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A Gnostic Childhood Part X Berlin 1952-53 Axel, Peter, Waltraut, Carmen and Karl-Heintz Moving to the
"Schwartza Strasse" had been wonderful for me for more than one
reason. First of all it felt good to get away from "uncle" Herbert and
his drunken rage, and second, I met some really great kids there who were quite
compatible with me and my Gnostic mindset. There were Peter and
Karl-Heintz Fiedler was another boy who became a good friend. He also was just a little "chubby" and quite intelligent. And he too loved to "bastel (tinker)" with technical things and experiments. Except he seemed to have no interest in religion or politics. Being quite a prankster he would sometimes get on my nerves with his constant joking and physical nudging, having the habit of making jokes and elbowing us into our ribcage. Still, we all complemented each other and got along very well. Axel was of small built and with delicate features. He was kind and gentle and almost ethereal, with curly short hair and soft voice, and one could say that he seemed almost "girlish." Yet he would amaze everybody by his daring and adventurous spirit. Also being highly intelligent and questioning everything, he was a kindred spirit indeed. Very shy, with very little self-esteem from endless teasing in school about his feminine appearance, he already had a well formed character and strong principles. I liked him very much and felt very comfortable talking about everything in my life with him. Axel had an older sister named Carmen who was perhaps three or four years older than us and already went to the Gymnasium "High School - Wissenschaftlicher Zweig (this is the highest schooling possible before college and leads to the "Abitur.")". She also was very delicate in her features with long brown hair which she sometimes wore in pig-tails. Kind and gentle also, she possessed besides a very high intelligence, also a deep love of literature and story telling. I mention "story telling," because by that time I had developed, inspired by my intelligent friends, the gift of story telling. It was indeed quite extraordinary how I could weave a fantastic tale out of my observations and experiences and how rapt these friends listened to them. Carmen would more than once exclaim: " You are so good at it, I bet you are going to be a famous writer one day!" Which, especially coming from her, flattered me immensely and inspired me even more. Oh, I was in love with her alright, her soft and smooth demeanor and her keen intelligence together with her lovely face, had touched my heart and soul. But I knew that it was never to be, her and me, because she was so much older. Being very expressive in her gestures and uninhibited physically and emotionally, she would sometimes grab my hand when I told my stories and her eyes would shine with moisture of delight. This would send me off into a realm of spiritual ecstasy and divine inspiration, and I would feel electrical currents shooting from her hand right through my spine and into my stomach (Solar-Plexus). Shaking with love I would feel the blood rush to my head and ears and begin to stumble over my words, until she would begin to laugh knowingly and I eventually joined her laughter. Oh, what wonderful days of sweet, innocent love and intellectual dreams, of fantasy and true friendship! Never again in my life would I have such a wonderful group of friends!
Surprise! A New Movie For My Projector: "Kameradschaft Der Jugend" One day Peter's and Waltraut's father came home while I was with them in their apartment. He told us that he had a surprise for me and, in fact, for all of us. Opening his briefcase, he took out a medium size box which upon opening revealed a roll of movie film. He said that he had found it at work, wherever that was, and thought of me and my movie projector. It turned out to be a nazi propaganda movie, or better, documentary of a Hitler Youth rally in 1933. Unfortunately, I had to make this film into three spools before we could use it. Its title was "Kameradschaft der Jugend (Comradeship of Youth)," and it was my first exposure to seeing nazi pageantry almost like I was watching it "alive." The next day I took the film and projector to their apartment again with the film divided into three rolls and ready to be viewed. Our eyes were glued to the white wall onto which the picture was projected and we shivered in delight as we watched young people like us march in precision columns with lots of flags and drums and trumpets, with young boys blowing bannered fanfares and adults in exciting uniforms giving speeches. Oh, if only there would have been sound! If only we would have been able to hear the fanfares and marshal music! Needless to say our other friends, Axel, Carmen and Karl-Heintz were invited up to the apartment the next day as we watched the movie again. After the movie we all talked about what we had seen, and I related much what "uncle" Ali had told me over again. Carmen was able to tell us some stories she had experienced during the nazi era as she was the oldest and had more consciously lived through the war years then we. Being so intelligent and aware, she was able to give us some negative and many positive words about this time which fascinated us so much. Perhaps we knew, even being so young, that it was like "forbidden fruit," and we, with youthful enthusiasm and idealism, craved so much to explore this realm of the "unspeakable" in our country's recent past. This especially since most adults, like parents and family, spoke of this time only with whispered comments amongst themselves. In school the subject was spoken of on the shortest and most evasive terms, maligning it without dealing with it in any depth. We heard about concentration camps and Jews, that millions of Jews were killed and that Hitler was an evil man. Most kids seemed satisfied with these simplistic explanations and comments, but more intelligent ones needed simply more then to just accept what they were being told. In short, we sensed that there was something not told or "hidden" from us and that the adults, in most cases the teachers, were uneasy with the subject and "lying through their teeth" so to speak. Children, especially intelligent children, are not easily deceived because being so open to all and without prejudice, they absorb the whole picture, of the adults speaking and what they say, at the same time in an almost psychic sense and if the adult is not himself convinced of his words, his statements are definitely under suspicion as they are not convincing. Thus all of us, in our little circle, were intensely interested and fascinated by National Socialism and all that went with it.
