Two weeks earlier, I blogged about me taking a well-known Iranian singer to the recording studio, when I worked at CBS Records in Tehran. In case you haven’t read my previous story, I worked as assistant Art and Repertoire manager at the above company, after returning from Switzerland to Tehran for a short period – which happened to be during the last three years of the Shah’s reign.
Here is another recording story in CBS concerning an artist, whom I discovered and promoted. Let’s call him “Parviz” for this story.
Luckily or unluckily, the Iranian royal family liked Parviz very much.
One afternoon, as I sat in my office with a renowned traditional drummer, I received a call from the Shah’s twin sister’s office. Her secretary wanted me to find Parviz and tell him that the princess wants him to sing at the her party that same night. For some reason, Parviz, did not have a telephone at home. Each time I needed to contact him, I had to send the company driver to his house to deliver him a message.
The day I received that call, I was supposed to take Parviz to the studio to begin recording his new album. Thus, I bluntly told the royal secretary that Parviz could not perform at the princess’ party, because I had booked studio time for him.
“Are you crazy?” the drummer burst out, as soon as I hung up. “Next thing you know, tomorrow you’ll have a heart attack!”
“What…!” I interjected. “What do you mean? I’m young and healthy!”
“You don’t understand!” the drummer said, lowering his voice, to avoid the other employees in the neighboring offices from overhearing him. “What I mean is this. You should never say no to the Shah’s twin sister, or even to other members of the royal family.”
This reminded me of the rumor about the Shah’s father, who was believed to have ordered the court doctor to inject air into Reza Shah’s opponents’ arteries. That’s why certain people would have a sudden, unexplained heart attack. As I was preoccupied with this scary thought, the loud ringing of the telephone threw me out of my reverie.
“Madam, please listen to me!” I heard the voice of the princess’ secretary pleading, when I answered the phone. “Please, please… I beg you… do find Parviz, otherwise I will be in deep trouble.”
I sighed, feeling helpless and answered, “OK… OK! I’ll do it just for you.”
This might sound crazy, but despite my apprehension, what I desired was not to yield to the despotic wishes of the princess. Meanwhile, I did not mind to help the desperate royal secretary. My friend – the drummer – smiled and shook his head, probably thinking to himself that this woman will never learn.
+Stories of Life – Life in Iran During the Shah’s Reign

Chapter 72

NINE ELEVEN

September 11, 2001

It was 9-11, an unforgettable day. It was the day, when the majestic Twin Towers tumbled down like a pile of dominos, and the whole world witnessed the sight with horror. A day that the devil rejoiced for his evil actions, and his admirers danced in the streets….And a day when the only Muslim nation that observed a solemn candlelight vigil in memory of the victims of 9-11 was Iran.
At seven-thirty in the morning, we were crossing the Tri-Borough Bridge, driving from Manhattan to Long Island. Dennis, a friend of the family, who also worked for Caro’s company, was waiting for us by the entrance of Caro’s Long Island office to drive me home. We had spent the previous night in Manhattan celebrating the birthdays of Caro and Zaven, Jackie’s brother. We have always had a good time spending September 10-a double birthday-with Zaven, whom we dearly love.
As we headed toward Long Island in our Lexus, we talked about Nicole`s wedding. Nicole is the daughter of our friends, Jerry and Shirley. Nicole’s wedding was going to be held on the coming Saturday at the famous Windows on the World Restaurant in the Twin Towers. I was debating with Caro, whether I should wear my long, black and burgundy outfit.
Normally when we travel, without exception, we always have the car radio on. However, we did not that morning. We were busy talking, when we heard a horrifying noise… a big bang like that of an explosion.
“I think there was a shooting,” I speculated.
“Really… what was that noise?” Caro mused out-loud.
When we arrived in Roslyn to drop Caro off, Dennis was standing by the entrance, smoking a cigarette. The moment he laid his eyes upon us, he rushed forward and uttered, “You won’t believe what just happened!”
“What happened,” Caro began, as he got out of the car to offer the driver’s seat to Dennis, who was going to return the car to the office for Caro after driving me home.
Dennis exclaimed grimly, “Two planes just crashed into the Twin Towers.”
I thought he was joking. How could that happen? Then I remembered the horrifying sound of the bang.
“Seriously, turn on the radio, and you’ll find out,” Dennis said.
As Dennis and I drove on toward our house, the announcer on the radio suddenly cried out, “Oh my God! I can’t believe it…One of the towers just crashed down!” and a few seconds later her shaky voice came on again, “What a disaster… the second one collapsed too!”
Within seconds, the Western Long Island Expressway, leading toward Manhattan, was inundated by speeding fire engines, which were all heading down to the city. It was a strange feeling. It felt like I was dreaming.
Soon, I came to myself and muttered, “Can you imagine how many people must have died?”

