

An Armenian physician rendering treatment, four years after the Armenian genocide began, to Mustafa Kemal, a Turkish nationalistic leader, is indicative of the confidence and authority that was placed upon Philobosian as a physician, at the very least by Kemal. That an Armenian would treat a Turkish leader given the suffering of his fellow Armenians speaks on one level of Philobosian’s character as a dedicated physician yet on another level may also indicate an opportunistic nature.
That Philobosian chose to hide this letter in his medical diploma rather than display it meant that he did not necessarily see it as a mark of medical distinction but rather a source of security, which invariably again speaks of his sense of political insecurity. When an Armenian neighbor tries to obtain the very same security by openly displaying a picture of Kemal on his shop window, Philobosian cynically disapproves. Philobosian’s inner struggle to remain true to his ethnic identity may be clashing with his worldly desire to preserve his way of life. These contradictory actions may indicate an unresolved frustration that results in transference of condemnation. While Philobosian clearly wants his life to remain unchanged despite what may befall his neighbors, including the Armenians, his deference to the “enemy” Turks and acts of self-preservation apparently do not trouble his soul or his sense of ethnic identity. Yet this too is not readily revealed since it is never clear how he defines his sense of ethnic self.
The Turkish soldiers who eventually come to his house during his absence ignore Kemal’s letter and murder Philobosian’s family because they are Armenians. Yet this still fails to convince Philobosian of the depth of the ethnic violence that engulfs him and his people. Rationalizing that the soldiers could not read, Philobosian still holds on to the belief that he and his family were immune to the violence and continues to regress into a denial that absolves himself of any culpability in the death of his family and, by inference, his people. Trying to commit suicide may be seen as a tacit admission that he had committed a grave mistake and an error in judgment yet this argument is weakened given that a young Greek woman is able to restrain him and prevent his suicide with ease. This further reinforces the observation that Philobosian is never truly convinced of his culpability, although how this affects Philobosian’s future is never made clear. By leaving Philobosian alone in an unknown country with an uncertain future, Eugenides condemns Philobosian’s behavior. Given that Philobosian is the Armenian protagonist, one must believe that Eugenides also intended that these observations apply to the Armenians in general. Hatcherian’s experience however contrasts with Eugenides’s interpretation.
While denial also afflicts Hatcherian, it does so fleetingly. That Hatcherian’s survival during the Armenian genocide may have owed much to his medical profession is a fact that is not mentioned in his journal or biography. While other Ottoman-Armenian conscripts during World War I were eventually deported or killed, medical doctors were generally exempt from these deportation orders.[viii] Hatcherian’s views on this practice are never made clear despite his many references to his past military service. Hatcherian possibly also was cultivating a plan to ensure his personal welfare, similar to Philobosian. After Hatcherian was entrusted with an important task for the Ottoman Turks, namely that of a medical officer on the Dardanelles campaign which made a hero out of Mustafa Kemal, he held on to documents of this service, among others, for the sake of protection rather than a sign of medical achievement, much like Philobosian. [ix] This is reflected in his September 7th journal entry:
As for me, I do not intend to leave Smyrna since I have never committed any questionable act against the Turkish government. On the contrary, I held the position of a municipal doctor for almost ten years; I have completed four full years in the military and I have official documents at hand confirming my impeccable service. [x]
Hatcherian’s statement, “ I have never committed any questionable act against the Turkish government” belies his perception that he is immune to the ethnic warfare that surrounds him because he was a fair and just man who had done much for the Turks and the Ottoman state. Similarly it is revealing that Hatcherian, at least up to that entry, believes that the Turkish army and government would exact vengeance only on those disloyal to the Turkish/Ottoman government and he clearly sees himself as a loyal Turkish/Ottoman citizen. How this rationalization related to the preceding Armenian genocide or persecutions of his fellow Armenian conscripts is never made apparent in his journal.
While Hatcherian’s dedication to Armenian causes before and after the war is made obvious in Sakayan’s biography, Hatcherian’s statement made in 1922 Smyrna clearly demonstrates a process of denial that may have served as a survival mechanism. In fact this transformation reaches its apogee after Turkish soldiers enter Smyrna on September 9th and Hatcherian decorates himself with Ottoman medals, starts wearing a Turkish fez, and never corrects the assumption that he is a Turk. It is only during Hatcherian’s imprisonment for the crime of being Armenian that he begins to dissociate himself from the Turks and the Ottoman state. In prison his service to the Ottoman military and his professional rank as a physician are openly mocked and fail to secure him his freedom or preferential treatment, even from Turkish doctors. He is released only because he is assumed to be over the age of 45, thus not a threat to the military.
His disdain for the Turkish state is revealed when he is released at the quay and is forced to shout “Long live Mustafa Kemal Pasha, long live!” Despite his prior dedicated service to Mustafa Kemal on the Dardenelle campaign, Hatcherian’s thoughts about him are now quite different:
Yes, long live Mustafa Kemal Pasha. We will be forever grateful to him for what he has done: after butchering thousands of Christians, after robbing and ruining this rich city, he has subjected hundreds of thousands of people to an untold misery. [xi]
His scorn for the Turks is further evident when he is about to leave Smyrna and reflects on seeing the Turkish flag:

I look at the blood-colored flag waving on a pole on the dock. I vow never to live in places where it reigns…We are now at a distance from Smyrna and heading to unknown places in a semi-naked state…For us, this will be a country where Turk barbarism will not reign, where we will no longer see Turkish soldiers and that blood-colored banner.[xii]

Hatcherian leaves Smyrna giving up hope of being able to live peacefully together with Turks. Unlike Philobosian, he has no illusions about his immunity and accepts his mistakes. In his September 25th journal entry, he reflects:

In this period, I committed some errors and imprudent acts, the consequences of which were disastrous for me. I lost my wealth and my valuable goods which I had acquired through hard work and privation. Here I am today, with a large family in an unknown environment. I wonder if I will ever manage to rebuild my destroyed home and feed my kin. Only the future will tell.[xiii]

Hatcherian accepts that he had a hand in the disastrous outcome that befell his family yet his “Only the future will tell” statement indicates an optimistic man who has learned from his mistakes and is able to rebuild his life. This contrasts significantly with Philobosian, who never accepts his errors. This, in part, may refute the generalized observations Eugenides makes about the Armenians by using Philobosian as a stereotype. Yet Eugenides’s further observations about Armenian misguided reliance on others for protection appears to hold true for both Philobosian and Hatcherian.
Both men placed their faith in the European and American warships in Smyrna’s harbor to protect them as fellow Christians once the Turkish forces entered the city. Smyrna was the city that “was to all practical purposes still run by foreigners” and given these financial interests, countries sent their fleets to protect their properties and their citizens. [xiv] Even though no official protection was promised to the Greeks or Armenians, the sight of these warships was one of many factors that convinced Philobosian, along with a multitude of people, to stay in Smyrna despite the advancing Turkish army. Hatcherian similarly felt reassured at the presence of the foreign fleet. He writes:

