The Fall of Heaven

by Andrew Scott Cooper

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  THE SHAH’S DEPARTURE announcement cast a pall over the Imperial Court. Staff and courtiers who had worked for the Pahlavis since the time of Reza Shah reacted with shock, scorn, and grief to the news that the family intended to leave Iran. “They were so upset and disillusioned,” said a senior court official. “Their morale was so low.” They feared for their livelihoods but also for their lives. At one time the envy of their friends and neighbors, now the palace’s cooks, cleaners, stable hands, guards, and gardeners were “insulted, accosted in the streets, and sometimes physically attacked” in their own neighborhoods. They were terrified they would be left to fend for themselves against the revolutionaries. “People were breaking down all over the place in the last week,” said Hossein Amir Sadighi, the son of the Shah’s chauffeur. “The Shah was suffering enormously and his aides were useless. Without the Empress it would have been impossible. She was the tower of strength. She ran things in the end.”

  The Shah withdrew into himself. When he was not in audiences he watched movies, played bridge, and walked around the palace grounds. “Strolling among the larches and pines,” reported Newsweek, “the Shah at one point bent down and picked up a handful of soil. He would take it with him when he left the country—just as his father had done when he was sent into exile in 1941.” Rather than deal with his generals in person, the Shah assigned a sergeant attached to the Imperial Guard the task of conveying his wishes because he could not bear another appeal for a crackdown or petition urging him to stay in Iran. Chief of the General Staff General Abbas Gharabaghi begged Queen Farah to help change her husband’s mind. “If His Majesty leaves,” he warned, “the army won’t hold out.” Generals Badrei and Khosrodad urged her to help them persuade the Shah to remove himself to Kish so they could finish the rebellion. “I also received a delegation of members of Parliament who pleaded the same cause,” said Farah, who recalled their “panic at the thought of the King’s leaving,” and raised the idea of forming armed citizens’ militias to put down the uprising.

  One of Farah’s last callers was Mansur Eqbal, one of the nephews of the late former prime minister Manuchehr Eqbal. Eqbal’s cousin was married to Princess Ashraf’s son Shahriar, who served in the Imperial Navy. The Eqbal family enjoyed close ties to the ulama—Mansur’s father, Khosrow, was custodian of the Holy Shrine of Fatima in Qom—and one of his best friends was closely connected to the Khomeini movement. Through his friend the revolutionary, Mansur learned that Khomeini planned to stage a coup with the help of Banisadr, Ghotzbadegh, and Yazdi when he returned to Iran. Eqbal passed on the tip to another cousin serving in the military, who in turn contacted Ardeshir Zahedi. Zahedi arranged for a car and driver to take Eqbal to Niavaran so he could pass on the intelligence to the King in person.

  Mansur Eqbal was the Shah’s last appointment of the day when he entered his study at ten o’clock. “When I went to Niavaran I saw the guard,” he recalled. “I went in and it was empty. I went upstairs to his room and waited for a few minutes. I saw him for twenty minutes. I couldn’t take it. How a country could be destroyed like this and to see the face of the Shah, how sad he looked.” Eqbal told him about Khomeini’s plan to stage a Bolshevik-style armed insurrection once he returned home. He asked the Shah point-blank: “Do you think this is a one-way trip? Your Majesty, why don’t you accept the suggestions of Khosrodad and the others and go to Nowshahr and let them take care of this?” The Shah avoided answering his question. Instead, he said he wished Eqbal had come to see him years earlier to talk about his concerns. Why hadn’t he done so? Eqbal replied that some time ago he had sent the Shah the university thesis he had written on the problems facing Iran’s economy. He had never heard back. Though he didn’t tell the Shah, Eqbal suspected that Prime Minister Hoveyda had suppressed his report as he had filed away so many others over the years. Farah also received counselors and friends. Shahin Fatemi visited Niavaran eight times in the final weeks to offer support and to encourage the couple to stay on and fight. He knew Farah did not want to leave. “When I said I thought the Shah should stay, she would say, ‘Please tell His Majesty what you tell me.’”

