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In Turkey, a festival revives a jewel of the Sephardic world and aims to break stereotypes

IZMIR, Turkey (JTA) — Prague has the dubious honor of being chosen by Adolf Hitler to be a record of what he hoped would be the vanquished Jews of Europe. The Nazis left many of the city’s synagogues and Jewish sites relatively intact, intending to showcase them as the remnants of an extinct culture.

That has made Prague a popular tourist destination for both Jewish travelers and others interested in Jewish history since the fall of the Iron Curtain: the city provides an uncommon look into the pre-war infrastructure of Ashkenazi Europe.

Could Izmir, Turkey’s third largest city, become a Sephardic version, in terms of history and tourism? That’s the goal for Nesim Bencoya, director of the Izmir Jewish Heritage project. 

The city, once known in Greek as Smyrna, has had a Jewish presence since antiquity, with early church documents mentioning Jews as far back as the second century AD. Like elsewhere in the Ottoman Empire, though, its community grew exponentially with the influx of Sephardic Jews who came after their expulsion from Spain. 

At its peak, the city was home to around 30,000 Jews and was the hometown of Jewish artists, writers and rabbis — from the esteemed Pallache and Algazii rabbinical families, to the musician Dario Marino, to the famously false messiah, Shabbetai Zevi, whose childhood home still stands in Izmir today. 

Today, fewer than 1,300 remain. The establishment of the state of Israel, coupled with a century of economic and political upheaval, led to the immigration of the majority of Turkish Jewry. 

“From the 17th century, Izmir was a center for Sephardic Jewry,” Bencoya told the Jewish Telegraphic Agency. “We can’t recreate that, but we cannot forget that either.”

Izmir is located on Turkey’s Aegean coast. (David I. Klein)

Celebrating in the former Jewish quarter

Bencoya, who is in his late 60s, was born in Izmir but spent most of his adult life in Israel, where he led the Haifa Cinematheque, but he returned to Izmir 13 years ago to helm the heritage project, which has worked to highlight the the culture and history of Izmir’s Jewish community.

Over nine days in December that included the week of Hanukkah, thousands attended the annual Sephardic culture festival that he has organized since 2018. The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings, lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community, and — since it coincided with Hanukkah and also a Shabbat — both a menorah lighting ceremony and havdalah ceremony were conducted with explanations from Izmir’s leading cantor, Nesim Beruchiel. 

This year’s festival marked a turning point: it was the first in which organizers were able to show off several of the centuries-old synagogues that the project — with funding from the European Union and the local municipality — has been restoring. 

The synagogues, most of which are clustered around a street still called Havra Sokak (havra being the Turkish spelling of the Hebrew word chevra, or congregation) represent a unique piece of cultural heritage. 

Nesim Bencoya speaks from his office next to the restored Sinyora Synagogue in Izmir. (David I. Klein)

Once upon a time, the street was the heart of the Jewish quarter or “Juderia,” but today it is right in the middle of Izmir’s Kemeralti Bazaar, a bustling market district stretching over 150 acres where almost anything can be bought and sold. On Havra Sokak, the merchants hock fresh fruits, and hopefully fresher fish. One street to the south one can find all manner of leather goods; one to the north has markets for gold, silver and other precious metals; one to the west has coffee shops. In between them all are other shops selling everything from crafts to tchotchkes to kitchenware to lingerie. 

Several mosques and a handful of churches dot the area, but the synagogues revive a unique character of the district that had been all but lost.  

“The synagogues here were built under the light of Spain. But in Spain today, there are only two major historic synagogues, Toledo and Cordoba, and they are big ones. You don’t have smaller ones. Here we have six on one block, built with the memory of what was there by those who left Spain,” Bencoya said. 

Those synagogues have been home to major events in Jewish history — such as when Shabbetei Zvi broke into Izmir’s Portuguese Synagogue one Sabbath morning, drove out his opponents and declared himself the messiah (he cultivated a large following but was later imprisoned and forced to convert to Islam). The synagogue, known in Turkish as Portekez, was among those restored by the project. 

Today, only two of Izmir’s synagogues are in regular use by its Jewish community, but the others that were restored are now available as exhibition and event spaces. 

Educating non-Jews

Hosting the festival within Izmir’s unique synagogues has an additional purpose, since the overwhelming majority of the attendees were not Jewish. 

