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Remembering Susan Wealthy Orvis
By Contributor on April 2, 2015 in Featured, Headline, Special Reports
A Missionary Who Saved 3,000 Orphans during the Genocide
By Kamo Mailyan and Wendy Elliott
Special for the Armenian Weekly
"We're very proud of my great aunt Susan," said Nancy Moore of
Toronto. "She saved thousands of Armenian and Greek children from
massacre, but few people even know her name." On the eve of the 100th
anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, Nancy and her husband Eric are
eager to change that. From archival papers in Harvard University,
Ohio's Oberlin College, the Rockefeller Archive Center, and their own
collection of personal letters, they have pieced together the
remarkable story of Susan Wealthy Orvis.
Susan Wealth Orvis
Beginning in 1902, Orvis traveled the world as a missionary for the
American Congregational Church, and later the American Board of
Commissioners for Foreign Missions. At the start of World War I, she
was asked to go to Gesaria (now Kayseri), Turkey, by the Near East
Relief Orphanages. Within a year, she found herself in Tiflis, Russia
(now Tbilisi, Georgia). "In the Turkish Empire we were going to try to
help the Christian people who had escaped massacre and death by
deportation, and had taken refuge in Russia," she wrote in her
manuscript, Through Russia in 1917. "The number of these Armenian
refugees was several hundred thousand... In Tiflis only we provided
15,000 orphans with clothing. Other missionaries were unable to arrive
on the account of Kurds around the foot of Mount Ararat. They were at
Igdir, where there was more trouble than at other places."
The condition of the refugees was very distressing to Orvis. "We
helped 'home orphans,' too, who were children that had lost their
fathers in the massacres; many of them were with their mothers but
destitute. Old people were even more pitiful than the children because
they were so cold and miserable and sick and lonely and neglected.
Perhaps more forlorn than these 'old people' were the 'blind' who were
being cared for." Orvis's frequent references to the "blind," in
quotation marks, throughout her writings were likely coded references
to the horrific practice of the Ottomans of gouging out prisoners'
eyes.
It is estimated that one and half million Armenians perished between
1915 and 1923, but their supporters were not treated kindly either.
Orvis lived under constant fear of having her belongings checked by
the authorities, and perhaps being deported, so she self-censured her
words. "It was so depressing to see such utter misery and wretchedness
and squalors and need," she wrote, "and not to know any way to relieve
it."
Her mission was soon forced to move from Tiflis to Alexandropol
(currently Gyumri, Armenia) for a short time. "In Alexandropol we
tried to care for thousands of refugees who had no other means of
existence but only the relief we were able to give. People were dying
on the streets every day. I began with looking after the milk depot,
and we increased the number of babies fed till we had 300 on our
list."
Soon, they were "ordered out of Alexandropol because the Turks were
advancing from Kars. All Armenians had to flee. Many were massacred
there and on the way out. They were such helpless people so they were
with no friends able to save them from being cut to pieces--men, women,
and children."
"Aunt Susan and her fellow missionaries returned to the Gesaria region
in 1919," Nancy Moore said. "Of course, their aim was to help the
orphaned children, but since Gesaria itself was not recognized by
other countries, it was hard to get relief supplies in, or to feel any
sense of security. She was almost like a prisoner, living for four
years under the strict and suspicious supervision of the local
government."
"For months I had my suitcase packed," Orvis wrote, "and carried money
with me, not knowing what might happen any minute. Our great fear was
that we might be deported and the thousands of Christian orphan
children under our care would then be sent out on the roads to die of
starvation and cruel treatment as we saw many others were being
treated."
Our great fear was that we might be deported and the thousands of
Christian orphan children under our care would then be sent out on the
roads to die of starvation and cruel treatment as we saw many others
were being treated.
By now Susan Orvis was accustomed to the harsh conditions of
post-World War I refugee camps. But her greatest challenges were yet
to come, starting with the Great Fire of Smyrna in 1922.
Smyrna was an important financial and cultural city at the eastern end
of the Mediterranean Sea on the coast of Turkey. It was roughly
divided into three quarters: the upper portion was Muslim and Jewish,
and the port area was Christian, inhabited by Greeks and Armenians.