  The Shah and Queen were agreed on one thing: they would take their clothes and personal effects with them out of the country but otherwise leave everything else behind. The Shah’s decision was fueled by bitterness toward the people he believed had rejected him. Farah recalled her visit to the Kremlin years before and was determined not to give their critics any more ammunition. “I did not want to give them any reason to think that we had left taking our possessions with us,” she said. “No, we were leaving with our heads held high, sure of having worked ceaselessly for the benefit of the country.” The Shah pointed out a work of art on the wall in the dining room. “You liked this tableau,” he said. “I don’t want anything,” said Farah, who was so determined to prove her point that she even left behind the exquisite private collection of jewels she had purchased with her own funds. They included such treasures as her favorite turquoise tiara set with matching necklace and earrings. In the days leading up to departure loading vans were spotted inside the palace grounds taking valuable works of art and state gifts into storage in the city’s museums. Farah invited a group of foreign correspondents to tour and film the interior of the residence. “So no one will accuse us of taking things out,” she told Fatemi. He was struck by her naïveté. “You don’t know these people,” he warned.

  On Monday, January 15, an Iranian C-130 military transport left Tehran with Madame Diba, Prince Ali Reza, Princess Leila, Leila’s governess, and several court officials and military officers bound for Lubbock, Texas, where the party planned to join Crown Prince Reza. The strike at the airport meant there was no catering for the flight, “no food, no water, nothing,” said Amir Pourshaja, who accompanied the party. Another passenger was Deputy Court Minister Abolfath Atabai, who twenty-five years earlier had been one of only two aides to accompany the Shah and Queen Soraya to Rome. For the second time in his life he was headed into exile.

  On Monday evening the King and Queen threw a small farewell party for their dwindling circle of friends. The Shah assured everyone they would be back after a few months’ rest. Few who were present took him at his word. “On the last night I did not tell him anything,” said Reza Ghotbi. “He had decided. I didn’t have the heart to go to the airport the next day. I didn’t know if he would come back or not but I thought not.”

  For Shahin Fatemi the Shah’s decision to leave Iran “was like a nightmare.” “Don’t leave, Your Majesty,” he pleaded.

  “Don’t worry,” said the Shah. “We will leave and we will come back.”

  “Not this time, Your Majesty,” said Fatemi. He pointed out the window to the plane trees that lined the grounds like sentinels. “If you leave Khomeini will come back and he will pray under these trees.”

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  IN THE DAYS leading to the Shah’s departure, Ambassador Sullivan received crucial intelligence suggesting that he might have backed the wrong horse after all. “Embassy keeps getting reports from various sources that moderate religious leaders are very concerned by situation that is likely to arise when Shah leaves the country,” Sullivan informed Washington on Wednesday, January 10, though he curtly dismissed their fears as “not very coherent or well reasoned and the motives involved are not always clear. Religious moderates are angry at Khomeini for putting them in present difficult position but do not know what to do about it.” Ayatollah Milani of Mashad, twice jailed under the Shah’s regime, still expressed the hope that “the Shah will not leave the country” and tried to open a back channel to Sullivan to beg the Americans to take action. The ambassador also reported that extremist mullahs had surrounded the house of Grand Ayatollah Shariatmadari and that “religious moderates are now scared enough to talk more publicly about their fears.”