In 1974, we returned to Tehran from Geneva, Switzerland for only three years. I have such good memories of those days, mainly, because of my job. Besides, Iran for me – despite being an Armenian – at the time, represented home. I loved the friendly people, the warm and joyous atmosphere, the beautiful, high mountains, exotic trees and flowers, and much more… Moreover, my family and people lived there, which I missed during all those years we lived in different European countries.
In 1974, my husband was the head of the CBS Company. And, I, having studied for some years as a teenager, at Tehran Conservatory, and because of my love of music, I decided to apply for a job at CBS. To my great pleasure, they employed me for the position of “Assistant Art and Repertoire Manager.” By chance, the head of the recording department, happened to be a previous classmate of mine at the Conservatory. His name was ‘Marcel.’ Marcel – also an Armenian – had become a well-known pianist in 74. At CBS, my friend, or better to say, my boss – gave me full authority to take on any artist, lyricist, or musician I wished to hire. Also, he let me handle not only the recording, but the political aspects of the work, like dealing with censorship and so forth… I must stress that a few of the well-known, brave singers had been imprisoned for years for singing controversial songs. Later, these same individuals, joined the group of our artists.
There were certain official committees that controlled the works artists produced. Therefore, for the release of each album, I had to appear in front of a committee to demonstrate that certain verses – as they claimed – were not aimed at criticizing the Shah’s system of government. (I am providing such details on purpose, in order to acquaint you a tiny bit with the political atmosphere of the time.) In those days, it was such a pleasure for me to work with all those renowned singers, like: Marzieh, Darush, Andy, Faramarz, and many others. What makes me even happier now, is that I am still in touch with certain loved and famous artists like, Andy. I also am friends with Dariush on Facebook. Isn’t it wonderful that Andy has invited us to attend his upcoming concert in Manhattan? He never cuts contact with our family.
Going back, let me tell you a story about one of my recording experiences. This concerns a real big star, Marzieh, whom I had previously taken to the studio and recorded all the songs in her new album. However, the work was not complete. Marzieh had recorded the whole repertoire, except for the last song. I think, this was one of her special ploys to show us that she was in charge. Or, to let us know that she could do as she pleased. Unfortunately, I, as a young recording assistant manager, did not know much about such tactics and caprices. So, I kept begging her to go to the studio with me and the sound engineer to complete the last song and help us launch the new album. However, it took months before she finally agreed to go to the studio to finalize the work.
This is how the story goes. As I was struggling with the question of how to convince Marzieh to cooperate, it suddenly occurred to me that I should treat her with real respect. Therefore, I called and told her that I had rented a top model Mercedes Benz with a driver, and that we would be picking her up at her place around four in the afternoon, the next day. Well, I guess she liked the idea and accepted.
When I got to her house with the recording engineer, she insisted that we go in for some tea and treats. Of course, there was no choice, but to accept her invitation.
As we sat in her large, bright room overlooking a lush garden, I kept fidgeting in my seat nervously, wishing for her to get up and go with us to the studio, which I had booked for five o’clock. Unfortunately, she would not budge. Marizieh kept laughing and telling us stories. Naturally, I was very anxious. Each hour at the studio cost five hundred Tomans – which was like five hundred dollars US money for us in those days. Finally, she agreed to leave with us at six-thirty.
Guess what? Yes, you are right! When we arrived at the studio, she would not sing. No matter how much I begged her and reminded her that I was responsible for all the money paid for the wasted hours at the studio, Marzieh ignored me completely. Instead, she kept on talking and laughing with the sound engineer. At some point, she started massaging the guy’s neck, to help him relax. Well, I am not going to give you a headache by describing everything that capricious middle-aged, dark haired, good-tempered artist did. All I will tell you is that finally, at seven o’clock in the morning, our famous lady decided to sing. Yes, Marzieh finally sang. And it took her just five minutes to give us a perfect song… a masterpiece!
Meanwhile, the sound engineer and I were almost dead with exhaustion. So, as soon as the recording was complete, we took Marzieh home, and headed straight to work. As I stumbled into the office, like a dazed ghost, with my bloodshed eyes and disheveled hair, I was surprised to see all the employees, and my husband, lined up by the entrance; applauding the two of us loudly and treating us like heroes. We had accomplished the impossible! Indeed, the famous album was finally complete!

