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The Armenian Weekly; Volume 73, No. 35; Sept. 1, 2007
Community:
1. The Day The Music Died
By Tom Vartabedian
2. A Tribute to Roger Krikorian
3. Redemption Keyboardist Greg Hosharian Tours the World
By Andy Turpin
4. Survival on Mount Katahdin
By Tom Vartabedian
***
1. The Day The Music Died
By Tom Vartabedian
WATERTOWN, Mass.’When it came to Armenian music, Roger Krikorian was a
singing troubadour whose fingers worked magic on the dumbeg.
Few could entertain the way this artist could, move a crowd, mobilize
an event, heighten its spirit and sweep an audience off its feet.
His sudden death Aug. 10 left a tremendous void in an Armenian
community he had enthralled over the past four decades.
It didn’t matter what side of the fence you were on, what organization
you represented or what motive you had, Roger’s passion was clearly
defined. He was the man with the golden hands and a voice to match.
A crowd estimated at 2,500 poured into St. James Church to pay their
final respects as condolences arrived from every sector of the
country. The wake took place in his church for obvious reasons. No
funeral home in the city could have handled such a crowd, believed to
be among the largest ever held in Watertown.
An entourage of 180 vehicles formed a procession to Mount Auburn
Cemetery where he was laid to rest. A memorial meal followed at the
Karoun Restaurant in Newton, home of many a Krikorian gig.
In attendance were the following clergy: Rev. Fr. Arakel Aljalian and
Rev. Fr. Arsen Barsamian (St. James Church); Rev. Archpriest Antranig
Baljian (St. Stephen’s Church, Watertown); Rev. Fr. Gomidas Baghsarian
(St. Vartanantz Church, Providence, R.I.); Very Rev. Fr. Simeon
Odabashian (St. Sahag and St. Mesrob Church, Providence); Very
Rev. Fr. Raphael Andonian (Holy Cross Armenian Catholic Church,
Belmont, Mass.); Rev. Fr. Aram Stepanian (St. Asdvadzadzin Church,
Whitinsville, Mass.) and Rev. Fr. Vartan Kassabian (St. Gregory
Church, North Andover, Mass.).
He was the beloved husband of Diane (Knaian) Krikorian, who followed
him throughout his distinguished career at many a musical interlude,
and a devoted father to three sons, Michael, Greg and David.
Other survivors were his brother Charlie, who organized many a
function at Cape Cod; his sister and brother-in-law, Rosemary and Ohan
Armoudian; brother-in-law Armen Knaian and his wife Anoush. He also
left behind a grandson, David Bright, and several nieces, nephews,
cousins and friends, all of whom endeared themselves to this man.
`If Roger only knew how many friends would miss him, he may have lived
forever,’ said his brother. `His family was always an important part
of his career and he got them involved every chance he had. He didn’t
enjoy a lot of fanfare. His music spoke volumes.’
The line formed well outside the church as the throng slowly inched
its way through the sanctuary. By his coffin rested his fabled dumbeg
and his songbook opened to two song pages, `Sari Seroon Yar’ and
`Eench Anem,’ presumably two of his favorites.
Two displays of photographs showed Roger at another favorite pastime
by fishing boats. We had planned a trip together some time in August
that never materialized. He wanted to visit my camp in New Hampshire
and try his luck with bass.
The night of his death, Roger was slated to perform at Club Biblos in
Norwood, another popular haunt. The next day, he was to play a wedding
in Providence with sidekick Onnik Dinkjian, followed by a Providence
Church picnic Sunday at Camp Haiastan.
Playing three gigs a weekend was common fare for Roger, a housepainter
by trade. His bionic presence was also seen over the July 4th weekend
at Cape Cod when he played to a modest keftime crowd both Friday and
Saturday nights, then appeared at Camp Haiastan again on Sunday for an
AYF Alumni gathering.
Few were so closely attached as Onnik, his crooner friend. The two had
complemented one another for 25 years.
`Roger made me a better singer, no doubt about it,’ admitted
Dinkjian. `It was a God-given talent. He never studied music but was a
key component of every orchestra he played. A lot of it had to do with
his personality. The combination of voice and percussion complimented
his artistry. Not once did I ever hear a negative remark. Roger always
had a meticulous disposition.’
