Chapter 13: Early Settlers

One of the earliest of the Syrian immigrants in Cleveland was Salim Farres, who came to this country from Lebanon in 1891 and first made his living as a peddler. He later opened a store at 508 Woodland Avenue which supplied small dealers and other Syrian peddlers in Northern Ohio with thread, needles, safety pins and sundry items. Salim Farres came to America well versed in the English language and American history, having been educated at the American University of Beirut, in the Lebanon, a Presbyterian college established in the 1860’s and one of the leading universities in the Middle East today.

Among the oldest settlers in Cleveland were members of the Caraboolad and Otto families.

Mr. Michael Caraboolad, a Cleveland insurance agent, in tracing his family’s history, gives the following information:

Mr. Salim Caraboolad came to Cleveland in 1892 and married Najeebie Otto in 1893. They are listed in old records of Cleveland newspapers as pioneer Syrian families. They are from Lebanon, which at that time was a state in Syria; now we have our own country, Lebanon.

Since about this time, more and more people were immigrating to the United States. In 1898, my father organized and was first president of the St. George Society, a fraternal organization. The purpose of this club was to help these new immigrants get settled in the Cleveland area. They helped them get jobs, housing, get legal aid, and apply for citizenship and register and vote.

Since my father was a personal friend of Mark Hanna, he voted Republican from the start, but he encouraged our people to register and vote for the best man no matter what party he belonged to. We had no church for our people, and we attended various churches nearby. In 1905, my father organized and founded St. Elias Church, with help from the St. George Society. This was the first church of the Syrian Lebanon people within a 500 mile area of Cleveland. It was attended by Melkite Catholics, Maronite Catholics and Orthodox and other groups.

They bought two old houses on Webster Avenue and remodeled one into a rectory, and built a brand new small brick church next door. Our first pastor was Rev. Marcia; since this was the only Syrian Lebanon Church, all of our young people attended these services. The second church we bought was a former Protestant Church at 3166 Scranton Road. We spent a lot of money to remodel this building into a Catholic Church, rectory, and Sunday school quarters.

On Christmas week in 1952, our new assistant pastor, Rev. Ignatius Ghattas, arrived in Cleveland from Lebanon to help Rev. Malatios Mufleh, who had been here since 1921. Later, Rev. I. Ghattas, because of Rev. M. Mufleh’s health and age, took full charge of the church. Rev. Ghattas started a building fund to remodel the Church, and after spending a lot of money, and having auto parking problems, we found that a lot of our people who formerly lived nearby had moved to the outskirts of the city, so we decided that we should buy a lot in the outskirts of the city and build a brand new church.

We bought a two and a half acre lot and later bought additional property, so that now we have about five acres of land with a beautiful new Byzantine Catholic Church at 8023 Memphis Avenue in Brooklyn. We have about 325 families in the parish.

In 1953, I organized a St. Elias Holy Name club and was its first president. Our church, which cost over $650,000 to build, includes a rectory, large hall and meeting rooms, and a large auto parking area, fully cemented.

Kalil Caraboolad, my uncle, who was a charter member of St. Elias, was godfather to one hundred and fifty-five children in the parish, and a picture was taken in front of the old church on Webster Avenue, which many members of the parish still have in their homes. He is listed in “Believe it or Not” by Ripley in his Florida Museum.

As our population grew, my oldest brother, George Caraboolad, organized the Syrian Boys Club, and he was its first president. This club membership increased to 350 members, and the main purpose of the club was to assist our people to become United States citizens. It was the duty of every member to volunteer to be a witness for these new citizens. Two witnesses were required, and since my father had a store on Bolivar Road, I was called on more often than anyone to be a witness, and some days I would be a witness for as many as three new citizens.

Our other activities were to invite candidates for office to speak at our meetings so our members could meet them. One week we would invite Democratic candidates to speak, and we would ask them questions, and the following week we would invite Republican candidates to speak and do likewise. We did not show any partiality to any one. My brother, Ellas Caraboolad, was elected president of the Syrian American Club and some years later I was elected president.

