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A Gnostic Childhood Part IX Berlin 1950-52 "Uncle" Herbert Around this general time period my mother met a man whom she didn't really like nor love, but feeling oppressed living with my grandparents and in need of a "father-figure" for me, she did what many single parents do, she overruled her inherent misgivings and moved in with him. He was a cop since after the war, which means that he had gotten into the police-force not because of his capabilities, but because he probably was too ignorant and apathetic to have been a Nazi, and just smart enough to be at the right place at the right time. Through the devastations of the war, men were in short supply and the police department needed men, so it was easy in those days to find a job with the police in Berlin if you were male and politically "correct." Unfortunately for the police-department and for us, "uncle" Herbert Haase was an alcoholic simpleton who had a way of coming across as much more "sophisticated" than he really was. In fact, deep down, he was what we would call here in America, a "red-neck" brute. Being about six foot tall, slim and thus quite "presentable" looking, he made a good appearance and first impression, except for his awfully pock-marked face and hooked nose. I can't remember where my mother met him for sure, but I think it was through "friends." Uncle Herbert, as I called him, came almost daily to my grandparent's store to visit my mother. I didn't feel very comfortable with him for some reason which was more instinctive than based on anything he said or did. But, being starved for male attention and companionship, I too dismissed my instinctive negative feelings about him and encouraged my mother to move in with him. Unfortunately he didn't really have an apartment either, but lived with his aunt, whom I called "Tante" Frieda, in a two bedroom cold water flat further up the road, also on the "Sonnenallee" right across from a small movie theater which we called a "Flohkiste" which means a "flea-box." The theaters name was the "Luna" and I had gone there quite often for Sunday afternoon matinee performances.
Here is a picture of "uncle" Herbert right behind me next to my mother who is holding a cigarette. I was always worried as a child that my head was too big and I can see why in this photo. Tante Frieda was a jolly heavy-set woman in her fifties who loved candy and knockwurst and listened constantly to a blaringly loud little "Volksempfaenger" (A cheap nazi radio set which was specifically made so that everybody could afford a radio set just like the "Volkswagen"). A simple soul also, she loved pop music and sang along with the "Schlagerparade" (Hit-parade) songs of the time on the RIAS-Berlin station ( RIAS stands for Rundfunk Im Amerikanischen Sektor, which translated into English means "Radio or Broadcast in the American Sector of Berlin.") It was decided that my mother and uncle Herbert would share one bedroom and that I would sleep with Tante Frieda in her bedroom. She had a huge "King-size" bed and I was to sleep on one side of it. This might sound incredible to most Americans who have usually more spacious homes and amenities then we had in post-war Berlin with more than half of the apartment houses bombed out and destroyed, living space and sleeping arrangements were, by utter necessity, often quite strange. Be that as it may, it wouldn't have bothered me so much, but Tante Frieda blasted her radio day and night and was thus in the habit of falling asleep with it. I, being very sensitive to noise, couldn't stand it because it would take hours sometimes for me to fall asleep. Like most "simple souls," Tante Frieda was completely oblivious to my problem and I was too polite to mention it to her because, after all, I was well aware of our "guest" status in her home. Despite this, I can honestly say that I liked her and I think that she liked me also. We often played board-games, such as "Halma" and "Monopoly" (I think we had Monopoly, but might be mistaken") and card games during the long evenings, especially during the winter months. She also used to share her candy and "Bonbons" with me as well as her endless supply of "Knockwurst."