Since the end of World War I, and what was the beginning of the
short-lived Greco-Turkish War, Greece controlled the city. On Sept. 9,
1922, the Turks invaded Smyrna and immediately targeted the Christian
district, looting their shops and homes, separating the men from their
families, and sexually assaulting the women. Within days the port
district was set on fire. It burned for four days, but the systematic
destruction of people and buildings went on for two weeks. More than
10,000 Greeks and Armenians, and visiting foreign nationals, were
killed. Many people were rescued by offshore foreign navies who did
not have the authority to intervene, and who witnessed the massacre of
many more on shore.
Orvis raced to Smyrna with the goal of saving as many children as she
could. "On my way I met a great company of Greek women and girls who
were being deported to Gesaria from the Smyrna region, and who were
dropping dead along the road from starvation. I was too much overcome
to think of much else. The greatest Thanksgiving dinner I ever shall
see was when I was able to try to feed that mob of humanity that was
like wild beasts because of hunger. They went crazy at the sight of
food. But we fed them out there at the foot of the mountain. And I
took some of them with me, but many were beyond help." This is not
surprising because the distance they walked between Smyrna and Gesaria
was 800 kilometers.
In November, Orvis organized transportation for 3,000 orphans from
Gesaria, south through Tarsus, to get them out of Turkey and into
Syria and Greece. Fifteen caravans of covered wagons crossed the
mountains to the Baghdad Railway. "It took each caravan five days to
get there," wrote Orvis. "I had charge of all of them to see that they
had food and a place to stop where they would be safe at night. I rode
back and forth along the line in a R.E.O. truck, and kept track of
them on the road."
One incident stood out for her. "Lifting garments, I uncovered 2
little girls about 12 years old. They were white, staring skeletons,
so close to death they could not move... We succeeded in reviving them
and obtained permission from the authorities to place them in our
orphan caravan. After four and a half days we reached Ouloukishla on
the Baghdad railway, where we paid full fare for our children to ride
in six inches of snow in open freight cars to Mersine. My last moments
in Ouloukishla were devoted to making the strongest representations to
the authorities for protection against soldiers who tried to carry off
our oldest girls." Of course, here she used "carry off" as a euphemism
for the opportunistic and systematic rape and sexual abuse of women
and girls during the mass deportations and massacres.
As Nancy Moore leafed through the letters and photographs of her
aunt's family, she said that Orvis had written an article for the
February 1923 edition of "The New Near East," and had encapsulated her
experiences in two sentences: "I have never in my whole experience in
the Near East witnessed such human sorrow, distress, and death, as
caused by this vast flight, which is depopulating one of Turkey's
richest provinces. It was like a march of terror."
I have never in my whole experience in the Near East witnessed such
human sorrow, distress, and death, as caused by this vast flight,
which is depopulating one of Turkey's richest provinces. It was like a
march of terror.
One particular letter in Moore's collection summed things up. "Aunt
Susan wrote to a friend that she was happy to report that, of the
3,000 children she had helped rescue from Ottoman Empire, not one had
died on the way. All of them were saved. She was 48 years old at the
time. Isn't that remarkable? I'd like everyone to know her name."
Susan Wealthy Orvis died in 1941 in Ohio at the age of 67.
The Armenian Genocide has been recognized by Canada, Switzerland,
France, and many other countries; however, it still remains
unrecognized by others, including the United States, mainly for
political reasons. Nevertheless, every year on April 24 Armenians
around the world lay flowers at genocide memorials to remember. They
may not know who their ancestors were or who saved their lives, but
they honor the dead and the saviors.
Kamo Mailyan is a graduate of the Genocide and Human Rights University
Program of the International Institute for Genocide & Human Rights
Studies (IIGHRS), a division of the Zoryan Institute.