During the First World War, the Syrian American Club took an active interest in the war effort. We sold War Bonds, collected blood donations, encouraged our boys to enlist in the service of our country, and helped the Red Cross in their work.

My mother, Mrs. Najeebie Caraboolad, organized the Syrian Red Cross group and was its leader, and they assisted in many activities such as making bandages, wrapping packages to be sent to boys in service, corresponding with them, giving them local news to show them that we appreciated their war effort. Our small group was honored for their devotion to our country and making such an outstanding record.

In 1931, the Zahle Club, which owned a dwelling on West 14th Street, south of Clark Avenue, finding the older members were dying off and wanting to keep the club alive, asked younger members to form a club. Mr. Alfred Anter, a son of one of the founders of the club, Michael Anter, asked me to attend a meeting to help organize such a club. To make a long story short, we organized the first Lebanon Syrian Athletic League in the United States. We had six backers the first year and I was elected President, against my will, as I didn’t feel qualified to lead this organization. Fortunately, we had many qualified officers to assist me, such as Mr. Ernest Sabath, our secretary, and Mr. Zig Shaheen, who knew more about the rules of the game than any person in the league.

This organization had a baseball division, basketball and bowling. This same year, the end of the 1931 season, we helped to form a similar league in Detroit, Michigan, and we have been friendly rivals each year, playing at the end of the season, once in Detroit and the following week in Cleveland. This Athletic League has done more to unite our young and older people together, than any other organization.

We are now entering our forty-fourth year, with a total membership of over 200 in the Cleveland area. During the second World War, we organized a Lebanon Syrian War Committee, like other nationality groups, to help in the war effort. I was elected Executive Secretary, and our purpose was to get blood donations, encourage sale of war bonds, encourage enlistments, help Red Cross donations and we had a house to house drive in which we not only collected our $1,900 quota but were oversubscribed with a total collection of $5,500, which we turned over to the Red Cross.

We had a lot of help from the Syrian Junior League girls who kept corresponding with over 450 of our boys in various branches of the armed services. They mailed them every year fifty packages in the name of the Lebanon Syrian group. Without their help, we could not have made such a good record for our people. Many of the boys wrote to thank us for our war effort. Our group was honored by the local chapter of the American Red Cross, Mayor Frank Lausche, and public officials for our outstanding civic devotion.

I was elected Executive Secretary of the Knights of Columbus Luncheon Club, and during my term of office, we elected Mr. Ernest Bohn National Housing Director, Catholic Man of the Year. A few years before I took office, we elected Mr. Ralph Perk Catholic Man of the Year, who became our Mayor of Cleveland. I had been formerly active in the Citizenship League, Conference of Christians and Jews, Council on World Affairs, Founder and president of the Syrian Lebanon Cultural Gardens, which is now being reorganized by a new group, charter member of the First Friday Club, and a member of many clubs too numerous to list.

My brother, Elias Caraboolad, organized an insurance and surety bond agency in 1923, and, in the middle of the depression, in 1931, I took over the business.

In 1950, my nephew, Salim Caraboolad, a graduate of Princeton University, entered the agency, and we sent him to the Insurance Company of North America home office training course.

In 1953, my other nephew, Walter V. Spellman, after he left the United States Air Force, entered the agency, and we sent him to the Hartford home office training course. On April 1, 1962, my nephew, Salim Caraboolad, left the agency and formed a new life insurance company. That same year, we incorporated the agency in the name of M.S. Caraboolad Insurance Agency, Inc. with Walter V. Spellman as president, Nora G. Caraboolad as Vice President, and Michael S. Caraboolad as secretary and treasurer. In January of 1974, we changed the name of the agency to Spellman and Associates, since he was the main producer and brought into the agency many nationally known accounts, supermarkets, shopping centers, contractors, manufacturers, golf courses, tobacco jobbers, and so forth. Our small group has been law abiding and civic minded, and we want to keep this tradition alive for the sake of the younger generation as they are not familiar with our local history.

———– Michael S. Caraboolad.

