Although the exact date of his birth is unknown, it has by tradition been set on May 19. When Mustafa Kemal was thirty-one, however, Selanik fell to the Greeks during the First Balkan War, regaining its older name, Salonica (and, later, its original ancient name of Thessaloniki). Since then the birthplace of the founder of modern Turkey has been in Greece.
Among the many celebrations attending the centennial of the venerated leader this year, it was natural that the Turkish government should wish to observe the occasion in the very house of his birth which still stands in the old upper quarter of the city and is today the Turkish Consulate in Greece’s second city. Ataturk and Venizelos sought and, to a degree, established, a detente between Gree ce and Turkey in the aftermath of the Greco-Turkish war of 1921-2 and hence Ataturk made many remarks regarding the need for friendship between the two countries which were quoted frequently by Turkish sources as the day of the centennial approached. Needless to say, the relationship between them has been far different since the invasion of Cyprus in 1974, the controversy over the NATO military structure in the Aegean, and the recent violations of Greek territorial waters and airspace around the Eastern Aegean islands.
As the day approached there was a growing number of statements aired in Parliament and the press questioning the wisdom of allowing any celebration in Thessaloniki, given recent Turkish provocations near Chios and Samos, let alone its being attended by official Greek representatives or by large crowds of Moslems who live in Thrace. Such was the sentiment in this country that memorial services for the victims of Turkish atrocities were planned for the Sunday previous, both at the basilica of St. Demetrius in Thessaloniki and the Metropolitan Cathedral in Athens.
It cannot be gainsaid that, for a great many patriots, the government’s attitude towards the celebration of the Ataturk centennial was yet another example of official hesitation and pusillanimity in the face of Turkish aggression. Within this legion, none was more troubled in mind and spirit than Ilias Diamandopoulos, 41, a stunt man and airplane acrobat who, though born in Thessaloniki, lives in Neo Phaliron with his wife and three children and earns his living by riding a motorcycle around the inside of a barrel in a Nea Smyrni Luna Park. He was later to admit that the harassment of Greek fishermen off Chios earlier in the month had caused him to suffer a week of sleepless nights.
The centennial celebration began promptly at 11 a.m. on May 19 with the* diplomatically tactful words of Ambassador Alatsam:
“I feel that I am duty bound to express my sincere thanks in the name of my government and the Turkish people to the worthy citizens of this beautiful city where Ataturk was born — that is, to his fellow townsmen.”
A few minutes later the distant drone of a one-seater Cessna SXGT could be heard approaching. When almost overhead, it nosed down into a loop which nearly lopped off the TV aerial of the Consulate. In the cockpit was Ataturk’s fellow townsman, the begoggled air acrobat Ilias Diamandopoulos. In communication with the control tower of Mikra International Airport, the ‘Kamikaze’ claimed that he was armed with explosives and was planning to ‘eliminate’ the birthplace of Mustafa Kemal. At 12:10 p.m. after thirty looping nosedives, each coming closer to grazing the rooftops, it was decided that the neighborhood should be evacuated, a maneuver directed by police with the aid of walkie-talkies. The shadow of the plane as it plunged and pulled out of its spectacular stunts created panic among celebrants and neighbors alike. At the same time three fire engines and an ambulance were rushed to the scene, and the Greek Air Force, alerted, sent two fighters to intercept the monoplane. The latter move proved ineffective as the speed of the jets and the presence of nearby mountains prevented them from descending low enough to inhibit the movements of the little flying machine.
Meanwhile, security officials got in touch with Diamandopoulos’ mother who was prostrate with anxiety, and his brother PaschaH whom they persuaded to come to the Mikra control tower and communicate with Ilias, saying, “Your mother, your sister and your sister-in-law have been brought into the Turkish consulate,” a statement patently untrue as the relatives would have nothing to do with it.
Whatever may have prompted his decision, Diamandopoulos did not follow through with his stated purpose, and he landed back at Mikra Airport at 12′.50 p.m., about two hours after his takeoff. He was arrested at once and the next day he was formally indicted with four criminal charges: exposing the Greek state to the danger of war, disrupting the security of air traffic, endangering civil peace and using illegal force. No explosives, however, were found in his aircraft. Diamandopoulos insisted that he had acted alone, was aware of the consequences of his act, and had been motivated by patriotic feelings.
Investigations revealed a penal record and a jail sentence. Although his associates both in his acrobatic work and at civil flying clubs insisted that Diamandopoulos was a good fellow, they admitted that he was a daredevil who would under certain circumstances stop at nothing. No one could condone his act yet it was certain that he had stolen the show at the Ataturk centennial at Thessaloniki. If Diamandopoulos had won a secret place in the hearts of many of his countrymen, it was in the knowledge that he was only the latest among many individuals in Greece’s long and headstrong history who have taken it upon themselves alone to defend the honor of their country.
