1920s

Berliner Post No. 2 MAI/JUN

5 reichspfennig - 5 Linden

BLUTMAI / BLOODY MAY DAY ! BERLIN, MAI 1ST: Reported by Zeno McAuley and Gstone Turas

“From the sanctuary of his humble pine-box at the foot of Bergabstrasse, vagrant Georg Langer noticed that today something seemed to be different. The rats seemed somehow bigger, and they were carrying flags. He took a pull on his meths bottle, rolling the clear, acrid liquid around his tongue as he struggled to form the word. ‘Flags...’ he muttered to noone in particular. ‘Whatever next?’ And then he rolled over and went back to sleep.” He appears to have been the only Berliner to get any rest whatsoever during the two days of rioting which ensued after the Polizei descended on illegally gathered Kommunist ‘agitators’, batons flying.The May Day Rally had been deemed unlawful in the light of the Berlin Police President’s

Photograph: Jo Yardley by Zeno McAuley

ban on all open-air political meetings, first instituted on December 13th 1928, and repeated during April 1929; however, the Kommunist Party (KDP) chose to ignore this directive, calling for the rally to go ahead, despite the lack of a permit. Red coloured leaflets covered the streets of Berlin, an omen if ever there was one, foreshadowing the blood-- red in more than once sense, which would later run in the gutters of our city. CONTINUED PAGE 2.

BLOODY MAY DAY ! continued from page 1.

On the morning of May first, a flurry of bright red flags and banners could be seen waving above the heads of the large crowd, but flags provide scant protection for human skulls, and once the marchers took their first steps, a throng of Polizei surged forward to break up the assembled ranks of KDP supporters. Fighting soon broke out, and ‘to restore order’ officers opened fire on the crowd. Soon, 27 marchers lay dead.

“Now we have to cope with burglars, rats and riots too!” Angry oaths and cries of ‘Revolution!’ and ‘Down with the Kapitalists!’ could be heard amidst the screams and sirens. Blood flowed. Herr Osterham, proprietor of Albion Importers Ltd. of Magdalenenstrasse, took up his shotgun to protect his business from looters, and later valiantly stood guard on the balcony of the swanky Bauhaus Building, fearing that rioting might take its toll on local residents. Hastily constructed barriers blocked 2.

the street. An automobile burst into flames, which billowed above the buildings and could be seen as far away as Alexanderplatz, A woman known only as ‘Red Jo’ mounted the barricades, waving a red banner. The sound of gunfire ricocheting off buildings near the Polizeirevier, pocking stucco and turning brick to dust, created a scene which veterans compared to the deadly ‘no man’s land’ of over two decades ago, whilst the public needed little warning to lock their doors, stay inside and take cover. As fires raged all over the city, a noxious cloud of black smoke began to spread westward. Local seamstress, Fraulein Sonatta Morales, remained phlegmatic, responding to questions from reporters with the comment, ‘How can one go shopping with this situation?’ Before adding despairingly,‘Now we have to cope with burglars, rats and riots too!’ Fraulein Martha Penberg, only CONTINUED PAGE 3.

BLOODY MAY DAY ! continued from page 2.

visiting the area in response to a job advertisement, was caught up in the melee and forced to take shelter in the courtyard of the Polizeirevier. Maybe the fact that this poor woman was desperate enough for work to brave the streets under such conditions goes some way to explaining the feelings of the vehemently anti-government marchers, by now dispersing, but still visibly animated by anger and disbelief. A few brave souls could be seen at the windows, and one in particular caught our eye.The gold hammer and sickle on a bright red background hanging from outside number 16 Magdalenenstrasse spoke eloquently of the sympathies of Fraulein Josette Emerald. This symbol of unity between industrial and agricultural workers was, of course, first conceived during the Bolshevik Revolution of 1917. Fraulein Emerald claimed, ‘In the world we live in now, it’s either the KDP or the Nazis, and I choose the KDP. They’re for the workers, not the bosses, who today have workers’ blood on their hands!’ In all the confusion, we again came upon the character known as ‘Red Jo’. It transpired that this was in fact well-known local bar owner Jo Yardley. When asked how she came to be photographed giving the appearance of manning the barriers with her coconspirators,she explained that she was not a Kommunist, merely an innocent bystander caught up in the madness, and that her actions had been a ploy enabling her to escape unharmed. #END#

WEIMAR POLITICS PARTIES IN SUPPORT OF THE WEIMAR REPUBLIC

*The SPD (Social Democrats) were a moderate socialist party; the largest partiy committed to the Republic., and strongly anticommunist. *The Centre Party (Zentrum) was set-up to defend Catholic interests in 1870. It drew support from all classes. It was present in every Weimar coalition government. The BVP was its Bavarian ally. * The DDP (German Democratic Party) was a middle class Liberal party. It lost support after 1920. In 1919 it received 19% of the vote. By 1932 this was down to 1%. *The DVP (German People’s Party) had reservations about the new Republic and at heart they were Monarchists. They were supported by the middle-classes. The outstanding political figure of the Weimar Republic, Gustav Stresemann, the man credited with stabilizing the German economy was also the leader of this party. Its highest point of support was in 1920 when it received 14% of the vote. By 1932 this was down to 2%. CONTINUED PAGE 4.