“Most of the people who come to the festival have never been to a synagogue, maybe a small percentage of them have met a Jew once in their lives,” Bencoya said. 

That’s particularly important in a country where antisemitic beliefs are far from uncommon. In a 2015 study by the Anti-Defamation League, 71% of respondents from Turkey believe in some antisemitic stereotypes

The festival included concerts of Jewish and Ladino music, traditional food tastings and lectures on Izmir’s Jewish community.(David I. Klein)

“This festival is not for Jewish people to know us, but for non-Jews,” Bencoya said. Now, “Hundreds of Turkish Muslim people have come to see us, to listen to our holidays and taste what we do.”

Kayra Ergen, a native of Izmir who attended a Ladino concert and menorah lighting event at the end of the festival, told JTA that until a year ago, he had no idea how Jewish Izmir once was. 

“I know that Anatolia is a multicultural land, and also Turkey is, but this religion, by which I mean Jewish people, left this place a long time ago because of many bad events. But it’s good to remember these people, and their roots in Izmir,” Ergen said. “This is so sad and lame to say out loud, but I didn’t know about this — that only 70 years ago, 60% of this area here in Konak [the district around Kemeralti] was Jewish. Today I believe only 1,300 remain. This is not good. But we must do whatever we can and this festival is a good example of showing the love between cultures.”

“I think it’s good that we’re respecting each other in here,” said Zeynep Uslu, another native of Izmir. “A lot of different cultures and a lot of different people. It’s good that we’re together here celebrating something so special.”

Izmir’s history as a home for minorities has not been all rosy. At the end of the Ottoman period, the city was around half Greek, a tenth Jewish and a tenth Armenian, while the remainder were Turkish Muslims and an assortment of foreigners. In the Greco-Turkish war of 1919-1922 — remembered in Turkey as the Turkish War of Independence — the Greek and Armenian quarters of Izmir were burned to the ground after the Turkish army retook the city from the Greek forces, killing tens of thousands. A mass exodus of the survivors followed, but the Jewish and Muslim portions of the city were largely unharmed.

Izmir is not the only city in Turkey which has seen its synagogues restored in recent years. Notable projects are being completed in Edirne, a city on the Turkish western border near Bulgaria, and Kilis, on its southeastern border near Syria. Unlike Izmir, though, no Jews remain in either of those cities today, and many have accused the project of being a tool for President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s government to assuage accusations of antisemitism, without actually dealing with living Jews. 

Losing Ladino and a ‘quiet’ mindset

Bencoya lamented that he is among the last generation for whom Ladino — the Judeo-Spanish language traditionally spoken by Sephardic Jews, but only spoken by tens of thousands today — was at least a part of his childhood. 

“When you lose language, it’s not only technical, it’s not only vocabulary, it’s a whole world and a way of thinking,” Bencoya said. 

The project is challenging a local Jewish mentality as well. Minority groups in Izmir, especially Jews, “have for a long time preferred not to be seen, not to be felt,” according to Bencoya.

That mindset has been codified in the Turkish Jewish community’s collective psyche in the form of a Ladino word, “kayedes,” which means something along the lines of “shhh,” “be quiet,” or “keep your head down.”

“This is the exact opposite that I want to do with this festival — to be felt, to raise awareness of my being,” Bencoya said. 

The Bikur Holim Synagogue is one of the few still functioning in Izmir. (David I. Klein)

One way of doing that, he added, was having the festival refer to the community’s identity “as Yahudi and not Musevi!” Both are Turkish words that refer to Jews: the former having the same root as the English word Jew — the Hebrew word Yehuda or Judea — while the latter means “follower of Moses.”

“Yahudi, Musevi, Ibrani [meaning Hebrew, in Turkish] — they all mean the same thing, but in Turkey, they say Musevi because it sounds nicer,” Bencoya said. “To Yahudi there are a lot of negative superlatives — dirty Yahudi, filthy Yahudi, and this and that. So I insist on saying that I am Yahudi, because people have a lot of pre-judgements about the name Yahudi. So if you have prejudgements about me, let’s open them and talk about them.”

“I am not so romantic that I can eliminate all antisemitism, but if I can eliminate some of the prejudgements, then I can live a little more at peace,” he added.

So far, he feels the festival is a successful first step. 

