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I met Vahan Mirakian through a mutual friend, his attorney, almost two years ago for the first time in a small tourist town, a paradise of sorts on the Pacific near Tijuana called “San Antonio”. The town was gorgeous as was the ocean view from Vahan’s Villa patio. Vahan’s face looked old and tired, as if he had given up. I would find out later, he virtually had.

I was with a group of friends who all spoke Armenian and Russian fluently except for me. They took the time to intrepret the conversation for me. It was very intense. I had no idea what this man had been through.

Vahan had, a year ago, been arrested at LAX at age 70, handcuffed, dragged through the airport, made to sign papers he did not understand, detained, and then deported, and not allowed to return on a technical violation.

First let me allow, Vahan is no 9/11 box-cutter carrying terrorist. He is a delightful super-talented opera singer, known to be one of the top five tenors in the world, was a resident many years at the Russian Bolshoi, and scheduled to play at Carnegie Hall before his career was rudely interrupted.

Though he did not understand my English (even a lot of Americans don’t as I was raised in Mississippi, and I did not understand his Armenian, we understood each other and developed a great affection. Whatever words we did not understand were quickly interpreted by our mutual friends.

Later that year, I returned to Los Angeles to visit our mutual attorney friend, and we drove again to Mexico to visit Vahan. He was sadder than ever, and his complicated case was not looking good. His fiance Marika, a television producer and talk show host at Armenian TV in Glendale, had to commute every weekend she could to be with Vahan. The strain was beginning to wear on the relationship.

My 53rd birthday happened to coincide with this trip to Mexico, and we allwent to a small restaurant called La Fonda’s, really more or less a dive with an American pop band and very good Mexican food. At the break, I mentioned to the manager that one of the world’s top opera stars was at our table and asked if he could sing accompanied by the band. “Of course,” said the manager. I had not even asked Vahan yet but he gladly agreed. He had not sung at any venue in over a year and music was and is his life.

As it turned out, most the band opted out but the saxophone player was keen on doing a duo. When they started O Solo Mia, you could hear a pin drop in this packed establishment. It was surreal, like something out of a Salvador Dali painting. Nobody could believe their ears and kept yelling for an encore when it was over.

What a surprise when this man dedicated O Solo Mia to me. Here was a talent who played the top venues of the world, and was enabling me to have the best birthday of my life. I will never forget it.

Today, nearly another year later, I received an email from our mutual attorney friend that his case cleared. He is a free citizen again in the U.S. and living in Los Angeles. He plans a nationwide and possibly a world tour at age 71. His voice is as clear as ever and I can hear the well-known masters every time he opens his mouth.

Vahan also has a foundation that helps disadvantaged Armenian youth find their voice in music. It does wonders for those who would never have a chance otherwise. I salute this man for hanging in there and putting up a fight for his justice. I salute the American system for allowing him another chance to make it in this great country.

America rarely lets me down, and it proved today, that it truly lives up to what is on the base of the Statue Of Liberty and in our Constitution. May Vahan live and sing to be 120.

Tags: Politics