Brown-Colored "Telefunken"
Records One day Axel and I were walking down the Sonnenallee, when we decided to pay Herrn Loewy's store a visit. Actually, inspired by the "Kameradschaft der Jugend" movie, we wanted to look and see if he had any books with pictures of that era. Herr Loewy was busy with customers so we had more or less free reign over the store's treasures. Axel was going through some books in a book-bin when I went over to a large display of old records. Since we had no phonograph I had already toyed with the idea of getting some kind of record player or even trying to build one. So records being already in the realm of my consciousness, were of interest to me. These were then the 78 rpm records made out of hard shellacked wax or whatever. Being highly breakable, Herr Loewy had them standing up in special record racks, and I could thus easily spot that some of them were colored brown instead of black. Curious, I took one out, and lo and behold, it was a recording of a nazi song called: "Die Fahne hoch (Raise the flag)," made by "Telefunken" (a German electronics brand) records. I was instantly excited and searched the other brown records which all were recordings of famous nazi songs and marches. There were perhaps about fifteen of them just waiting for me. But we had no money and thus had to leave the treasures behind. Axel too was excited and wanted me to get those records. Actually they were quite cheap, like fifty cents (fifty pennies) a piece and we made plans of how we could raise the needed eight or nine Marks. It was Carmen who came to the rescue and gave me something like five Marks in Groschen (ten cent pieces like dimes) and pennies which she had in her possession. I promised to pay her back, but she said it was o.k. because she had just started tutoring a kid in math and thus would soon have more money than she needed. Overjoyed I went to my mother, who, mercifully, didn't know what I was up to, and begged her for three more mark which I needed to get all the records. I should mention here that I was desperate because of the assumption that somebody else would buy up my treasure still in Herrn Loewy's possession. I told my mother something about needing to buy lenses for a project I was working on at the time, an "epidiascope," which is a contraption to throw pictures, like postcards and photos, on the wall. Like a projector but not of slides, but of regular photos and pictures. She at first rejected my appeal, as she always did, but then reluctantly and with a frown came across with two Mark and "NO MORE." Putting the money in my pants pocket, with the other money from Carmen, I went to Axel's apartment to get him, and we trotted back the two or three miles down the Sonnenallee to Herrn Loewy's shop. I was doing all kinds of "magical" things, like only getting on the sidewalk with my left foot first and holding my left hand in a tight fist the whole way, to make sure nobody would "steal" my waiting treasure in the meantime.