“The non-Jewish community of Izmir is fascinated,” Bencoya said. “If you look on Facebook and Instagram, they are talking about it, they are fighting over tickets, which sell out almost immediately.” 

Now, he is only wondering how next year he will be able to fit more people into the small and aged synagogues. 

“For Turkey, [the festival] is very important because Turkey can be among the enlightened nations of the world, only by being aware of the differences between groups of people, such as Jews, Christians, others, and Muslims,” he said.


The post In Turkey, a festival revives a jewel of the Sephardic world and aims to break stereotypes appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.

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Reza Pahlavi, Iran’s exiled crown prince, has a plan for his people’s future — if they’ll have him

With a U.S.-Israel bombardment underway and President Trump and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu openly pressing for regime change, related questions now loom large: What are the Iranian people prepared for — and who, exactly, is positioned to lead them if the Islamic Republic falls?

Since late 2025, anti-regime protests have spread across Iran, resulting in mass arrests, imprisonments, and thousands killed in crackdowns by regime forces. On January 14, following massive demonstrations, President Donald Trump posted on Truth Social, addressing Iranian protesters: “KEEP PROTESTING – TAKE OVER YOUR INSTITUTIONS!!!… HELP IS ON ITS WAY.” At the time, expectations were high for a U.S. strike on Iran, and thousands of protesters were killed in the streets, hoping that help would come. Now, over a month later, Trump appears to have made good on that promise.

Early on Feb. 28, U.S. and Israeli forces began operating across Iran in what the IDF described as a “close and unprecedented cooperation between the IDF and the US military.” Trump and Netanyahu both made statements indicating that the objective of the joint operation extends beyond military deterrence and toward regime change.

Since the start of the operation, the U.S. and Israel have targeted several sites that go far beyond the aims of the 12-Day War, which primarily focused on degrading Iran’s nuclear and ballistic missile capabilities. In this round of strikes, regime assets and figures have been targeted, including Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei, who was killed by an Israeli strike. During the 12-Day War, the US reportedly instructed Israel not to target the Supreme Leader.

Israeli officials say they eliminated several other top officials, including the commander of the Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps (IRGC), the commander of the Iranian Armed Forces, the Iranian Minister of Defense, and the head of Iranian Intelligence.

Videos have circulated on social media showing Iranians cheering on the attacks, even as reports indicate that the regime has shut down the internet and is jamming satellite signals from diaspora news channels that would otherwise provide critical information about the strikes.

Chants heard across Iranian cities include“death to Khamenei” and “long live the Shah.” Other videos display Iranians honking their cars and chanting “Azadi,” the Farsi word for freedom, dancing in the streets, and gleefully laughing while watching a plume of smoke rise from Khamenei’s residence.

Still, the killing of senior officials — even the Supreme Leader — does not automatically translate into regime change. Even if Ali Khamanei’s death and that of other senior Iranian officials destabilize the clerical regime, there remain 1 million members of the Revolutionary Guard militia and 200,000 members of the IRGC who play a vital role in propping up the government.

Reza Pahlavi, potential leader?

Former Iranian Crown Prince Reza Pahlavi, who lives in the United States, has emerged as one of the most visible opposition figures.

Since January, videos have surfaced on social media showing Iranian protesters calling for the return of the Pahlavi dynasty, which ruled Iran until the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Videos show demonstrators chanting pro-monarchy slogans or displaying the pre-revolutionary Iranian flag. After Pahlavi publicly called for mass mobilization of protestors earlier this year, the demonstrations escalated, with some protestors holding up photos of him in the streets.

Anti-Iranian regime protesters burn an image of Ayatollah Ali Khamenei, while holding aloft a placard featuring an image of  Reza Pahlavi. Photo by Photo by Henry Nicholls / AFP via Getty Images

The son of the former Shah, Pahlavi was born in Tehran in 1960. He was formally named Crown Prince at age 7 during his father’s coronation. At 17, he became one of the youngest licensed pilots in Iran before leaving for the US to pursue advanced flight training. While he was abroad, the 1979 Islamic Revolution overthrew his father and abolished the monarchy, turning what was meant to be a temporary study into permanent exile. He has not returned to Iran since.

Today, Pahlavi lives in Maryland with his wife and three daughters, one of whom married a Jewish businessman last summer. He has positioned himself not as a monarch-in-waiting, but as a potential transitional leader. He has repeatedly stated that he does not seek to restore the monarchy, instead advocating for a secular, democratic system. U.S. officials have taken notice: following renewed unrest in January, he reportedly met with Steve Witkoff, top Middle East advisor to Trump.