A few days earlier, I had gone speed walking at our new compound. We sold our previous house, and moved to Jamesport on Long Island, NY. I love this area. When you drive around the neighborhood, you come across numerous wineries, as well as myriad fields of corn, sunflower, apple orchards, tomatoes , and different other vegetables. In a way it reminds me of the Haute Savoi region in France, where we lived years back.

As I walked, I admired my surroundings tremendously. I told myself that this looks like ‘Heaven.’ Yes, like my kind of ‘Heaven,’ where life is beautiful. Where it resembles the earth. I have described this type of special Heaven, in one of my books called, “Looking For George Bizet on Planet Heaven.” A Heaven which is the replica of earth, with the same continents and all… I know I am crazy, but when I die, I want for this lovely and exciting life, the beautiful views, and happiness to continue. That’s right…! And that’s how I have depicted life in “Looking for Georges Bizet on Planet Heaven.” I believe God is kind and loving. I am certain that contrary to our different religious beliefs, He is not there to punish us, nor to burn us in everlasting fires of hell. On the contrary He is there to forgive, and bring the good out in us. What’s wrong in dreaming about my type of a Heaven. What’s wrong in believing in life after life… Especially my type of optimistic Heaven and life. No hell… no punishment. Simply forgiveness and goodness, filled with happiness.

STORIES OF LIFE

Destiny

Are you listening to me?
Life is a miracle
My computer is a miracle
Which allows my fingertips
To connect me with you, you, and you
And then to the world
Now, look at the red horizon burning
A yellow and red line betwixt the sea and the sky
Where the seagull flaps its wings
Then skates gracefully above the ocean
Where dreams rise up into space
Where I see myself drifting aimlessly
Amidst life and my destiny
Where I will linger
Seeking to mark the heavens
With a tint of my past red and yellow hue
Where I can suck up all the goodness
That life embodies

I love ancient Persian poets. They were all so wise. A while back I translated one of his poems about knowledge. I found this small poem on the internet, which I would

really love to share with you all.

“Listen!
Clam up your mouth and be silent like an oyster shell,
for that tongue of yours is the enemy of the soul, my friend.
When the lips are silent, the heart has a hundred tongues.”

Rumi

Suddenly, the saying “An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” flashed in my mind. “So,” I told myself, “In that case, doctors must hate the cursed apple.”
Indeed, don’t they detest all the natural cures and remedies that certain people use, instead of submitting to their beloved prescription drugs? I, personally, have the same problem with my different doctors. I tell my primary care doctor that the two BP medications he has subscribed, don’t help me much. “Instead,” I continue, “a glass of vodka martini, or a glass of raw beet juice, bring my blood pressure down nicely.”
He protests, “Nonsense! This is nothing but, your imagination. I am a hundred percent sure that it must be the blood pressure medication that does the trick.”
Well, what can I tell you! I swear that for me, natural remedies such as, for example, eating sweet apples to help with my acid reflux, or drinking tea with apple cider vinegar and honey – for the same ailment – are really effective. Honestly, I am not lying. Of course, I know that for many other problems, I do need prescription drugs.