Happy summer days in the "Kolonie Roter Stern (Red Star)" From left to right: My mother, "uncle" Herbert, my mother's sister aunt Gerda, my missing uncle Harry's wife "Tante" Thea, her boyfriend Herr Mueller, my "Opa" and "Oma." Uncle Herbert would come home from his police duty and usually bring back a bottle of cheap Johannisbeer-wine. Often he had been drinking already in a "Kneipe," which is a corner bar, before arrival and was thus in a jolly state of mind which, nevertheless, could turn to anger and threats of physical violence any time as we well knew by then. I can still smell this fruity-sour odor of his breath which seemed to permeate the whole apartment. And to this day I abhor the smell of alcohol, especially wine of any kind. Uncle Herbert's drinking bouts became more and more frequent and his initial "jolliness" disappeared completely. Now there was only anger when he came home which increased with every glass of wine he drank there. In retrospect I believe that he was completely overwrought in his new role as "husband" and "father-figure," roles which he hadn't bargained for or even thought about when he "courted" my mother. Thus, I think, I was very much the cause of his anger and disillusionment. Being what I was already, mentally way over his head, I was definitely not an easy diminutive child to deal with and he simply couldn't cope with my incessant questions and "intellectual" demands on him. Needless to say, the threats of violence eventually became reality and he used to beat me with his heavy leather police belt which is called a "Koppel." When my mother complained in disgust, she got it too. From then on his returns from work were frightening moments for all of us, even for Tante Frieda, who had tried to intervene in my behalf to her own detriment. We were, from then on, listening to his steps coming up the apartment-house stairs and if he was stumbling and screaming in the hallway, Tante Frieda would hide us in her room, under the bed, and lock us in with her. Banging on the door and begging us to open up he would alternate between threats of violence when he caught us and promises that he would never beat us again. Sometimes this would go on for hours until he would fall into a drunken stupor and pass out. My mother, of course, realized that this was no way to live and that it was high time to get out of the relationship and apartment. Thus, after a long time of preparations and inquiries, she was able to find a room which she could sub-let from a couple, the "Huebners," with kitchen privileges. Gradually, when "uncle" Herbert was doing his police duties, she moved our belongings with a hand-cart to the new room in the Huebner's apartment as he could not tell that things were missing upon his return from work. This went on over a period of time until we were ready to make the final move and leave him behind. Tante Frieda helped us and was sad but also relieved that we were moving. Things had become too crazy even for her. I think when uncle Herbert found out we were gone, he too was relieved even though he probably wouldn't have admitted it at the moment. Our new home was not too far from my grandparent's store and very close to the S-Bahn Station, Bahnhof "Sonnenallee," at the "Schwartza Strasse" No. 7. Little did I know that I would find some wonderful friends there.
Schwarzastrasse 7 The Huebner's were a kind older couple and her Huebner used to talk to me and show me his extensive stamp-collection. What impressed me the most were his stamps from the Third Reich era with their display of propaganda pictures. I too wanted to start collecting stamps and Herr Huebner gave me some stamps to get me started. Not only did he give me some stamps, but also an album to put them in and I would from then on hunt for stamps anywhere I could, especially stamps from the nazi era. They had such heroic pictures and slogans on them which impressed me deeply. Not at all like the boringly banal pictures I was used to from our present postal service. Looking at these stamps I felt an inner connection which I couldn't possibly explain, but which almost put me into a trance where these events came to life within me. And they also re-connected me to uncle Ali and his many lectures which had faded somewhat in my memory and imagination. Being a little older now, and more aware, I began to re-work his words and presence in my mind. If he had only been around now so that I could have asked him more questions and received more knowledge from him! God, I missed him so much.