  Four days later Karim Sanjabi, one of the most prominent leaders of the National Front, made a belated admission to George Lambrakis. The revolu
tionaries had not yet taken power but already splits were developing among the different factions. Ibrahim Yazdi and Sadegh Ghotzbadegh, he explained, were “very angry at [the] National Front. He does not know why.” Lambrakis was already aware that Khomeini nursed a deep grudge against Mossadeq’s former aides for their failure to oust the Shah in 1953 when they had a chance. “According to this theory,” said Lambrakis, “Khomeini has never forgiven Mossadegh for pleading allegiance to the Shah and serving as his prime minister when he was strong enough to oust him.” Khomeini blamed “Mossadegh and his people” for flirting with the Tudeh Party, a foolish action that he believed had provoked the United States to stage Operation Ajax. “Khomeini sees no reason to trust power to the National Front again,” he advised. Sanjabi also confessed to Lambrakis that he and Bazargan, his putative ally, were neither personally nor professionally close. Finally, Sanjabi revealed that Khomeini planned to purge the military once he returned from exile, though he tried to excuse it away as “some small trials.” Lambrakis said he hoped the Islamists were not planning anything on the scale of postwar Germany’s Nuremberg trials. He added that he shared Sanjabi’s hope that the army would hold and not stage a coup to rescue the monarchy.

  American fears of a royalist coup had prompted General Huyser’s mission to Tehran, but confusion surrounded his orders. He complained to Washington that his instructions were imprecise and open to different interpretations. In an attempt to seek clarification the general cabled Secretary of Defense Harold Brown and Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff David Jones, asking for guidance. As he understood it his mission was to work with the Shah’s generals to persuade them to support Bakhtiar and discourage them from staging a coup. If, however, Bakhtiar’s government faltered, and if the Communist Tudeh Party tried to seize power, Huyser was to stand aside while the generals took action. The plan made no mention of the threat from Khomeini or the Islamists, whom the Americans assumed shared their own anti-Communist beliefs. “I have told [the generals] that I consider a military coup as an absolutely last resort,” said Huyser. “I have explained to them that there are degrees before that action.” First, they should allow Bakhtiar the opportunity to exert his authority. Second, if the internal situation worsened, Bakhtiar could declare martial law and call out the army to restore basic services, such as running the oil fields or maintaining the power grid. Only if the first and second steps failed would the United States endorse an army takeover. Huyser summed up his instructions this way: “I’ll do my best to … give full support to Bakhtiar, and not jump into a military coup.”

  The revolutionaries were confident they had neutralized the possibility of U.S. military action to save the Shah. By now Khomeini’s shock troops had also eliminated his main rivals. Imam Musa Sadr had disappeared in Tripoli. Grand Ayatollah Kazem Shariatmadari was a prisoner in his own home. Other moderate clerics had been silenced with death threats and intimidation. Khomeini stood on the brink of a clean sweep.

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  TUESDAY, JANUARY 16, was a day that began like any other. The Shah rose early, perused the morning papers over breakfast, and walked across the lawn to his office at the Jahan Nama Palace trailed by Colonel Djahinbini. He expected the Majles to give Prime Minister Bakhtiar’s government a vote of confidence later in the morning. “He really surprised me,” said Djahinbini. “He accepted a regular program of audiences. Early in the morning I checked the morning’s list of visitors. He left the residence and went to the office as usual. The last name on the list was Deputy Court Minister Baheri at eleven.” But his office staff noticed that the Shah was more subdued than usual. “Where is your smile, Your Majesty?” one greeted him. He wearily responded, “I haven’t been able to smile much for a long time now.”

  Queen Farah spent the morning packing up family photo albums, choosing favorite books from her library, and taking souvenirs for the children. “We are leaving,” she telephoned her friend Fereydoun Djavadi. “God knows what will happen.” Word of the couple’s departure quickly spread to the staff, who gathered in small, tearful knots in the grand hall. The atmosphere was one of grief, shock, and despair. “I could feel the distress in the men and women of our staff,” said Farah. She came out to greet them and presented each with a small memento or money in the traditional manner. “Around eleven His Majesty came out of his office and walked up to the residence,” said Djahinbini. “Her Majesty came out, they talked and stood before the staff and some family friends.” The sight of the Shah brought everyone to tears. “They gathered around the King and Queen, shouting and kissing their hands and feet,” said Djahinbini. The Shah tried to calm them. “No reason to worry,” he said. “We are leaving for a long-needed rest and shall soon return.”

