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FAMILY ROOTS IN THE BAZAARS OF ISTANBUL
The Sentinel (Stoke), UK
October 4, 2006 Wednesday
David Dickinson, the only man in Britain to wash his face with Brasso,
goes in search of his roots, the main surprise being that he doesn't
end up at the foot of a mahogany tree.
Dickinson's parents, Jim and Joyce, adopted him as a baby, something
he didn't find out until he was 11. But he confesses he had always
felt different.
His birth mother was an Armenian called Eugenie Gulessarian who had
lived locally. In his 20s, Dickinson tracked her down. Although they
corresponded by letter and talked on the phone, they never actually
met. She died in 1989.
When Dickinson later acquired some photographs of Eugenie, and her
parents, Hrant and Marie-Adelaide, he was struck by how much they
resembled him.
And the similarities didn't end there. Hrant, like Dickinson, had
been a successful textiles entrepreneur in Manchester, having arrived
from Constantinople in 1904. Remarkably, it turns out Hrant's home
was only 20 minutes away from his own.
Dickinson admits a fascination for his grandfather. "I have always
felt I had been close to him as a little boy," he says. "And I
think I feel a lot of understanding for him. I can see the slight
old-fashioned-ness. I can see the slight toughness. It is in me, and
I think I've always looked towards him and, as a teenager, I always -
rather silly I suppose - modelled myself on him."
Dickinson travels to Istanbul to trace Hrant's ancestors, stumbling
across a story of massacre and persecution.
Towards the end of his visit a gentleman called Hacik Guleser gets
in contact. He turns out to be Dickinson's third cousin.
The Sentinel (Stoke), UK
October 4, 2006 Wednesday
David Dickinson, the only man in Britain to wash his face with Brasso,
goes in search of his roots, the main surprise being that he doesn't
end up at the foot of a mahogany tree.
Dickinson's parents, Jim and Joyce, adopted him as a baby, something
he didn't find out until he was 11. But he confesses he had always
felt different.
His birth mother was an Armenian called Eugenie Gulessarian who had
lived locally. In his 20s, Dickinson tracked her down. Although they
corresponded by letter and talked on the phone, they never actually
met. She died in 1989.
When Dickinson later acquired some photographs of Eugenie, and her
parents, Hrant and Marie-Adelaide, he was struck by how much they
resembled him.
And the similarities didn't end there. Hrant, like Dickinson, had
been a successful textiles entrepreneur in Manchester, having arrived
from Constantinople in 1904. Remarkably, it turns out Hrant's home
was only 20 minutes away from his own.
Dickinson admits a fascination for his grandfather. "I have always
felt I had been close to him as a little boy," he says. "And I
think I feel a lot of understanding for him. I can see the slight
old-fashioned-ness. I can see the slight toughness. It is in me, and
I think I've always looked towards him and, as a teenager, I always -
rather silly I suppose - modelled myself on him."
Dickinson travels to Istanbul to trace Hrant's ancestors, stumbling
across a story of massacre and persecution.
Towards the end of his visit a gentleman called Hacik Guleser gets
in contact. He turns out to be Dickinson's third cousin.