Jasper County Democrat, Volume 23, Number 12, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 8 May 1920 — "TURCOS" of VENEZUELA [ARTICLE+ILLUSTRATION]

"TURCOS" of VENEZUELA

FEW PEOPLE associate the idea of Arabs, Moors or Turks with the picturesque cities of the Spanish main, yet there is a flourishing colony of these orientals in Venezuela, hailing from northern Africa and Asia Minor. They maintain among their foreign surrouudlugs all the custolns of their brethren in the Old World except that of plural marriage, on which institution the Venezuelan government has put Its foot. “It is a strange thing to walk along one of the main business streets, say, of Caracas, essentially Spanish in every respect,” says a writer in the New York Times, as quoted in the Literary Digest, "and suddenly see alongside Spanish names of merchants strange Oriental inscriptions, such as Abu Amad, Ben Sid, Chaiala, Benatar. One might easily Imagine one’s self in the bazaars of Tangier or Damascus.” They are au interesting lot, these “Turcos,” as the Venezuelans call them, irrespective of whether they came from Turkish territory or not. They will not work under a “boss,” and so all of them are in business for themselves, mostly as peddlers of small shopkeepers; and all of them make money hand over fist. Not only do they take in the coin, but they also save it, and it is no uncommon thing for an humble peddler to come Into a bank, plank down $20,000 in gold and ask for a receipt and a check, book. They don’t like banks and therefore keep their money at home until the amount becomes so large that they fear for its safety. And they will, under no circumstances, “mix” with the native population. Live Their Lives Apart. These Arabs and Moors and Turks live a life entirely apart from the Venezuelan community. Whereas, if a Venezuelan has half a million dollars, he is known all over the country and pointed out as one of the leading men in the community, a “Turco” in Caracas, the Venezuelan capita), may have that amount, or nearly as much, and live so entirely to himself that scarcely anybody in the city can even tell you where he dwells. There are “Turcos” with big accounts in the leading banks of Caracas who are still living in the wretched hovels they occupied when they first reached Venezuela, with ten or fifteen of their race packed into the same house, several in a room. And when they return to northern Africa or Asia Minor they often go back as they came, in the steerage, crowded in with hundreds of other passengers, though the purser of the steamer may have locked up for safekeeping thousands of their dollars which they have earned by years of hard work in Venezuela. The “Turcos” never accept a job. They want to be their own bosses first, last and all the time. They began by going to some old-established firm in Venezuela, asking a credit of $5 to $lO, and taking out a basket of trinkets and dry goods to sell from house to house in the capital or some of the lesser cities and towns. They start out shortly after dawn and work until dark. Their cry of “Compre, merchante” (“Buy, customer”), in a strange. Oriental singsong, is well known all over Venezuela. Prosper and Grow Rich. Gradually, as they prosper—and they almost invariably do —they get more credit from the big firms and eventually open a little shop, a mere “hole-in-the-wall,” where there is scarcely room for a person to turn around. They put In a stock of dry goods, trinkets, novelties and the like, or perhaps the lighter kind of hardware. Then they get rich. Their money multiplies in ways that strike the Venezuelans, who are inclined to take life easy, as miraculous. The quitting whistle means nothing to a "Turco.” He wilt start a little rathole of a shop near the market place in Caracas, for instance, and open up at dawn in order to catch the sellers of vegetables and fraits, who come Into the market from the village*

round about, and the sellers of fish who cross the mountains from the seacoast in the small hours and reach Caracas at sunrise. He will remain open long after the shops of the Venezuelans are closed and their proprietors thinking of theaters and dinner parties. As a general rule, when a “Turco” has accumulated a sufficient amount of money, he will close up shop, pack up his belongings and return to his native land, where the means acquired in the western world enable him to live in “grand style,” according to the standards prevailing in the home town. Once in a while, how-ever, one of the little shopkeepers will decide to remain in South America and “branch out.” As a result some of the most important shops in Venezuela are owned by “Turcos.” Further: The “Turcos” who run these brg shops naturally need employees to help them, but the employees are never “Turcos," for, as I said, these people insist on being their own bosses. So the strange anomaly Is presented of these keen competitors of the Venezuelan merchants being served by Venezuelan employees. Customers entering several of the principal dry goods shops of Caracas will find behind the counter a young Venezuelan clerk, who will obligingly hand down goods from the shelves, while, tucked away In a dark cubby-hole, barely visible from the front of the shop, is a swarthy "Turco” proprietor bent over his ledger, trying to figure out how soon he can return to Mount Lebanon and cut a swath among home-folk. Observe Mohammedan Form*. “Turcos” are born traders and shun other forms of business. Their idea of a line of endeavor worth-while is one where they have to take no chances; hence they never speculate, not even so much as to extend credit to their customers, practically all their transactions being conducted on a cash basis. And they refuse to change their oriental ways, it seems. When they close their shops they hurry to the quarters where they live —in Caracas they are packed together in one of the worst sections of the city—and take U P a mode of living which is not a bit different from that of their kin along the eastern shore of the Mediterranean. At sunset the Mohammedans among them prostrate themselves toward Mecca and recite the prayers enjoined upon them by the prophet. Old Moors, oriental to the finger tips, in spite of their occidental garb, sit at the doors of Span-ish-American hovels and chatter in Arabic, quite as if they were in Fez or Algiers. Now and then a feud, started at home before they emigrated, bursts out in the Arabic purlieus of some Venezuelan city, and then newspaper readers running over the police news see a wonderful collection of names, Abu'this and Mohammed that, all run In for disturbing the peace. Once one of these feuds took on the proportions of a regular Tong war qf New York’s Chinatown, and resulted in half a dozen murders before the passions aroused in northern Africa could be calmed down in Venezuela. There have been some amusing incidents connected with the rise of the “Turcos” in Venezuela. For one thing, they throw dignity to the winds and, there, too, they get under the skins of the Venezuelans, who, like everybody of the Spanish race, are nothing if not dignified. While the native merchant, however humble, will stay inside his shop and wait upon his customers with grave courtesy, the “Turco,” as like as Hot, will stand at the door and urge passers-by with on engaging smile to enter and look over his wares.

“Turco” Shop in Caracas.