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WEIMAR POLITICS continued from page 3.

Opposition on the left

*The USPD (Independent Socialist Party) had broken from the SPD in 1917 because they did not support Germany’s continued participation in WWI. It declined rapidly after 1920 with the rise of the Communist party. * The KPD (Communist Party) was formed from the Spartacus Union which led a revolt against the Weimar government in January 1919. It was closely allied to Moscow and refused to co-operate in any way with the parties that supported Weimar. They were especially hostile to the SPD. This refusal to support Democratic parties went as far as allying with the Nazis (their sworn enemies) in Reichstag votes.This was in order to further destabilize the Republic.

Opposition on the right

*The DNVP (German National People’s Party) was set up in 1918. It was composed of supporters of the old Monarchy. It had strong rural support especially in Protestant areas. They were Hitler’s coalition partners when he came to power in 1933. *The NSDAP (National Socialist German Worker’s Party) was founded in Munich in 1919. At first it favoured the violent overthrow of the Weimar Republic. But after the failed Putsch of 1923 it adopted a legal approach to achieving power. The onset of the Great Depression and the economic chaos of the 1930s greatly aided its rise. It came to national prominence in 1930 when it won 18% of the vote and by 1932 it was the largest party in the Reichstag.

WARNUNG SCHWINDEL / FRAUD WARNING

Valeria Ruby, a/k/a Red Cross Composer, former owner and proprietor of Le Metropolitan Nightclub on Imagine skybox, has been banned from 1920s Berlin Project, and Second Life for attempted charity fraud. 1920s Berlin Project Polizei Mila Edelman was the chief investigator on this case, and reports that on 6th April last, while she, Edelman, was off-duty, Valeria Ruby sent her an “instant message” (IM) with an offer to advertise Old Time Prims, Edelman’s fashion and furniture emporium, in “all our fashion charity events this year” with the funds earmarked to benefit the Red Cross. #END#

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WARNUNG SCHWINDEL / FRAUD WARNING

continued from page 4.

to search for regional contact information but could not find the email address given on it.

Edelman did what every citizen should do when asked for a charitable donation from an unfamiliar person or group; she asked Valeria Ruby for a telephone number and organization contact in order to verify that the Red Cross was the beneficiary.

After this attempt failed Edelman was contacted by Nancy Truchille, the alleged director, who was now upset with Edelman for doubting her legitimacy.

We interviewed Edelman regarding her conversation with Ruby. During the said conversation, Ruby provided Edelman with her director’s (Nancy Truchille’s) telephone number, office hours, and a charity confirmation number. Ruby told Edelman, “when you call her, (the director), she will sound shy but she just has a sweet voice haha”.

In order to finally confirm her suspicions, Edelman contacted the Red Cross directly and spoke to the Financial Development Assistant for the Mid-Florida region. The organization had no knowledge of Valeria Ruby, or RedCross Composer, Nancy Truchille, or the telephone number, address, and email address given; the Red Cross did not authorize this SecondLife fundraising campaign.

As Edelman volunteers for legitimate SecondLife (SL) charity fundraising organizations, this conversation raised her suspicions. Using readily available online seach tools, Edelman, ever the Polizei, tracked down the telephone number, and confirmed that the Volusia County, Florida address to which it was registered did not match the purported director’s name or the charity.

Edelman when reached for comment said, “In short, Valeria’s a fraud. If someone wants to be something they’re not in SecondLife (SL), I’m not inclined to care. But if someone attempts to commit real fraud. I do care. Since SL money can be exchanged for real money, that’s real theft.”

When told that Edelman could not confirm legitimacy using the telephone and contact information given,Valeria Ruby offered an email address without a legitimate top-level doman address, i.e., @redcross.org. Edelman tried unsuccessfully to contact using the email address, and visited the international Red Cross website

Edelman reported the attempted charity fraud to Lindens, the SL governing body. They took the matter seriously. Valeria Ruby, along with any known alternative avatars (ALTS) has been banned. #END#

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berlin BOT STORIES: BY ZENO MCAULEY

The Slipper: A tale of the young Klaus Eiren The New Broom testily brushed a stray hank of grey hair from her narrow brow and pinned it once more into the tight bun at the back of her head. She checked her reflection in the window and gave a discreet nod: order had been restored. To Fraulein Hoeness, this perpetual checking and fixing seemed a kind of anti-vanity. For a moment, she was lost in her contemplation of the New Broom’s ill-tempered little face: the dark eyebrows, which always looked to Fraulein Hoeness as if they had been placed there with a couple of bold strokes of a child’s black crayon, drawn down in a perpetually angry v over the small, hooked beak of a nose; the pinched, almost lipless mouth, like a razor slash in fresh dough; the smooth, waxy flesh of her cheeks, strangely unlined for a woman of her age, and the watery grey eyes which seemed always to fix upon you when you were being addressed, but which somehow signified nothing, as if they were made of glass. Fraulein Hoeness realised that she was being addressed.