In a time-honored profession, the two would appear every first
Saturday in December in Providence for the past 24 years in what was
called `Christmas With Onnik,’ joined by fellow musicians Joe
Kouyoumjian, Kenny Kalajian and Leon Janikian.
`I felt a little closer to Roger than the others,’ added Dinkjian,
`simply because many of the songs he sang were done phonetically that
took a great deal of determination. (something’s off here) He even
composed a Persian song at Keftime while practicing on stage and asked
me to write some lyrics. If I ever record it, I’ll dedicate the song
to Roger.’
An ordained deacon of the church, Onnik was so distraught at losing
what he called `a musical son’ that he couldn’t put himself through
the emotion of serving on the altar the day of the funeral. That he
left to six priests and two deacons.
In all the years they performed together, not once did they join
forces inside a recording studio’a facet of Krikorian’s ingenuity that
never came to pass.
`He enjoyed the stage more than the studio,’ said Dinkjian. `Roger
wasn’t subtle. He had a big-time, let-yourself-go style and filled it
well.’
Onnik’s son Ara, another accomplished musician, heard about Roger’s
death first while his dad was on a flight to Providence for a
wedding. He telephoned entertainers Carnig Mikhitarian and Bruce
Gigarjian who met the singer at the airport and broke the news to him
at a nearby restaurant.
`Ara felt so bad,’ Dinkjian said. `He lost a brother. You can’t
describe that feeling when you’re part of a musician’s family.’
Onnik did sing at the Providence wedding that night, though with a
great deal of remorse in his heart. A number of other engagements that
had previously been booked by Krikorian will be dedicated in his
memory.
At a Haverhill church picnic on Aug. 19, eight musicians performed a
memorial tribute to their friend, led by Jason Naroian, a
protégé with obvious talents as a singing dumbeg
player. He will fill the gap at one AYF Olympics dance in New Jersey
this Labor Day Weekend. One other engagement will be assumed by Jim
Kzirian of the Aravod Ensemble.
As a further tribute to Roger, an empty chair will appear on the
Olympics stage’one that would have been filled by the artist’along
with his dumbeg, which was entrusted to popular oudist Johnny
Berberian.
Like Onnik, Berberian was another close friend to Krikorian. The two
played nearly every Olympics over the past quarter century, a number
of ASA kef weekends at the Cape, along with countless other dances and
weddings across the country.
Although it was music that brought them together, the two were also
joined socially. They would jam together by a pool or over a barbeque
pit, talk shop until they burst, and did two concerts together in
South America.
Berberian held his contemporary in high esteem.
`As a musician at the drum, Roger was rock solid,’ said Berberian. `He
was always on the beat with a forceful hand. Sometimes, he didn’t even
need an amplifier and was very consistent with his rhythm.’
In 25 years together, Berberian couldn’t recall one missed engagement,
much less a tardiness with his colleague. Roger answered every call
with diligence as if it were his mission. The show always went on,
through sickness and in health, good days and bad.
There was always his trademark smile as the line danced before him,
often with the wink of an eye and a casual nod. Come break time, his
hand was always extended. He could sing in four languages and
exercised that ability to escape the mundane.
`I can’t think of any musician who could match Roger’s versatility,’
said Berberian. `His passion was the play’not the pay. He never
questioned money.’
At a North Andover AYF dance earlier this year, the chapter was short
on funds and booked his band. Roger agreed to pay for gratis, much
like he did on other occasions where there was a tight budget.
`The AYF was special to him because he had come through the ranks and
always held a special place for that organization,’ added Berberian.
In his youthful prime, Krikorian was a competitive basketball player
for both Watertown High School, which he attended, and the local
Gaidzag AYF Chapter. You would often find him on the sidelines
cheering on his son when he played. Michael Krikorian was a chip off
his father’s block when it came to basketball.
For the first time in years, a full-page ad was taken in the AYF
Olympic Book with photos of six musicians, including Krikorian’s. That
page will now be dedicated in Roger’s memory.
Berberian also drew attention to the Providence picnic that
Sunday. The show went on, despite Roger’s absence, and it was laced
with moments of grief.
`Needless to say, we weren’t very enthusiastic that day without
Roger,’ said Berberian. `When we stopped playing, it brought some sort
of melancholy to all of us. Roger would have wanted to make the music
the best he could.’