[It] still seems very unlikely that brutalities would take place in Smyrna, where so many Europeans live …[The] majority of the people tends to believe that Smyrna will stay out of danger, considering its special status as a trading center with a variety of foreign banking and educational institutions. Also, the formidable presence of Greek, English, French, and Italian warships provides even the most skeptical with a sense of security…The proud presence of fleets from all nations continues to inspire confidence.[xv]

Yet this confidence is ephemeral and soon undermined as Hatcherian and his family seek European and American help and are brushed aside. Hatcherian comments:

They reject those who approach them even by swimming or rowing to ask for refuge, just because they want to demonstrate their political neutrality. Civilization, humanism and Christianity have become empty words…This is the action and attention of “civilized” Europe and America, offered to the refugees, instead of the material and military assistance so badly needed.[xvi]

Eventually an American warship rescues the Hatcherians. Yet even this becomes farcical. Even though Hatcherian is grateful to the American Relief Organization for saving his family, its workers disappoint him. He writes:

After having lost all our fortune, after being arrested and bilked, we had allotted, from the little that was left to us, eighty liras to buy fake tickets…marked with the words “pass to ship”…Those “tickets” were of no use at the time of boarding the ship. Thus, before leaving Smyrna, we were robbed not only by Turkish barbarians but also, in the last minute, by the American Relief, whose humanitarian goal was transporting the refugees to a secure site at their own expense. The profits from those fake tickets would obviously not go into the treasury of the Relief Organization. It was the subordinate officials who prepared tickets, mostly for their own pockets, thus robbing once more the refugees who had already been bled dry.[xvii]

By feigning French citizenship, Philobosian survives on a French warship. His thoughts on the minimal western aid to the Smyrna Christians are not revealed. Clearly the reliance on the western powers to save the Christian population and Smyrna was a misjudgment for both men and contributed to the tragedy that befell them and their families. Eugenides chooses Philobosian rather than his Greek protagonist to depict this mistaken confidence, though he does qualify that the foreign fleet reassured both the Greeks and Armenians of Smyrna.[xviii] Still it is Philobosian who becomes the center of this faulty dependence and, again, one wonders if Eugenides is criticizing Armenian naïve faith in others for protection and consequent lack of self-reliance. Hatcherian’s actions tend to confirm this observation. Yet Philobosian’s failure to comment upon western shortcomings gives the impression of quiet acquiesce, an important dissimilarity. The more revealing aspect of this reliance on the western powers for protection is that the Christian population of Smyrna expected some level of violence from the Turkish forces. Interestingly, both texts try to offer a cause for this hostility.
While ethnic violence perpetrated by Turks is abundant in the texts, they also mention Christian atrocities against Turks. While it is never made clear why these stories are told, they may convey a sense of impartiality but may also indicate culpability in the cycle of violence. Eugenides’s Greek protagonist, Eleutherios, had a severe cut on his hand that was cleansed by Dr. Philobosian. When asked who cut him, Eleutherios states that a Turk is responsible, but he also adds that “Greek soldiers burned down his village and killed his children. So he shot me.”[xix] Philobosian’s only reaction to this qualified answer is silence. While the Greek protagonist, who had recently lost his parents and village to the Turks, seemingly understands the Turk’s motivation for wounding him, it is not entirely clear what eventual opinion Philobosian, or the Armenians, held on such a topic. When Philobosian does not affirm or reject the Greek’s story he appears self-absorbed and aloof, which contrasts with the Greek protagonist. Eugenides never visits the matter again, leaving us without Philobosian’s response. Instead, Hatcherian provides one. He has much insight into the conflict at hand, as his journal notes suggest:

[The] Greek army set fire to Ushak before leaving and committed a series of atrocities against the Turks…The Greek army sets fire to the cities as it abandons them, committing atrocities along the way. One after another, cities…burn to the ground.[xx]

Though it appears that Hatcherian is condemning only the Greek army’s behavior, he also comments on his fellow Armenians. While Hatcherian states his own concerns regarding the Greek army, criticisms about Armenian behavior, which do not necessarily reflect Hatcherian’s sentiments, are instead revealed by Turkish conversations he overhears and records. The Turks state:

But how can one justify the rebellious behaviour of the Armenians who conducted themselves in the most improper way, who brought Armenian chetés into the Smyrna area and who, after the reoccupation of the city, gathered in the church and shot at the Turkish soldiers [?][xxi]

Hatcherian’s use of third-person narration regarding Armenian violence against the Turks displays his neutrality, if not disagreement, with the Turkish claims. Yet the fact that such passages were included at all in his journal lends it objectivity, especially considering Hatcherian’s eventual loathing of the Turkish state. In another scene during his imprisonment Hatcherian again records a Turkish officer’s reprimand to Christian prisoners:

You have burned down Muslim cities and villages, you have plundered and massacred the people, you have spared neither children nor elders, you have tarnished Islamic honor, and you have raped our virgins…You deserve, all of you, to be crushed and to be burned.[xxii]

These passages in Hatcherian’s journal are starkly different from Eugenides’s implications about Armenian indifference. By including the Turkish officer’s comment “You deserve, all of you, to be crushed and to be burned,” Hatcherian displays an understanding of the cycle of violence yet criticizes the Turks for perpetuating it. Furthermore, while Hatcherian condemns the Turkish violence, probably more so than he does the Greek army’s, Eugenides’s characters do not comment on it beyond the initial reflection by the Greek protagonist. It is this perception of tragedy that foretells how each Armenian physician survives.
Hatcherian eventually survives and prospers after he flees Smyrna. Dora Sakayan, his granddaughter, tells us:

I found out that he was not only the pillar of our house, but also one of the supports of the Armenian community of Salonika…held in high esteem as the head trustee of the Gullabi Gulbenkian Fund…His great concerns were human welfare, human dignity and human freedom…[He] emerges as an optimist who, after experiencing a pattern of brutality, still expects the best outcome of events, still believes that his fellow men will be compassionate and virtuous.[xxiii]

It is clear from Sakayan’s passage that Dr. Hatcherian was able to experience closure on the tragedy that befell him and his family and that he was able to restore his personal life. Eugenides’s ultimate judgment of Philobosian, and by inference the Armenians, is quite different. Philobosian’s future appears sterile and bleak. His first inclination is to commit suicide, albeit somewhat halfheartedly given that a young Greek woman easily prevents it. Failing that task, Philobosian flees Smyrna with the two Greek siblings to an uncertain land with an uncertain future. We hear about him no more. In contrast the Greek siblings, brother and sister, shed their identities as they flee Smyrna for America and commit incest by marrying one another. The underlying message of this incestuous relationship is that one culture is willing to relinquish its former life and violate taboos for survival, exhibiting adaptability for success, while the other languishes because of its reluctance to change and its unwillingness to let go of the past.