Photograph: Klaus Eiren by Zeno McAuley

“Well girl? How is he coming along?” “I’m…I’m sorry Madam, you were saying?” “Young Klaus Eiren. How is he coming along? I’ve told you, I don’t want him beaten. Not even a rap on the knuckles, you understand? Last year, Herr Balke was very hard on him.Very hard on him.” “I wouldn’t dream of beating young Klaus,” whispered Fraulein Hoeness. There was something that seemed CONT. PAGE 7.

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bot stories: the slipper There was something that seemed to take control of her whenever she was in the presence of the New Broom, almost as if she were somehow transported back to her own schooldays, standing before the formidable Frau Schneider herself, stuttering her excuses for smudging her exercises or for the dirt beneath her chewed and ragged finger nails. Her voice would fall, her chin drop to her chest and she would clasp her hands in front of her stomach, her eyes sliding sideways and lighting on some object or other, whatever she could call into view which might bring her back to herself for a moment. Her eyes came to rest upon the desk, and the silver-framed photo of Herr Krumper, the gentleman who had, the previous year, purchased the school, now the Krumper Schule, and who had appointed the New Broom to sweep away any practices that were deemed insufficiently ‘progressive’, a task she had taken to with missionary zeal. Herr Krumper’s idea of progressive, however, was largely derived from his reading of Herr Doctor Hermann Schemm of Berlin, whose teachings regarding the necessity of ensuring that instruction was based on ‘that which the child has already experienced’ had yet to gain so much as a foothold even

continued from page 6.

on the more esoteric fringes of contemporary pedagogy... Fraulein Hoeness became aware that The New Broom was using Herr Krumper’s name rather a lot, and realised that she was being lectured for the umpteenth time on the principles of progressive education, as outlined by the great Doctor Schemm and refracted through the prism of Krumper’s mighty intellect. She wondered if it were possible that the New Broom might actually be in love with Herr Krumper. Her glance moved from the photo of the overweight gentleman with the dark jowls and the pince-nez balanced above his button nose to the New Broom, now in full flow, and she discounted the idea immediately. “...and therefore relevance is all Fraulein Hoeness. Do you see? Which brings me to these slippers of yours.” “Slippers Madame?” “The slippers your children made last year.” A presence at her shoulder intruded upon Fraulein Hoeness’s consciousness, someone brushed CONT. PAGE 8.

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bot stories: the slipper

continued from page 7.

wondered if he were about to salute. She could smell the brandy on his breath from two metres away. Once, Herr Balke, a big man who reminded Fraulein Hoeness of a great, overgrown cherub, had been full of fun and mischief, but of late he had become surly and heavy handed in his sarcasm.

past her and entered the room.Then she heard Herr Balke’s deep bass rumble as he looked distractedly about the place as if it were the first time he had ever found himself there. “Ah yes,Lotte’s famous slippers.Great success with the little devils weren’t they?” He took a step towards the far corner of the room where, in the previous principal’s day, a stove had stood with a coffee pot perpetually bubbling away. In those days there had been colourful scenes of the life of the countryside hanging on the walls, and a deep Persian rug that gave deliciously beneath one’s feet, stretching almost from skirting board to skirting board. Now it was all bare wood against which one’s heels clicked most irritatingly, as if the New Broom were somehow afraid of someone sneaking up on her and catching her with a hair out of place, and quotes from the great Dr Schemm. In the corner where the stove had stood, hung a framed missive telling Fraulein Hoeness that indeed, should she have doubted it, relevance was all.

“Herr Balke,” intoned the New Broom. “Children are not devils!” “Is that one of Herr Doctor Schemm’s, Madame?” “I’m sure Herr Doctor Schemm would endorse that view, as would Herr Krumper.” “I thought your slippers were a great success, anyway, Lotte. Weren’t they?” Fraulein Hoeness felt herself beginning to colour, the blood beating in her temples almost deafening her.“W-well, the children certainly seemed to like making them. We read stories first, the Arabian Nights, and I brought in all sorts of things - beads, cut glass, coloured buttons, gold brocade, and...”

Herr Balke, seeming to remember at last exactly where he was and under what regime he now laboured, stood to attention, and Fraulein Hoeness

“Nonsense!” There were little CONT. PAGE 9.