Behind Pahlavi is a network of advisers drawn largely from the Iranian diaspora, including academics, private-sector executives, and professionals with experience in US government institutions. Some serve in formal roles, while others function as informal advisers. His main organizational platform is the National Union for Democracy in Iran (NUFDI), a Washington-based organization that has for years promoted regime change in Iran with Pahlavi’s support. Under NUFDI, Pahlavi and his team developed the Iran Prosperity Project, a governance blueprint intended to guide the country through a post-Islamic Republic transition.

On the eve of the joint U.S.-Israeli operation, Pahlavi unveiled an updated version of his transitional plan. The document outlines Iran’s urgent priorities during the first six months following a potential regime collapse.

About two hours after the initial strikes in Iran, Pahlavi posted a video to X, encouraging Iranian forces to abandon the regime and telling the Iranian people that he will “announce to you precisely” when they “can return to the streets for the final action.”

His prospects remain contested. Analysts have long questioned whether a figure who has lived outside Iran for nearly five decades can command broad domestic legitimacy. Reliable polling inside Iran is difficult, but Dutch pollster Ammar Maleki has found that roughly one in three Iranians expresses confidence in Pahlavi based on large-sample surveys conducted in recent years. At the same time, a similar proportion strongly oppose him. Nonetheless, Maleki asserts, no other opposition figure approaches his level of name recognition.

Pahlavi is also openly pro-Israel. He has traveled to Israel, prayed at the Western Wall, met with Netanyahu, and advocates for expanding the Abraham Accords into what he calls “Cyrus Accords” between Israel and a future Iran, describing the two nations as the “only two countries on this planet that can claim to have a biblical relationship.” Because of his pro-Israel stance, some detractors frame his potential leadership as aligned more with Western and Israeli interests than with those of the Iranian people.

However, in recent months, experts have increasingly framed him as a viable option — or at least as an integral part of the current protest movement that should not be ignored.

The post Reza Pahlavi, Iran’s exiled crown prince, has a plan for his people’s future — if they’ll have him appeared first on The Forward.

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Iranian Leader Khamenei Killed in Strikes, Israel Says

Iran’s Supreme Leader Ayatollah Ali Khamenei speaks during a meeting in Tehran, Iran, Jan. 3, 2026. Photo: Office of the Iranian Supreme Leader/WANA (West Asia News Agency)/Handout via REUTERS

The United States and Israel launched the most ambitious attack on Iran in decades on Saturday, and Israel said Supreme Leader Ali Khamenei had been killed in the operation.

Khamenei’s body has been found, a senior Israeli official told Reuters. Iranian news agencies Tasnim and Mehr, however, reported that the supreme leader was “steadfast and firm in commanding the field.”

Iran called the strikes unprovoked and illegal and responded with missiles fired at Israel and at least seven other countries, including Gulf states that host U.S. bases.

US President Donald Trump, who made the biggest foreign-policy gamble of his presidency after campaigning for reelection as a “peace president,” said the strikes were aimed at ending a decades-long threat from Iran and ensuring it could not develop a nuclear weapon.

Trump called on Iranian security forces to lay down their weapons and invited Iranians to topple their government once the bombing ended.

The US president later on Saturday told NBC News that “most” of Iran’s senior leadership has been killed. He said he believes reports of Khamenei’s death are accurate. “We feel that that is a correct story,” Trump told NBC News in a phone interview, according to a report on its website.

Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu said there were many signs indicating Khamenei “is no longer” and called on Iranians to finish the job. He said Khamenei’s compound had been destroyed, and Revolutionary Guard commanders and senior nuclear officials had been killed.

Three sources familiar with the matter said Iranian Defense Minister Amir Nasirzadeh and Revolutionary Guards commander Mohammed Pakpour were killed in the Israeli attacks. Iranian media had said Khamenei’s son-in-law and daughter-in-law were also killed.

‘WE ARE TERRIFIED’

In cities across Iran, explosions caused widespread panic.

“We are scared, we are terrified. My children are shaking, we have nowhere to go, we will die here,” mother-of-two Minou, 32, said weeping as she spoke to Reuters by phone from the northern city of Tabriz.

