Symbols of Freedom : The Baltic States’ Drive for Independence Has Placed the Regions’ Honorary Consuls Here in L.A. Firmly in the Diplomatic Spotlight

Their countries no longer exist as independent entities. They have no governments to report to.

Yet, three diplomats from Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania still wave their flags in Los Angeles with hopes that someday soon they will be representing more than a dream.

For almost half a century, Los Angeles has been the only city in the world with honorary consulates for all three Baltic states.

For decades, the quiet, stoical representatives of these defunct little nations were politely invited to dinner parties by fellow diplomats, who had no idea where the three nations were--nor did they care.

But now, as the Soviet grip on the Baltic loosens, international attention has focused on the region’s struggle for independence. And the spotlight is turning on these men and their countries.

The three consuls, always calm and unassuming, remain calm and unassuming. But they have been swept into a swirl of historic events.

Suddenly, they must make public statements, write political commentaries for the international press and meet heads of state.

“We are certainly being taken more seriously,” said Latvian consul Aivars L. Jerumanis, 52, who lives in Glendale. “Now people are asking me more than just history questions.”

Jerumanis accepted his honorary consular position three years ago, thinking it would be a nice hobby.

But because of the recent uprisings in the Baltics, his hobby has turned into a full-time job answering queries, updating State Department officials and promoting travel to his native land.

Jerumanis, a senior vice president for Maxicare Health Plans in Los Angeles, and his diplomatic brethren--Estonian consul Jaak Treiman, a Canoga Park real estate attorney, and Lithuanian consul Vytautas Cekanauskas, a Hughes Aircraft engineer in Westlake Village--all spend thousands of dollars from their own pockets and dozens of hours a week in their volunteer positions.

“My predecessor did a real fine job,” said Treiman, 47, who assumed the post four years ago. “But the truth is, not much was going on in Estonia at that time.”

The three men were born in the countries they represent, and each has a harrowing story to tell of escape from German or Soviet oppression during World War II.

The three have since become U.S. citizens. Their consular appointments were approved by the State Department, and they enjoy fully accredited diplomatic status.

In recent months, they have been sought out as symbols of people struggling for freedom. Earlier this summer, for example, the Baltic consuls were asked to attend a rally marking China’s Tian An Men Square massacre.

“Until recently, we were just fans rooting for our team,” said Cekanauskas, 61, who took his Baltic consular seat 13 years ago. “All we did was get local officials to sign proclamations to show support.

“That’s nice, but it doesn’t do much good. Now, suddenly, we have a responsibility to act.”

What was once a ceremonial position--waving his yellow, green and red flag at one of 45 Lithuanian clubs--has turned into active politicking for Cekanauskas. While once he merely answered questions for schoolchildren’s essays, today he is setting up training sessions to teach his countrymen about Western business techniques.

“I used to be invited to formal dinner parties, and the host would come up to me and ask, ‘Oh, does my government recognize you?’ ” Cekanauskas said with a chuckle.

“By now, they’ve heard of Lithuania, and they are asking me for information. But I don’t share my personal opinions too often. I don’t have all the answers. I don’t want to play czar,” he said.

Jerumanis is suddenly busy talking to people in the fields of U.S. agriculture, animal husbandry, cheese manufacturing and light industry about possible import and export deals with Latvia.

When Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev visited San Francisco a few months ago, Jerumanis and Treiman dropped everything to fly to that city and steal a bit of the spotlight to protest Gorbachev’s visit.

Treiman recently wrote an opinion piece for the Wall Street Journal about Estonian independence. He has already met with former President Ronald Reagan, and in April he sat down with other Estonians and President Bush to discuss the Baltic situation.

“We were going to present a letter, so each of us wrote one and the one I wrote was nastier, but firmer,” Treiman said. “Because we are generally a non-confrontive people, we chose a mild letter. . . .

“Now I think we should have chosen my letter. There was no visible impact from our meeting. I’m fed up with the White House’s lack of action,” he said.

The three republics first won their independence after World War I. At the 1932 Los Angeles Olympics, Latvia named a local lawyer as honorary consul to the city when its team won a silver medal in track. In 1940 and then in 1942, Lithuania and Estonia named honorary consuls in Los Angeles.

But a pact between Josef Stalin and Adolph Hitler put the Baltic countries under Soviet rule. Ultimately, an estimated 4 million dissidents were killed, fled or sent to Siberia.

The United States and most Western nations don’t recognize the pact, however, which is why consuls can be established here.

The main consular headquarters for Lithuania and Latvia are in Washington, and the legation for Estonia is in New York City. Those offices have been funded by millions of dollars in gold and other Baltic state assets, frozen by the U.S. since World War II.

But honorary consuls must fund themselves, so in Treiman’s case, his law firm partners pick up the tab for his worldwide FAX, phone and postage bills.

Treiman’s law firm waived its fees when Treiman filed a lawsuit on behalf of Baltic folk dancers who were invited, then uninvited, to perform at the 1984 Los Angeles Olympics. The suit charged that the Olympic committee was guilty of discrimination against the Baltic dancers, who were uninvited because their native costumes would rankle the Soviets. The lawsuit was unsuccessful.

At least twice a month, Treiman and the others speak to civic groups about their countries. Treiman recounts how his mother smuggled him on a fishing boat when he was 6 months old. “The Germans searched the boat and I began to cry, but I shut up when they came near,” Treiman said.

Cekanauskas, who left Lithuania at the age of 15, remembers digging bunkers and foxholes for Soviet soldiers and working in German factories as a young man before fleeing to the United States.

“I would like to go back to places I saw 50 years ago and see what I remember,” Cekanauskas said. “I would never go back to live, though. I’m spoiled now.”

None of the consuls has visited his birth nation since they fled because they must rely on the Soviets for visas. Each consulate has its own stamps to issue visas to their country, but those stamps aren’t recognized by Soviets.

“As long as Moscow is an intermediary, I don’t want to be involved,” Jerumanis said. “ I should issue visas to Latvia, the Soviets should not.”

The three consuls have different philosophies about their unusual positions. Treiman, who rarely involves himself with the 1,500 Estonians in Southern California, said he doesn’t see himself as a spokesman for the Estonian people.

Cekanauskas, on the other hand, has been president of the Lithuanian American Council for 10 years. His family is actively involved with the local community of 5,000 Lithuanians.

Jerumanis often attends functions at the Latvian Community Center, which has counted 3,000 Latvians in the area.

Treiman is married to a Scottish woman and has a daughter who speaks some Estonian.

Cekanauskas, who teaches Lithuanian at a private school on Saturdays, married a fellow refugee he met at a local Fourth of July party. They have three daughters who have toured the world as part of a Lithuanian youth folk dance ensemble.

Jerumanis married a Latvian refugee and has two musician sons who, he says, know more about rock ‘n’ roll than they do about their parents’ homeland.

“I have a great love and respect for my origins; it is very difficult for my American friends to comprehend,” said Jerumanis. “My love for my father’s background is more than nationalism: It has to do with my ancestors and what they stood for.

“So much is changing back home. National flags can now be flown, Russian street names are being changed, banned songs are being sung again and the death sentence has been lifted for diplomats who have fled the Soviets.

“But, travel is still restricted and distrust of the Soviets still exists. The people would rather starve to death than live under Soviet rule any longer,” Jerumanis said. “They want to be free. We just hope it can be done peacefully.”

But Treiman is not optimistic. “All over the world, people feel that independence for Estonia, Lithuania and Latvia is inevitable,” he said. “I don’t consider anything inevitable. People have to act to get something changed. We can’t just sit back and watch.”