A Man and a Plane: An Alternate Germany

by Joseph T Major

  "I would like to see your Man o'War," Papen interjected. "I have heard the most extraordinary things about him; a truly wonderful horse, they say! Our Chancellor is his biggest booster in Germany."

  "A bit. Come along, Baron, Mr. von Papen."

  "I can see why the Reichskanzler wants to improve our stud," Papen said at dinner that evening. "You know we are hosting the Olympics next year, and a good equestrian showing in Berlin will be to our credit."

  "It'll help our cash flow, too," Bolko added. "Tourists, journalists, spectators . . . if I thought I could get away with it I'd rent out rooms in the Chancellery. How about it, Franzchen? Since you've established yourself in the old Presidential Palace, how about letting out some of that extra space for guests? A nice bed and breakfast?"

  "I need the space for my work," Papen said, miffed.

  "Bolko," Manfred said, "Don't even think of asking the Kaiser!"

  "Can't. He's putting up Prince Henry -- the English one -- Carol of Romania, and the Crown Princess of the Netherlands, Juliana. The Palace is all booked up. The other royals -- Boris of Bulgaria, Gustaf Adolf the Swedish Crown Prince, and Umberto the Italian one -- have some connection with their Olympic team."

  "Besides, Mr. Riddle will be my guest there," Manfred said. "I'll probably be at the air show as much as the Olympics -- but you can see our own riders."

  "Won't be able to make it. Season's too busy in August. At least by then the Admiral should be well established," Riddle said. "Pass the salt."

  "Now just who is this Fritz Kühn?" Manfred said

  Papen shuffled papers. "Now what did they say -- here it is. He took over this Teutonia Society after its former leader, Herr Spanknöbel, was expelled from this country. Herr Diels reports that he met with Herr Hitler in Munich last December, and they agreed on funding and coordination of their efforts."

  "So he is connected to Herr Hitler, and not Herr Röhm or Herr Strasser."

  Papen looked out the window of the railway car, at the rainy Bluegrass countryside, thinking. "That's it. There is a man named Pelley, an American, who has ties to Röhm. As for Strasser, he seems to have more friends among the American business elite. And Lindbergh. He doesn't need such common overseas supporters."

  Manfred got up and began to pace. "So the split is international," he said after a moment.

  "International? I have a most interesting report from Karlsbad! There was a riot and the Czech police had to spend all night sorting out who was fighting who. The pro-Hitler Sudetens, the pro-Röhm Sudetens, the pro-Strasser Czech National Socialists, the pro-Röhm Czechs, not to mention the Germans from the Reich. I'm not sure anyone knew who was supposed to be the enemy. The Czechs just rounded them all up.

  "It might be desirable to bring this up with Herr Beneš, their Foreign Minister, when he arrives in Berlin next month. The prospects for bringing Czechoslovakia into the German ambit are looking better now."

  "That's then," Manfred said, turning to look at Papen again. "What is the connection between Herr Kühn and Cincinnati?"

  "The people in Cincinnati asked you to share the podium with Frau Hauptmann."

  "Hauptmann who -- oh no," Manfred said, the sudden realization hitting him. No doubt the older landsers had made jokes about "Private Captain"; did some of Hauptmann's problems stem from that?

  "Herr Kühn is, so to speak, her manager," Papen went on. He reached into his portfolio and took out another paper. "He is using her plight to raise funds for the Teutonia Society. The American Staatspolizei -- they call them 'Federal Bureau of Investigation' -- are monitoring their activities.

  "Your brother forwarded the request to me as well as his refusal. We judged that it was better to give you deniability."

  Manfred stopped pacing, looking at Papen as he sat there at his ease. "I take it this is another one of those political lessons," he said, coldly.

  "Such an act would aid our opponents at home. Herr Hitler is beginning to run short of money again, and an endorsement from Frau Hauptmann would profit them; they could raise money for her husband's defense and skim off much of it, the way our Herr Münzenberg raised money for the defense of the two Italians and put most of it into his own enterprises."

  "I don't want to hear about this again today," Manfred said, and stalked into his compartment, looking for something.