Picture of what we
looked like in the 1950's When we got to the store, Herr Loewy gave me a half-nod of semi recognition and we went to the record section to gather our loot, still afraid that something unexpectedly would deprive us of the records in the last minute. I had seven Mark in my dirty pants pocket and we stacked all the brown records on top of each other and carried them to the counter where Herr Loewy was conducting some kind of business with an elderly man with crutches. When the old man stepped away from the messy looking counter, we put the records down on it. Herr Loewy didn't flinch, as I had half expected, and say something like: "are you kids crazy buying all these nazi records!" He just calmly counted them and looked at the scribbled price on the label, and told me that it would come to seven Mark and fifty cents. I took my money out and counted it out on the store counter. Carmen's "Groschen and Pfennige," (dimes and pennies), over and over to make sure that I got the correct count and then told Herrn Loewy that I had only seven Mark. Herr Loewy looked up from whatever he was doing, and said just to leave one record back and everything would be fine. I couldn't bear to do that and looked at him with my best begging eyes until he said something like: " Na ja, gieb mir die sieben Mark und du hast sie alle" (O.K. give me the seven mark and you can have all of them). I thanked him profusely which he responded to by turning his back to us and walking away into the store interior. The records were quite heavy and Axel and I each took half of them and went on our way home. Luckily my mother wasn't home to see what "treasure" I had brought in and I was able to hide the stack under some of my other things in a closet.
To Play The Records I Need A Phonograph Now the only problem was how I could get a phonograph to play the records? In school I had talked to somebody who was willing to trade me a hand-winding phonograph which had also a "sound-horn" attached to it, like one can find on old pictures, for my three albums full with collected "Sanella" (a margarine brand) pictures of Africa and Australia. And although I loved them and looked at them regularly, I didn't hesitate to agree to the deal. Thus, after school, I went home in a hurry, gathered my three "Sanella" albums and left with them like "on wings of desire," as fast as I could manage to walk to this boy's home. I knew where he lived from before, when I had traded something else with him. He was waiting for me and showed me into his basement apartment, where he led me to a rather large box resembling a small cabinet. Holding my breath, he opened the lid on top and the two front doors and I saw this marvelous looking piece of machinery in all it's ancient glory. Not able to believe my luck that I suddenly should own such a wonderful record-player, I felt myself shaking like a leaf in the wind. The boy took out a crank from the interior of the cabinet, pushed one end of it into a hole on the side of the machine, and began cranking it up. Then he went and got a record, put it on the turntable on top of the machine and moved a little handle which released the brakes of the cranked up turntable and it began to spin around. Then he put the heavy looking tone-arm head with it's protruding needle on the outside groove of the spinning record and "glory of glories," I heard such a sweet and melodious sound as I was sure I had never heard before. Never mind that the it sounded rather tinny and scratchy, to me it was the sound of "heavenly music." The deal was done immediately and I proceeded to pick this "cabinet" up with the intent to carry it home. But, understand my amazement, when I could hardly lift it at all and it was about three and a half feet tall. Trying to talk this boy into helping me to carry it to my home, he flatly refuse and told me to get somebody else to help me. So I had to leave this object of my love and desire behind and more or less run home, or to Axel's apartment that is. Telling Axel about my dilemma as quickly as possible, he responded by telling me that they had a hand-cart in the basement which we could use. God bless Axel!
Phonograph Via Hand-Cart Delivery We went down into the basement and got the cart. Dragging it behind us with it's squeaking wheels and metal wheels we made quite a noise on the sidewalks and streets which we had to pass through. Finally we arrived and the boy, against my expectations, was still there. He held the door for us as we carried this monstrous contraption into the hallway, up a flight of stairs and out into the street. Placing it ever so gently onto the cart, we suddenly realized that it was to narrow to place the phonograph into it. Thus we had to place it on top of the cart rails, which would require that one of us had to pull the cart while the other had to make sure that the phonograph wouldn't slide off the rails and fall off. It was a journey through hell as the cart bumped and squeaked and shook the cabinet while Axel held onto the phonograph for dear life, walking behind the cart bent over and trying not to hit his chins against it. Only the promise of fulfilled desire, finally being able to listen to the records, kept us going without much complaint. When we got home, my mother was there and couldn't believe that I had gotten this "thing" through "Sanella" trading cards. Sample from my 'Sanella' picture collection which I used for a school report She was highly suspicious, supported by previous experiences with my "deals," and worried crazy that I had acquired it in an unlawful manner. Thank God, Axel was there with me, whom she respected and trusted more than me, and he was able to convince her that I was telling the truth. Of course, I was very disappointed that she was home, since this meant I had to contain my desire to hear the records, and wait until she would leave the apartment. This was not to be until the next day, after school when I came home she had gone to my grandparent's store to help out and I could finally listen to my treasured "brown" records.
