This article is dedicated to the tireless efforts of the Philadelphia Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) Chapter committee, who—beginning in 1949 and continuing through the 1980s—envisioned, conceived of and brought to life an annual summer social in Atlantic City, New Jersey, for the enjoyment of all Armenians, young and old alike. The Philadelphia ARF Chapter was founded in 1900. Oscar Papazian and Stepan “Panos” Panossian—who would later serve as ARF Chairman in the 1970s—were founding members of the committee. The Chapter maintains a strong affiliation with St. Gregory the Illuminator Armenian Apostolic Church in Philadelphia.
At various times, Atlantic City was known as “The Queen of American Resorts” and “America’s Favorite Playground.” The ARF event straddled multiple decades; according to Jo-Ann Dombalagian-Martin, the premiere began as a one-day luncheon in 1949. Over time, it expanded to a weekend, and then to a full week. Its main purpose was simple: to provide young Armenians an opportunity to meet, and for older folks to renew friendships and make new ones with fellow Armenians. All this—and the sun, sea and sand, too!
For this article, I have relied on The Hairenik digital archives as well as my own and others’ memories. I heartily recommend subscribing to the Archives—they are a good read and a wonderful resource!
Sometime after returning home from service in World War II, my father, Martin Shelengian, joined the Philadelphia ARF Chapter for life. That was after his marriage to my mother, Rose Basmajian, whom he had met at an AYF dance—the AYF being the youth organization of the ARF.
During World War II, mom was a “Rosie the Riveter.” My mother’s father, Haroutun S. Basmajian, was also an ARFer, who had volunteered to return to the ‘old country’ in 1915 as a gamavor (freedom fighter) with General Antranig’s army during the Turkish massacres of Armenians. Dad was on the Atlantic City Committee, likely starting in the 1960s, and mostly handled the reservations and check-ins, as far as I know. I would say his best friend was fellow committee member and co-chairman, Harry Dombalagian, a true gentleman. “Uncle” Harry was tall, with an imposing stature and an infectious Cheshire cat grin. He and the committee worked with Atlantic City realtor, Jimmy Cooper, who served as their liaison for booking hotels.
The Atlantic City Affair initially drew attendance from the eastern mid-Atlantic states: Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York, Connecticut and Washington, D.C. Eventually, its popularity drew thousands from around the country, and possibly overseas. In the 1950s, three hotels on S. Kentucky Avenue near the ocean end provided accommodations for the event: the base hotel, The Jefferson, The Monticello and The Boscobel. According to archival records, weekend hotel rates in 1953 were $12 at The Jefferson and $10 at the other two hotels (no, that is not a typo!). The event’s banquet dinner featured an “all-girl orchestra” (I know, not politically correct today), and a “fast stepping Floor Show” (you may have to Google that one).
According to the Archives, for the April 1954 event, brothers Harry and George Dombalagian, and the aforementioned Panos, took reservations. Guest speakers for the Saturday night banquet included Beglar Navassardian, Executive Secretary for the American Committee for the Independence of Armenia (ACIA), and Asadour (Arthur) Giragosian, one of the founding fathers of the AYF. The famous Armenian general Dro Kanayan was also slated to speak, but was unable to attend due to illness. Armenian dance music was provided by the Philadelphia Vosbikian Band and the Gomidas Band, with American music by the Eddie Stratfield Orchestra.
Activities and music
As its popularity grew, the event became a week-long fun-fest in the early 1970s. The committee scheduled specific activities for each day—ideal for attendees who wanted to forgo the beach and boardwalk, or in case of inclement weather. Monday afternoons featured a concert by the renowned Knar Choral Society, led by maestro Arsen Sayan. Tuesday afternoons included a play by the NY Cultural Society. A banquet was held on Wednesday evenings, and vintage feature films were usually screened on Thursdays. These events were part of the hotel package—no extra fee. Friday and Saturday nights were for dancing and mingling in the ballroom, with music by various Armenian and American bands. After the dance, many continued partying at hook-ups well into the morning hours.
In 1976, Friday night’s dance music at the Shelburne Hotel was provided by the Ani Band from Philadelphia, which played both continental Armenian and American music. I played oud and trumpet alongside Levon Khararjian (saxophone/accordion), Ralph Arpajian (bass guitar), Joseph (lead singer), Harout Kitabjian (drumset/dumbeg), Dikran Sarafian (rhythm guitar) and Babool (lead/rhythm guitar). Most likely, the Vosbikian Band played the Saturday night dance.
In 1976 and 77, a new Philly Armenian band, the Araxes Ensemble, also performed at the same venue. I played oud with them, along with Shahab Minassian (lead singer), Jim Gulezian (rhythm guitar), Ralph Arpajian (bass/violin), Greg Arslanian (dumbeg) and Ed Ounjian (clarinet).
Featured at the 1977 Wednesday banquet was young soprano Maroush Paneyan-Nigon, who entranced listeners with her renditions of classical Armenian melodies, accompanied on piano by Suzette Avetian. Maroush is currently choir director at St. Gregory Church and also directs the Hamazkayin Akhtamar Chorus in the Philadelphia region.
At the Shelburne in July 1978, the Wednesday banquet featured two musicians performing Broadway tunes and popular songs. Philadelphian Naz Dombalagian-Adams was the featured vocalist, accompanied by New Yorker Constance Rybak-Shelengian on piano and acoustic guitar. Naz was in the midst of a successful acting career, which included co-starring on Broadway with actor Anthony Quinn in Zorba. Constance was completing her Master of Music Education, with her mentor in attendance to see her perform.
Other venues for the event over the years included the Ritz-Carlton Hotel, Claridge Hotel, Dennis Hotel, Hotel World International, Hotel Lafayette, Sterling Hotel and Deauville Hotel.