Iran responded by launching missiles at Israel and at several Gulf Arab countries that host US bases.

After confronting hundreds of Iranian missile and drone attacks, the Pentagon said there were no US deaths or injuries.

The US military named the campaign Operation Epic Fury.

Iran issued a warning that the Strait of Hormuz, the narrow passage through which around a fifth of global oil consumption passes, had been closed. Traders expected a sharp jump in oil prices. Airlines canceled flights in the Middle East.

Tehran promised a stronger response to come, with a senior Iranian Revolutionary Guards commander, Ebrahim Jabbari, saying it had so far used only “scrap missiles” and would soon unveil unforeseen weapons.

The U.N. Security Council was due to meet in New York on Saturday. Secretary-General Antonio Guterres called for an immediate cessation of hostilities.

Israel‘s military said some 200 fighter jets had completed the largest flying mission in its history, hitting 500 targets throughout Iran including strategic defense systems already damaged in strikes last year.

A girls’ primary school in the southern Iranian town of Minab was hit, killing 85 people, according to the local prosecutor cited by state media. Reuters could not independently confirm the reports. Israel‘s military did not immediately respond to a request for comment.

TRUMP SAYS ‘BOMBS WILL BE DROPPING EVERYWHERE’

In a video message on social media, Trump cited Washington’s decades-old dispute with Iran and Iranian attacks, dating to the seizure of the US embassy in Tehran during the 1979 Islamic revolution.

Trump said the aim was “eliminating imminent threats from the Iranian regime.” He urged Iranians to stay sheltered because “bombs will be dropping everywhere,” but added: “When we are finished, take over your government. It will be yours to take. This will be probably your only chance for generations.”

But he faced pushback from opposition Democrats, and a few of his fellow Republicans in the US government, who said a prolonged campaign against Iran would be illegal without congressional approval and that lawmakers should vote within days.

Netanyahu said the joint US-Israeli attack “will create the conditions for the brave Iranian people to take their destiny into their own hands” and “remove the yoke of tyranny.”

Iran’s clerical leaders were already in a difficult position after mass anti-government demonstrations in January, which led to a crackdown in which thousands of people were killed in the worst domestic unrest since the era of the 1979 revolution.

Protesters had again taken to the streets in recent days in remembrance of those killed the previous month.

Israeli military operations over the past two years had already killed some of Iran’s senior military officials and severely weakened several of Tehran’s once-feared proxy forces across the Middle East.

After Israel pounded Iran in a 12-day air war in June joined by the United States, the US and Israel had warned that they would strike again if Iran pressed ahead with its nuclear and ballistic missile programs.

The threats were backed up recently by a US military buildup in the region, even as Iranian and US officials held nuclear talks.

Eyal Zamir, the Israeli armed forces chief of staff, said that over the past months, he had been involved in preparing joint battle plans against Iran in coordination with senior leaders in the US military.

MISSILES FIRED AT ARAB GULF STATES

Oil markets have been closely watching the standoff. Jorge Leon, head of geopolitical analysis at Rystad Energy, predicted prices could shoot up by $10-20 per barrel when markets open on Monday, if there is no sign of de-escalation.

Iran, the third-largest producer in the Organization of the Petroleum Exporting Countries, pumps about 4 percent of global oil supplies, and a far larger share is shipped past its coast through the strait leading out of the Gulf.

In Israel, sirens and mobile-phone warnings sent Israelis rushing to air raid shelters as Iran launched a series of missile barrages. There were no immediate reports of serious damage or casualties.

Loud booms sounded in Abu Dhabi, capital of the United Arab Emirates, an oil producer and close US ally, and several blasts were heard in the business capital Dubai, where one of the city’s plush hotel districts was also hit.

Nada AlGarhy, 30, said she and her husband had been at the Waldorf Astoria hotel on Dubai’s luxury Palm development for Iftar, the evening meal during the fasting month of Ramadan, when they heard a loud explosion.

Bahrain said the service center of the US Fifth Fleet – base for American naval forces in the region – had been subjected to a missile attack. Video footage showed a thick grey plume of smoke rising from near the island state’s coastline.

Qatar said it had downed all missiles targeting the country and that it had a right to respond. Kuwait confirmed a missile attack on a US military base there.

