Today, we are experiencing the joy of growing one year older in our stable publishing life. Türkiye newspaper, the oldest institution of the İhlas Media Group, has never neglected quality; objective and responsible journalism since its first day. With these principles, it has earned a very special place in the media world.

 

We are experiencing the happiness of growing one year older with successes…

Your newspaper, Türkiye, has always been an admired publication with its exceptional position in the media sector. Even in the most difficult times when our country faced great difficulties, it became a source of morale that instilled confidence in society with its moderate publishing policy. In the last year, we have experienced the most striking examples of this situation one after another. Yes, Türkiye newspaper always makes a great contribution to social peace with its responsible publishing approach…

Türkiye newspaper, which started its publishing life on April 22, 1970, with very modest economic means, has successfully served the Turkish people for 48 years with a stable and quality publishing approach, despite the difficult competitive conditions in the media sector. Named after our beautiful country, this newspaper, which has never written a single line that would offend this nation throughout its 48-year history, has the slogan, the most valuable title given to it by its readers:

“The Newspaper That Brings Peace”

Because this newspaper has never pursued provocative, quarrelsome, or inflammatory news.

Its principle is clear:

To be a newspaper that adults can comfortably share with children…

Unfortunately, newspapers in Turkey are chasing after “being oppositional” or gaining popularity by “fighting”…

Our people, who seek peace and tranquility, are distancing themselves from newspapers every day due to the high tension created by the media.

While in developed countries there is one newspaper for every two people, in our country with a population approaching 80 million, the total newspaper circulation does not even reach 4 million… In other words, there is one newspaper for every 20 people. Aware of this reality, we offer our people what they want; accurate news, common sense, and peace.

Not only as Türkiye newspaper, but also with its rich scientific and cultural services, it has gained the status of an exceptional publishing institution in our country. Children who grew up with Türkiye Çocuk magazine are now adults, qualified and well-equipped individuals, providing very important services in every part and field of this country…

It is important to note that Türkiye newspaper, for 48 years, has provided countless scientific and cultural publications, almost like a school. The distinguished books, magazines, and encyclopedia volumes provided by our newspaper for the good upbringing of our youth fill the libraries of homes all over the country today. The cassettes that accurately narrate the lives of great scholars and guides have become a completely different educational resource. The books, encyclopedias, magazines, and regional supplements published by Türkiye newspaper constitute a library in themselves. Similarly, the Türkiye Newspaper Calendar, like a precise guide, helps millions of our citizens schedule their time every year, appearing on their walls and desks.

On this occasion, we once again remember with gratitude and respect our founder, the late Dr. Enver Ören, who contributed the most to Türkiye newspaper’s success and always made the greatest sacrifices. Looking to the future, we promise to continue walking in the direction set by our elder brother Enver, under the leadership of Ahmed Mücahid Ören, to provide even better services to Turkish society.

Wish all of us more happy years ahead…

IT’S NOT A NEWSPAPER, IT’S A FLAG

The year was 1970…

Years of anarchy…

Workers were on strike, faculties were occupied, civil servants were boycotting…

Airplanes were hijacked, prisoners revolted. TÖS set the agenda.

The Pasha (İsmet İnönü) was having trouble with Ecevit. His son Erdal was at METU, hosting Deniz Gezmiş and his comrades.

The CHP, left-wing associations, and Istanbul Technical University Architecture and Engineering students were protesting the Bosphorus Bridge.

An earthquake in Gediz, Kütahya, a thousand people were dead. 80% of the houses were destroyed, 90,000 people were left homeless.

Nixon said he would withdraw troops from Vietnam, Apollo 13 was launched into space. The cosmonauts on Soyuz II were found dead. The Japanese made electronic calculators, Solzhenitsyn won the Nobel Prize. Workers revolted in socialist Poland. Muammar Gaddafi staged a coup in Libya, and Hafez al-Assad in Syria. And now, a memorandum came from Muhsin Batur.

AS BEEN TO THE WARS

AS BEEN TO THE WARS

Cağaloğlu was the worst neighborhood in Istanbul… Garbage was rarely collected; roads were frequently dug up.