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bot stories: the slipper white dots in the New Broom’s cheeks all of a sudden and Fraulein Hoeness feared that she was about to bang her tiny, balled fists against the desk, so great seemed the struggle her small body was undergoing to contain the immense fury which raged within her. She shook her head as one who simply cannot understand the simple lack of comprehension to be found in lesser mortals than she and the blessed Krumper. “Of what relevance to the likes of Klaus Eiren is a slipper? Tell me that please. His mother is an alcoholic. His father, well, the Lord only knows who his father is or was. Of what relevance is a slipper Fraulein Hoeness? The boy needs relevance.” “Maybe you should teach him to pull a cork from a bottle, Lotte,” interjected Herr Balke, before withdrawing diplomatically, the New Broom’s malevolent, yet strangely empty gaze following him for a moment. Fraulein Hoeness had read of bizarre cults in the east whose members claimed to be able to kill a man with a look... “No, no, he needs practical skills. He needs to know how a water pump works, how to raise pigs, how to till a field - those things that touch on the life he knows.

continued from page 8.

What does he know of the Arabian Nights? What does he know of slippers? For God’s sake, the boy hasn’t even a pair of shoes to his name!” “But he might find that he enjoys the work I have planned Madame,” Fraulein Hoeness heard herself saying, in a voice she hardly recognised, and with a courage and strength of purpose she had never realised she possessed, but which she instantly found impossible to sustain. “It might make, I mean, it might be a…a change.” “A change? Pah! Who are you to…” But the New Broom’s eyes had shifted their focus and Fraulein Hoeness was reminded of nothing so much as the eyes of a blind parrot her grandmother had kept many years before, which would flick sightlessly in the direction of any sound, however slight, that she or her grandmother made. And then Herr Balke’s voice was asking from the corridor, “Why not enquire of the boy himself ladies?” Fraulein Hoeness turned to see Herr Balke towering over a small, bandy-legged boy of nine, wearing a suit of rough grey wool, irregularly CONT. PAGE 10.

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bot stories: the slipper patched at the knees and with the breast pocket hanging off. The trousers were frayed at the cuffs, and the boy’s feet were unshod and filthy. He wiped a plug of thick, green snot from his nose onto the back of his sleeve and eyed the two women from behind a ragged fringe of strawcoloured hair. The New Broom seemed to freeze for a moment. Fraulein Hoeness was taken back to one of her rare visits to Berlin, and the dummies she had seen in the wax museum: realistic, for sure, yet, in a most disturbing way, quite unreal. The lipless line of her mouth drew in until it had almost disappeared; then the New Broom blinked and folded her arms, and gave two or three stiff little nods of her head, like a clumsily animated marionette. “And indeed why not, Herr Balke? Indeed, why not? Young Klaus Eiren, come here!” There was something in her tone that frightened Fraulein Hoeness. Herr Balke, too, seemed to sense it, as he once again turned on his heels and disappeared towards the far end of the corridor. A door opened momentarily on the sound of

continued from page 9.

children’s voices raised in excitement and the leather casing of a football thudding against a wall. “So Klaus.” The New Broom spoke in an even tone, but the fury of her previous utterances seemed to lie close beneath the surface, a chamber of boiling magma waiting to spill its contents through any fault line that might develop in her carefully composed outer layer. (But what use, thought Fraulein Hoeness, would an understanding of magma chambers be to the likes of Klaus Eiren?) “So Klaus, tell me please, Fraulein Hoeness has plans for you to read stories about Sinbad the Sailor and absurd bottles containing genies who cast spells, and she plans for you to make a slipper, Klaus. Do you even know what genie is, Klaus, or a spell? Do you even know what a slipper is I wonder?” Klaus Eiren rubbed his sleeve across his nose again and glanced for a moment at the New Broom, before returning his gaze to the backs of his hands. “Well Miss, Josef what lives next door and what was in Fraulein Hoeness’s class last year, he told me some of them stories, and he showed me that slipper what he made.” CONT. PAGE 11. 10.

bot stories: the slipper His face broke briefly into a smile and he lifted his blue eyes to her. “Gold it is an’ when you hold it up to the candle, it looks, it looks…well I dunno. But I’d like to make one of them for sure. It’s like it’s made of magic!” The poor child never saw the blow which took away his legs and sat him on his backside on the rough oak boards; nor did he cry, but merely lifted himself back onto his feet and stood, arms behind his back, sniffing and rubbing the heel of his left foot against his shin. “I did not hit this child for my own pleasure as so many in this profession do, Fraulein Hoeness,” barked the New Broom, conducting each firmly enunciated syllable with a vigorous jab of her forefinger. “I did so for his own instruction. What does a nine year old bastard who has never seen his mother sober know of the tenets of progressive education? It is up to us to give children like Klaus Eiren an education which is fit for purpose, and I tell you this now, there will be no making of slippers for the likes of this boy.Why, we might as well teach him Latin and Greek, and what use are those to someone who lives in a hovel? I ask you, Fraulein Hoeness...

continued from page 10.

