Tehran Syndrome
September 15, 1986
by Paul Chiapparone - in absentia
Copyright © 1997 Property of Deborah K. Fletcher. All rights reserved.
Iran was an experience I could have done without. It wasn't too bad when I was simply the head of EDS Corporation there, but it started getting a little scary in December, 1978. I remember it really clearly. It started when Dadgar decided to arrest us....
Bill and I were in Dadgar's office in the Ministry of Health. The room was small and dirty. Everything was gray. It turned out to be an appropriate setting. Dadgar interviewed us separately - though "interrogated" might be more accurate. When he had finished, he posted bail on us. We were shocked; bail was set at thirteen million dollars!
After bail was set, we were forced into a car. The Ministry of Health is in western Tehran; we drove southeast to the Ministry of Justice. The ride was terrifying; riots and bombings were all around us, and our driver seemed to be possessed.
The prison that they took us to was depressingly cold and dark - not to mention the filth. It was filled with people - mostly Iranians - and the smell made it obvious.
When a guard came for us the first time, I was sure our imprisonment was over. I was disappointed, though; we were returned to our cell. Bill had the bunk above mine; mine was a mattress on the concrete floor.
The next day, we were taken to a little visiting building to talk to Ali and his colleague, Bob Sorenson. They had brought us a few things, but no chance of release. When the guards took us back, they took us to a semiprivate cell.
The new cell was in a part of the prison with a television and a library. It wasn't as crowded, either, but I ended up on the floor again. Neghabat was in our cell, and he showed us the kitchen, commissary, library, and other areas of the block.
Food was poor in our new cell, but I was sure it was better than what we would have gotten in Cell 9. A standard meal was rice, lamb, bread, yogurt, and tea or Pepsi.
We had been in prison for a few weeks when Jay Coburn came to see us. He told me that Ross was planning to break us out of jail.
Bill and I started getting restless before long. The daily routine became automatic, and there was nothing to do. Bill taught me to play chess, but it was still awfully dull.
From what Jay had told me, it was exactly three weeks into our captivity when the guards moved us. When we left, I gave our cell father my pictures of Karen and Ann Marie. It was the least I could do for somebody who had been as concerned about us as he was.
The new prison was a fortress. It was a little better, though; there was a bakery, a mosque, and six cell blocks. The ground floor of our building was a hospital
Bill and I shared a cell with only one other person: an Iranian lawyer who spoke English. The food was better, too.
Ross came to see us the next day. He brought us groceries, clothes, mail, and books. The fact that he was there meant most, though.
One day, not long after Ross' visit, rebels attacked the prison. There was total chaos, and Bill and I walked right out. We hitched across the city to the Hyatt, where our men were staying. We found John Howell's room, but he wasn't there, so we checked in.
Before long, everyone was either there or calling in. We ate a real meal, got cleaned up, and got some rest. Then we moved out of the Hyatt.
We met at the Dvoranchiks'. There we made our final pland for escaping from Iran. I stripped the kitchen for food. Then we got in the cars. I drove the car with Jay and Gayden in it. The cars were Range Rovers, and they were packed full.
We didn't see many people on our way out of Tehran, but the city itself was a disaster. Everything was burned and broken.
We went northwest, toward Turkey. The trip through Turkey to Istanbul was rough. We were stopped frequently. I was so nervous and tired that I can't remember much of it. The landing at Heathrow, though, was a huge relief; England was practically home.
We dealt with customs, then checked into the Post House Hotel for some rest. The next morning we flew out of Gatwick Airport, heading for Dallas.
Home. Everyone met their families when we got home to Dallas. Ruthie was right there with Karen and Ann Marie. It was a great feeling to be home at last.
Now I'm home to stay. It's been eight years, but most of it is still firm in my mind. Iran was one of those nightmares that haunt you forever. Thank God for Ruthie, my girls, and a bunch of executives who knew how to take a chance.
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