Herr Loewy and the Movie Projector Way down the
"Sonnenallee" towards "Kreutzberg," was a "Troedlerladen"
(A second-hand junk store) owned by a big, fat and sloppy looking Mr. Loewy. The
reason I remember his name is, that it was displayed over the entrance door and
I had asked my mother about the "strange" name. She told me that it
was a Jewish name. So this was another Jew I had met besides Eberhard Galinsky
and his mother. This man fascinated me, because even in the turmoil and
destitution of the post war time, I had never seen anybody so fat and sloppy
looking. To me he was the keeper to paradise, sloppy and ugly, but, nevertheless
the man who "had it all." One could find anything imaginable in his
store, which was a group of barracks like wooden constructions erected on a
bombed-out former apartment house site. His personality was short, dismissive
and crude, with the "take it or leave it" attitude of most second-hand
store owners, but he would not ever bother me because I was so young and throw
me out of his store. In
Watching the Peas Grow Back in our room, I at first thought to work on the projector the next day in day-light and with new ideas as to what could be wrong. But overcome by the desire to "watch the peas grow" on my own wall, with my own projector, I continued to examine the contraption to find out what was wrong. This is when I saw the loose wire going to the loose socket. Using a butter knife as a screw-driver, I was able to re-connect the wire, tighten it properly and was thus ready again to turn the projector on. Hand on the crank again, using my left hand to turn the light on, my heart pounding and hands sweaty from a delicious mixture of fear and excitement, I saw a shadow on the wall, which probably was the most exciting picture I had ever seen. It was dim alright, hardly discernible, but it was there for me through my efforts! Turning the handle with its clacking sound frantically, the picture began to move, but it was all blurred. Stopping to turn the crank, I realized that I had to adjust the focus of the lens for clarity. Doing that, I suddenly saw the most beautiful set of peas I had ever seen, all in black and white photography, there was this shell (Schote) with about five little peas in it. Overcome by the marvel of it all, I started to turn the crank again and "lo and behold" I saw the whole growth process in slow motion until farmers came to pick the shells and remove the peas. Good God, what a miracle! I still couldn't believe that I now had the means to watch my own movies! Except that I didn't have any movies to watch except the pea movie.
Yukatan
Now the hunt for a cheap movie was on. Herr Loewy didn't have any more movies in his store which forced me to search in other stores of similar nature for a "suitable" movie. I must mention here that the projector was made for "regular" size movies of the 32mm mode. Not 16mm or even 8mm but the regular movie theater with of 32mm. Roaming all over Neukoelln going even as far as the "Hermannstrasse," I finally found a small store which had a movie in 35 mm format called "Yukatan." Yes, it was a documentary movie about Yukatan in Mexico and I was nearly out of my mind, driven with desire, to own this movie. Not only was it a movie, but about something I was really interested in. The price was 10 Mark, which was quite reasonable considering that it was a "real" documentary of an adventurous journey to this far away place. It was one huge roll of film, the same size as they come in a box delivered to movie theaters. Unfortunately my projector wasn't made for such a huge roll and I would have to cut up the movie into six to eight smaller rolls. Which I was sure I could do without much problem. The only thing was, that I needed some more empty film-spools which weren't readily available. That the film was also a "sound" film with a photo-sound-track on one side, left me in complete amazement and speculations of how I could get the sound to work. Naturally my ancient projector wasn't made for sound-movies, but, the idealist that I am, I saw endless possibilities to find a way through which I could make the sound work. Again, I squeezed the ten Mark out of my mother, and got the film and a stronger light bulb for the projector. Cutting up the film was a task I would rather never do again. There was so much of it that literally the whole room was filled with film in the process. I spooled it onto my one spool and then, by removing one side of the spool, took the rolled-up film off and put it into the film-box. This I had to do about seven times, which sounds simple enough, but was definitely not as simple as it sounds. As I mentioned already, the room was filled with looped film and I had to find the right end to attach to the spool and then roll it up "in reverse," which is a daunting undertaking even for an adult, not to mention for a hurried eleven year old boy who can't wait to watch his treasured possession. Perhaps, because of my impatience, I didn't properly think first before attempting the task, but believe me, it was a horrendous mess! Finally, after much frustration, I had my seven or eight rolls of "Yukatan." Of course neither I nor my mother had any idea that films of that period (in which the Yukatan film was made) were highly flammable and that, if the film had touched the 120 watt light-bulb inside the projector, it would have gone up in flames and probably have set the whole apartment on fire. This I learned later, years later, when I thanked God for his protection from this real possibility. First 'Screening' of Yukatan My first "screening" of the Yukatan movie was an experience I can still feel! Being a well made professional documentary it was truly worth watching. The Mayan temples and ruins, the road leading the photographers to the ancient treasures and even the journey from Germany to Mexico by ship were shown vividly with good photography and probably interesting commentary, if only the projector could have played back sound. Through the course of my involvement with the projector and trying to get the sound-system figured out and working, which it never did, I became quite an expert on projectors, sound and all that goes with it. There were quite a few books available in the library on the subject and I worked my way through quite a few of them. I learned about photo-cells and how they convert light into energy-impulses which when "verstaerkt," strengthened and amplified in an amplifier transmit these electrical impulses to, at the time, magnetic speakers or "Loudspeakers" through which the magnetic impulses become sound. Since I had neither money, tools nor the equipment necessary to possibly succeed, the whole thing was doomed from the start. But, being a young idealist, I never even thought of all these handicaps and thus learned things "hands-on," which I would have never been able to learn just from books. With this information came also the understanding how records and "magnetic tapes" retained and played back sounds. All this knowledge and curiosity encouraged my resolve to become an "inventor" like Thomas Edison and Nicola Tesla. But cramped quarters and neither money nor tools kept me for the time being from more practical experiments and I had to satisfy my curiosity from books alone.