Armenian bands also performing at these functions were the Hank Mardigian Near East Ensemble, Leo Derderian Band and the Richard Berberian Band.
Reminiscing…
The Vosbikian Band frequently played, often donating their services. Steve Vosbikian tells me that, as a youngster, he would count down the days to the special weekend, and remembers the scores of people standing, facing the stage, watching and listening intently as the band played.
Joanne Minassian remembers her grandfather on the beach in a white dress shirt with rolled up sleeves and dress pants, playing the “old country” card game, scambil, with his similarly-dressed buddies.
Ed Papazian recalls the Saturday dances in the ‘50s and ‘60s: the Vosbikian Band played in the Jefferson Hotel ballroom, while the Gomidas Band played in the Roof Garden. He also says that the young people liked to hang out near the bar area of the Monticello Hotel, while their parents gathered at the Jefferson.
Hye-Jinx: while cleaning a room, a hotel maid was startled after a young Armenian burst from the closet wearing a gorilla costume!
A friend, Diane, remembers when two energetic young men started a pillow fight in their room, soon joined by a gaggle of young people. It resulted in hundreds of feathers drifting out the windows, carried away by the summer wind, leaving a trail of white on the sidewalk (this was in the days when hotel windows actually opened!).
Of course, there was always a chance of meeting that “special someone.” Many a summer romance began as couples shared a patch of sand—and a dose of sunburn. The hotels catering to Armenians usually flew the Armenian tri-color in the ocean breeze, with bunting draped along the boardwalk railings.
Sometime in the ‘60s, my old friend and fellow church choir member and candle bearer, Harry Deirmengian, and I were walking the boards when he suggested we check out the new cars at the Armenian-owned Kerbeck Cadillac showroom on the boardwalk. Harry was very knowledgeable about Caddys and enjoyed pointing out the special features on the Fleetwood model. In the driver’s seat, he explained to me the various functions of the switches on the inside door panel; one, in particular, automatically raised and lowered the car windows—no more hand cranking!
At the dances, it wasn’t unusual for the pinky-linked dancers and the line leaders twirling handkerchiefs to slip through the doors and out onto the boardwalk to continue their revelry. And no dance was complete without the band playing a halay. I, along with my childhood friends, Steve Kamajian and Ed Soorikian—also former church choir members—enjoyed dancing to this number, where the men clasp each others’ shoulders in a circle and bend their knees in rhythm. Unfortunately, the dance becomes more difficult, the older one gets!
In July of 1977, at the Empress Motel on Michigan Avenue, a large group of young Armenians were dancing poolside as the Araxes Ensemble played Karoon Karoon. As the dance line snaked in and around the pool, someone yelled, “Look!” He was pointing to a third-floor hotel room balcony; all eyes following the sweep of his arm. A stout, middle-aged man with his hands in the air and body gyrating was mimicking the dancers below! Everyone burst out laughing. To our surprise, the man turned out to be Dom DeLuise, the famous comedian of the 1970s. Later that evening, a few of us obtained his autograph in the dining room.
When my father had free time, he loved playing in a very competitive tavloo (backgammon) tournament held on the beach. His strategy was defensive—“making doors” to hem in opponents, instead of trying to race around the board. He won the beach championship in 1974 against the reigning champion, Richie Papazian, who awarded him a dollar bill with his signature.
Brian Tavakalian recalls going with friends to nightclubs and discos, such as Chez Paree on New York Avenue and to the 500 Club on Missouri Avenue—where the Jerry Lewis and Dean Martin comedy act got its start. The club also featured Frank Sinatra in the 1950s and ‘60s.
This last story from the Tavakalian family—Betty (Donabedian), Margie and Brian—is pretty special. Their ancestor, Napoleon Donabedian, was 19 years old when he left his native Malatya in 1899 to escape Turkish atrocities, having witnessed the brutal murders of his father and uncle. His niece, Anna, was one year old at the time. After a sickness delayed him in Egypt for a year, he traveled to the United States, sponsored by his older brother, in search of the fabled streets of gold. He had not seen or heard from Anna, until a family reunion was arranged 70 years later, in 1969, when Napoleon was 88, and Anna 69, at (where else?), the ARF Atlantic City Weekend!
Alas, at some point in the mid-1980s, the committee found hotels in short supply. So, they switched venues and took a scaled-down version to the Pocono Mountains in Pennsylvania.
A partial listing of the Atlantic City Committee members from the 1960s and 70s:
These are just some of the names that come to mind, and others gleaned from the Archives and shared by members of the community: Pete (Stucey) Abrahamian, Mesrop Avedisian, Antranig Bedrossian, Vrej Bedrossian, Dick Dabagian, Jack Derderian, Minas Dolbashian, George Dombalagian, Harry Dombalagian, Setrak Ejdaharian, Nazareth Emlikian, Sarkis Hagopian, Sarkis Harootunian, Jack Hovsepian, Aram Kailian, George Kamajian, Karnig Keshgegian, John Kitabjian, John Mkhalian, Stepan Panossian, Ed (Yervant) Papazian, Oscar Papazian, Martin Shelengian, Dikran Tootkushian, Kris Torosian and George Yazigian.
I think they—and all the Philadelphia ARF members—deserve recognition for their splendid idea of bringing Armenians of all ages together. These committee members dedicated countless hours and days so that attendees could forget their troubles and enjoy the sunshine, boardwalk and ocean waves for a little while. (“…and summer’s lease hath all too short a date”—William Shakespeare).
As I look back at those good times, a Dan Fogelberg song lyric comes to mind: “And Papa, I don’t think I said I love you near enough.”
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