Vahe Der Manualian, a one-time veteran dumbeg player for the New
England Ararats, recalled how Krikorian was his inspiration in many
ways, even to the present.
`He loved my dumbeg so much, we would exchange instruments on
occasion,’ said Der Manualian. `I’d keep my dumbeg in the car and he’d
tell me to go get it at a picnic and we’d play together. My heart’s
not into it any more. Roger was the only one who called me up to
play. It was a privilege to perform with such a professional.’
Krikorian was born in Somerville, son of the late Mary and Sauren (Cy)
Krikorian, and graduated from both Watertown High School and
UMass-Boston, before operating his own painting business and dabbling
in real estate.
When Roger was four years old, his father took him to meet another
great dumbeg player (Gary Alexanian) for lessons. Alexanian told
Roger’s father that music lessons were useless. The boy didn’t need
any, born with a natural gift and innate ability.
`Everything else will come naturally,’ the father was told, and Roger
was on his way before he even started school.
Buddy Sarkisian, another great dumbeg player, took Krikorian under his
wing and asked the 10-year-old to play at a very large concert in
Lowell. The two would often collaborate on many a playing job. But
nobody had greater tenure with Roger than oud virtuoso Joe
Kouyoumjian. They were together for 35 years.
`I remember calling Roger up once to play at an International Folk
Festival at Tufts University sponsored by our Armenian Club, and he
was so ecstatic,’ said John Baronian. `Roger played his heart out that
day.’
But what should be remembered at this time is what someone once said
about dying young. What they said was this: `It isn’t the quantity of
life’the number of years’that matters, but rather the quality. How
that life was lived.’
Roger Krikorian lived his 56 years exceptionally well, doing what he
loved best and savoring his life as an entertainer personified. People
around him may have cautioned Krikorian to slow down, take it easy,
pursue a more deliberate lifestyle.
Not an easy task when you’re from the old school. Picture what a 78
rpm recording might sound like at a 33 speed, and you get the picture.
Roger kept spinning his genius at his own pace’and anything less would
have caused the momentum to sputter.
—————————————- —————————
2. What others have to say
A Tribute to Roger Krikorian
`We will never forget Roger Krikorian. He played when we met. He
played at our church and ASA events. He played at our wedding.’
Jaymie Derderian-Babaian (Maynard, Mass.)
`Roger’s passing leaves a void throughout the Armenian community. His
dedication to his art and his devotion to his people were
outstanding. The smile and nod of recognition as he performed stays
with us. Take comfort in knowing that Roger is at peace, playing his
dumbeg and singing with the angels.’ Janet and Jack Shemligian (Cape
Cod, Mass.)
`I remember each and every time I was with Roger. He would always ask
of my son Paul, who was the same age as his Michael. We would share
stories. After a gig, we would go out for coffee and enjoyed some
personal time without all the activity. That was the best. We had
Roger all to ourselves.’ Linda and Jack Zarzatian (Hudson, N.H.)
`Roger was my connection to the past. Our fathers’Cy and Charlie’were
the best of friends. I remember how proud my dad was of young Roger’s
playing ability. My father’s pride became my pride that was renewed
every time I heard Roger play. I will always remember Roger growing
from a handsome little boy to a young man, becoming a husband and a
father and a great singer and musician who helped keep so many people
close to their Armenian heritage with his music.’ Charles Vahan
Zahigian and Dianna Panesis (South Yarmouth, Mass.)
`We were all so blessed to have such a wonderful, quiet man that
expressed his soul through such beautiful music that touched so many
hearts all over the world.’ Lisa Tandourjian (Philadelphia, Pa.)
`To have lived life with such wonderful friendships and family is to
truly have lived. Roger and his wife Diane were the ultimate example
of a loving marriage based on mutual respect, friendship and true
love.’ Fotini Dionisopoulos, DMD (Providence, R.I.)
`I have a hard time realizing that Roger will no longer be with us or
sit beside me or the many other fine musicians that shared his stage
and performances. The memories are unforgettable over the last 35
years and they will stay in my heart always.’ Joseph Kouyoumjian,
oudist (Boston, Mass.)
`Although I hadn’t seen Roger in years, I will always remember his
artistry on the dumbeg at our ACYOA dances in Belleville, Ill. Lisa
Mooradian Torani (Saratoga Springs, N.Y.)