Two men, physicians, one real and the other a contemporary fictional representation, bring back to life 1922 Smyrna. Both men speak of a comfortable and fruitful life that came to a tragic end in a matter of days, mostly because of the denial that engulfed them, seeded by their past successes and by their false confidence in the western powers. Yet the fictional physician’s tale constructed by Eugenides presents a self-absorbed, aloof Armenian who is unwilling to see his failings, thereby ensuring a sterile and bleak future. In contrast, Hatcherian’s true-life experience reveals an Armenian physician who makes a critical error in judgment yet is quite adept at learning from his mistakes, understands the violence that surrounds him, and is able to rebuild his life and ensure success for his family. These disparities between documented past experiences and contemporary fictional representations of an Armenian story reveal modern biases on the nature of survival and success. Eugenides writes with the contemporary audience in mind and his characterizations of his Armenian protagonist serve as a mouthpiece for his perspective. Philobosian’s experience, as Eugenides tells us, illustrates a tragic figure, contrasting with the Greek couple’s hopeful tale. Yet the characterization of Philobosian certainly points to a broader condemnation. Intentionally or not, Eugenides’s depiction becomes a modern stereotype of Armenians in general. That he felt comfortable enough to publish his story in a popular periodical may speak of modern Armenian disenfranchisement.

The true story of 1922 Smyrna is unique to each of its Armenian survivors. Some of these accounts undeniably may mirror Dr. Philobosian’s mistakes and ultimate tragedy. Yet to generalize Philobosian for all Armenians fails to appreciate the full story of Smyrna’s demise and subsequent figurative resurrection through its survivors. Dr. Hatcherian’s journal is a testament of the will to succeed, and that may well be a more fitting and realistic image of the Armenian experience.

[i] Marjorie Housepian Dobkin, Smyrna 1922: The Destruction of a City, (New York, NY: Newmark Press, 1998), pp. 99-100
[ii] Jeffrey Eugenides, The Burning Of Smyrna: Why can’t the city be found on a map today?, The New Yorker, January 5, 1998 (New York, NY: The Condé Nast Publications Inc., 1998), pp. 63-64.
[iii] Dora Sakayan, An Armenian Doctor In Turkey: Garabed Hatcherian- My Smyrna Ordeal Of 1922, (Quebec, Canada: Arod Books, 1997), pp. ix-x.
[iv] Ibid., p.1
[v] Eugenides, The Burning Of Smyrna, p. 63
[vi] Ibid., pp.62-63.
[vii] Ibid., p.63
[viii] Dobkin, Smyrna 1922, p. 43.
[ix] Ibid., pp 40, 59.
[x] Sakayan, An Armenian Doctor, p.5
[xi] Ibid., p.38
[xii] Ibid., p.46
[xiii] Ibid., p.48
[xiv] Dobkin, Smyrna 1922, p. 84
[xv] Sakayan, An Armenian Doctor, pp.3-4, 6
[xvi] Ibid., pp.18-19
[xvii] Ibid., p.45
[xviii] Eugenides, The Burning of Smyrna, p.62
[xix] Ibid., p.62
[xx] Sakayan, An Armenian Doctor, p.3
[xxi] Ibid., p.29
[xxii] Ibid., p.36
[xxiii] Ibid., pp.54-55

Gary Braver’s Flashback: Un(dis)covering the Past.

Jack Der-Sarkissian with Marie Dakessian


Flashback

If you could relive your childhood, would you? What if you had no choice? Jack Koryan is stung by a school of rare jellyfish, whose toxins send him into a coma for several months. When he awakens, he finds that the toxin has left him with extraordinary memory. But he is also haunted by dreams and flash-memories -- some of pleasant childhood vignettes, others of dark violence -- that leave him quaking in horror. Rene Ballard, a pharmacologist, is testing those same toxins on Alzheimer’s victims with extraordinarily successful results that could lead to a breakthrough cure — though some patients have also committed acts of inexplicable violence. Together, Jack and Rene explore a scientific mystery to help explain what is happening to Jack, at the same time uncovering a sinister pattern of lies, deceit, and greed that has left behind a trail of bodies. And several elderly patients who are stuck in a past that they cannot emerge from — or don’t want to.


Gary Goshgarian, the man behind the pseudonym Gary Braver, took time after a recent workshop in Maui, Hawaii, to answer questions for Ararat magazine regarding his new novel Flashback. It turned out that the response to our first question, why he chose a pen name, was already posted on his web site, www.GaryBraver.com, along with the preceding summary of his novel, but he was kind enough to update it:

Authors choose pen names for a variety of reasons. Some want to keep their writing selves separate from their personal selves. Others choose a nom de plume for works that might be of a different genre from what they write under their own name. Others still, like Stephen King, choose a pen name because of overexposure and high productivity. For me -- none of the above. It was my publisher’s choice to go with the pen name. The name choice, however, was mine. And the reason was to fool the bookstore chains.

While writing my fourth novel, Elixir, my agent called to say that director Ridley Scott (Alien, Thelma and Louise, Gladiator) wanted to option the book. That was wonderful news. Seeing high potential in the book, my publisher Tor/Forge (St. Martin's Press) decided to publish a lot more of it than had been published of my previous titles. But they wanted me to go with a pen name for Elixir — in fact, to be debuted as a first novel even though this would have been my fourth. And the reason: They wanted to fool the bookstore chains (Barnes & Noble, Borders, Waldenbooks, etc.) which ultimately determine what books sell in North America, more so than all the independent stores. When the chains order an author’s books, they check his or her sales of the previous title. And since Elixir was to have a much larger print-run than my previous titles, they didn’t want to take the chance that it would be under-ordered. Thus Gary Braver -- new kid on the block.

About the name. My only guidelines were short and front of the alphabet. Short I understood well. Front of the alphabet, it was explained, came from buying-pattern studies showing that customers browsing titles on those front-of-the-store shelves marked "New Releases" usually stopped around authors whose names begin with K. (If you're Zuckerman or Zanini, you're buried at the back shelves bottom.) Yeah, they’ve got it down to a science. I came up with Braver, which is the translation of my grandfather's first name from the Armenian.
Alas, after a second option, Ridley Scott passed on making the movie. Two options by others expired, but meanwhile a fine screenplay was written by Ian Roumain. We’re hoping it will be shot in 2006, but currently the book is up for grabs. That's showbiz. Flashback has also gotten recent inquiries from several production companies, but no takers yet.

What, if any, has the response been from the Armenian community regarding your non-Armenian pen name, Gary Braver?