Declining Values
With the spiralling rise of inflation and the consequent loss in the value of currency, it seems to have been the decision of the State Mint to change the appearance of its bills in order to revive the public’s interest in money. In the middle of last year the 50-drachma note was altered, with the head of Poseidon, god of earthquakes, replacing that of the nymph Arethusa. As women are known to be major purchasers — and therefore the chief handlers of cash — this apparent anti-feminism on the part of the Mint seemed foolish particularly as Arethusa, who was changed into a fountain as she was on the point of being violated by the god Alpheus, clearly represented a classical case of the exploitation of women by men. A glimpse at the reverse side, however, brought matters aright, for there the new bill depicts the famous woman admiral of the War of Independence, Bouboulina, firing a cannon at an Ottoman man o’war. It can only be applauded that a truly flesh-and-blood historical female figure has replaced a mythical nymph. The last thing women want nowadays is to be idealized.
The printing of this new bill, however, did not alter the Mint’s decision to strike a new fifty-drachma coin as well which was supposed to go into circulation at Christmas. A rumor got around that this rather tawdry-looking piece of money with Pericles on the obverse contained a. silver alloy worth more than fifty drachmas. As a result the coinage has been hoarded and has almost never been seen.
The new 100-drachma note, no matter how you look at it, seems to be a backward-viewing scrap of paper. Democritus and the atom have been replaced with Athena on the obverse, clearly implying a turning away from science, while on the reverse the Academy of Athens, which seems to have been trying to revivify its immortal members with new blood of late, has given way to the Monastery of Arkadi which commemorates an act of suicidal patriotism not utterly unlike that of Ilias Diamandopoulos in Thessaloniki last month. Most revisionist of all, perhaps, is the emergence of the head of Adamantios Korais on the same side of the bill. Korais is best known as the formulator of Katharevousa, an adapted form of classical Greek which was demoted from its official position largely due to the efforts of the former Minister of Education — now Prime Minister George Rallis.
The most curious loss of repute, however, is that which has befallen the most eminent of Greek paper denominations, the hiliariko. Fifteen years ago this thousand – drachma note was a decent wage for a week’s work. Today it cannot pay to fill up one’s petrol tank. As more and more of these bills, and with increasing frequency, have been paid out of pocket, one could, while settling one’s debts, still have at least the aesthetic pleasure of seeing depart a whole procession of images of the beautiful Aikaterini Papaleonardou-Paouri in her youth, dressed as an Hydriote girl depicted on the reverse side of the bill next to a panorama of her village. But last month the hiliariko was utterly deprived of its last vestige of value to the socially conscious when it was revealed that the grand archontissa of Hydra was not the original model for the girl, but it was the unknown daughter of the hiliariko*$ engraver, Maria Stini-Psalti.
As, at the time of this stunning revelation, Mme. Paouri was pursuing her social life abroad, it was impossible to authenticate the claim. If it proves to be true, the consequences can only be considered appropriate. As the hiliariko, by its loss of value, carries no social weight today, it is understandable that Mme. Paouri should wish to sever any further con-nection with it.
A Ride to the Ruins
“It is the good fortune of some to go to Corinth” – variation on an ancient proverb.
The centennial celebrations of the American School of Classical Studies which opened on June 17 were followed by two days of lectures which included a survey of the history of the excavations at Corinth and tours of the Athenian Agora by Messrs. Shear, Camp and Dinsmoor.
On Saturday, June 20, those who went on the excursion to Isthmia and Corinth had gleaned the scholarly background and found their archaeological legs. When the six Pullmans reached the Isthmus an hour later, some expressed alarm at the contents of the Museum; others, more knowledgeable, thought it was a surprise ‘extra’ involving a walk along the diolkos. Both were wrong; it was the “12 God’s” (sic) roadhouse and a stopover for the benefit of the Pullman drivers. In their haste to get to New Corinth (“It is the ill fortune of some to go to New Corinth” – modern proverb), several Pullman drivers missed the turnoff to the Isthmia excavations, thus allowing them to make a flamboyant figura by U-turning on the six-lane highway in the midst of the weekend traffic. When the excursionists, now thoroughly awake, reached the Isthmia Museum, they were greeted by Dr. Charles Williams who, in understatement, referred to certain displays as “worth looking at”. It has pleased architect Paul Mylonas to place the famous glass mosaics on an almost horizontal plane which forces the observer of, say, Plato’s portrait to approach in such a position of obeisance that the physical effect on the lower lumbar region is almost as painful as the aesthetic effect is pleasurable — a Platonic concept of some subtlety.
At the Museum in Ancient Corinth the 1981 finds were on display, and at three points in the excavations, field archaeologists described their operations this season. After lunch, served al fresco at the Tourist Pavilion, the fair day now growing hot became overcast so that the afternoon’s tours were made in comfort. Towards evening the last Pullman left ‘luxurious’ Corinth for ‘nefos-crowned’ Athens. As another old Corinthian proverb goes, “You can’t have everything.”
