by Tony Klinger
“My name is Schindler, Professor Schindler, and when I enter a class all students will stand and be ready for their work, this is not a kindergarten and you are no longer babies. Anyone arriving late will miss the class.”
Something about this over zealous little Prussian with artistic pretensions seemed hilarious to both Arnie and Helmut. They both began to giggle and it was infectious and within moments the entire class could no longer contain themselves and were soon all laughing.
“I amuse you Hessel?” Schindler demanded.
“I’m sorry sir,” Arnie said, but no power on earth could stop his giggling.
“Perhaps you would be better suited to a job as a fun fair attraction, the no handed artist, what will they send me next, a blind painter, now that is funny!”
Arnie and the rest of the class all became quiet and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Helmut stood.
“Forgive me Professor, the fault was entirely mine.”
“I don’t need martyrs, I need talent allied to discipline, now sit Von Thyssen and we will see if any of you possess these attributes.
This proved to be a skirmish that set the tone for the next two years of artistic drudgery. Schindler seemed to take particular and malicious pleasure in persecuting Arnie above all the other students; this despite Arnie working ever harder to improve his techniques and knowledge, the professor likened him to an average pavement artist. The man never appeared satisfied with anything the young man did and it became Arnie’s obsession to prove the teacher wrong in the only way he knew, with his paintbrush.
It was the summer, a hot day in early July. Arnie felt he was getting nowhere and his ambitions to be a respected professional artist were never going to be realized. He had just finished a line sketch of a nude young woman. Two years earlier and he would have been pleased with the result but such was his uncertainty that now he didn’t know if it had any merit.
Schindler glanced at it and shook his head. He told Arnie to stay late after the rest of the class. Arnie waited as instructed, expecting another torrent of abuse and debasement. Schindler walked slowly to a position behind Arnie and studied his drawing at some length, eventually he spoke. “This is adequate, quite adequate Hessel.” Schindler then smiled and Arnie couldn’t believe his eyes as no one had ever seen a genuine smile on the professor’s usually taciturn face, “In fact your best work so far, in fact your recent work is quite excellent and I am proud to be your teacher.”
This praise was so totally unexpected that Arnie couldn’t believe this was not the precursor to some cruel jibe but the professor went on to say more, “You are our star pupil you know and it has been my duty to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground. We needed to push you to the limits of your ability so that you didn’t backslide into excuses and second best gimmickry, the comfortable cushion of easy praise you will have experienced for merely possessing a somewhat freakish ability to hold a brush in your mouth.”
Arnie felt like an abused woman who was pathetically grateful to a bullying husband for the moment he stopped beating her. Arnie instantly turned from hating and fearing the professor to become his biggest fan. Arnie rushed out to tell Helmut the good news. It was Helmut who brought things back into focus with a cold splash of logic. “You could always paint like an angel, all this means is that Schindler has finally had to admit to this as well, now, at last he will lay off of you, that’s worth getting drunk for anyway.”
We walked across the grass square behind the academy and joined two young ladies, Martha and Putsy, two girls of the town who modeled for our class. They were easy to please the boys in any way they chose in return. It was a happy arrangement for all concerned.
They went to the nearby bar; a small Italian owned establishment called Marco’s. It was small, dark noisy and full of smoke from the millions of cigarettes puffed happily in the grimy slightly damp atmosphere. It was a battle weary serious drinking establishment that once had better pretensions. The students from the academy often paid for their sometimes-unaffordable drinking habits by lavishing their talents on his black walls in lieu of payment.
The foursome sat at a long trestle table amongst the other revelers, a mixed bag of students and working men all packed together in joyful revelry. They all drunk beer, Arnie through a straw supplied by Helmut.
Helmut drunk with his usual gusto and soon finished several flagons, he held his most recent stein aloft in salute. “The toast is Arnie Hessel.” Helmut swallowed a huge gulp of beer as the others struggled to keep pace with him. He bowed toward Arnie who returned the bow from his seat as the others called for him to make a speech in response to the toast. Helmut overcame Arnie’s shyness by hauling Arnie to his feet. “Professor Schindler!” he called, “No!” responded Helmut, but Arnie was determined, “To Professor Schindler who forced me, with all his bullying to be a better artist and a more determined man, to Professor Schindler, the greatest man in Germany.”
Arnie became aware of Helmut looking over his shoulder to something behind him.
It was at this moment that I became me, the rascal you might recognize. I turned to see four brown shirted Nazi young men, about my own age, clearly drunk and eyeing us, particularly me with clear threatening intent. The biggest of the brown shirts turned to the man on his right.
“Did that cripple say he likes to be bullied?” the second fellow laughed as if this was the finest joke he had ever heard, “We could help him there couldn’t we, yes?” the big one continued as he led his group towards us. Other patrons of the bar melted away, wanting no part of this. I was still standing, aware that I was a big target. I spoke to my friends in a voice that I hoped didn’t shake with the fear that I felt, “Some people, like myself, have physical infirmities, whilst others...” I looked directly at the first Nazi thug, “are mentally inadequate.”