The usual response is: Why the name change? And: Was it because the publisher wanted a less ethnic sounding name? The answer is no. In fact, my editor has an ethnic (Hispanic) name. The reason had to do with fooling the bookstore chains so they would not under-order books based on the sales of my previous title. Many Armenians are pleased to learn that “Braver” is a loose translation of my paternal grandfather’s name, Garabed. “Brave” or “Braver man” are some of the English synonyms for that name. They’re also pleased that the pen name is in the family.


You mention that Braver was derived from your grandfather’s first name. Where were your grandparents born, and to which village or city did they trace their roots? Did they converse in English or Armenian?

Both sets of grandparents and my father came from Harpoot, Armenia. They were fluent in Armenian, although my paternal grandmother was the only grandparent alive when I was a boy. My mother was born in Hartford, Connecticut, and was fluent in Armenian and English, of course. Unfortunately, she was too busy teaching my father English to ground me in Armenian. And when I was five years old, they divorced, so what little Armenian I knew was regrettably lost.


Given that you consistently incorporate Armenian characters into your novels, how much "Armenian" can you get into a work and still secure commercial popularity?

Flashback probably is the most Armenian of all my books. Nonetheless, I have Armenian protagonists in all my books. In Gray Matter, my previous book, the investigating police officer is Detective Greg Zakarian, who, amusingly, has to explain what an Armenian is to people who have never met one before. In Elixir, the president of the U.S. is a John Markarian — the John from my maternal grandfather and Markarian from my paternal grandfather. Actually, I should be a Markarian, since Goshgarian is the name of the sponsor who married my paternal grandmother (Mary Markarian) in order to bring to America her three children, including my father, Serop. The change from Markarian to Goshgarian followed after the three children were shipped from a displaced person’s camp in Cuba to Providence, Rhode Island, where they eventually settled. I have no blood relation to any other Goshgarians. In a sense, I was born with my first pen name.


In your current novel, Flashback, protagonist Jack Koryan is orphaned by the age of two following the violently deaths of his father and mother. What, if any, metaphorical parallels should your readers draw to the Armenian Genocide?

Readers are free to draw parallels, as I hope they would. I admit that it was my subtle intention to suggest in the death of one of them (I don’t want to spoil the book’s intrigue) the brutal injustice inflicted on a person of accomplishment — which, yes, is a metaphor of what the Turks did to the Armenians — something best appreciated by Armenian readers.


In Flashback you include at least four different Armenian characters: Jack Koryan, his mother, his father, and his aunt. To what degree are they stereotypical Armenians?

I see no stereotypes in any of them. In fact, I’m not sure what a stereotypical Armenian is.
Jack is an Armenian-American who takes pride in his ethnicity and who grows closer to his ethnic and parental roots throughout the novel. He is probably closer to me than any other of my characters. I had a much closer relationship to my mother than to my father; and Jack’s growing appreciation of his mother throughout reflects my appreciation for my own mother. Perhaps the only ”stereotypical” touch is the mention of matched-marriages, which is more old-world typical than stereotypical.
The other characters — aunt and uncle -- are dead and only referred to in brief. But they are based on my own Aunt Nancy and her husband. By the way, the book is dedicated to the memory of my mother, Rose Goshgarian, and her sister, my aunt, Nemza “Nancy” Megrichian.

The three novels under your current pen name are medical thrillers, which maintain a high level of medical accuracy. Why the interest in medicine?

This is an example of publishers pigeon-holing an author. The third and final Goshgarian book, Rough Beast, is a bio-medical thriller centered on a family whose 13-year-old son experiences accelerated puberty as the result of some secret toxin in the water. My publisher loved the story, which got nice reviews, and said they wanted more of the same — high-concept, cautionary thrillers centered on an American family imperiled by some bio-medical innovation.
So, by default, I was cast as the writer of medical thrillers and spend lot of time doing research into medicine, biology, and pharmacology, then trying to streamline the technical material so as not to blind the reader with science. Much of the time I feel like a grad student poring through technical journals and books and interviewing experts. But, having been at Northeastern University for nearly 30 years, I have friends in different technical departments who help me sound like I know what I’m talking about. I also have a degree in physics, so that I can comprehend some scientific basics or at least ask half-way intelligent questions.
The research is laborious, but I’ve learned a lot. Because I believe that literature should entertain and educate, the challenge is to incorporate technical material that is essential and to discard the rest, even if it is fascinating. The last thing a writer of such novels wants to do is bore the reader with too much scientific patter.


Since I assume that this is not your field of expertise, how do you prepare for each work -- reading, and visiting hospitals and doctors?

Because I’m an English teacher, I first have to familiarize myself with the science. And that means doing preliminary reading on the core technical matters. In Elixir, it was determining just the kind of chemicals that could feasibly be the basis for a fountain-of-youth drug. In Gray Matter, it meant reading up on the brain to determine the exact locus of intelligence — i.e., long-term memory and analysis -- in humans. Then I interviewed experts with two tape recorders (two in case one malfunctions — I’ve learned the hard way! ) then transcribe what they’ve told me and decide which material is useful and which isn’t. For Flashback I have over 40 hours of tapes from interviews with pharmacologists, doctors, nursing home staffers, biochemists, nurses, veterans, police officers, lawyers, and several professors of ethics. And the research is ongoing. When I write the chapters involving the particular technical matters, I go on until I’ve reached the next technical chapter, then call an expert to interview, then write that chapter. The research may go right to the end of the book.




How do you justify your negative portrayal of pharmaceutical companies?

I don’t have a negative view of the pharmaceutical industry in general. In fact, if it weren’t for pharmaceuticals, I would not be as healthy as I am. But the genre requires villainy. And following several recent pharmaceutical recalls, many Americans have grown skeptical of drug companies, which reap outrageous profits while pushing to market flawed products.
Both Elixir and Flashback exploit such bad science and questionable business practice. In each of those novels, characters at the helms of fictitious drug companies are trying market compounds that are lousy with side-effects — the kinds of side-effects that the FDA would not accept. But when the promise is a $50 billion pill, top management might be tempted to bury clinical results in order to cash in, side-effects be damned. And that is where the conflict lies.
And there are precedents. Currently, Merck has withdrawn Vioxx while facing billions of dollars in lawsuits. And one reason is faulty clinical testing, prompted by a rush to market. The same with Phen-fen, which had the miracle-drug promise of weight reduction, yet which resulted in several deaths — something that should have been caught in the various phases of clinical testing. The head-in-the-sand strategy is dangerously reckless. I just pushed it a step farther and made it outright criminal.


Are there any easy formulae for writing a successful medical mystery?

No. Good story, good characters, good writing, and most of all: good luck.


Your website states that your writing career began after a dangerous SCUBA diving trip off the island of Mallorca. While exploring ancient artifacts, your party was attacked underwater by modern-day pirates. Does this experience still have a direct impact on your writing today?