Fraulein Hoeness, come back here this instant!” But Lotte Hoeness kept walking. She walked straight out of the front door, down the stone steps, across the stone flagged yard and onto the track that ran past the school gates. And she kept on walking for she knew not how long, until darkness was falling on the mean little fields with their crumbling walls and the silent, stoic forms of cattle and horses, sheep and pigs; until the drizzle that spilt from the bruised evening sky had soaked through her jacket and her blouse making her shiver and chilling her to the marrow; until her long, auburn hair had somehow become unbound and begun to hang in thick, wet strands over her face. And when she could walk no more, Lotte Hoeness sat down on the ground and wept until she had no tears left to weep for young Klaus Eiren and his like. #END#

WANTED:

Travel Writer. For more information contact Zeno McAuley by IM or Note.

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photograph: Petrus Endsleigh by Zeno McAuley

PETRUS’ PICK-ME UPS

Drop by Der Keller Tanzlokal in 1920s Berlin Project, any day for Happy Hour at 2:00 PM SLT and try one of these classic 1920s cocktails. Bloody Mary Ingredients: 1 1/2 oz Vodka 1/2 cup tomato juice 2 teaspoons fresh lemon juice Worcestershire sauce to taste Tabasco to taste 1 celery stick for garnish 1 lemon wedge for garnish Directions: Combine the vodka,the tomato juice, the lemon juice, the Worcestershire sauce, the Tabasco, a handful of ice cubes, and salt and pepper to taste, shake the mixture well, and strain it into a tall glass filled with ice cubes. Garnish the Bloody Mary with the celery stick and wedge of lemon. Serves: 1

Luigi Ingredients: 6 Tsp Gin 6 Tsp Dry Vermouth 1 Tsp Grenadine Dash Cointreah Juice of Half an Orange Directions: Shake with ice and strain into a glass. Garnish with a segment of tangerine. Serves: 1 The Vermouth is a fortified wine infused with herbs and spices. In comes in three varieties -- dry, sweet/red, and white/bianco. Grenadine is a strong red syrup made from red currents and pomegranates.“Grenadines” are also made by mixing the syrup with cold water in a glass or pitcher,sometimes with ice. The name “grenadine” comes from the French word grenade which means pomegranate. Grenadine was originally prepared from pomegranate juice or cherry juice, and sugar.

Bennett Ingredients: 6 Tsp Gin 2 Tsp Lime Juice 2 Dashes Angostura Bitters Directions: Shake with ice and strain into a cocktail glass. Serves: 1 12.

ADVERTISING RATES:

1920s BERLINER POST is published bi-monthly

full page: 250 L

EDITOR-IN-CHIEF Zeno McAuley PUBLISHER Gstone Turas CONTRIBUTORS Petrus Endsleigh Cuthbert Helendale

half page: 130 L

FEATURE WRITING & PHOTOGRAPHY Zeno McAuley

1/4 page: 60 L

NEWS REPORTER/AD DIRECTOR Gstone Turas

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NEUE KUNST: Artist: Jeanne Mammen AT GALERIE GLITZERN UND SCHICKSAL

S W NO

! G N I W O H

In 1929, Kurt Tucholsky, co-editor of the liberal intellectual review “Die Weltbühne” [The World Stage], expressed his admiration for her, and published his tribute Answer to Jeanne Mammen: “The subtle, flower-like watercolours which you publish in magazines and satirical reviews by far transcend the undisciplined scrawling of most of your colleagues, and we now owe you a little declaration of love.” Jeanne Mammen is deserving of much more than love, and when you visit the exhibition of her work at Galerie Glitzern und Schicksal in 1920s Berlin Project, you’ll no doubt write a love letter of your own.

Above: “At the Bar”, Salvation Army Girls, 1926, by Jeanne Mammen

Born in Berlin, Mammen grew up in Paris. As an adolescent she began her formal art education at the world famous private Académie Julian in Paris. In 1914, the outbreak of World War I. forced Mammen to leave school. Her family managed to catch the last train from France to Holland.

The central motif, subject of her human and artistic concern and empathy, are women of all classes in the metropolis. She shows them in their socially conflicting roles, also drawing attention to their sexuality and ambivalence.

After years of hardship, Mammen found work related to her profession. In 1921 she began to design film posters for the major German film company, Universum Film AG (UFA), and she also received commissions to illustrate the front covers of society and fashion magazines.

She herself once said: “I have always wanted to be just a pair of eyes, walking through the world unseen, only to be able to see others. Unfortunately one was seen ...”.