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Before I became an orthodontist, I was my good friend Neil Sedaka’s saxophonist

When I first heard Neil Sedaka had died at the age of 86, I posted a Sedaka song on social media. I’m a Gen-X alternative rock fan, which is not exactly Sedaka’s lane, but it’s hard not to tip your hat to a pop culture legend. I posted “Standing on the Inside,” from 1973, and told people to wait for the chorus. Then, in the comments, my friend Beth Tichler Mindes from my Camp Tranquility summer camp days, wrote a sentence that stopped me: Neil and her dad had been in a band together when they were teens in the Catskills. She’d known Neil her whole life. I asked if I could talk to her 86-year-old father, Howie Tichler, and when I got him on the phone, he told me about the time in the spring of 1958 when he first met Neil Sedaka.

I first met Neil at the Kingsway Theatre on Kings Highway in Brooklyn. I was standing in the back near the popcorn. He was next to me, wearing a high school band sweater. I asked him what school he went to, and I told him I was a musician too. He said he was a piano player and that his band was auditioning for a saxophone player for a Catskills summer gig. I said, great, I’m in. It was that quick. He told me to come down to the basement and audition.

Honestly, I was at the theater to meet girls, not to watch the movie. That’s why I was hanging out in the back.

Before the audition, I spoke to my uncle, Sid Cooper. He was a saxophonist and woodwind player with the Tommy Dorsey band and later at NBC, playing with the Tonight Show band during the Jack Paar years and into the Johnny Carson era. He made sure I was ready. I needed a rhumba, a cha-cha, a foxtrot, a jitterbug. In those days you had to know the dances.

From Left: Dave Bass (drums), Howie Tichler (sax), Norman Spizz (trumpet), Neil Sedaka (piano). Courtesy of Howie Tichler

The audition was for a four-piece band. Neil wasn’t even the leader. He was just the piano player. The job was in the Catskills, at a hotel in Monticello called the Esther Manor. Esther ran the place, and her daughter, Leba Strassberg, worked behind the front desk. Neil would later marry Leba.

I don’t remember exactly how we got there. Maybe my father drove. Maybe someone in the group had a car. But we packed everything in and drove up.

When we arrived, we were told to introduce ourselves to the owner using only our first names. Half the band was Italian. In most places in the 1950s, people were hiding Jewish heritage. In the Catskills, Italian last names apparently wouldn’t go down so well. So, Eddie Caccavale became just Eddie. Paul Delova became Paul.

There were sometimes four of us, sometimes five. The group was called The Nordanels. My name wasn’t in the title because I joined a little late. The name came from Norman, David, and Neil. N-O-R-D-A-N-E-L-S.

If it was a wedding or a bar mitzvah, we wore white tuxedos. Sometimes black. At the hotels, it depended on the night of the week.

We worked six days a week, and this is no exaggeration. Afternoons, we played poolside for cha-cha lessons. Then we’d run back to our rooms, change, and play in the lobby as guests came in for dinner. After that, we played dance music before the stage show, then read the charts for the acts — usually, a dance team, a singer, or a comedian.

I was making about $85 a week, plus room and board. I wouldn’t exactly call it a room as I slept near the chicken coops. We didn’t get tips, either — unless you count being seated at dinner with the single girls.

I was born in 1939, so you can do the math. I was 18 when I started at Brooklyn College. By 1961, I was headed to Temple University in Philadelphia for dental school.

From Left: Dave Bass, Neil Sedaka, Norman Spizz, Howie Tichler. Courtesy of Howie Tichler

The Catskills gig helped pay for all of it as I could save every summer. Brooklyn College tuition was $15 a year, and they even threw in the textbooks. Dental school was another story. So the band gig felt like a gift.

People think of Dirty Dancing when you say Catskills. That came later. The movie is set in 1963, at a fictional resort called Kellerman’s. But the atmosphere was already there in the late 50’s and early 60’s. It was smoky. It was loud. It was hopeful.

At Esther Manor, single girls came up with their parents for the summer, and at dinner they would sometimes seat the musicians with the guests. So there we were, night after night, at long tables with our instruments nearby. We were in heaven. So were the girls.

I did this for six or seven summers. It wasn’t a one-time gig. I kept playing through my third year of dental school. After Carol and I were married, and I graduated, that era ended. From then on, I focused on dentistry. I’m a retired orthodontist, and I practiced on Long Island for about 45 years, and now I teach at Columbia. We originally lived on Long Island near my practice. My wife became a social worker and psychotherapist and opened a practice in Manhattan, so we moved halfway to the city. Once the kids flew the coop, we moved into Manhattan.