Not today, but it did back when I was writing Atlantis Fire, my first novel, which is set on the Aegean island of Santorini. That experience of being attacked underwater led to that book. It was an extraordinary series of events to draw from and allowed me to air out some complaints about the pillaging of antiquities to be sold to collectors and museums throughout the world.
Most writers have otherwise dull lives punctuated with some rare, extraordinary experiences that might be fodder for a thriller. Atlantis Fire came from one of the few exotic experiences in my life. But most writers aren’t Indiana Jones archaeologists, cops, FBI agents, medical doctors, spies, political officials, high-power lawyers, etc. Their stories are simply the stuff of rich imaginings.



Your novels, Elixir, Gray Matter, and now Flashback, all revolve around the discovery of a new drug that offers more — more youthfulness, greater intelligence, and better or recovered memory, respectively. What is Gary Braver seeking?

What Gary Braver looks for is the next high-concept fantasy that would appeal to the greatest readership — and something beyond power, money, and sex, the trinity of most books. Because I don’t have series characters, finishing a novel is like being fired from a job. And that means coming up with the next major fantasy that will involve science tampering with human biology. Perhaps it’s a reflection of my growing older — the search for eternal youth, more intelligence, a cure for dementia. Perhaps these are fantasies that appeal to many people. Clearly eternal youth is the holy grail of the pharmaceutical industry — something that pounds us in half of the advertising in America: be young, stay youthful, look like you’re 20 years younger, etc. For Gray Matter, that idea came from a CNN poll that asked people if they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be. Remarkably 80% said they wish they were smarter. And as America grows older, so does the fear of Alzheimer’s disease — the demon at the heart of Flashback, a novel which centers on an alleged cure and reversal.

From Aznavour to System of a Down: Western Musical Perspectives of the Armenian Genocide


“Ils Sont Tombés” and “P.L.U.C.K.” are two songs that frame a roughly three-decade retrospective of the 1915 Armenian Genocide by American and Western European musical traditions. While both songs powerfully grieve a catastrophe that occurred to the Armenian people, each utilizes the lament genre differently. These musical perspectives mirror the Armenian struggle spanning the last thirty years over the legacy of the Genocide.

The perspective in the 1970’s was one of a cultural survival and revival suggesting a population coming out of self-denial. The next thirty years would see no resolution, and in fact an exacerbation, of the already tense Armeno-Turkish relations. It comes as no surprise that the late 1990’s differed from the earlier, more hopeful, period by mostly recognizing loss, displaying anger, and demanding action, even violence if needed, to right the wrongs visited upon the Armenian people.

In 1969 Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, a psychiatrist, wrote On Death and Dying which describes the steps experienced by those confronted with death. Her theories subsequently have been expanded to explain reactions to disasters in general. Kübler-Ross states that the initial reaction to a disaster is shock and denial, a point from which many people never progress. If the denial is overcome, it is replaced by anger, making decisions difficult because all of one’s energy fuels the emotion. Subsequent steps are bargaining, depression/grief and, finally, acceptance. A study of how Armenian musicians utilized Western music and developed their media from 1975 to 1998 demonstrates Kübler-Ross’s theories about overcoming denial and progressing into anger, mirroring the collective Armenian struggle.

Starting in 1965 Armenians in the then Soviet Republic of Armenia started the process of addressing and protesting the outcome of the 1915 Armenian Genocide. This event marked the first collective step Armenians took towards breaking down their self-imposed denial of the Genocide. This episode, along with the recent warming of the “cold war” that separated the Diaspora from the Armenian homeland, was an important step in galvanizing Armenian self-consciousness, which ultimately was directed towards achieving international recognition of the Genocide.

If this was the time for Armenian and Turkish communities to have an opportunity for reconciliation, it soon was marred. First the Turkish government successfully petitioned to delete references to the Armenian Genocide in a 1974 United Nations article which had sought to characterize the Armenian massacres in the Ottoman Empire as “The first Genocide of the twentieth century.” Similarly the United States Congress, under pressure from the U.S. State Department, failed to pass a resolution to designate April 24, 1975 as a “National Day of Remembrance of Man’s Inhumanity to Man.”

Since Western societies and institutions in the 1970’s had distanced themselves politically from the Armenian Genocide, ethnic Armenians themselves decided to lobby their own cause. In addition to the regular methods of communication, the Armenian cause was also able to explore the Genocide using literature, fine art, dance, and music. The Armenian musical perspective in Western societies was born in this era and reached its first mass audience, both within and outside of Armenian societies, with a song entitled “Ils Sont Tombés” or “They Fell”, initially released in French, but later also in English.

French-Armenian vocalist and lyrist Chahnour Varenagh Aznavourian, popularly known as Charles Aznavour, released “Ils Sont Tombés” in 1975 on the 60th anniversary of the 1915 Armenian Genocide. “Ils Sont Tombés” is a song written and sung in the Western “pop” music style. At the time of its release Aznavour was the foremost ethnically Armenian musician in the West. He released his song at a time when dormant issues regarding the Genocide were just beginning to resurface in every way within world politics. These trends mirrored Aznavour’s willingness, and ultimate success, in using a traditionally “non-Armenian” musical style to further an Armenian political cause.

“Ils Sont Tombés” ultimately is an exploration of the legacy of the Armenian Genocide by an ethnically Armenian man born and raised in France. While the work has the features of a lament, there are differences which mark it as a song of protest. Aznavour makes his disapproval quite apparent in the following stanzas:

They fell silently,
By thousands, and the millions, while the world remained silent.
In the desert, their bodies looked like minuscule red flowers,
Covered by a sandstorm, which also concealed their existence.

The protest movements then becoming evident in Western music are evident in these stanzas. Azanvour, possibly reacting to the recent overtures by World leaders to Turkish deniers, lashes out to the uncaring world of 1915. He points to a global denial, and possibly an Armenian self-denial, with his allusion to an existence “covered by a sandstorm”.
Aznavour is upset, upset at the apathetic world, yet makes no obvious demand of a just resolution beyond awareness. He treads his ground lightly within his host country by attributing his people’s survival to their courage, but also to the benevolence of others. He softens his general criticism by acknowledging the host countries that took in the survivors of the Armenian Genocide:

They fell while naively believing,
That their children would hopefully live a normal childhood,
That they would one day march in a land of hope,
In open countries where people would welcome them.
I, myself, am of this race which now sleeps without a resting place,
Who chose to die rather than relinquish the faith,
Who never bowed their heads even in the face of insults,
Who survives despite everything without ever complaining.

Aznavour proclaims his ethnic heritage with this song and conjures up heroic images of survival, with honor, despite an attempt at annihilation. He is ready to complain, for Aznavour is breaking the wall of self-denial surrounding this traumatic event. By embracing this song, the Armenians likewise were ready to admit that they indeed had been victimized and were ready to move forward.