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SOCIETE Sommerfrische Ball at Villa Morgengrauen Clockwise from Left: Frl Bubbles Roxan und Herr Osterheim. Frl Sonatta Morales and Herr Golitzen. Frl Zauber performing on stage with the Tanzlokal Grouppe. Herr McAuley, Frl Turas, Frl Morales, Herr Golitzen, Herr Osterheim und Frl Roxan. Frl Jo Yardley und Herr Garsdale. Herr Osterham und Frl Zauber, Frl Valeria Ruby und Herr Byron. Frl Margaret und Herr Endsleigh. Fraulein Padraica Yatsenko und Mila Edelman. Frl Klinger und Father Helendale.

MUZIK UND TANZ: Der Keller Tanzlokal: MARLENE / MORALES Review by Zeno McAuley

When the news issued forth that Marlene - the Micheline of Manon Lescaut, the Chichotte de Gastone of Prinzessin Olala, Schöneberg’s own dearest daughter, the divine Dietrich herself - was to perform at Der Keller, the very streets were soon alive with it. From the damp, glass-strewn cobbles of Steinpforte to the inscrutible housefronts of Bergabstrasse, from the fetid gutters of Salamonstrasse to the bohemian melange of Magdalenenstrasse, the word spread like wildfire that a songbird even sweeter than those which daily beguile the lives of the residents of Schumann Allee would soon be amongst us.

In bar and bath house, in brothel and on street corner, talk of rising unemployment and discussion of Aristide Briand’s proposal for a so-called United States of Europe gave way to this new sensation. But, asked the cynics, how was this to happen? Surely Marlene was tucked away in the SuperFilm Studios, filming ‘Ich küsse Ihre Hand, Madame’ with Harry Liedtke? And then one Berliner whispered in another Berliner’s ear and a new rumour began to do the rounds: The show, which was to take place on Friday, 16th of April, would involve our own esteemed Fraulein Morales… Some claimed that if there could be no Marlene in Der Keller, then Fraulein Morales was certainly the next best thing; others felt sure, having experienced the lovely Sonatta in performance before, that for however long she was on stage, the spirit of Marlene would truly be amongst us. But for those of us lucky enough to have been there on that smoky, whiskyscented evening, as the delightful blonde at the microphone favoured us with three of Marlene’s finest, a mystery presented itself. Surely this HAD to be Marlene 18.

MUZIK UND TANZ: MARLENE / MORALES continued from page 18 THE Marlene - and in the form of her life, for if it were not, then the sultry Fraulein in the beautiful gown, so effortlessly captivating her audience with the mere arching of a single, wellshaped eyebrow, had achieved the seemingly impossible and actually out-Dietriched Dietrich with a set that will remain in the memory for a very long time to come. Our heroine began with a jaunty rendition of ‘You Little So and So’, the perfect show opener, and almost a heart stopper for several of the men in Der Keller when she reached the immortal lines, “I know you’re acting hard to get, And yet I’ve got the feeling you can be had,” the patent falsity of the first assertion, with regard to the assembled males at least, being balanced by the obvious accuracy of the second. Almost before the applause had died down, our chanteuse had moved onto the classic ‘Illusions’, and by now, any debate as to whether the presence of the great Marlene in our midst was an

in itself had become the mere ghost of a memory. “Want to buy some illusions, Slightly used, second hand?” You bet we did! This was quality. All too soon we were into the third and final song of the evening, Frederick Hollander’s darkly humorous ‘Black Market’, the singer offering any manner of goods for exchange, “I’ll trade you for your candy 19.

MUZIK UND TANZ: MARLENE / MORALES continued from page 19. Shortly after the star of the show had disappeared behind Der Keller’s red stage curtain, the applause still ringing in her ears, Fraulein Morales herself burst breathlessly through the door cursing her luck at having been delayed. Who did she think she was kidding? This writer, for one, has no answer to that particular question…#END#

“I’ll trade you for your candy Some georgeous merchandise. My camera. It’s a dandy Six by nine - just your size. You want my porcelain figure? A watch? A submarine? A Rembrandt? Salami? Black lingerie from Wien…” Andfinishing with the exhortation,

“Enjoy my goods, for boy my goods are hot!” As if we needed telling. The whole performance lasted little more than ten minutes, and left the audience far from sated. But could we ever have had enough of…well…of whoever this enchanting creature really was?

WANTED:

Dancers, Singers, Acrobats, Magicians, and other Performing Artists! The Neue Odeon Theatre in 1920s Berlin Project will open this June, and entertainers are needed. Der Keller Tanzlokal is also in need of singers, dancers and novelty entertainment! For information contact Jo Yardley by IM or Note.

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MUZIK UND TANZ: 1920s BERLIN PROJECT: TANZGRUPPE

Above from left: Fraulein Michelle Zauber, Mila Edelman, Jo Yardley, and Padraica Yatsenko

This is entertainment for the whole family, because in Berlin we go for realism and authenticity, and our Tanzgruppe delivers!

