He Was Born Onnig but Lived as Kerim Bey

This is the second installment of Bedros A. Keljik’s Armenian-American Sketches, which were translated and annotated by Aris G. Sevag. “No Good Comes From Having Children in This Country,” along with a short biography of Keljik, can be found here.

Onnig Dishsizian arrived in New Amsterdam from Constantinople in 1907. The only person he knew was Krikor Khanadsuzian, who had been working for the past five years in the Kushtutian Brothers rug company. Khanadsuzian’s first name had been changed to Jack, as was generally the case with those named Krikor; similarly, those named Garabed became known as Charlie. Being a refugee, Onnig didn’t have any money so he found his acquaintance Krikor and together they thought about finding him a job.

Jack said that “once the agha,” referring to the senior Kushtutian, “has a chance to see you, I’m sure he’ll arrange something. The most appropriate thing is for us to go together to the prayer meeting on Friday evening; he’ll be there for sure, since he plays a role in the meeting of that sect, he’s some sort of deacon. So come and we’ll go together tomorrow night.”  This sect was known as the Quakers, and the Agha went there every Friday evening. No special ceremonies took place there; everybody would spontaneously stand up and relate present and past inspirations received from the Holy Spirit.

On Friday evening, Dishsizian and Jack entered the prayer meeting hall. Onnig had never entered a Christian church or a mosque before; he sat down quietly and followed Jack mechanically. When the latter fell to his knees, closed his eyes or stood up, he did likewise. This meeting was something new for Onnig since he had lived with Turks for the most part and was practically a Turkish speaker.

Markar Agha, the head of the Kushtutian store, was there. As an experienced merchant, he had a powerful intuition. He immediately saw in Dishsizian one whom he could exploit in his business. Markar Agha called Jack over to one side and said, “Bring this fellow with you tomorrow and have him meet with my brother.”  The next day, Markar Agha told his brother that a young man would be coming to see him, advising that he was a good catch and should be grabbed up. When Onnig presented himself to the junior Kushtutian, the latter said, “Is it true that your family name is Dishsizian?  I know your family well, you’re the offspring of a noble family, you’re probably related to the Baroutji Bashis too.”

“Yes, yes, effendi,” said Dishsizian.

“You have the right to carry the title of bey. Onnig, etc. are common names. I’m going to call you Kerim Bey.” And, from that day on, Onnig became known as Kerim Bey.

The Kushtutian Brothers were rug merchants. The older brother, Markar Agha, weighed 250 pounds and had a thick neck and bald head. He was guilty of extreme gluttony, yet even the porters, who were hard workers, couldn’t compete with him. He had been a glutton ever since childhood, and the story was told that, in the year of the famine in his hometown, the boy Markar had been sent to Constantinople to prevent the famine from worsening, and it was there that the young Markar became accustomed to wily business practices. By selling Swiss watches to his friends and others, he earned money and came to America. As I said, he was a glutton and had a young wife; for these reasons, he was found dead in a hotel. Until his dying day, he kept an imitation silver watch in his pocket as a good-luck charm and used to tell everybody, “I owe all my commercial success to this,” referring to the difference between imitation silver and real silver.

In America, he began selling rugs in place of imitation silver watches. “Selling is selling,” he used to say, “whether it’s watches or rugs, it’s up to the person to make money.”  He had almost no education and, for that very reason, after living many years in America, he spoke very poor English and was known by everybody as Markar Agha. Besides selling rugs, the greatest source of income for the Kushtutian Brothers was changing the color of rugs, washing them with a chemical compound and making them shine. Generally speaking, the rugs were sold through auction. Selling by auction meant employing all means outside of the accepted rules of business, provided you didn’t get arrested: feigning; lying; using the names of dead and even living persons; selling in the name of beys, princes and even orphans.

The newly christened Kerim Bey was just the right man for the job. Kerim Bey was now known in the business world as a major personality who had barely escaped from Constantinople and had come to America, being one of the leaders of the Young Turks’ organization. Moreover, all the rugs and antiques rescued from his paternal castle on the Princes Island would be sold through auction. The plan was ready and the principal performer in this scam would be Kerim Bey. He would be taken from city to city, a kind of Barnum circus act, in whose portable cages Kerim Bey would be the most interesting animal on display. Indeed, he was a beast worth seeing, who looked like a bey as well.