  The train pulled into the station, where the Oberbürgermeister Miller (well, there were enough Germans here, too) and a host of local celebrities were on hand to greet the Distinguished Visitor. This race was the centerpiece of their Oktoberfest, so to speak. Among the greeters there was even a German-American choral society on hand, going oom-pah-pah for "their" Chancellor. The Governor of the state, he was informed, was already at the track, and they drove there, through the rain, to join him. (No flying yesterday, and the political news, made Manfred a grumpy boy.)

  The Kentucky Governor Lafoon no less would host the Distinguished Visitor in the Governor's Box at the track, and among the little perks the locals would try to gain by association with the Distinguished Visitor was one that surprised him. "You're getting a promotion," Bolko said, "and so am I. And you too, Franzchen."

  Papen had stared at them. "Promotion?" he said.

  "I will not become a South American Presidente, dripping with gold braid!" Manfred said, aggrieved. "Or like Schleicher. 'Germany needs a strong man ugg ugg thump chest.'"

  "The Herr Oberpräsident Lafoon will greet the Herren Obersten von Richthofen, von Richthofen, and von Papen in his box at the track," Bolko went on untrammeled, in a confused mix of German and English.

  They looked at each other, confused themselves. "Papen, what is going on here?" Manfred said, trying to keep from breaking into profanity.

  "'Kentucky Colonel, that is," Bolko went on.

  Evidently it was some sort of honorary rank; one got a certificate and the right to call oneself "Colonel". He should have asked some of Riddle's people. Well, Colonel von Richthofen -- Father would have been proud if puzzled.

  But before he could sit down and watch the horses run he had to run a gauntlet of his own, through newsmen. ". . . I hope to improve the breed at home," he said to the reporters. "You may not know that in Germany we incline more towards the steeplechase than the straight-out racing here, but the English Thoroughbred blood is especially desired for steeplechase horses. They are superior animals for that sport as well as this. Moreover, as everybody knows, the best English Thoroughbreds are bred here, in the Bluegrass."

  "Do you have a pick for the Derby?"

  "Are you from the Racing Form? Well, I appreciate your professionalism, but I don't want to have a flood of bets lowering the odds." He lowered his voice. "I have to keep up the petty cash balance somehow."

  The reporters all laughed.

  "About the latest speech by Hitler --"

  "Excuse me, gentlemen, but this is my vacation from politics. I'm here to see the horses run, that's all." His good humor vanished at this political intrusion, and he glared at the reporter as he spoke.

  "Thank you, Baron von Richthofen."

  He looked around then. There was a newsreel camera and he suspected that the story of the race would be enlivened by the presence of the distinguished guest.

  "I will have to make a point of coming back here, once I am through with the affairs of government," Manfred said. The governor seemed pleased by this, and said so. "Kentucky's a fine state."

  Actually he found it a little backwards, as if East Prussian peasants and petty Junkers had been transported to the backwoods of Bavaria, but that could be improved. He was learning from Papen how to tailor his opinions to the hearer's wishes. Perhaps if he could fly out West to hunt . . . Speaking of Papen, where was he?

  "Where is Papen? He was doing one last look-round before we bet," Bolko said.

  "Excuse me?" Governor Lafoon said. "You're going to bet the mutuals?"

  The box had a good view of the track, which was not quite up to say, Epsom, but the enthusiasm of the crowd wa
s something else. Better this than fifty thousand Nazis at Nuremburg! The rain was letting up.

  "Bet? Of course! What's the point of going otherwise?"

  "Excuse me," Papen said as he stepped in, brushing by an officious state policeman. "Herr von Richthofen, it's Omaha."

  "But we're going to Dayton -- oh," Bolko said, and promptly vanished in the direction of the betting sheds.

  Papen took his seat and stretched out his legs. His shoes had been more or less scraped clean, but the fastidious diplomat would want to change them as soon as possible. He watched the damp crowd without interest.

  "Omaha? Mr. von Papen, why not Nellie Flag?" the governor asked. "You must have seen the Wrights at Calumet. They have a good horse there."

  Papen smiled enigmatically. "Omaha. I have my reasons."

