Fouad Khoury II

II

Fouad Khoury 2

“My friend Gibran was a ‘Don Juan’, and complained of being disturbed by the phone.”

It is a story of defiance between Fouad Khoury and time. As if he forgot, or feigns to forget, that 84 years lie upon his shoulders; those shoulders which are not burdened with time and the years which have passed.

Before I came to New York, Fares Estephan, owner of Al-Hoda, told me that the editor, Fouad Khoury, “is a contemporary of Gibran, Naimy and the Pen Bond.” He talked about him with deep respect, which encouraged me to meet with him as soon as I arrived in New York in 1985. His name was among the first names on my agenda.

Once I entered the office at Al-Hoda, I recognised him instantly. I knew him from the grey hair that crowned his head and the creases etched on his face.

2 Fouad Khoury died in Brooklyn in 1988, three years after this meeting.

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kahlil gibran : ... people and places

“This is Fouad Khoury,” I said. I rushed towards him and greeted him with respect for his stature, feeling that the hand I was shaking now had shaken the hands of Gibran, Naimy, and that blessed cohort of the Pen Bond.

I sat down with him, seeing in his wrinkled face the pictures of those whom we read and wrote about. And just in front of me existed the living testimony of them.

The meeting with the editor of Al-Hoda was laden with history. The paper was founded in 1898 and, at the time, served the Lebanese diaspora for eighty-seven years. This goes without mentioning the memories of he who was a contemporary of the prominent figures who served as beacons for our expatriates.

I asked him, “Mr. Fouad, I would like to visit your old memories. Do you mind?”

He relented to my request. “You may say, son, to visit what remains of my memories. Here I am – try your best.”

I wondered whether “my best” would ever be enough as I was standing on the shore of that wide ocean of memories. Fouad was a young man of 19 years hailing from Lebanon when he first set foot –along with his father, Gerges– in New York Harbor in 1920. It was pure coincidence that, before the family moved to Colorado, Gerges met his wife’s relative, Matta Faris, who was then responsible for the printing press of the Al-Majalla Al-Tijariyya (Business

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fouad khoury

Magazine), owned by Salloum Mokarzel (brother of Naum, owner of Al-Hoda). Matta asked Gerges, “Does your son Fouad have a job in America?” Fouad quickly replied with the enthusiasm of youth: “What job might suit me, Uncle Matta?”

In less than an hour, the young Lebanese, Fouad Khoury, freshly arrived from Lebanon, was standing in the offices of the Business Magazine and busy answering the questions of Salloum Mokarzel. Once the meeting ended, Salloum Mokarzel assigned Fouad Khoury assistant of the “printing master”, Matta Faris in typesetting the letters on the Linotype, which Salloum had bought years ago for his magazine. It was the first Linotype with Arabic script in the United States.

And so it was that Fouad remained in New York while his family went on to Denver, Colorado. In New York, Fouad met the members of the Pen Bond, and he participated in their reunions, befriended the members, and attended their meetings and discussions. It was there that he met Gibran.

Henri Zoghaib: What do you remember about Gibran?

Fouad Khoury: Oh... Gibran… Gibran... so many years together... He used to come to the As-Sayeh magazine offices on Rector Street, the headquarters of the Pen Bond. He always walked, carrying his cane with which he hit the ground, grumbling or out of shortness of breath: shortness of breath due to his permanent nervous temper, and sometimes grumbling because of

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kahlil gibran : ... people and places

those who wasted his time on the phone to no avail. He liked to focus on his work-long hours alone and undisturbed. He had a surprising endurance for work. He was never exhausted from spending a whole day and night working. He liked to get paid for all the work he did, even if the payment was only symbolic. Money was very important to him and he never wasted it. Despite this, he was always elegant and chose his outfits properly. He never showed up in a bohemian look, but rather in a very simple elegant style. He was an artist in every sense of the word. This is what gave him such distinctive fame in our circles and among women. I often heard he was indifferent to women and focused more on spiritual issues. What?! (The old man laughed as he knew everything) Of course not. Our friend was a ‘Don Juan’. I never knew anyone who did not love him for the famous literary figure he was and the attractive personality he enjoyed. In the last years of his life –especially the last ten years– he was no longer interested in writing in Arabic anymore and Arab readers were of less interest to him. He left them his literature translated into Arabic, and took to writing in English, a language he mastered with a very particular style. As for financial revenues, he relied mainly on his drawings and paintings more than upon his writings and publications.

New York – 1985

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