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Hi everyone,
I just found this piece on another mailing list,
and I just had to pass it on. If I have understood correctly, the following
article was reprinted in the leaflet to the disc:
Amalia! Old Greek Songs in the New Land 1923-1950
but I don't have the CD myself, so I can't swear to
it. Anyway, it gives a lovely insight into the life and times of a Jewish
(Romaniote) "a la turca" performer in the States.
Hikmet Feridun Es lived in Istanbul and was a
frequent traveler to the United States. His column, Amerikada Turkler (Turks in
America) appeared in the Istanbul newspaper Hurriyet in the years after World
War II. He caught Amalia- show in Detroit and wrote this review for his column
around 1950, titled Amelya Hanim ve kizi.
Amalia Hanim and her Daughter -The Most Famous Singers of Americas Entertainment World By Hikmet Feridun Es That night there was an important reason for the big crowd to gather in this tavern: Istanbuli Amalia and her daughter Diamond were visiting Detroit. For years, the mother and daughter have been America's most well known singers singing in Turkish. Amalia Hanim, in particular, has been living in the U.S. for a long time as a Mistengette in alaturka. The Amalia-Diamond duo also dances the ciftetelli very lively. In America, there is no one better than them in alaturka dancing. The mother and daughter appeared on the stage to great applause. Both were dressed in crimson red. Their shoes and handkerchiefs were of a matching color. They wore red Mexican combs. Amalia Hanim, who has made her fame for so many years through her records and singing on stage, nevertheless looked only a little bit different than her daughter in terms of her age. One who did not know them would have a hard time believing they were mother and daughter. They started singing and dancing. Perhaps they may have picked it on purpose, the first song they sang was Anasini istermem, kizini da ver bana! (I do not want her mom, give me her daughter too). As Amalia Hanim sang the chorus, one could hear men shouting at the stage in Greek accent "Who said that? Who said that?" Amelya Hanim is indeed more lively and flirtatious than her daughter as she dances, undulating her body, her eyes half closed. Since her legs too are very beautiful like a Mistengette, she does not miss any opportunity to do figures that cause her skirt to lift way up in the air. Since our songs had never been popular in America, she adapted them, sometimes unrecognizably, to their taste. Though her first records were released 25 years ago, she is still very fresh after 25-30 years. Arnalia Hanim's family was originally from Janina. She was born in Istanbul. She sang in Kadikoy and at the Yoriganci Gardens in Harbiye, then she went to Syria. She worked as a singer there. Syria, Egypt, and then one day she found herself in New York. She opened several casinos and a big gambling casino, she made a lot of money. Then she spent all her money. For the money she made, she says, gesturing with her right hand, "It came from here", and then continues gesturing with her left hand "and went there." She finishes what she was saying in English which she started in Turkish and then continues in Greek "I don't care." That is, she means I do not care. And finally the mother and the daughter leaping onto the stage start singing flirtatious songs head to head and bouncing and rocking on their feet. In the past there used to be postcards for lovers. I remember those while I watch them. The most famous personages of the entertainment world are here. In America there is a very popular custom that everyone follows in this kind of alaturka music tavern. Every customer, man or woman, enraptured by the ciftetelli and saz, leaps up and starts dancing. And boy do they dance! There is nothing unusual about this. But what is unusual is one who stands up and takes his wallet out as his first dance figure. He throws a few dollars on the floor. And only then he starts dancing. He loses himself dancing. The music ends. But instead of sitting down he takes his wallet out again. This time with even greater passion he throws a handful of money on the floor. The music starts again, the dancing again ... Sometimes there are so many people who get up to dance ciftetelli that they, women and men, dance all together by forming a chain with handkerchiefs folded between their fingers. The singers who sing while dancing with them wipe off the beads of sweat that run down the men's foreheads with colorful and scented little handkerchiefs. But when the saz stops they stop holding hands for a moment, and some take their wallets out, some their purses, and throw dollar bills on the floor or to the front of the stage, and again the music and again the dance ... In other words, those enraptured pay as if they are buying tickets for each and every dance they are going to bounce and dance with. Like gamblers those who dance once can not hold themselves back ever again. it is not an uncommon scene to see someone who dances a second dance, a third dance and then a fifth and soon empties his pockets and wallets, and even throws his ring to the saz. And there is no one who does not get excited and get up to dance. For them they left a small opening in the middle. Sometimes it is so crowded there that people dancing bump into each other. One fat man passed me by, appeared in the crowd, threw bills that were in the shape of balls all crumpled in his hand. Amalya Hanim and her daughter picked these up. They unfolded them and put them into a basket. At this, I said with a smile to a local next to me "Here one should be a singer or musician." He answered "Once Iraqis and Syrians came here, 24 of them. They were wearing white tuxedos. Wearing curious fezzes on their heads. They would come to the stage rather showily, men and women too. The Syrians here made a good name for themselves. They spent a lot of money! I asked whether the fat guy who had since been paying and dancing was rich. They said "he is a worker at the Ford factory. He can speak Turkish well. He is from somewhere around Syria." Then they added, "He got his weekly pay today." Outside, the sun was rising. The poor guy was worn down by hopping and belly dancing. He was saying "I will drink a cup of tea and then go directly to work." That is, he was going to go to the factory after his tremendous tiredness. And he would tell his friends "I had so much fun last night!" (Istanbul 1950) |