Wendy Elliott is the author of The Dark Triumph of Daniel Sarkisyan, a
young adult novel about a boy and his sister, both survivors of the
Armenian Genocide.
http://armenianweekly.com/2015/04/02/remembering-orvis/
By Contributor on April 2, 2015 in Featured, Headline, Special Reports
A Missionary Who Saved 3,000 Orphans during the Genocide
By Kamo Mailyan and Wendy Elliott
Special for the Armenian Weekly
"We're very proud of my great aunt Susan," said Nancy Moore of
Toronto. "She saved thousands of Armenian and Greek children from
massacre, but few people even know her name." On the eve of the 100th
anniversary of the Armenian Genocide, Nancy and her husband Eric are
eager to change that. From archival papers in Harvard University,
Ohio's Oberlin College, the Rockefeller Archive Center, and their own
collection of personal letters, they have pieced together the
remarkable story of Susan Wealthy Orvis.
Susan Wealth Orvis
Beginning in 1902, Orvis traveled the world as a missionary for the
American Congregational Church, and later the American Board of
Commissioners for Foreign Missions. At the start of World War I, she
was asked to go to Gesaria (now Kayseri), Turkey, by the Near East
Relief Orphanages. Within a year, she found herself in Tiflis, Russia
(now Tbilisi, Georgia). "In the Turkish Empire we were going to try to
help the Christian people who had escaped massacre and death by
deportation, and had taken refuge in Russia," she wrote in her
manuscript, Through Russia in 1917. "The number of these Armenian
refugees was several hundred thousand... In Tiflis only we provided
15,000 orphans with clothing. Other missionaries were unable to arrive
on the account of Kurds around the foot of Mount Ararat. They were at
Igdir, where there was more trouble than at other places."
The condition of the refugees was very distressing to Orvis. "We
helped 'home orphans,' too, who were children that had lost their
fathers in the massacres; many of them were with their mothers but
destitute. Old people were even more pitiful than the children because
they were so cold and miserable and sick and lonely and neglected.
Perhaps more forlorn than these 'old people' were the 'blind' who were
being cared for." Orvis's frequent references to the "blind," in
quotation marks, throughout her writings were likely coded references
to the horrific practice of the Ottomans of gouging out prisoners'
eyes.
It is estimated that one and half million Armenians perished between
1915 and 1923, but their supporters were not treated kindly either.
Orvis lived under constant fear of having her belongings checked by
the authorities, and perhaps being deported, so she self-censured her
words. "It was so depressing to see such utter misery and wretchedness
and squalors and need," she wrote, "and not to know any way to relieve
it."
Her mission was soon forced to move from Tiflis to Alexandropol
(currently Gyumri, Armenia) for a short time. "In Alexandropol we
tried to care for thousands of refugees who had no other means of
existence but only the relief we were able to give. People were dying
on the streets every day. I began with looking after the milk depot,
and we increased the number of babies fed till we had 300 on our
list."
Soon, they were "ordered out of Alexandropol because the Turks were
advancing from Kars. All Armenians had to flee. Many were massacred
there and on the way out. They were such helpless people so they were
with no friends able to save them from being cut to pieces--men, women,
and children."
"Aunt Susan and her fellow missionaries returned to the Gesaria region
in 1919," Nancy Moore said. "Of course, their aim was to help the
orphaned children, but since Gesaria itself was not recognized by
other countries, it was hard to get relief supplies in, or to feel any
sense of security. She was almost like a prisoner, living for four
years under the strict and suspicious supervision of the local
government."
"For months I had my suitcase packed," Orvis wrote, "and carried money
with me, not knowing what might happen any minute. Our great fear was
that we might be deported and the thousands of Christian orphan
children under our care would then be sent out on the roads to die of
starvation and cruel treatment as we saw many others were being
treated."
Our great fear was that we might be deported and the thousands of
Christian orphan children under our care would then be sent out on the
roads to die of starvation and cruel treatment as we saw many others
were being treated.
By now Susan Orvis was accustomed to the harsh conditions of
post-World War I refugee camps. But her greatest challenges were yet
to come, starting with the Great Fire of Smyrna in 1922.
Smyrna was an important financial and cultural city at the eastern end
of the Mediterranean Sea on the coast of Turkey. It was roughly
divided into three quarters: the upper portion was Muslim and Jewish,
and the port area was Christian, inhabited by Greeks and Armenians.