  Outside the sky darkened, the temperature plummeted, and the wind whipped up. The King and Queen walked out of the residence for the last time accompanied by several hundred men and women who spontaneously lined the driveway leading to the top lawn, where the helicopters were loaded and ready for the short flight to Mehrebad. Men and women who had known the Shah since he was a young boy, or who had been with the Queen since she arrived from Paris as a young bride, fell to their knees and crumpled to the ground. Others stood frozen like stone. The air rang with sobs and shrieks. “Where are you going?” they wept. “When will you be coming back? Why are you leaving us? We feel abandoned like orphans, orphans.” The Shah and Queen struggled to contain their own emotions and comforted them. “Please get up,” they pleaded. “Trust in God. We will be back.… Hands were stretched out to us. I can still see faces twisted with emotion,” remembered Farah. The Shah walked toward his helicopter and turned and gave the crowd a final parting wave before boarding the craft with Colonel Djahinbini, General Badrei, and Grand Master of Ceremonies Amir Aslan Afshar. Farah embraced her tearful attendants and took her seat in the second helicopter. The final liftoff was excruciating. “With the sound of the whirring rotors in my ears,” said Farah, “I soon saw the palace disappear behind the buildings of Tehran.”

  For the next ten minutes the choppers and their escorts clattered high above the streets of Tehran, which for a change were quiet. Each passenger was lost in his or her thoughts. “No one said anything,” said Djahinbini. They set down alongside Mehrebad Airport’s Imperial Pavilion, where only a few months earlier the Pahlavis had welcomed President Scheel of West Germany. The Shah could barely stand the strain and made it clear he was anxious to leave. He asked someone to call the Majles to get a progress report on the parliamentary vote of confidence and was told the phone lines had been cut. The only sound, Farah recalled, “was the whining of the wind coming down from the Alborz Mountains.” Djahinbini watched as Chief of the General Staff General Abbas Gharabaghi asked the Shan to sign a decree handing over control of the army while he was out of the country. “His Majesty didn’t sign it,” said the colonel. “He told Gharabaghi twice—the General tried one more time—that if you want something signed take it to the government. This was highly unusual. It had never happened before. Before, he had always signed such a decree.” The Shah told the few journalists at the scene that he was unsure when he would return. “It depends on the status of my health and I cannot define the time.” Farah, “trying to keep her emotions under control,” added, “I’m sure that the independence and national unity of our country will be preserved. I have faith in the Iranian people and in the culture of Iran. May God bless and preserve the Iranian nation.”

  After what seemed an interminable wait, Prime Minister Bakhtiar’s helicopter came into view. He strode into the pavilion with the news they had been waiting for. The Shah and Bakhtiar conferred in private for a few minutes and then the Shah left the pavilion with his wife on his arm and walked toward the Shahine. For the first time in his reign there was no departure ceremony, no diplomatic corps, “no honor guard for him to review, no national anthem to herald his presence.” The Shah kept his composure until General Badrei burst into tears and knelt before him and grabbed his shoes, causing h
im to tearfully try to raise the general off the tarmac. Before boarding the aircraft the Pahlavis walked under a copy of the Quran “with tears in their eyes and kissed the holy book before boarding the royal aircraft.”

  Prime Minister Bakhtiar joined the couple in their forward compartment for a few last words. “You now have all the power and authority,” the Shah told him. “I leave the country in your hands and with God.” Bakhtiar kissed his hand and left the aircraft. He stood on the tarmac and watched as the Shahine with the Shah at the controls roared down the runway for the last time. At 1:24 p.m. the wheels lifted off and the silver and blue bird set course for Egypt.

  On the streets below, American lawyer John Westberg was returning from lunch with a colleague “when we began to hear horns honking and noticed cars putting their lights on. As we walked back to the office, people were coming into the street with big smiles on their faces. One fellow noticing us looking perplexed said: ‘Mister, Shah raft [is gone]!’ So we knew it had happened. Back at the office, everyone was at the windows watching the people in the streets milling around and shouting. Soon cars were honking all over the place and the streets were jammed. People filled the streets on all sides of our building. The celebration was joyous and a little wild. It was a bit frightening.”