Original lyrics written by Barry Arthur Cotton.
Foreign language translations created with AI assistance and edited by the author.
Music and vocals generated using AI tools under commercial licenses under platform use terms.
After my wife and I graduated with M.A.s in Applied Linguistics from the University of Hawaii, we had hoped to stay in Hawaii, but there were no jobs available. As a result, we responded to a job posting on a university bulletin board regarding training the Iranian Air Force.
A few months later, we landed in Isfahan, Iran, and were assigned to ‘the flight line’ to train helicopter pilots in helicopter nomenclature and flight-line communications.
We liked the work, liked Isfahan, and lived in the local community. Our life in Isfahan was peaceful, and we were pretty much oblivious to events as they unfolded. The only TV we had was the government channel, which mostly broadcast nature films. The radio we would occasionally get was BBC World News when weather conditions cooperated.
Otherwise, we relied on expat community rumors for our news. Surprisingly, those of us who lived in the Jolfa district of Isfahan were not affected by events. Our work with Bell Helicopter training pilots was periodically interrupted but on those days we went to work, we were ‘briefed’ on events, as best Bell Helicopter knew.
For Thanksgiving, Bell Helicopter traditionally gave out turkeys and peanut butter. I remember going to the American School to pick up our turkey. Streets were pretty much empty; we seemed to be the only ones at the Bell Compound. An Iranian rug merchant had driven down from Ferdowsi Street in Tehran to sell carpets that day.
My wife and I looked through his carpets. He insisted we pick out our favorites. So we did. Then he asked how much we would pay for them. Off the top of my head, I offered an insultingly low ball price. To my surprise, he accepted it. So I said, “Will you take a check?”
He agreed, so off I went in a cab to pick up my checkbook. When I returned, he grabbed me, took me aside, and made me swear that I would not let anyone know the prices I paid. The sun had come out, and there were lots of expats picking up their turkeys and looking at carpets.
Soon after Thanksgiving, Muharram started, and a curfew went into effect for Isfahan. Work at the airbase was suspended, and we did not return to work for the remainder of our stay in Iran.
At night, Iranians would go up on the roof of their home and shout, “Marg bar Shah! Javid Khomeini!” (death to or down with the Shah and long live Khomeini).
On a wall not far from where we lived, scrawled in paint, was “KILL THE CARTER AND THE SHAH”. Under it a culturally insensitive expat has scrawled, “RAGHEADS SUCK”.
The turning point came at Ashura (عاشوراء). Ashura in Arabic means the 10th day, specifically the 10th day of Muharram (مُحَرَّم), the first month of the Islamic Calendar. In 1978, Ashura fell on December 11th.
Two weeks earlier in Tehran, 2 million people flooded Shahyad Square calling for the overthrow of Shah Mohammed Reza Pahlavi and the return of Ayatollah Khomeini. On Ashura itself, 2 million people had grown to around 9 million people (about 10% of the population) demanding the Shah step down.
Though this turning point was not unexpected, we lived without access to the news. Three months earlier, on what became known as ‘Black Friday’ (September 8th), ninety people had been shot to death and over 200 injured when the Shah’s soldiers opened fire on protesters in Tehran’s Jaleh Square. A month earlier, on August 12th, martial law had been declared in Isfahan when protesters set fires and attacked the Shah Abbas Hotel. A week later, 470 Iranians were burnt to death when the Cinema Rex in Abadan was set ablaze. The Shah and SAVAK, the secret police, were blamed.
In truth, this horrifying arson terrorist attack was plotted by the revolutionaries to create a tragedy and blame it on the Shah. It took twenty-three years for the truth to come out that anti-Shah revolutionaries barred the entrance doors of Abadan’s Cinema Rex and strategically placed flammable materials inside and around the building before setting it alight. They set fires on all four sides of the building to prevent rescue attempts.
The fire had been the work of four Islamic activists who had carried out the deadly mission as part of their allegiance to Khomeini and his Islamic Revolution. Only one arsonist survived the fire and remained in hiding until he could stand his anonymity no more. He confessed to the crime because he could no longer sit and watch someone else receive the credit for what he saw as the ultimate act of sacrifice for the Islamic Revolution.
Soon, rioting spread to the bazar district of Isfahan, and fellow workers in that area had fled their apartments and came to live with us in the Jolfa District. Jolfa is one of the oldest Armenian quarters in the world, established in Isfahan in 1606 by Shah Abbas to resettle thousands of Armenians fleeing the Ottoman War of 1603. Armenians are Christian. The Vank Cathedral in Jolfa has existed since 1606 and is the cultural heart of Jolfa. In Jolfa, one could purchase wine, liquor, and fresh-baked pastries.