Since the end of World War I, and what was the beginning of the
short-lived Greco-Turkish War, Greece controlled the city. On Sept. 9,
1922, the Turks invaded Smyrna and immediately targeted the Christian
district, looting their shops and homes, separating the men from their
families, and sexually assaulting the women. Within days the port
district was set on fire. It burned for four days, but the systematic
destruction of people and buildings went on for two weeks. More than
10,000 Greeks and Armenians, and visiting foreign nationals, were
killed. Many people were rescued by offshore foreign navies who did
not have the authority to intervene, and who witnessed the massacre of
many more on shore.
Orvis raced to Smyrna with the goal of saving as many children as she
could. "On my way I met a great company of Greek women and girls who
were being deported to Gesaria from the Smyrna region, and who were
dropping dead along the road from starvation. I was too much overcome
to think of much else. The greatest Thanksgiving dinner I ever shall
see was when I was able to try to feed that mob of humanity that was
like wild beasts because of hunger. They went crazy at the sight of
food. But we fed them out there at the foot of the mountain. And I
took some of them with me, but many were beyond help." This is not
surprising because the distance they walked between Smyrna and Gesaria
was 800 kilometers.
In November, Orvis organized transportation for 3,000 orphans from
Gesaria, south through Tarsus, to get them out of Turkey and into
Syria and Greece. Fifteen caravans of covered wagons crossed the
mountains to the Baghdad Railway. "It took each caravan five days to
get there," wrote Orvis. "I had charge of all of them to see that they
had food and a place to stop where they would be safe at night. I rode
back and forth along the line in a R.E.O. truck, and kept track of
them on the road."
One incident stood out for her. "Lifting garments, I uncovered 2
little girls about 12 years old. They were white, staring skeletons,
so close to death they could not move... We succeeded in reviving them
and obtained permission from the authorities to place them in our
orphan caravan. After four and a half days we reached Ouloukishla on
the Baghdad railway, where we paid full fare for our children to ride
in six inches of snow in open freight cars to Mersine. My last moments
in Ouloukishla were devoted to making the strongest representations to
the authorities for protection against soldiers who tried to carry off
our oldest girls." Of course, here she used "carry off" as a euphemism
for the opportunistic and systematic rape and sexual abuse of women
and girls during the mass deportations and massacres.
As Nancy Moore leafed through the letters and photographs of her
aunt's family, she said that Orvis had written an article for the
February 1923 edition of "The New Near East," and had encapsulated her
experiences in two sentences: "I have never in my whole experience in
the Near East witnessed such human sorrow, distress, and death, as
caused by this vast flight, which is depopulating one of Turkey's
richest provinces. It was like a march of terror."
I have never in my whole experience in the Near East witnessed such
human sorrow, distress, and death, as caused by this vast flight,
which is depopulating one of Turkey's richest provinces. It was like a
march of terror.
One particular letter in Moore's collection summed things up. "Aunt
Susan wrote to a friend that she was happy to report that, of the
3,000 children she had helped rescue from Ottoman Empire, not one had
died on the way. All of them were saved. She was 48 years old at the
time. Isn't that remarkable? I'd like everyone to know her name."
Susan Wealthy Orvis died in 1941 in Ohio at the age of 67.
The Armenian Genocide has been recognized by Canada, Switzerland,
France, and many other countries; however, it still remains
unrecognized by others, including the United States, mainly for
political reasons. Nevertheless, every year on April 24 Armenians
around the world lay flowers at genocide memorials to remember. They
may not know who their ancestors were or who saved their lives, but
they honor the dead and the saviors.
Kamo Mailyan is a graduate of the Genocide and Human Rights University
Program of the International Institute for Genocide & Human Rights
Studies (IIGHRS), a division of the Zoryan Institute.
Wendy Elliott is the author of The Dark Triumph of Daniel Sarkisyan, a
young adult novel about a boy and his sister, both survivors of the
Armenian Genocide.
http://armenianweekly.com/2015/04/02/remembering-orvis/