My calculated insult that I felt might shame the Nazis into retreat had the reverse effect. They approached even more closely and looked even angrier. I remember the smell of bratwurst on the breath of the bastard. Helmut interposed himself between me and their leader, who spoke directly into Helmut’s face.
“Tell your friend,” he said, “That the toast is Adolf Hitler, our glorious leader!”
Helmut nodded in my direction, hoping for my discretion. “Of course,” I answered, “I am happy to toast Adolf Hitler since we have something in common, Hitler and I, painting. The difference being that he couldn’t paint a wall properly with both his hands, whilst I can perform artistic miracles with my mouth and feet.” Helmut and the girls laughed loyally at precisely the same moment the Nazis attacked us.
We tried our best, a handicapped man with big boots, one man and two slim girls against four big brutes with hate in their heart, but the odds were too heavy for us. I managed a couple of crafty well-aimed kicks and one well delivered head butt before succumbing to the frenzied attack. No one came to our aid. The last thing I remember before loosing consciousness was worrying what would happen to my college work.
I awoke, as you will remember, in that cell under the Frankfurt Police Headquarters, being brutally re-introduced to my old chum, Ratwerller, more appropriately known as the Rat.
Chapter Twelve
Darmstadt
New Year’s Eve 1933
No amount of drunken revelry could reconcile me to the New Order. I had never fitted within our society before, but now I was considered a cancer not to be pitied but to be eliminated. I guess the only thing between elimination and me was my father, the Nazi. He stood for everything I despised. I tried to reconcile his ideology with his being married to a Jewish woman and being the father of a Jewish man. He never responded.
The cobbled square was packed tight that night; the crowd was enthusiastic and happy. Nazi flags hung from every window overlooking the huge throng. Men and boys in various smart uniforms lined the steps of the town hall. On the buildin
g’s central balcony a man was haranguing the crowd, he was flanked by a large group of men and women. My father Bertie had made us attend this rally, and he was entranced by the speaker’s words, throwing his head back and roaring “Heil Hitler!” with the rest of the mob. I noticed that my mother kept her head down and never raised her face or her arm in the obligatory Sieg Heil salute. As the crowed spontaneously began to sing the national anthem of our country father led us into the building, showing our tickets to the guards.
I stood uncomfortably next to Marlene, now a fine young woman and wondered how we had allowed ourselves to arrive here, at this point, as if we were blind, with white sticks and no sense. Marlene was accompanied by a friend, who was a handsome young lady with jet-black hair, pale skin and sparkling, challenging eyes. Her body was more athletic than Marlene’s which I had always adored for its curvaceous and luscious appeal.
As the anthems and shouting stopped the band segued into conventional party music and we danced. I usually felt self conscious when I danced since I couldn’t use my arms to embrace my partner, but in this heaving crowd no one noticed that despite my intimacy with Marlene my arms staid resolutely by my side.
I whispered to her and she giggled and moved slightly back from me. “You’re incorrigible Arnie, don’t you ever think about anything else?” We both smiled as I looked over to her friend who was observing everyone from the side of the ballroom. “What’s your friend’s name, are you seeking to protect her from me for the entire evening?”
The tune ended and we walked towards her friend as Marlene responded, “I have already warned my friend all about you and your seeming disability and how you always manage to overcome it. Arnie Hessel meet Jessica Lanning, Jessica is from England.” The young woman winced appealingly, “From Scotland actually, that’s a bit like my calling you chaps Austrians Mister Hessel.” She replied, “Please call me Arnie, and as the great leader would insist, we are all part of a greater Germany now.” Jessica seemed a little flustered by my invitation, “Oh, I thought.”
Now it was my turn to wince slightly, “I won’t be too upset if you were to hold me extra tight to compensate for my lack in that department.” She smiled as she led me to the dance floor. When we got there she stood on her toes and pulled my two arms around her neck locking them around her ingeniously. I smiled at her thoughtfulness; no one had ever done this simple act of kindness for me before. The music was American big band swing and we started to dance. “Where in Scotland do you come from?” I asked, “Edinburgh,” she replied, “And why does an Edinburgh girl come to Germany?” She looked at me curiously, “You’re very inquisitive for a stranger.” I looked at her for a long moment before responding, “I don’t intend to stay a stranger.”
Jessica laughed again, I liked that laugh a great deal, “I was warned wasn’t I, a very determined chap. I’m reading politics at London University. This is the place to be, this or the Soviet Union, if you’re interested in such things, the two great social experiments, it’s all happening here isn’t it.” Her spirit was determinedly jolly, but there was more to this young lady if I could find out what it was.
“Do you approve of what’s happening here?” I asked, “I came to learn, it’s far too early to make a value judgment, but I can understand it all though.” Although we continued to dance I think she felt my body stiffen as I reacted to her words. “Then you might well be unique in this room, explain it to me if you would.”
She wasn’t in the least perturbed, “It all flows from the iniquitous Versailles Treaty forced on your leaders at the end of the Great War. It was too humiliating by far and for Germany what’s now happening is a natural reaction to that indignity. It was totally unfair.” I was beginning to not like this girl so much, “So you approve, of all this?” I looked at the posturing uniformed Nazis, the flags and the bunting.