Go to Part 10 to continue the journey
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other words, he got to "know" me over a period
of time and allowed me to roam freely through his treasures. At this particular
time I had my eyes on an ancient looking movie-projector displayed in one of his
many store windows. I think the price was 16 Mark, which in those days, at least
to us, was a fortune. Still, I dreamed of owning it and getting movies which I
could play at home or at friend's homes. Having no televisions, movies were
extremely popular and also I was so intrigued by the mechanism of the projector
and what could be done with it, that I worked up a complete obsession with this
ancient looking contraption to the point of sleeplessness. Throwing hints about
it to my mother, who was already struggling to make ends meet on her
widows-pension through my father's death, I relentlessly and mercilessly
kept bringing the subject up to her and begging her eventually to get me this
projector, or I would die from unfulfilled desire. She at first dismissed the
whole thing and refused outright because of the money involved. But I kept it up
and up until she finally surrendered and gave me the money to get it and leave
her alone. Mr. Loewy was more than glad to sell me the thing and I carried it
home ever so carefully like a hunter bringing home a precious trophy. To say that
this projector was old would be flattery. It was downright ancient. It had been
converted from an oil-lamp or gas-lamp as light-source to electric light, and
the whole thing was quite shaky to say the least. The light-socked was loose and
I had to try to re-connect the wires to the best of my amateur abilities. And
the movement of the film past the light-focus was done with the help of a
hand-crank mechanism. Mr. Loewy, in his amused generosity, had given me a roll
of film with the projector. It was an old school-film for biology class called
something like "The growth-process of peas," a title which normally
would have left me cold, but now, in my possession, became a most fascinating
story to be watched and enjoyed. But before this glorious event could actually
happen, I had to get the projector working properly. Shaking with excitement,
and thank God my mother wasn't home, I "fixed" the wiring problem, got
a light-bulb screwed into the dubiously loose socket and fastened the film-spool
to the protruding upper arm of the projector, lined the film up with the
protruding little guide-wheel teeth, fastened the loose part of the film to the
bottom spool and was ready to watch the peas grow. With my right hand ready and
sweating on the hand-crank, I flicked the loose light switch and heard a loud
"pop" sound as all the lights went out in our room. Then I heard Herrn
Huebner coming out of his living room and walking through the hall-way. He
called my name and I went to see him. The whole apartment was dark. Apparently
my first attempt to watch the peas grow had ended in disaster. Feeling
responsible and guilty I was ready to confess to Herrn Huebner what I had done,
but something within told me not to mention it. Thus I played
"innocent" and just as surprised at the black-out as he was. He put a
new fuse in and the lights went back on. Thank God I had had the presence of
mind to shut the projector light switch off at the same moment the fuse blew, or
the new fuse would have blown out right away and Herr Huebner would have known
that I was the culprit.