In the 1920s there was a lot of entertainment that today you will not see often anywhere in SL. Fraulein Jo YardIey performs in, and sponsors this group of dancing girls like the Ziegfield Follies that you may have heard about. This is NOT burlesque.

So, you think you can dance? The group is always looking for women dancers to join.Tanzgruppe performs in Berlin in our night club, theatre and in other historically themed sims.

These girls dance together in choreographed routines; imagine a group of girls standing in a line dancing the same steps. One kind of dance per song! A show of 5 dances can be over in 15 minutes! No endless dancing like we see in other sims.

The group is managed by “The Keller Cabaret Group” and is directly linked to Der Keller Tanzlokal in 1920s Berlin. Interested? Send Jo Yardley an IM, notecard or leave a notecard in her mailbox. #END# 21.

MUZIK UND TANZ: Der Keller Tanzlokal: Kitaj und Loon

Review by Zeno McAuley

flamenco at an Odeon open stage event, and an elegant and charming display of the skills of the ballet dancer at Der Keller, not to mention her superb Moulin Rouge show at the same venue.

Citizens of Berlin with long memories will no doubt remember the first Berlin Tanzgruppe, which performed under the guidance of the multitalented Fraulein Beq Janus,To anyone who can add to that long memory the good fortune to have seen the latest incarnation of the Tanzgruppe at this year’s wonderful Sommerfrisch, one name would have brought back very pleasant memories of days of yore: that of Fraulein Angelina Kitaj. Fraulein Kitaj has become, over the years, something of a fixture on the SL cabaret circuit, and, aside from being a stalwart of dance troupes old and new, has favoured our city with several memorable performances. One remembers, for example, a marvellously passionate display of

Fraulein Kitaj’s latest visit to our city took place on Saturday, 2nd May, when, in company with her dance partner, Herr Szerewp Loon, she entertained the Happy Hour revellers at Der Keller with two short but very memorable pieces. To begin, the rousing tones of Katchachurian’s Sabre Dance. All voices were stilled as the two dancers, attired magnificently in garments that would not have seemed out of place in the epic Anglo Saxon poem Beowulf, entered, swords in hand. There followed a daring ‘danse de combat’ that drew gasps from the audience as swords slashed the air and steel crashed against steel. If it hadn’t been for the beautifully rehearsed movements and the splendid agility of Angelina and Szerewp, Frl Tiechmann may well have been called from floor scrubbing duties in the Nussbaum to attempt to clear yet another gruesome stain from Der Keller’s well scoured boards.

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MUZIK UND TANZ: Kitaj und Loon continued from page 22. The second piece began with the familiar, yet still hugely affecting strains of Wagner’s Ride of the Valkyries. Herr Loon dressed all in black, and Fraulein Kitaj in a shimmering suit of tiny, interlocking metal plates, performed what was described as a mixture of ballet and free dance, finishing to wild applause and calls for an encore. A short but sweet set which raised the evening well above the ordinary and left the crowd looking forward to the couple’s next visit. Afterwards, Fraulein Kitaj told this reporter that she loved Berlin, and Berlin obviously loves her too. She has made quite a name for herself with homages to towering figures such as Marlene Dietrich and Josephine Baker. Indeed, on the 23rd May she performed a major tribute to the American star whom no less a judge than Ernest Hemingway has described as, ‘the most sensational woman anyone ever saw’. Sensational is a word that would not go amiss when describing the performances that have made Angelina such a hit with discerning SL audiences either. #END# 23.

KULTUR: STROOPWAFFELS As we all know, Fraulein Jo has three vices to which she will admit, (that is, if we take love of L$ as merely a condition of her Dutchness). One is silk stockings, another is sailors, and the third is stroopwaffels. So delicious are these traditional Dutch confections that happy hour regulars will even risk picking them up from the bar of Der Keller, thus putting themselves in danger of diseases so grave that their Latin names run to several sentences. For anyone who would like to try reproducing that wonderful taste in the doubtless far more sanitary conditions of their own kitchen, we include a recipe below: Ingredients: • • • • • • • • • •

4 cups all-purpose flour 1/2 cup white sugar 1 cup butter 2 eggs 1 (.25 ounce) package active dry yeast 1/2 cup warm water 1 1/2 cups packed brown sugar 1 cup butter 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon 6 tablespoons dark corn syrup

Directions: 1. Dissolve the yeast in the warm water. 2. Cut 1cup of the butter into the flour. Mix in the sugar, eggs and yeast mixture. Mix well and set aside to rise for 30 to 60 minutes. 3. Roll dough into balls and bake in a pizelle iron. 4. To Make Filling: In a saucepan boil the brown sugar, 1 cup of the butter, cinnamon and dark corn syrup until it reaches the soft ball stage (234-240 degrees F 112 -115 degrees C). 5. Split waffles in half and spread cut sides with the warm filling. Then put the halves back together.