She stopped dancing and looked up into my face, now quite serious, then like a cloud it passed and she smiled her most dazzling smile, “I came to have fun tonight, don’t you want to have fun?” I couldn’t help smiling in response, “Of course, the New Year is approaching and we must celebrate, out with the old and in with the new.
In another part of the hall my parents were standing in a small group of dignitaries that included Joseph Papp, the evening’s main speaker.
“A very worthy speech Herr Papp.” Said Bertie, “Joseph, please, mind you the name is the only Jewish thing about me I can assure you!” Papp led the group’s laughter. Bertie, keen to be part of the inner circle moved closer to the man, “Many thanks Joseph,” he paused, “A word to the wise, we are all wondering when the Fatherland might re-introduce general conscription, so far all we get are hints?”
Papp leaned in conspiratorially, “Well if I had a son, and who knows if I don’t eh?” he led the group in more laughter, “I would tell him not to make plans beyond March, although, of course, this is entirely off the record you understand, non attributable.” The men in the small group nodded whilst the women looked at each other as women will do, “That’s good news,” said Bertie, “ Very good news, that will keep the young men out of trouble, teach the hooligan element some discipline and respect for authority...” Papp interrupted him with an imperious wave of his arm, “Enough of business, tonight is a celebration and you haven’t allowed me to socialize with your charming wife at all, and she’s clearly so shy as well as being so pretty.”
He bowed to Bertha who kept her eyes downcast which Papp had misinterpreted for her being shy and demure, whereas in fact, it was to conceal her fear and loathing, “Forgive me,” replied Bertie, “this is Bertha.” She nodded her head in the direction of Papp, her distaste almost palpable.
Papp turned back to Bertie after looking over her fine figure as if she were his to take as he wanted, “Do you mind if I take her for a spin on the dance floor old fellow?” Before Bertie could reply Bertha spoke, “I’m terribly sorry Herr Papp but just for tonight I have to beg your indulgence, I’m not feeling particularly well.”
Papp bowed from the waist in what he took to be a most gallant gesture and kissed her hand, “Of course, I hope we have other opportunities to dance together soon, I wish you the most speedy recovery.” He smiled at her and then turned on his heels and moved to another group. As he left Bertie grabbed his wife by her shoulders and quietly hissed in her ear, “You idiot, don’t you realize the opportunity we have just missed!” She recoiled from the severity of his grip, “But it’s true, I do feel ill, people like him and you make me feel sick to the pit of my stomach!”
Bertie sneered at his wife menacingly, “I don’t have to tolerate such behavior any more, you do know that don’t you?” he asked, “I know the divorce laws, go on do it then, why don’t you, make us both happy.” He shook his head, “All I have to do is renounce the marriage because of the taint of your Jew blood and you’ll be out of my life for good, with nothing, no money, no alimony, property, nothing!”
Bertha looked out at the dance floor, and quietly uttered three words, “Nothing except Arnie.” This deflated her husband completely; it was as if all his energy and self-importance simply vanished, “Except our son.” He intoned quietly.
I was unaware of this drama in any detail as I felt their stares in my direction and turned to smile at my parents, as ever they had clearly been arguing, and I just hoped it wasn’t about me. Despite everything I did love them both, if not equally, or in the same way. I was still dancing with Jessica and I found her refreshing and fascinating. “Marlene tells me you’re quite the famous painter?” she said, “she’s exaggerating, I am a much better decorator.” Jessica smiled at the small joke and then continued, “She showed me your special painting of her, the private painting.”
I felt my face go bright red; Marlene had promised me that she would never show that painting to anyone. “That was totally painted from my imagination, apart from Marlene’s face of course.” Jessica just carried on
smiling, “You must have a truly remarkable imagination, to have imagined that mole on her inner thigh.”
I had nowhere to go in this conversation, so I tried to deflect the determined young Scottish lass, “Hey, didn’t we come here to have fun, let’s talk about something else, like any moles I might discover on you were I to paint you for instance.”
Jessica’s smile broadened, “You forget I was warned about you, all about you.” Now it was my turn to smile knowingly, “As these military types would tell you it can be much more rewarding to outflank a well prepared defense.” The music came to an end and Jessica unclasped my hands from around her neck and stepped back one-step. “You’re a very unusual man, but I’m not the kind of woman who disguises her womanhood with feminine fripperies, I’m no man’s coquette.”
I liked her abrupt declamation, but I wondered what had happened in her life to make it necessary, “I consider myself duly warned, so you lust after woman’s emancipation, not men’s bodies, and on this we are as one.”
She smiled again, and she was much more desirable when she smiled, almost irresistible, “First their minds, then their bodies.” She responded quickly.
“I must return the compliment, you’re a most unusual woman, can I be equally direct?” she paused for just a moment before nodding, “Of course you can.”
“Would you like to go to bed with me?” I asked, and this time it was her turn to blush, but I was relieved to note that she hadn’t run away, “If I said yes you’d think me the most awful tart wouldn’t you?”