One of the saddest memories I have of my time in Iran is a bombing in Jolfa. On Christmas Eve 1978, Mr. Armeni was saying good night to his daughter when a pipe bomb was lobbed into her bedroom. The blast killed them both. Mr. Armeni was a leader of the Armenian community and owned the Armeni Store in Jolfa.
Pipe bombings became a real threat as the revolution gained momentum in Isfahan, and Captain Jack, the upstairs neighbor of our good friends there, always carried a loaded .45 as a result.
By then, we lived collectively and shared meals. Needless to say, we had a lot of turkey to eat. Though Captain Jack had departed early, he had stocked up on wine and vodka, so our little group was well lubricated. Unfortunately, the smokers in the group had stocked up on cigarettes, and it didn’t matter if you smoked or not; just by being in the room, you smoked.
As the new year approached, a last-ditch effort by the Shah appointed Shahpour Bakhtiar of the National Front to form a government on December 29th.
The new year comes, and in Paris, Khomeini announces the formation of a revolutionary council to prepare for an Islamic Republic. On January 16th, 1979, the Shah departed Iran, and on February 1st, 1979, Khomeini returned.
We watched his return on TV. By this time, evacuation was on everyone’s mind. Bell Helicopter now held periodic briefings at the Kourosh Hotel, a few blocks from where we lived. Many expats had already left Isfahan.
Our contract was under the Department of Defense, and until they declared “condition red”, we would not be reimbursed for our losses. IN our case, the losses would be considerable.
We lived in the local community and were not provided with “company housing,” so we had to completely furnish our apartment. Which we did at considerable expense.
Our landlord was a ‘bazaari’ (a member of the Isfahan Bazaar) and ran a samovar shop. We lived above he and his family. He was most apologetic about the revolution as it was bad for his business. His daughter, however, wore black chador and supported the revolution.
In preparation for evacuation when it came, we began trying to sell everything we could. Rather, we began to barter everything we could. Mostly, we bartered our TV and furniture for Persian carpets. Regular Bell Helicopter employees were asked to take things they wanted shipped out of Iran to the American School. As subcontractors, we were on our own.
Ayatollah Khomeini had guaranteed the safe conduct of all foreigners wanting to leave Iran, and our group was asked to relocate to an Iranian Airbase called Sarin Shar in order to guarantee our safety.
So my wife and I packed the carpets we had bought or bartered for into two trunks and awaited word to evacuate. Then word came down that Ayatollah Khomeini had guaranteed the safe conduct of all foreigners wanting to leave Iran. We were being relocated to Sharhin Shar, an Iranian Air Force Base north of Isfahan, under the control of the Islamic Guard.
While at Sharhin Shar, my wife, a friend, and I set up a soup kitchen because we had brought propane canisters from Isfahan and fed our evacuation group for over a month as we waited for negotiations with the Islamic Guard for safe passage to Tehran.
Despite Khomeini’s guarantee of safe passage for foreigners seeking to leave Iran, all regularly scheduled flights in and out of Iran had been canceled. Fortunately, Pan Am and its voluntary crew risked flying into the heart of a revolution to get us out.
We had been held up in the Tehran Hilton for three or four days after arriving in a convoy of buses from Isfahan, 280 miles south of Tehran. US and Canadian Embassies coordinated evacuation flights from the Tehran Hilton while the Islamic Guard provided ‘security.’ Word was that the Communist Youth Movement, which helped Khomeini to power, realized they were being betrayed and were attempting to attack the Tehran Hilton. A lot of windows had been shot out on the lower floors of the hotel, and machine gun positions were surrounding the hotel.
Most members of the Islamic Guard had been street cleaners or taxi drivers before the revolution. They lacked discipline or any understanding of how to handle firearms. As a result, they were more of a safety hazard than a security. It wasn’t until we arrived at the airport that we saw any real disciplined military. These forces, however, wore distinctive black-and-white keffiyehs and must have been Shia PLO, because Hezbollah did not form until 1985. Perhaps more significant than the black-and-white keffiyeh were the prominent Arab noses.
By the time we boarded the Pan Am flight, we must have been searched and our passports checked dozens of times. Even when seated on the plane, paramilitary figures in black & white keffiyeh carrying AK47s walked up and down the aisles for one last check. The barrel of an AK47 got caught on my cheek as one of them passed by. I endured a gouge. Fearing any movement could provoke violence, I sat motionless and was gouged. Five minutes later, we were in the air, and a loud cheer reverberated throughout the cabin as the cabin crew broke out the booze.