Fahri the horseman (Fahri Atabey-Mayor of İstanbul) was rarely seen. Deep channels ran through the streets, the ground was muddy in rainy weather.

Buildings that are now sold for millions of dollars were half-derelict these days. Heidelbergs were rattling in their basements, Jukis were wearing themselves out on the roofs.

The chimneys of the ruins didn’t work. A pipe came out of every window. Plastic scraps, leftovers, and scraps of slippers were burned in Gypsy stoves, and it smelled terrible. A little thinner was poured over them as the fire subsides. What if it flared up? Let it flare up, the moldy walls won’t catch fire anyway…

Small advertisements on the poles. Calls for apprentice for textile, salary plus insurance for looping operator, final pressers, etc…There was still enough space to park. Transportation was done by animal power, horse-drawn carts lined up in the alley connecting Nuriosmaniye Street to Şerefefendi Street. The emaciated horses had green flies in their eyes, and the stench of urine was unbearable.

Porters lined the walls at entrances of inns… Leaning on their backs, they rolled cigarettes. Even though our elders said, “With that mindset, you could only be a porter,” that job isn’t for everyone. It’s passed on for a premium, and people from Malatya and Niğde were the ones asking about it.

Lottery ticket sellers lined apartment entrances. “There’s Kent, there’s Palmall.” One card, five stones for one lira, the winner pockets a cigarette (I’ve never seen one). The lottery ticket sellers hide five Astor cigarettes in their jacket linings.

The ground was littered with cigarette butts, phlegm, and spitting was part of the code of honor for young men. The master shot without opening his mouth, hitting the bullseye.

THE PRINTING HOUSE WHERE THE SUN DOESN’T REACH

One of the dilapidated buildings in the neighborhood was the Güneş Printing House.

Lead constantly boiled in its dark corridors. The molten liquid smelled awful, enveloping your nostrils. Smoke, smoke, smoke. Heavy metals directly into the lungs! Perhaps that’s why they gave yogurt to the apprentices.

The gloom of the building must not have been enough, because the first 1.5 meters of the walls were painted black, and the upper part was a dirty yellow. 40-watt light bulbs were covered in cobwebs, unable to even illuminate themselves.

The rooms had wooden floors, sawdust mixed with diesel was spread on the floor and swept up along with the dust. The diesel naturally evaporated, and your hair smelled like a truck driver. There were two rooms at the entrance (I think for the guards); Enver sat in the one on the right, and in the one on the left, pages were stacked, accounts were kept, materials were stored, and proofreading was done.

Uncle Mahmud oversaw everything; he was both the accountant and the proofreader. Reporter, writer, typesetter, teacher.

Our newspaper wasn’t yet available at newsstands.

EXTRA! EXTRA!

The years when street vendors were king. Albanian liver sellers, lahmacun crates, rice carts, cucumber peelers, quince slicers, pickle sellers… Sharp mint for headaches and nausea…

Fish sandwich sellers, spit-roasted meatball sellers, corn, chestnuts, kokorech. Wherever you look, grilled meat, sandwiches everywhere…

Meanwhile, walking news agencies were roaming around, shouting… The citizen decided to buy a newspaper for the first time in forty years, and even then, he regretted it. “It says so-and-so artist had a miscarriage!” The man bought it, “See details on page 6.”

Then a tiny clipping. No, it was not like the sun of art, rapidly emerging from the Maxim casino, bumped into a child selling bagels on the sidewalk, and the child brushed himself off after falling. They were just doing it for the sake of it anyway; the money they got from the Press Advertising Agency was enough for them.

Let’s say you’re selling newspapers. Where would you hang out? At the station, in the garage, on the ferry… They did the same, they took up positions on the Harem-Eminönü line.

Our newspaper was also among the evening newspapers. But it’s not like them. First of all, its name was Hakikat (Truth). Underneath it was the saying, “He who does not tell the truth will receive God’s slap.”

It carried wishes and concerns for the country, and tried to write “true” and “honest” things. It was a difficult job, indeed…

Could gold be sold in the straw market? Apparently it could, when Enver is in charge…