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  Not a single promise made by the professor was kept. I was to work only a half day in the studio and then be able to work for myself, I was to have a number of exhibitions soon after my arrival, etc. Professor Hausner thought only of himself. I needed to send money regularly to my family as my father was ill with prostate cancer. I received a letter from my brother, Murat, requesting that I come home as soon as possible. I had no money and went to my mentor for an advance on work that I would offer for free on my return form Turkey. He refused the advance even after I showed him the telegram from my brother and broke down an cried in front of him. I offered to leave all my work with him as a guarantee, he retorted that he hadn't the faintest idea what he'd do with all my work on his hands. I was deeply shocked and disappointed. I asked him to return my passport (as a sort of legal guardian, he had it in safe keeping in his office). He answered that my passport was not here, but when I pointed to his desk drawer and he flushed a deep red, I knew that he had it under lock and key in that very room.
   To get rid of me, he told me to go see his secretary at the academy the next morning and there receive the 10,000 shilling advance that she would be holding for me. When I went the next morning, after spending most of the night packing my bags and making last minute preparations, the secretary was totally baffled at my request for money. She told me that she had not been instructed by anyone to make an advance of such a sum and that the professor took care of all his own money matters anyway. In a stupor, I called his home immediately and asked for an explanation. He spat out all he had in his heart, "How can I trust you, a foreigner? You may never come back!". It was as if the brotherhood of art made no difference to him. He felt that everything was a question of money. That was now clear. I made a last offer. The only valuables that I possessed were my cameras, which were worth about twice the amount I wanted from him. I offered them as a guarantee. He told me to get them, have them appraised and then to bring them to his apartment. Late in the afternoon I finally had the cash necessary to take the plane. At the airport, the last flights for the day had left and I was forced to wait until early the next morning. In the meantime, my wife found me with a new telegram from Murat which said that my father's condition had improved markedly and that he was reacting positively to treatment. It was no longer necessary to come. So instead of going to Turkey, I used the money to good ends, paying bills, taking care of my family, working on my paintings. Ten days later, I returned to the studio as if nothing had happened. The professor didn't even ask about my father's condition. I reclaimed my cameras and we tore up the I.O.U.