  But then they had to stand to sing the state anthem as the horses were led out on the track and to the gate. "The sun shines bright -- " and he wished it would.

  Bolko arrived as they were loading the last horse into the gate. "Five hundred dollars to win at four to one, a hundred for me, a hundred for Papen, and the rest for you. If this goes wrong, Franzchen, you owe me."

  Papen smiled again. It was plain to see that he didn't plan to owe Bolko any money.

  "AND THEY'RE OFF!"

  The men at the starting gate dropped the rope and the horses dashed out of the gate. The pack thundered past the grandstand and rounded the first turn. The mist still in the air made the far side of the track hard to see but then Bolko, who had actually brought binoculars, began whooping, "THERE HE GOES! FASTER! FASTER!"

  The horses rounded the back turn and came down the stretch, and indeed, Omaha had surged to the lead. The big chestnut raced past them again, a length ahead of his next rival, over the finish line. Papen laughed, with the relief of a horse player whose gamble has paid off.

  The problem with being the Distinguished Guest was that you had to play the part. Visions of Father saying, "Noblesse oblige, Manfred," came to mind. They stood with Herr Lafoon as he presented the trophy to Herr Fitzsimmons, the horse's owner. Manfred had a few good words, too. "Congratulations on a well run race, Mr. Fitzsimmons. That's a good horse you have there."

  "Thank you, Baron von Richthofen," he said.

  "Thank you. Mr. von Papen," he heard, and saw Papen talking to the jockey. The man -- what was his name, oh yes Sanders -- stepped up to them and said, "Your friend here Mr. von Papen tells me you're a pretty good rider yourself."

  "I would like to think so. I was hoping to ride in the Olympics, the steeplechase, but the War got in the way. I suppose I'll have to just give out trophies this time."

  "Yes, we hope the riders of America will come to the Berlin Olympics next year," Papen said. He had followed.

  Manfred turned his head and looked at the horse, who stood there, whickering occasionally, the massive spray of roses thrown across his back. "With horses like these, we may have an actual challenge then."

  There had been one contretemps that afternoon, or something that might have been an incident anyhow. Papen had overheard a comment about "honoring a saboteur" and before he could walk away had been accosted: "Mr. Papen, those army plants you blew up, they were up North, weren't they?"

  Papen had said, "The facilities at Black Tom, which were shipping munitions to our opponents in the War, were in New Jersey, as I recall. They were legitimate targets --"

  "You see, it was only Yankees! That's all right then."

  Because of the scheduling they had no rooms in Louisville, nor could they expect any, particularly on the scale for a visiting head of government. So instead Manfred and his entourage went to one or two other parties, and then boarded the train for the trip to Dayton. As the train ran through the night, and they sat in the private car talking, Papen described this latest incident of his past catching up with him.

  "I'm not the only one who meets his former victims," Manfred said. "Udet was here back about ten years ago, and he stayed the night with an American he had shot down. This man -- a Herr Wanamaker -- seemed to think it had been a honor.

  "What was it about the favorite, anyhow? She didn't seem to have it in her, I noticed."

  "If you had gone down and seen them, you would have known. I would venture to say all the veteran horse players saw.

  "She was in season -- had other things on her mind besides running."

  "Well, well! Have Bolko give you ten percent off my share."

  Papen then changed the subject. "Did you notice that hostility? I thought the prejudices of Bavarians were bad, but they seem to be still fighting their civil war."

  "You should have seen how it was further south," Manfred told him. "That one barnstorming trip I took there -- I met hundreds of old rebels. All honored no end, the best seats in the stands, first chance to meet the honored guests, they were treated even better than our veterans, back before the War. Rickenbacker was embarrassed. You would think their side had won."

  "Now that's something! 'If the Reich had won the War'!"

  And before going to bed that evening he wondered if Gernsback or his colleagues would run a story on that theme. Probably not. They liked happy endings. It would be a matter of perspective.

  CHAPTER 19

  Washington, D.C., USA, Tuesday, May 7, 1935

  "Hear ye! Hear ye! Hear ye! The Town Crier is now on the air!"