Cranking her up like a pro, I put my first record on, trembling in expectation, and heard the glorious sound of marshal music and then the voices of a military chorus singing "Die Fahne hoch, marschiert, voran der Fuehrer fuehrt....flieg Deutsche Fahne, flieg ja flieg"...and something about Sieg. I marched along with the song around the living room table envisioning myself as part of a singing column. Then I played the next record which was the "Braunauer Marsch," without chorus, and the next record... on and on completely oblivious to time and space.
"Public" Performance Of "Die Fahne Hoch" And The Value Of Fairy Tales and Mythology
Thank God, the Huebner's weren't home either, or my secret stash of nazi records wouldn't have remained secret, and my mother would have destroyed them. Tempted to play the records over again, I ,for once, used my better judgment and put them away in their hiding place. And sure as can be, my mother came home just minutes after I had hidden them again. The next day, we carried the phonograph to Peter's and Waltraut's apartment for a "public" performance for the rest of our group. Everybody was impressed and inspired to march around the apartment, just as I had done alone the day before. Maybe it is in our "genes," that we as young German children found this music so great! Or is it that intelligent kids tend to be so much more moved by things, especially "forbidden" things, than dull and unimaginative kids, kids who have everything and are already bored with life, as so many American kids are nowadays? Of course the kids of today's Germany or even Europe are just as spoiled and bored as their American counterparts which is the result of their parent's "standard of life," and of television brain-dulling. We then grew up with fairy tales, real fairy tales and not the "sugar-coated" version spun out by Disney. Our fathers and mothers read them to us from very early on, before falling asleep at night. These are stories which "touch the soul" and stimulate the mind, although they are often gruesome and frightening to children, they have helped to create better people than you will find today no matter how "enlightened" we claim to be. It seems to me that fairy tales, like Anderson's and the brothers Grimm's, connect children to an "archetype" of their racial and national identity which opens their psyche to the past and present and allows them to integrate harmoniously, or at least more aware, with their environment. Not only do they understand instinctively what the world is all about, but they also grasp, intuitively, that the "magic" of imagination can overcome many problems of birth, poverty and "being different." It comes to no surprise then that fundamentalist "Christians" and some New World Order feminist groups have spoken out against fairy tales and even "banned" them from some libraries as dangerous or even "satanic" literature. After all, bright and imaginative children ask difficult questions and become "politically incorrect," bright and imaginative adults, who can't so easily be fooled by lying politicians and simplistic rhetoric. Often, just looking into someone's eyes, as you interact with them, be it as sales-people or as you talk to them on a more personal level, will reveal whether they are aware and imaginative or complete dullards. Bright people will look you into the eyes and reflect emotion in their eyes to you, while dull people will either avoid your eyes completely or seem to stare, without reflecting any emotion, right through you. Another similar phenomenon seems to me that so many dull and "bored" people need to have background music wherever they are instead of experiencing the moment, every moment, consciously, listening to the sounds of their surroundings as they are, willing to be part of it, in anticipation of something extraordinary and inspirational coming from them. Perhaps words fail me in this observation, but I think that those who are open, bright and imaginative, avoid background music instinctively and know exactly what I'm talking about.