Markar Agha often used to advise and train this new catch, in order to prepare him to play his role successfully. He would say, “Kerim Bey, your behavior should be worthy of your position and title of bey; you should speak little and appear serious.” He used to give this kind of advice because he considered an appearance suitable to a bey contrary to his mental acumen; Kerim Bey was an ignorant person, so Markar Agha wanted him to remain silent and conceal his ignorance. They outfitted Kerim Bey with clothes fit for a prince; to his French mustache they added a delicate Turkish beard; in his hand they put a gilt-headed cane; and the fine gold chain of his hexagonal eyeglasses extended down to his chest, to the buttons of his black suit. All this contrasted vividly with his appearance. Kerim Bey was a handsome individual with curly hair and black eyes; he had the hands of an 18-year-old girl, and was a kind of male and female hybrid. Instead of a masculine pronunciation and deep voice, he spoke in a sweet coquettish feminine manner. If his mustache and beard were shaved off and if he were dressed in women’s clothes, he would fully show off the delicate curves of the girl’s body as praised by Hafiz. As an Oriental beauty, all the young men would be apt to follow “her” with bullish eyes and lustful lunges. In a short period of time, Kerim Bey emerged from his indoctrination period, ready to perform the role according to the plan of the Kushtutian Brothers.

It was the end of spring, and the high season at Atlantic City was beginning. For some time now, the Kushtutians had a large and sumptuous store on the Boardwalk there, where they sold rugs and Oriental antiques through auction in the evening hours on a daily basis during the season. The auctioneer of this firm was a master of his trade, named Silverstein. With a combination of Armenian intelligence and Jewish shrewdness, the Kushtutians ran the most successful auction in their Boardwalk store in Atlantic City. Silverstein was a veteran auctioneer who had sold watches and jewelry through auction in the Bowery section of New Amsterdam ever since his youth, just as his boss, Markar Agha, had sold imitation silver watches in Constantinople. They were like two skilled acrobats doing a balancing act on one rope. Silverstein, having graduated from the Bowery, had completed his post-graduate course of study in auctioneering in the Kushtutians’ store.

Kerim Bey made his debut in Atlantic City, where it had been advertised that “all the old, one-of-a-kind rugs and antiques from Kerim Bey’s aristocratic castle on Princes Island, never before seen,” would be sold. Kerim Bey would personally be present at this exhibition and auction. He left the hotel to go to the gallery; behind him walked a uniformed youth carrying the bey’s suitcase. When Kerim Bey reached the store, he entered through the rear door and stayed in the waiting room there. Once the hall had gradually become filled with a throng of wealthy old maids, who had been deprived of the experience of going to the altar, and widows, the curtain of the second act of this drama opened with Kerim Bey entering and sitting down on the armchair put there for him. In the mirror placed opposite the chair, those present could see this exquisite being, the newly christened bey of the Kushtutians, from all sides of the hall.

Upon seeing this masterly staged ceremony, Silverstein had not witnessed such a marvelous dramatization in his twenty years’ experience. “It’s a knockout, it’s a knockout, bravo!” he said. The rugs were brought out, one after the other, under a powerful electric light; every item put up for auction was accompanied by its own fantastic story. Silverstein shouted, “Ladies, there hasn’t been such a unique opportunity to buy precious objects like these, and there won’t be another either.”

This became the largest and most profitable display in the history of the Kushtutian Brothers firm. Before dismissing the crowd, Silverstein informed that “all those who have made purchases shall receive special tickets entitling them to visit the bey in his apartment in the hotel, furnished in the Oriental style, and meet him personally. Guests will be served black Turkish coffee with those cups which were served in the Sultan’s palace to ambassadors and senior government officials.”

That night, Silverstein, giddy over the huge commission he had received, emptied bottles of champagne, while the Kushtutian Brothers were settling the accounts of the proceeds from the auction sale. Thereafter, according to the prepared plan, Kerim Bey and Silverstein traveled together, going from one city to another—Philadelphia, Chicago, as far as the Pacific Ocean—repeating the same performances and the same made-up stories.

One day, years later, I asked Markar Agha, “Where is that famous Kerim Bey of yours?  We don’t see him in public anymore.”

Markar Agha replied in a blasé manner, “The poor fellow wasn’t intelligent to begin with, he aged quickly, aggressive women took advantage of him and he lost everything. If you were to see him now, you wouldn’t be able to recognize him; he looks like a stork with broken wings and plucked feathers. We fired him and sent him on his way.”