In 1976, the Diocese of the Armenian Church commissioned classicalist Alan Chakmakjian, better known as Alan Hovhaness, of Scottish-Armenian heritage, to compose music in remembrance of the Holy Armenian Martyrs of 451 AD. Hovhaness composed “Khorhoort Nahadagats - Mystery Of The Holy Martyrs Op.251”.

In 1996 reviewer Kenneth LaFave, with George Mangigian, wrote:
The ‘holy martyrs’ of the title are the more than 1000 Armenian Christians slaughtered in 451 AD [by] Persian conquerors... Instead of subduing the Armenians, however, the mass-murder…unified the nation...The third entry in Hovhaness’ suite is a reference to this transcendence of genocide by spiritual and cultural solidarity: ‘Norahrash’, meaning ‘new miracle’.

The commissioning of “Khorhoort Nahadagats” by the Armenian Church was likely a reaction to the world’s seeming indifference to those who had survived the Genocide. This was not lost upon Hovhaness, who used the themes of survival and resurgence in his work, again a basis for ending Kübler-Ross’s self-denial of a traumatic event.

Both Aznavour and Hovhaness acknowledge that a catastrophe happened to the Armenian people, yet they ultimately praise its rebirth without making a clear statement of a “just” outcome for the Armenian Genocide. Some twenty years later, a new generation of Armenian-American artists took a different, somewhat darker, and angrier approach to Genocide remembrance.

In the intervening twenty years the fate of the world, and the Armenian people, changed radically. Most significantly, the host country that provided a relative “peace” for the Armenian nation collapsed in 1991. As the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics was disintegrating in the late 1980s, the Armenians found themselves in an ethnic war with neighboring Azerbaijani Turks, reliving the last conflict with ethnic Turks in 1915. Turkey’s consequent blockade of Armenia in solidarity with Azerbaijan reinforced the mood among the new generation of Armenians that the 1915 Genocide had never ended. This anger and disillusionment was very evident in the music of this new generation which marked departure from the earlier patterns.
In 1996 jazz composer Gregg Bendian released “After Chomaklou Was a Desert (Threnody To The Victims of The Armenian Genocide)” in a free-form style of jazz. Chomaklu was a rural Armenian community near Evereg-Fenesse. Chomaklu did not survive the period of the Armenian Genocide of 1915 and essentially was razed to the ground. Bendian chose to write a lament for the loss of his ancestral village.

Bendian presents a world that was traumatized and never resurrected. He is angry. There is no resurgence, no survival to remember. The dragging of chains over his drums and the bowing of his cymbals that end his piece are symbolic of this decimation of the village and of his heritage. Bendian identifies the last section of this piece to be a “Death March, Drone/Threnody”:

“Here, the bass soloist represents the mournful voice of the people of Chomaklou (and the Armenian people as a whole) sobbing in the desert as they contemplate the aftermath of this largely unrecognized human tragedy.”

In 1998 alternative hard rock music group System of a Down, whose band members are all Armenian-American, released “P.L.U.C.K” or “Politically Lying, Unholy, Cowardly Killers.” Serj Tankian wrote the song with the music provided by Daron Malakian.
The first stanza of the song is similar in aspects to all the other works mentioned in that it acknowledges the Genocide, a necessary step in ending self-denial. This is also explored later in the song:

The plan was mastered and called Genocide,
(Never want to see you around)
Took all the children and then we died,
(Never want to see you around)
The few that remained were never found,
(Never want to see you around)
All in a system, Down

The line “The few that remained were never found” is reminiscent of Bendian’s bleak outlook both on “Chomaklou” and on the current state of Armenian affairs. The implication is that the loss is unrecoverable. There is no mention of the heroic survival and cultural resurgence as seen with Aznavour and Hovhaness. Morever, System of a Down goes a step further by demanding a “just” outcome for the Armenian Genocide, unlike Aznavour, Hovhaness, and Bendian. The following stanza is a true departure from the earlier works because it signals a new direction in Genocide resolution vis-à-vis Armeno-Turkish relations:

Revolution, the only solution,
The armed response of an entire nation,
Revolution, the only solution,
We’ve taken all your shit, now it’s time for restitution.
Recognition, Restoration, Reparation,

“P.L.U.C.K.” epitomizes Kübler-Ross’s transition from a state of denial to a state of anger. System of a Down chooses, in “P.L.U.C.K.,” to advocate a “revolution” through an “armed response” in order to resolve the lingering legacy of the Genocide. In addition, “recognition, restoration, reparation” outlines the necessity not only for acknowledgement but also for recovery and recompense. With respect to Kübler-Ross, this denotes potential progress towards the bargaining state yet the song as a whole remains imbued in violence. While the musical genre of alternative hard rock has the reputation of espousing violence, System of a Down has been a relative exception by advocating for the disenfranchised in works such as “BOOM,” which is an example of an anti-war song. Yet violence is integral to “P.L.U.C.K.” and exemplifies a state of anger.

Clearly this differs from Aznavour, Hovhaness, and Bendian who never address an Armeno-Turkish resolution to the conflict. System of a Down grapples with this topic and offers a violent solution. That the musical group had the willingness, and ultimate success, in using a forceful, traditionally “non-Armenian” hard rock style to further an Armenian political cause has its roots in the current irreconcilable state of Armeno-Turkish relations.

Musical perspectives from 1975 to 1998 mirror the Armenian struggle spanning the last thirty years over the legacy of the genocide. The perspective in the 1970’s was one of cultural survival and revival. It signified a time when the collective Armenian consciousness was able to admit that it was victimized, ending self-denial. Songs like “Ils Sont Tombés” and “Norahrash” served to acknowledge the traumas of the Armenian people yet also sought to celebrate its survival and cultural resurgence.

The next thirty years, in fact, would see no resolution, and in fact an exacerbation, of the Armeno-Turkish conflicts. Recurrent Turkish denials of the Armenian Genocide and Turkey’s military support of Azerbaijan against the Republic of Armenia have created a new generation of diasporan Armenian musicians whose songs display a certain anxiety that the Armenian legacy will not survive. The “just” resolution of the Genocide appears equally bleak. It then comes as no surprise that the late 1990’s differed from the earlier, more hopeful, period by mostly recognizing loss and demanding action, even violence if needed, to right the wrongs visited upon the Armenian people.

The trauma of the Genocide will resolve itself along the pathway delineated by Kübler-Ross. This applies both to the victim and the perpetrator. By embracing the various Armenian works in the Western musical styles over a thirty-year period, the Armenian people demonstrate how they have progressed beyond self-denial into anger followed by bargaining through a call for action. This development likely has been fueled by the Turkish nation itself. In contrast Turkey, seen as the perpetrator, has regressed further into self-denial of its complicities by refusing to take responsibility for the Genocide and continuing to impose economic hardships on Armenia. The unfortunate divergence of these two nations will likely mean that the musicians of the next generation will have a ready audience for their songs.