`The Armenian community has lost one of its most precious musicians of
our time. I had the pleasure of officially meeting Roger when I
organized the 2004 AYF Olympics in Chicago. The Olympics will never be
the same.’ Maral Vartanian (Chicago, Ill.)
`The countless times he would play with me either at Cape Cod or at a
gig with my father will long be remembered. When he helped me and my
sister get our first dog. When he and I helped paint my parents’ house
together. When he gave us the greatest privilege of playing at our
wedding.’ Armen and Lusine Baghsarian and family (Worcester, Mass.)
`I am so happy that I got to see him on July 4th at Cape Cod, even
though the crowd wasn’t as large as it used to be. It didn’t stop me
from getting up for almost every dance until my feet could take no
more. I always got my family and friends together to attend a dance
when I heard Roger was playing.’ Lori Nahabedian (Smithfield, R.I.)
`Roger was such an amazing inspiration and brought so many together
with his music and glowing personality.’ Jason and Robyn Naroian
(Haverhill, Mass.)
`We’ve known Roger since our AYF days back in the 1960s. When there
was an Armenian band, Roger was there. He made Armenian music come
alive with his spirit. No spirit like that ever dies. As far as we’re
concerned, any time we go to a dance and hear the beat of the dumbeg,
we know Roger will be there.’ Pete and Brenda Johnson (Danbury,
Conn.)
`Roger Krikorian was truly a celebrity who was greatly admired by
people all over the world. Just his name brought smiles to people’s
faces. We remember all the dances, weddings and parties, as well as
fishing trips and basketball in the church hall.’ Zaven Ghazarian
(Phoenix, Ariz.)
`I just returned from a business trip to Europe and learned of the
passing of a great friend and such a warm soul. Roger could excite the
heart with his music but he also had the gift of compassion. He gave
his life to making so many of us happy while inspiring a new
generation of musicians that will carry on his legacy that he worked
so hard to preserve.’ Harry Bedrossian
`As my Sunday School classmate, Roger was part of our lives and
accepting, no matter what the ability or disability. Whether a
function was Dashnag, Rumgavard or Hunchag, he was an integral part of
so many community events.’ Nancy Kalajian (Somerville, Mass.)
`Roger Krikorian had a way to look at you and smile that made you feel
as though you were the most special person in the world. He touched so
many lives personally’a great testament to his life as a family man,
entrepreneur and talented musician. I can’t believe two weeks before,
we were all at Bertucci’s. I wish I gave him another hug and told him
out loud that I loved him. I hope he knew. I know he is with God and
has peace. We have a new angel to watch over us.’ Carol (Sahagian)
and Bill Katinoglou
————————————— ———————-
3. Redemption Keyboardist Greg Hosharian Tours the World
By Andy Turpin
BOSTON, Mass. (A.W.)’Amid the crashing and wailing of guitars on
stage, Greg Hosharian, keyboardist in the metal band Redemption, spoke
to the Weekly backstage about being on tour as the opening band for
Dream Theater on its `Chaos in Motion’ 2007-08 world tour.
`It’s been great!’ Hosharian said of the tour. `Today was show
21. This experience was the first time I’ve been on a major tour like
this. It’s like a dream come true.’ It turns out the keyboardist of
Dream Theater, Jordan Rudess, is one of Hosharian’s greatest
influences.
Asked about his plans following the end of the tour, he said, `Well I
don’t do this full time. I do soundtracks for animations. I’m really
more of a classically trained musician. I also do a lot of solo
stuff.’
Redemption released a new album this year, `The Origins of Ruin.’ It’s
their third following their first album, `Redemption,’ in 2003, and
`The Fullness of Time’ in 2005.
Hosharian is also one of the headliners of the Hosharian Brothers
Band: Ethnic Armenian Ensemble, alongside his brother Peter
Hosharian. The band is a continuation of the Ed Hosharian Armenian
Band of the 1960s, created by their late father, Edward Hosharian. `He
actually led the Armenian Philharmonic and started that,’ Greg said of
his father. `So I’ve been around music since I was born.’
`A lot of my music has a lot of Armenian influence,’ he said. `I think
that just comes through naturally. I don’t push it.’
——————————————– ———————————-
4. Survival on Mount Katahdin
By Tom Vartabedian
`Man is born to die.
His works are short-lived.
Buildings crumble.
Monuments decay.
