The Armenian Dentist Who Never Frowned

This is the way life works sometimes.

The year was 1966 and I had just started a new job as a sportswriter for the Haverhill Gazette. I showed up for work one day with this nagging toothache, like my head was in a vise and I couldn’t escape.

What to do?

Being new to the city, I had barely become acquainted with my new wife, let alone a dentist in town. So I did what any other conscientious Armenian would do.

I opened a telephone directory and randomly searched for an Armenian dentist. I didn’t have to go very far before I crossed the name of H. Robert Chooljian. So I picked up the phone and dialed away. He answered the call.

“Yes. I have this monster toothache and need attention right away. I happen to be an Armenian and didn’t know where else to turn.”

“Come right over,” he said.

“Where are you located?”

“Right across the street from your newspaper,” he explained. “You might have to wait a bit but we’ll take care of you.”

As luck would have it, I needed a root canal. He put a temporary cap after performing a procedure and I left his office pain free.
It was like the mouse who removed a thorn from the lion’s paw. I was forever indebted to the guy and just like that, we became friends for life.

Bob was the very first Armenian I met in the city, not including my wife and her mom. And it was by some sheer fate that we had this encounter. The guy always wore a smile, right up until his death March 2 when he succumbed at age 91.

I often went to Bob for other business. When it came time to sell raffle tickets for our organizations or promote our church, he always subscribed. Not that he was always there in the front row of a commemoration or celebration.

Whenever he was missing, his heart was with us. He thought the world of his family and his Armenian heritage. An encounter with Bob always led to some Armenian trivia which he would follow up with a wide smile.

The guy had a good set of teeth, too, and didn’t mind showing off his choppers—that Ipana toothpaste smile you often saw on television.

At a time when formal education was at a premium, he put himself through Tufts Dental School and befriended the inimitable John Baronian. Could have been the other way around, too, knowing Baronian.

What distinguished him was his military career. Bob was a proud World War II veteran who served as a lieutenant in the U.S.

Navy while fighting in the Pacific Theater.

You could always tell by the military cap that covered his head. I asked him about that one day and he flashed another trademark smile, saying it won over his lady friends. Always the eligible bachelor.

“People would show their respect to him because of his military service,” said his longtime companion June Childs. “If we walked into a restaurant and the place was packed, someone would get up and give us their seats. The courtesy meant more to him than the deed. He had a heart of gold.”

After his discharge, he opened his practice and remained in the same location over a half century, building a respectable clientele over that time and becoming a community figure.

Bob was that veritable “man about town.” When he walked down the street, his popularity preceded him. No doubt, the gift of gab was his greatest treasure. He remembered your name. Strangers were friends waiting to be introduced.

He played a good game of tennis and golf and was the last remaining charter member (1946) of the Haverhill Exchange Club.
Additionally, he belonged to the Massachusetts Grand Lodge of Masons for over 50 years.

It wasn’t until a week or so ago when his lady friend called the house and informed me of a memorial service for Bob. She told me my columns entertained him and he would brag to people that he once cured my toothache. Then she told me something else.

It was always Bob’s intention to someday visit Armenia, and they had made plans to tour the country, despite the advanced age—until he took ill and his dream trip evaporated.

But a piece of H. Robert Chooljian will be in Armenia. He pledged to donate all his dental equipment to his homeland and bring some semblance of comfort to other folks like he did me some 45 years ago.

A better legacy there is not.

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Tom Vartabedian

Tom Vartabedian is a retired journalist with the Haverhill Gazette, where he spent 40 years as an award-winning writer and photographer. He has volunteered his services for the past 46 years as a columnist and correspondent with the Armenian Weekly, where his pet project was the publication of a special issue of the AYF Olympics each September.