  As the bell ringer rang and the announcer announced, Woollcott raised his script, looked at it, and put it down. With exquisite timing he said, "This is Woollcott speaking. On Sunday, as our devoted listeners will recall, I had the pleasure of interviewing my old friend the First Lady, Mrs. Eleanor Roosevelt, in the White House. Tonight, I am across the street at Blair House, and our distinguished guest is German Chancellor Manfred von Richthofen, making an unprecedented visit to the United States.

  "Baron von Richthofen, I understand you have been seeing the sights here in America. What do you think of them?"

  "I thought the Kentucky Derby was very interesting . .. " Manfred began, and went on talking about the race. He elided the dropping of Cincinnati from his schedule, and went on: "The next day I had the great pleasure of meeting with Mr. Orville Wright, the great inventor. Our conversation was very fruitful. America is the birthplace of flight, and Mr. Wright is one of the great men of the country. I regret never having met his brother, Wilbur. He was very popular when he visited Germany, you know."

  "Then you were impressed with America." Woollcott gave one of his sly looks, as if he were setting something up.

  "Of course. I came here often, after the War and before the current events. I have made many good American friends, including the host of this fine show which is letting me tell the Americans how much I admire them." (Papen had said something about getting the message across as often as he could.)

  They continued the praise-fest until the first commercial break. Then things turned more serious. Following his advertisement for pipe tobacco (and he didn't even smoke it!) Woollcott said, "I have to take up a more serious matter now. When you were in New Jersey last week I believe you discussed with Colonel Lindbergh the matter of the kidnaping of his son."

  "Yes."

  "Hauptmann said he did it for you."

  Now this was out of the sun. "WHAT! Excuse me, but I never --"

  "He admired you, he named his son after you, and he was angry that Lindbergh had taken away from you the palm of being the greatest pilot that anyone ever saw."

  This was all he needed. And going off his head like that -- Goebbels and Münzenberg would enjoy that! Manfred got his temper under control and tried to speak evenly. "Then he doesn't understand the brotherhood of pilots. I don't need to take Lindbergh down; he doesn't need to take me down.

  "I had a long and not very pleasant discussion with the Governor Hoffman, who seems to be appointing himself Herr Hauptmann's defender. I sent my assistant, Herr von Papen, to question the man, though we knew beforehand that he had the worst possible reputation in Germany -- that
was what the Saxon police said. He was not only a thief but a receiver of stolen goods, as you say, a 'fence'. After he spoke with the man Papen was convinced that he was not innocent, that he was lying. I think I can rely on his judgment in that."

  He prepared for comments on the bad reputation of the Infamous Saboteur von Papen. Instead Woollcott took the way out.

  "You don't hold any brief for Hauptmann then."

  "No, not at all. The Nazis do. I don't want to be tied to not doing anything they do, but decent opinion in Germany, insofar as we are even concerned with the matter, definitely does not support Hauptmann.

  "I had sent Lindbergh my condolences at the time of his son's kidnaping and I told him if he needed any help from me he had but to ask. I repeated these offers when I saw him last week. It is unfortunate that the worst elements of society seem to come forward whenever there is a tragedy, and Lindbergh has been so harassed by the sensation-seekers and frauds that the vast majority of decent Americans who share his sorrow are overwhelmed. I know about losing a loved one --" But he didn't want to talk about that.

  "Thank you, Baron von Richthofen. I'm sure Colonel Lindbergh appreciates your support very much. As you said, there is a 'brotherhood of pilots', and he can use a brother now.

  "I have some letters from my devoted listeners with questions they would like to ask you."

  Manfred braced himself for a barrage of Nazi complaints, but until the second commercial break he found himself being asked about horses, how he learned to fly, his family, and other light topics. The story of going into the river Weistritz during the steeplechase was good for a chuckle, as always, and he managed to eulogize Lothar ("My beloved brother was hard hit by the War, and we all mourned his death, just when he was beginning to recover.").

  The only part that gave him a turn was when someone seemed to think that that Englishman Lawrence was his brother-in-law. "No," he said. "Freida Lawrence is only a relative, a distant cousin. I haven't even read her husband's books." Woollcott made a strange grimace at that, as if he were sitting with a literary ignoramus. (And perhaps he was, from his perspective.)