"Strandbad" Wannsee - Grunewald - Gruenau On Sundays my mother would often take us all to the "Grunewald" (a forest) or to the "Strandbad Wannsee" (a beach at the lake with the name "Wannsee"). Sometimes we would even venture to "Gruenau" in East-Berlin. If the weather was hot the "Wannsee" would be our favorite destination. There was even a popular song, a "Schlager," which spoke of the joy one experienced going to the "Strandbad" Wannsee. I can't remember much of the words, or who the girl was singing it, but I can still play back the melody in my mind. The words went something like: " Pack die Badehose ein, nimm dein kleines Schwesterlein und dann gehn wir raus zum Wannsee...und dann gehn wir wie der Wind durch den Grunewald geschwind und dann sind wir bald am Wannsee..." Translated it would mean something like: " Pack your bathing-suit, grab your little sister... and we hurry like the wind, through the "Grunewald" quickly and soon we have reached the Wannsee." Steps leading to the beach We would take the S-Bahn (city train) to S-Bahnhof Nikolskoe and walk for about 20 minute through the beautiful pine forest of the Grunewald until we reached the entrance to Strandbad Wannsee. There my mother would buy our entrance tickets which were quite cheap in those days and we would walk down the stairs to the beach area. It was a beautiful sandy beach with contraptions made out of basket material in which one could sit comfortably and be even protected from the extreme sun-rays. They could be rented for the day, if available, for a small fee and made the beach experience quite comfortable. Mostly, though, we just brought blankets which we spread on the beach's sand. In back of the beach was a promenade with many stores where one could buy beach related items such as bathing suits, beach balls, suntan lotion and whatever. But our main attraction was a stand which sold "Ohio Popcorn" and was served with powdered sugar sprinkled on it. I just loved that stuff and couldn't get enough of it. Also one could buy ice-cream waffles and shells as well as Coca Cola and "Sinalco." My mother also usually brought home made potato salad and we would eat happily sitting on our blankets. Alternating going into the water and playing ball on the often crowded beach, these were happy days indeed. Strandbad Wannsee Beach
Mueggelsee and Gruenau Sometimes we would also go to the "Mueggelsee" in Berlin-Gruenau. This was in East-Berlin and we never felt quite comfortable there because of our fear to be arrested or detained by the "Volkpolizei" which was the East-Berlin Police. Due to the constant bombardment with stories in the newspapers and from the radio, we thought that anything bad was possible in the East (Communist), which actually wasn't so far off. As one never knew what could happen there and could never feel relaxed, even in the beautiful surroundings of the "Mueggelsee." Still, we sometimes ventured there on Sundays and would bathe in the lake. There was also an outlook-tower way in the forest on a mountain and next to it was an outdoor restaurant. Food and drink was cheap for us due to the very favorable exchange rate from West-Mark to East-Mark. There wasn't much on the menu though and it was best to just order a "Knackwurst" or "Wuerstchen" (Wieners) and a bottle of cheap lemonade. We would play in the forest and bathe in the "Mueggelsee" when we got hot from playing ball or "hide and seek," and enjoy the outdoors despite our misgivings about being in the East. Walking to Berlin-Treptow and the "Treptower Park" was one thing, since it was so close to home and the West. But taking the S-Bahn for quite a long ride through East-Berlin in order to get to "Gruenau" which was close to the forbidden "Zone" border, was another and much more frightening undertaking to us.
The "Mueggelsee"
To continue the journey please go to "Gnostic Childhood" Part XI
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his sister with
the awful name "Waltraut," both of whom were highly intelligent and
raised by a single father. Peter was somewhat "heavy-set," with a keen
interest in everything. He was very scholarly and studious and was captivated by
my free-spirited approach to life, including my more and more evolving interest
in physics and technical experiments. We would often talk about our interests
and experiences and exchange ideas from politics to bicycles and from religion
to "uncle" Ali. He was the first kid I could ever relate to an an
equal level and who would not ridicule my interests. In fact he was keenly
interested in my thoughts and loved to listen to my stories. His sister, Waltraut, was more or less the same way. She, not as heavy as her brother, was
tomboyish and curious about everything also. And she had the most beautiful wavy long
blond hair one could imagine. Being about a year younger than her brother and
myself, as well as the other three kids in our group, she made up for this by
being the most daring when it came to playing pranks on adults in our
neighborhood. I would spend many hours with them in their apartment which was
located next door to our building on the fourth floor. Their father was a kind
and gentle man, a scientist who also liked me very much and would sometimes,
when he had the time, speak with me extensively about my ideas and experiences.
Sometimes I would bring my movie-projector to their apartment and we would
invite the other kids in our group to come up and watch "Yukatan."
Everybody was quite excited over the projector and the movie and we would
endlessly speculate about what could be done with it, and how we could get more
movies. Needless to say, I, as the owner of the projector, was the center of
attention, which made me feel quite good about myself and thus gave me a much
needed "ego-boost." 