Michael Caraboolad’s mother, Najeebie Otto Caraboolad, was a linguist and accomplished speaker, often lecturing before non-Arab civic groups on the culture, religions, and politics of the Middle East, particularly emphasizing the struggle of Lebanon for independence. Mr. Kalil Caraboolad, the godfather of one hundred fifty-five children, enjoyed great popularity, kept close contact with his godchildren, and was regarded as one of the leading elders of the community.

The Irish Cop: Godfather of Arab Families

Not all the godfathers in that little community around Bolivar and the Haymarket were Arab. There was an Irish cop on the beat who for long years was the brother member of many a family of Arab immigrants. He would daily visit the grocery stores and restaurants on his rounds, stopping to have a friendly word with owners and customers, or looking in on the tenements, checking on the sick and jobless.

The neighborhood relied on him to advise them about the necessary licenses, ordinances at City Hall, and applications for citizenship. He was a happy participant in the process of their assimilation into the big city and the big country. His name was Timothy Costello and he later rose to the rank of Chief Inspector of Police.

Tim Costello was as completely at ease with a plate of raw kibbee before him as he was with Irish stew or corn chowder. Among his close friends were the Anter brothers, who owned a grocery store, which was later expanded to a large wholesale house, and Sam Macron, their brother-in-law, who operated a restaurant at the foot of West 9th Street near the Erie Depot.

As children were born to these families, Tim Costello became an Arab godfather, and he too kept the Meyroun faithfully throughout his life.

Sometimes Tim Costello would voice his disapproval in strong direct language:

“Don’t take this girl out of school; you must educate your daughters as well as your sons.”

“Yes, that is true, but we need the money she will earn to bring over our relatives from the old country.”

Tim would persevere and persuade, and some of those girl students of the early years owed their high school diplomas to his persistence.

Early and arranged marriages he could never understand. “That is a little baby you are marrying off. She doesn’t even know this fella she has to marry,” he would shout.

And the soft voices would respond:

“Ah, but you don’t understand. Her cousin and his family are our own people; they will treat her well.”

“Ah, but you don’t understand; it is better to have her married than to send her to the factory, maybe to get in trouble or meet somebody not of our people, whose ways are not like ours.”

“Ah, but you don’t understand; this man is from our own village. He is from a very good family, and he has much land over there, and he owns a good business here. He will take good care of our daughter.”

These arranged marriages had their failures, but they also had an overwhelming number of successes, and years later when Tim would attend thirty, forty, and fifty-year celebrations, he would shake his head over a glass of “Arraqh” and mutter, “Well, I never figured it would last.”

The compassion, encouragement, and support of this Irish policeman and other kindly Americans motivated many of the early settlers to begin English language courses, and citizenship classes in night school, getting their first papers as quickly as was possible in spite of the long, hard hours spent at the daily jobs and businesses which supported their families.

The New Citizen

Of the earliest generation, only a few remained aliens. Most of the immigrants eagerly grasped the privilege of the vote and embraced the responsibilities and obligations of citizenship with staunch good will. Children would drill their parents in the required questions and answers that would make them Americans. When a man or a woman passed the test and got the papers, the occasion signalled the start of another celebration.

Friends and relatives would hurry over to spend the evening and toast the newly ordained citizen with a glass of “arraqh,” that anise flavored, crystal clear liquid lightning reserved for the special occasions of baptisms, marriages and citizenship celebrations. The new citizen would recite the Pledge of Allegiance for the edification of his guests and would slowly and proudly ennunciate careful English the Oath of Citizenship administered that day: “I absolutely and entirely renounce and abjure all allegiance and fidelity to any prince, potentate, state or sovereignty. . .”

All would sigh with relief, that here now, rising out of the ashes of the suppressed and agonized beloved land, where for four hundred years men had lived out their days under the heel of foreign occupation, here now was an American, privileged to share with his fellow Americans the new country’s bounty and protection.

And to vote? To speak his will over who would govern him? To choose his leaders out of conscience and without fear? Fazeha! What a momentous thing! What an awesome obligation was now this man’s!