All my life, I have been horrified of mice. Honestly, a snake or a crocodile, and even a tiger, do not scare me as much as one of those spine-chilling, ugly rodents. When I see a mouse, I suddenly gasp for breath. My body feels freezing cold from head to toe, as my heart skips a bit before it begins thumping in my ears like a deafening drum.
Actually, I have a chapter about my extreme fear of this small, creepy and speedy creature in my new novel, called, “Looking For Georges Bizet on Planet Heaven.”

I remember as a teenager, one morning, pushing back the cover of the breadbox in the kitchen and finding a gray mouse munching happily on a piece of bread. That scary beast stared at me with its beady eyes, as I yelled at the top of my voice and ran out of the kitchen with the swiftness of a racing car. Despite the fact that my mother had put traps in the basement, there were still a multitude of those hated creatures zooming around.

At night, in my bed, I would pull the covers over my head to protect myself against the mice in case they jumped on my bed. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, I would wake up to a start with the squeaking noises of the racing mice in the dark.

Then, suddenly a real miracle took place! One morning, as I walked into the sunny garden to head towards school, a black and white tuxedo cat that must have jumped over the wall, approached me and began rubbing its head against my legs.

“Mother… Mother,” I called out joyously. “Look what God has sent to our rescue.”

My mother rushed out, and covered her mouth with surprise. “I will take her right in and feed her,” she blurted out.

Well, that was it. Our god-sent us a gift… our new beloved pet. Yes, within no time she cleaned up the house from all the mice, making me the happiest girl on earth.

Maulana Rumi, a thirteenth century Persian poet, in the prose below, categorizes us, humans, into groups of wise, knowledgeable, or ignorant personalities. Regrettably, it is impossible to interject its specific Farsi rhythm in its English translation. However, I have tried my best to project the real gist of its verses into English.

A well-informed soul, desiring to learn even more
Rises to the heights of glory and joy

A knowledgeable person, well aware of such a gift
Resembles a man galloping his noble horse beyond the rolling globe

A being endowed with knowledge, unaware of this blessing
Is like someone who remains thirsty, despite abiding by a pitcher brimming with water

A person without knowledge, well aware of it
Will surely arrive home even riding on a lame and limping mule

A being with no knowledge, wishing to really learn
Liberates the soul and the body from everlasting oblivion

An uninformed person, unaware of such a misfortune
Will naturally remain in perpetual darkness

Ignorant people who do not care whether they are or are not
Are non but beasts, unworthy of occupying our world

My daughter – let’s call her, ‘Emilia’ – had an important business meeting. She went out to get herself a new suit to wear for that special occasion. When Emilia got home smiling contentedly feeling proud of her shopping success, we all realized that the little electronic alarm tag had not been removed. What a shame, she could not wear the new suit to that special event. I wondered how she had managed to leave the store without being stopped by someone in order to have the bag checked for shoplifting. Emilia said that the tag had indeed triggered the alarm in the exit door, as she had tried to leave. However, the sales girl had simply waved her through. The same thing happened to me a few years back. You can’t for a minute imagine how annoying that disgusting little device was. You felt like blocking your ears tightly with your hands and yelling. Luckily, my husband managed to take the buzzer off the garment for me. So, I did not have to return to the store to have it removed. However, when I threw the nasty beeping tag into the garbage can, it did not stop busting our ears. The only thing I thought I could do was to dump it into the flower bed right by our tennis court. Do you think it would stop for a second to give our poor ears some rest? No such luck…!it kept ringing on and on… Fortunately, we were mostly
indoors. Meanwhile, when my friends and I played tennis, it really drove us crazy. I was hoping that the inbuilt electronic buzzing device would soon die off. No..no such luck. one day, having driven us crazy, my friends and I decided to kill the damn thing for good. Yes, we buried it deeply into the soil. And yes. We murdered the devil for good, as we hid it inside its grave.