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KULTUR: NEUE FRAU by Padraica Yatsenko I often wake early in Berlin, tossing in my small bed to the sound of children processing through the back streets on their way to school. It’s cold any morning, even in summer, and I struggle to pull on a robe and stoke the coals in the fireplace in my upstairs study. My front room goes cold unless I am expecting company - fuel of any sort is too dear. things are better left in the hands of the holder.

I brew a pot of coffee and have a breakfast of bread and cheese before settling down to write or edit, The post has come fast and thick since I gathered a few pfennigs together for a postbox, and I am often up to my neck in work. In the evenings I’ll venture out to the Keller, either to gather some tips working behind the bar or to drink a little, spend time with friends and catch up on the news.

Wachtmeister Bhalti is a regular visitor, taking time out of his busy and tiring patrol to warm up with a cup of tea and a cigarette. He tells me lighthearted stories of his patrol duties and it provides a welcome break. Hochwurden Helendale is a habitual caller as well, often stopping by so we can share advice on anything from how to mend clothing to organising a church fete. Our Doktor is a busy man - nobody is turned away from his clinic, even if they have less than a button to pay for his services. He sometimes comes and rounds out the powwow around my fireplace, always gentle, always sage.

Of course I’m not truly alone. I regularly have men around for tea and a chat because they are easy company and live much the way I do - in our shirtsleeves, surrounded by books and only venturing out to work and play. I sometimes worry about the state of my single man-friends’ socks, but I’ve caught some of them with a darning needle and... sometimes 25.

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Even as I write about our single men, I think of the women of Berlin - some of us with men about, most without. Some are widowed; some are spinsters; some would love a man about the place and some would prefer not. There are even some who are still young and too preoccupied with learning the art of becoming women to bother confusing themselves with thoughts of men. I get up to pour another cup of coffee and set this article aside for awhile to ponder another I have going. Every article I write pays two weeks’ rent. Every shift I work on the Keller bar pays for food and sometimes fuel. Every night with the Keller Tanzgruppe means I can keep myself adequately warm, and I keep my reserve savings in the form of sacks of coal as the price can skyrocket anytime. I can say one thing without hesitation about any woman in Berlin: she works hard both in the home and outside it to keep herself from hunger, to fight off the cold and to satisfy the feminine desire to purchase new clothes and make over her old ones to suit fashion, which changes faster than we can shorten our hems. 26.

There’s our Fraulein Dulcinea Andretti, our faithful dancer for hire in Der Keller and a founding member of the new Tanzgruppe. Dulci is a beautiful American widow with a kind word for everyone and a smile that can shine a light which penetrates even the bleary, dank darkness of the Keller. She casts her net of welcome across the bar and winks flirtatiously at single men with a jingle of coin in their pockets, all the while ignoring the pain in her feet as she lets them believe they’re leading her across floorboards as warped by time as many of the lives that live out their idle hours there. I often enjoy a gossip with Fraulein Heidi Mearkus, a young woman who turns heads as much with her wit and common sense as her blonde beauty. She and her husband married after a romantic courtship and were happy until she was widowed in the war that has taken so many. Heidi works occasionally in the brothel but has started on a new business venture - creating and selling Berlin souveniers - which she hopes will have some success. You can sometimes find her in Der Keller or in Alexanderplatz,

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happy for a friendly dance or to chat with friends old and new. When we discussed how we feel, being women alone, she simply said, “In the house I sometimes get lonely, so I try moving things around to keep me occupied.”

potentially in the heart of strange shop girls and city servants? I am still a relative newcomer to Berlin and I struggle with language and modern city ways. I’ve put down this article to patch the knees of old trousers I keep to scrub my floors.

Fraulein Mila Edelman is an accomplished fashion designer and businesswoman. Tall, willowy and beautifully blonde, she is gentle, witty and sensible; but take heed: she is Chief of Polizei and armed to the teeth with her standard-issue pistol. However, she commands the authority to stop any miscreant in his or her tracks with the simple word “halt”. She lives alone in her gracious home,often showing hospitality. Even when ill in bed she will call down the stairs, “Help yourself to pie in the kitchen!” to visiting friends.

I am often asked why I’m not yet married. I simply pour another cup of coffee, light a cigarette and wonder why? Why not? Why bother? #END#

Outside our small community, I fear for my safety when I walk alone.When I venture out to post manuscripts or buy paraffin for my lamps, I often find myself intimidated by unfamiliar police. Would I ask them for help when the coarse, brown-shirted Nazi thugs on street corners harass and taunt me in my stubble-jumper hats and workman’s trousers? Should I rely on the kindness that is 27.

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Artists and writers. For information contact Zeno McAuley by IM or Note.