Emergency Preparedness and the Ferrahian High School Class of 1985

What do the 1988 Armenia earthquake, hurricane Katrina, Los Angeles community emergency response training, and the Ferrahian High School Class of 1985 have in common? It turns out, quite a bit, and these seemingly disconnected events all converged when the Ferrahian High School Class of 1985 held its 20-year reunion.

The reunion occurred June 11th, 2005, on the Encino campus. In attendance were any students, along with their families, who had been a part of the Class of ‘85, even if they had graduated from other schools. Joining the festivities were Principal John Kossakian, former Principal Gabriel Injejikian, teachers Marilyn Arshagouni, Parsegh Ananian, Varsenig Der Megerdichian, Arsine Gendal, and Kay Shaw. In total about 100 people, some flying in for the event, attended the celebration.

The Class of ‘85 Reunion Committee consisted of Jack Der-Sarkissian, Vache Keledjian, Alina Dorian, Tamar (Der Megerdichian) Tujian, Tamar Kevonian, Raffi Najarian, and Jirair Habeshian. Between them they have backgrounds that encompass four continents, seven countries, and a multitude of schools and experiences. They all work in different fields. They all agreed, however, that helping their school in the here and now was the best way to celebrate their reunion. Their classmates heartily agreed.

Most of the Class of ‘85 were new immigrants to the U.S. in 1979 when they entered Ferrahian. Many of their families had left countries to secure their very futures and here, in America, things appeared to be more promising. Yet their parents and guardians still wanted their introduction to the American landscape to come through an Armenian lens--one shaped by the experiences at Ferrahian High School.

While that Armenian experience is ultimately very individual and is open for interpretation, the parents and guardians appreciated a familiarity that the school provided to their children. That was true at the founding of the school in 1964, largely as a worldwide community effort steered by Mr. Gabriel Injejikian with a substantial bequest by Mateos and Yevgeeneh Ferrahian. It is still true today, though tempered by the stark reality that 90% of Armenian students in California do not attend Armenian schools, probably due to financial reasons. While our schools continue to subsidize the high cost of this education, their funding sources are being stretched. In this aspect the experience of anyone attending an Armenian school in America has been quite unique and privileged. And America, whose fabric is strengthened by its diversity, has benefited all the more from our experiences. The school’s founders sought to instill in their students the imperative of responsible adulthood in America yet with a tie to their Armenian cultural heritage.

Some twenty years later, the Class of ‘85 returned to their “home” base to celebrate their individual achievements and to renew the friendships forged so long ago. Everyone has been through a lot in twenty years, to say the least. The world itself has experienced a revolution during the last two decades, not the least being that Armenia has achieved its independence, albeit a precarious one. It is by destiny that this generation of Armenians, both in Armenia and the Diaspora, face the continuing challenges of independence. It has been schools like Ferrahian that have inculcated the seeds here in America to meet those challenges worldwide.

The Class of ‘85 chose to give back to Ferrahian with this appreciation for what it had provided. The reunion became a fundraising event with major sponsors from Jirair Habeshian (Jupiter Properties), Jack Der-Sarkissian (Kaiser Permanente), and Tamar Kevonian (MOSAIX Magazine), among others, enabling a donation of $3700 to the school. The Class of ‘85 recommended that the money be given to Holy Martyrs and Ferrahian teachers and staff from the school who chose to receive training in the Community Emergency Response Team (CERT) program.

While local government prepares for everyday emergencies, during a disaster the number and scope of incidents can overwhelm conventional emergency services. This was seen in the 1988 Armenia earthquake and more recently with hurricane Katrina in the Gulf States. The idea to train volunteers from the community to assist emergency service personnel during large natural disasters began, coincidentally, in 1985. This eventually developed into the Community Emergency Response Team (CERT) program. The CERT is an all-risk, all-hazard training program designed to help you protect yourself, your family, your neighbors, and your neighborhood in an emergency situation. It is an ideal program for teachers and staff at all of our schools. It may make the difference between an emergency and a true tragedy. This free 17.5-hour program, available to everyone, is conducted by the City of Los Angeles Fire Department and provides the tools for success. For information, call the Disaster Preparedness Unit at 818-756-9674 or visit www.cert-la.com

During August 3-5, 2005, 22 members of the Holy Martyrs Armenian Elementary & Ferrahian High School faculty and staff participated in the CERT program. Each participant received a $150 honorarium from the Class of ‘85. In Principal John Kossakian’s words, “We are pleased that the participants were very impressed by the CERT program and by the presenters. The contents of the syllabus have been very informative and very helpful.” If disaster strikes, the school will be well prepared to protect its students and staff, something that should make any parent feel much safer.

The Class of ‘85 has come full circle and has reestablished its roots in their school. “The administration, faculty, and staff…would like to extend sincere gratitude and appreciation to the Class of ’85 for spearheading a first-of-its-kind fundraising project and for supporting the CERT program,” Principal Kossakian stated. “[We hope] to encourage other alumni to continue such exemplary functions and fundraising activities.”

In the good-natured spirit of high school rivalry the Ferrahian Class of ‘85 awaits to see if its Armenian high school contemporaries at Alex Pilibos and Mesrobian will be able to match its accomplishment.

The stakes are simply too high to ignore, both for our community at large and for our schools and students.

Should the Armenian community of greater Los Angeles have an Armenian public charter school?