Wealth vanishes.
But Katahdin in all its glory forever
Shall remain the mountain of the people of Maine.’
¦ P.P. Baxter
I almost died.
So did my friend Paul Tennant.
Here we were, two long-time journalists stranded midway down Maine’s
tallest peak’Mount Katadhin’Aug. 22 after being racked by Mother
Nature’s fury.
A bright, sunny day had suddenly given way to extreme weather
conditions following a 6-hour climb to the summit of this 5,450-foot
mountain, described by some hikers as the country’s most challenging
climb, given its huge boulder formations and steep, rugged ascent.
The views were fantastic as you approached the ridge, though it was a
constant scramble with truly scary drops. A 73-year-old gave me a `leg
up’ with words of encouragement.
`If I can do it, so can you,’ he said.
All of a sudden, we were hit by a dense fog pattern, winds that
hovered around 50 mph, a chilling rain marked by hail, and some pretty
skittish terrain afoot.
We began making our approach downhill at a time when two other
climbing companions were nearing the base. The foul weather caused us
to move gingerly on the slippery rocks. Most of it was being
negotiated on our rumps.
Much as we tried, little ground was being covered until we could go no
further. Darkness had fallen and the possibility of losing the Hunt
trail marker’and any hope of rescue’loomed before us.
***
The trip had been planned for months. The north Maine woods provided
an adventure to fit every adrenaline level and we were bracing for it.
Paul works as a copy editor for the Eagle-Tribune and is no stranger
to the mountain. Neither was I for that matter, having done Mount
Washington six times and others around New England.
We were joined by Tennant’s 20-year-old son Chris, an accomplished
skateboarder making his first venture, and Dave Dyer, an Eagle-Tribune
sportswriter with a vast climbing resume.
Both of them had made it to the bottom without incident and took up
shelter in the car. They waited and waited. We never arrived.
Rangers had cautioned us about the possibility of rain and suggested
we not proceed above the tree line. The risk was ours to take and
because the climate seemed favorable at the time, we never looked
back.
In the dead of night, we planted ourselves on a flat rock by a stream,
cold, shivering and vulnerable. The thought of hypothermia crossed our
minds. Had one of us fallen or suffered a concussion, the consequences
might have been grave.
`We can’t stop talking,’ I said. `Let’s talk about anything, whatever
pops into our head. We can’t linger off. Keep the blood circulating.’
By then, the wind had stopped and the rain had abated. Temperatures
were about 50 but felt colder by our wet clothes. The fact that Paul
wasn’t wearing gloves turned his fingers numb.
The shaking was somewhat assuaged by repeated jumping jacks and
self-induced massages. A fair supply of water and trail mix provided
sustenance.
***
Time passed. Neither of us had a watch so we had no idea of the
hour. We chatted about our families, politics of the day, some of our
favorite newspaper stories and tales of survival.
A 12-year-old boy named Donn Fendler had come out with a book called
Lost on a Mountain in Maine (as told to Joseph B. Egan). He had spent
two weeks wandering around aimlessly on Katahdin after being separated
from his father and survived.
So did Bill Irwin, a blind hiker who covered the entire 2,155-mile
trek across the Appalachian Trail from Georgia to Katahdin with his
seeing-eye dog. His was the last book I had read titled Blind Courage.
Paul and I had done stories of people going the distance against great
odds during our days with the Haverhill Gazette. Here we were,
products of our own experience. Had the papers gotten hold of it, our
wives may have seen the deadlines of `Two hikers lost on Katahdin.’
Wouldn’t that have sparked some panic?
***
As darkness lingered, a chipmunk arrived and planted himself in my
lap, probably mistaking me for a tree trunk. I shooed him away, only
to have him return. The thought of being attacked by a bear or coyote
entered our minds.
The skyline resembled a planetarium with vivid astrology signs and two
shooting stars before us. We sang a song or two, told many stories,
and wondered if help would ever arrive. It never did.
Then, the first glimmer of light appeared from above for what seemed
like an eternity. Little did we realize the base was still two miles
away and we resumed our trek downward with a sense of relief.
We made it to the bottom as other hikers had begun their climb. A
young couple approached us first with an incredulous look.
`You guys made it up and down this quickly?’
`No problem,’ I told him with a sigh of relief. `Nothing that a good
night’s rest couldn’t resolve.’
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