Word: armenians
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...Armenian-born Calouste Gulbenkian, 84, who now lives in Lisbon, is a man of double distinction: 1) from a lifetime of dealings in Middle East oil, he has become one of the richest men in the world; 2) by judicious purchases, he has put together one of the finest collections of old masters in existence (TIME, Feb. 14,1949). Neither of his distinctions was achieved without a knowledge of the ground rules. Last week, to get some ground rules changed, Collector Gulbenkian had the busy U.S. Congress amending the Internal Revenue Code for him. The change would also work...
...Helena, mother of the Emperor Constantine. Destroyed and rebuilt several times since then, the present church is a cramped, badly maintained building that has disappointed many a pious tourist. Crowded into its dingy interior, the shrines, chapels and stalls of six branches of Christianity (Greek Orthodox, Roman Catholic, Armenian Orthodox, Syrian Orthodox, Coptic and Abyssinian) constantly interfere with each other's services and worshipers. Under Msgr. Gustav Testa, Apostolic Delegate in the Holy Land, the Roman Catholics have been working since 1939 on these plans for a basilica with beauty and elbow room...
Happy Day. Last week's newcomer restaurant, the Ararat, is operated by the government of the Armenian S.S.R., which has spared no efforts to outdo the Aragvi. The best cook in the Armenian capital has been brought to Moscow. Armenian wines have arrived to stock the Ararat's cellar...
...Politburo sits a jaunty little Armenian who dreams (almost heretically) of a U.S.S.R. clattering with the newest U.S.-style consumer gadgets. He is Anastas Mikoyan, an Old Bolshevik and, like most Armenians, a born salesman. In 1936 he visited the U.S. and was bowled over by its beehive trade in consumer goods, sparked by innovation, advertising, packaging. Back home he planned a great advertising crusade to teach the people to want and use new products. "We should not surrender before the old custom of living on borsch and mush," he said. He even tried his hand at writing a slogan...
...from Cosmopolitan for The Cocktail Party and $3,000 from the Saturday Evening Post for The Pheasant Hunter. Most of the other stories he could not sell at all, but three of them he let go free to a magazine apparently close to his Anatolian-American heart: The Armenian Review. Less unusual in an introduction, but still reminiscent of the old Saroyan trapeze act, is his advice to other writers...