The greater Los Angeles community, inclusive of Orange County, currently hosts about eleven Armenian day schools which, in addition to fulfilling common educational requirements, teach Armenian language, culture, and history. Despite this seeming abundance the majority (estimates go as high as 95%) of ethnically Armenian students in this community are bypassing the Armenian educational system, with most attending public schools. While some public schools, notably those in Glendale, have offered single elective classes in Armenian language, the majority of these students have little or no exposure to their Armenian cultural heritage.
The reasons as to why these students, and ultimately their parents, have abandoned the Armenian educational system are quite diverse. No official inquiry exists as to why, but the reasons postulated range from perceived notions that Armenian schools are not academically rigorous to fear that a child will not integrate well into American society by attending an Armenian school. While these concerns may be valid, a persistent and undeniable issue also appears to be cost. In the end, public schools are “free.” While some Armenian educational societies and funds try to help families in need, the costs of providing an “Armenian education” to a whole generation of Armenian students here in America would require funds that are not readily available for most parents or organizations.
For financial support some parents have placed their faith in a school voucher program. School vouchers, if allowed, would give parents a set amount of money, a voucher, made available for each student to spend at a school of their choice within the guidelines set by the state. Armenian students then would be able to present their vouchers to Armenian-language/culture schools and would be able to attend at no cost. This seems an ideal situation. Yet the citizens of the state of California have tried to pass a voucher system by ballot measure without success, defeated by those who felt that certain districts and students would be dispossessed of quality education. It is unlikely that a viable voucher system will be a political reality any time soon in the state of California. Meanwhile a generation of ethnically Armenian students is denied any education about their cultural heritage.
One Armenian community in America faced this very issue yet saved their Armenian school. The A.G.B.U Alex and Marie Manoogian School in Southfield, Michigan had served the Armenian community of greater Detroit for over three decades as a private Armenian school. By 1995 it faced a situation that some Armenian schools in Los Angeles are slowly encountering today. Over the years the Armenian community of Detroit had moved away from the school, depriving the institution of its student base. In addition to the population decrease, funding the school had become a problem given decreased revenues. Rather than face closure, the Detroit Armenian community made the decision to convert their school to a public charter school, free for all, dedicated to teaching the Armenian language and culture.
Charter schools are essentially public schools, and as such must offer a free education to all students. A charter school, however, differs from a traditional public school in its degree of autonomy or freedom. A charter school operates on the basis of a charter or contract from the state or other agency authorized by the state to grant charters. The charter outlines the school's educational plan, student outcomes, and how these outcomes will be measured.
Charter schools are usually established by teachers, administrators, parents or any other entities who want to provide more choices and alternatives within the existing public school system. Teachers are often given complete control of their school's budget, staffing, teaching methods, and curriculum. In return for this autonomy, charter schools are held accountable for student performance. If a charter school cannot prove that its students are learning and benefiting from its programs, the sponsoring agency may refuse to renew the charter. Accountability through regulation and compliance is replaced by accountability for results.
The Detroit Armenian school board made some important decisions about how their school would function in the new charter school environment. Their first decision was not to make the entire school a public charter school. The pre-school was kept private with the understanding that those students were given preferential choice to attend the higher grades, which were in the public charter school. Students otherwise would be given space based on availability only if they agreed to the Armenian curriculum. After adapting to a charter system, the school reopened its doors to the public. The school reestablished its place in the Detroit community and succeeded in teaching another generation about Armenian language and culture.
Yet the Detroit experiment is the very reason some cite as to why a charter school is not right for the Armenian community here in Los Angeles. By accepting money from the state, and the Manoogian School in Southfield gets roughly $7000 per student enrolled, the school has to be held accountable to the state. While there is more control by the state compared to a private school, the charter school does have more autonomy than a traditional public school. While the details of these differences are important, the fact that the state may interfere in the affairs of the school concerns parents and Armenian organizations. As long as the charter school is able to prove that its charter (in this case Armenian language and culture) is beneficial for its students and is able to demonstrate the results, then the charter is allowed to stand.
Another concern about the Detroit school is that the state mandates that the charter school has to be non-sectarian. In other words, religion should not be taught outright at the school and so the Detroit school has had to do away with daily prayers and direct bible study during school hours. Yet the fact that Armenian history and the Armenian Church are inseparable, the school has not done away with the religious heritage that permeates the Armenian experience. Moreover, the church provides Sunday school for those students who wish to continue their religious studies.
Probably the most pervasive concern is the inclusion of odars or non-Armenians into the school. While non-Armenians have attended private Armenian schools here in Los Angeles, the number has usually been quite small. Armenian educational requirements along with the financial barrier of a private school probably limit the applicants. Since charter schools are funded by the state, the school has to open its doors to everyone in the community, much like every other public school. Of course those attending an Armenian charter school would have to agree to participate and satisfactorily pass Armenian language, culture, and history classes. In the Detroit charter school there is attendance by non-Armenians whose parents value the education at the school and agree to participate in Armenian instruction. Currently 65% of the school students have Armenian ancestry, with a student body in excess of 350 students and the majority of non-Armenians in the high school. This may relate to the fact that originally the school only offered a curriculum up to the eighth grade and more recently opened its high school. Nevertheless the Armenian curriculum has remained unchanged.
The inclusion of the odars in the Detroit school assures that there will be a generation of non-Armenians in the greater Detroit area who will know quite a bit about Armenians. It is very likely that people from this odar generation once reaching levels of influence in their communities, will look favorably upon Armenian issues, both locally and at large.
This integration with non-Armenians in the Detroit charter school has the potential to provoke anxiety among the populace here in Los Angeles, which might fear that an “invasion of the odars” would occur if such an experiment were repeated here. This tends to ignore that an “invasion of odars” has indeed already occurred here in Los Angeles. When the majority (estimates of 90-95%) of Armenian students forgo an Armenian education, the sense is that they are unwittingly lost among the odars. While some of these students attend Armenian classes on the weekends, it truly is not the same exposure or experience that a daily school would provide. The greater Detroit area has a community of 30,000 Armenians and is able to staff and sustain a school to teach their children about the Armenian language and culture. The greater Los Angeles community has been estimated to be about 250,000 Armenians. Considering that only 5% of Armenian school-aged children attend Armenian private schools, capturing at least another 5% in a charter school would double the number of students who are taught about their heritage. And if any odar was lucky enough to learn about Armenians, then the Armenian community will have benefited all the more.
Given that there is a fair number of private Armenian schools in the greater Los Angeles area, a concern has been abandonment by their students to a public charter school. While some students and parents may wish to leave a private school for financial reasons, the fact remains that the vast majority of Armenian students are currently attending public schools anyway and they probably will also try to enroll in such a charter school. Given the limited space of a single charter school it would be difficult to accommodate everyone, thus ensuring that the 5-10% capture rate that the current schools have achieved will be duplicated. In addition, Armenian private schools which are currently experiencing a decline in student enrollment due to population shifts and demographics may benefit from a public charter school program, which can prevent a complete shutdown such as the Detroit Armenian community avoided. Moreover, the success of a single charter school will undoubtedly encourage the establishment of additional Armenian public charter schools, thereby benefiting more and more of the total Armenian student population, which should be our ultimate goal.
Starting a charter school is a community event, not a solo one. The process is not simple. It may take some time, on average two years from inception. It requires a school district willing to sponsor a charter school and one dedicated to the teaching of Armenian language, culture, and history. It will also require a committed team of individuals with a variety of talents. It will also require appropriate funding. While some charter schools have been started with as little as $10,000, the average cost starting can be between $250,000 and $2.5 million. This is dependent on whether the school has to buy land, buildings, etc…. Once the school opens, the state and district will then fund the school according to the number of students it enrolls.
While these costs may seem high, the Armenian community of greater Los Angeles also has to acknowledge that the future of the community is uncertain if nothing is done. Given that the majority of ethnically Armenian students currently are bypassing an Armenian education, our collective Armenian identity is in jeopardy.
This cost is incalculable.

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