During the pandemic, we did something that still makes me laugh. Back when everything was masks, masks, masks, Carol and I were stuck in our apartment one day, and we wrote new parody lyrics to one of Neil’s songs. The original was “Breaking Up Is Hard to Do.” We turned it into “Masking Is Not Hard to Do.” I called Neil and told him we’d written these lyrics, and I emailed them over.

“Don’t take your mask away from me.
Don’t put my health in jeopardy.
If you don’t, then I’ll be blue,
Because what I am asking is not hard to do.
Remember when you held me tight.
We can’t do that now, but that’s all right.
Thinking safe will get us through,
Because masking is not hard to do.
They say that masking up is a difficult task.”

The next day we found out he’d posted it on Facebook. During the pandemic, he was doing this daily thing where he would sing three songs, and he introduced us and said we wrote the lyrics, and then he played it.

I guess I wasn’t so shocked when I heard he died, as when I spoke to him about a week ago, he was frailer than I ever heard him. But when we talked, we were right back to music.

We always talked about gigs we did together, about musicians who were on the job, and about little details he might have forgotten. For example, the last time we spoke, just two weeks ago, he said, you know that album I recorded that wasn’t very successful, where I sang a bunch of standards? I said sure, I remember it; I still have it. And he said, who was the piano player on that gig?

Our conversations were brief on family, and then we’d get into the details of the cool things we did together. It was always a walk down memory lane.

What I truly admired about Neil was his humility. He understood the unspoken thing between musicians. He knew my limitations, and he never judged my playing. He also knew I was an orthodontist. I had patients, not jam sessions. I wasn’t able to keep up my chops the way a full-time musician could, and he never made me feel like I was anything less than part of the band.

About 15 years ago, Neil called me up and said, “I’m on tour, and I have a gig at the Shubert Theatre in New Haven. My saxophone player is stuck in Montreal. Can you come do the show with me?”

I said, “Sure, but you realize you’re asking an orthodontist to sit in with an eight-piece orchestra.”

He said, “No problem. I’ll fax you the music.” Fax. That’s how long ago this was.

So the music starts flying through my fax machine, half of it unreadable. I called Neil and said, “I’m doing the gig, but don’t expect me to be reading those charts. I’m going to do it by ear.” And he said, “Great.”

I drove up the night before because we had soundcheck the next afternoon. The band was there, Neil wasn’t even there yet, one of the other musicians was running the rehearsal. I’m standing in this magnificent old theater in the middle of New Haven, and I walked up to the guys and said, “Hi, I’m Howie Tichler. I’m really an orthodontist. So go easy on me.” And the guy says, “Neil told us everything. Don’t worry about a thing. Come on up. We’ll rehearse.”

They put me right behind Neil, so the spotlight wasn’t only on him. It was on me, too. The air conditioning was blasting, and it kept blowing my sheet music off the stand, so I’m trying to keep the pages from taking flight while also pretending I belong there.

Neil was incredibly gracious. He introduced the band and he said, “This is my friend Howie Tichler, who is really an orthodontist, and he came to help me out.”

And when I left the theater, I’m walking out with my saxophone on my shoulder, and a woman stopped me and said, “Can I talk to you for a second?” I thought she was going to compliment my playing.

Instead she asked me if she needed braces.

Right now, I’m mostly thinking about the good times. Whenever he came to Manhattan we’d meet up. We went to museums together — the Met, the Guggenheim. It wasn’t always about music. Sometimes it was just two old friends walking around looking at art.

He also came to visit us on Fire Island. Within half an hour, everyone in Fair Harbor knew he was at our house. Not because of an announcement, because of his voice. We had a little portable piano, and he’d sit down and sing. Someone walking by would hear it, stop, and then word would spread.

I actually sang on his first hit, “The Diary.” It’s a doo-wop song, and they couldn’t afford, or maybe couldn’t find, backup singers, so I became the backup singer on Neil Sedaka’s first record.

But the thing I keep coming back to isn’t the credit. It’s the sound of him in the room, that voice carrying out the window. In Fair Harbor you could hear him before you saw him.

The post Before I became an orthodontist, I was my good friend Neil Sedaka’s saxophonist appeared first on The Forward.

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