Just Kiss Me One Last Time by Brian Hesse (best ebook reader android .TXT) 📕

Chapter XI Finding a Place

  What can be said about the next ten years in Berlin. As with every life, I was sometimes king, and sometimes pauper. The economy was sometimes good, and sometimes poor. Public acceptance of this and that was sometimes accepting, and sometimes downright intolerant. But through it all, as street politicians fought and maneuvered their pawns, as the poor starved and the rich became richer and the world seemed to forget the horrors of the first part of the century, I managed to weather the storm. I feel very fortunate for my job as a bartender at the El Dorado club. This is the premier club of the exciting Berlin nightlife. People from all over Germany and Europe come to the club to forget the outside world and let their inhibitions fade, even for just one night. I found a home here, and I found love once again.

  I met Alberich Frost in 1923, just two years after my road trip with Mr. Rhodes, of the Ford Motor Company, ended. We arrived in Berlin and after receiving my fifty-dollar bonus and commission, I quickly set out to rent a flat and find employment. The discovery of so many gay men in the apartment complex I stayed, was a blessing. Within just days of my arrival to the city, I was given a tip by Erwin Fux, whom lived just across the hall, that the El Dorado was a gay and lesbian bar, and always looking for new bartenders. I knew nothing of bartending but, as I learned later, very few applicants knew anything of bartending. I guess it didn’t hurt that during my interview the head bartender, Alberich, took a fancy to me, and I him. He reminded very much of Roland in appearance, and we began a passionate love affair shortly after my hiring. A detailed description of our first encounter is not necessary. The bar closed, we talked, we drank, and made love all the rest of that early morning. This is a pattern that continued for ten years. Although we were in love, we made a commitment…not too be committed. We were young and wanted to experience life to its fullest. We were freefalling in a world that was spinning out of control. A world breaking the shackles of Christian backed Prussian morals. People did not want commitment, but they did want order. So, it is no surprise that in 1933, the Nazis came to power with the election of their Fuhrer, Adolf Hitler. Personally, I avoided any dabbling in politics throughout the years before the rise of the Nazis to power. I avoided street politics, not out of any dulling of political interest, but only out of necessity. The body I buried in Frankfurt was always on the forefront of my thoughts, particularly at night. I would spend many sleepless nights listening to Alberich’s soft breathe and reliving the events of that day in Mrs. Frieser’s basement. I heard of an American writer, Poe I believe was his name, who wrote a story about the beating heart of a dead man. Very strange story, but one that hit home. The story goes something like a man kills another man out of jealousy. Man buries the other man’s body under the floorboards of his house. Killer is tortured by the sound of a heartbeat, the sound of the murdered mans heartbeat. Well I never read the story, but I remember hearing about it. I must confess that I was not tortured by any feelings of guilt. The killing was in self-defense, but still, the mind is a strange machine and not easily capable of distinguishing reality. The brain understands the grey areas of morality and motivation. The mind only understands the act in its most basic form…a murder. I can’t complain. I ate well. I slept well enough. Me and Alberich moved in together in a small room above the bar. All was well, that is until 1933, when the world flipped upside down once again.

XII My Brother Hans

  The events of that year are much too numerous to mention. Three events of that year stand out in my mind. The first is the horrific book burning on May 10, 1933 in the Operlatz (Berlin public square), within view of the Grand Opera House and Germanys oldest Catholic cathedral. I stood among a crowd of thousands watching brown shirted Nazi stormtroopers, angry young students, and overenthusiastic students from the University throwing copies of the world’s greatest literary works into the fire. Books of Brecht, Einstein, Freud, Mann, and Hirschfield turned to smoke and ash in a symbolic display of hatred, intolerance, and ignorance. Across Germany, in thirty-four University towns, this same macabre ceremony of fire was taking place. I looked at the faces of the spectators. I watched the shadow of the twenty-foot-high flames dance across the expressions of the witnesses to this insanity. Most held expressions of delight, whether felt or faked. Others, like myself, with stoic expression of granite, and just subtle hints of sadness in the eyes.

 I could only mutter to myself, “we are witnessing a madman’s dream become reality,”

I dared not speak these words too loudly. Germany, even before 1933, was a world of diminishing privacy. The Nazi’s were well prepared for the eventuality of absolute power long before Hitler came to power in 1933. Apart from the strong-arm section of the Nazi party, the brown shirts, teachers and students, bosses and workers, spouses and children, kept eyes and ears opened for any speech that rebelled against Nazi belief. This also included any sympathy for Jews, communists, and homosexuals. The seeds of the holocaust were planted long before the Nazi rise to power. German, and much of European history, is stained with intolerance towards the Jews. In 1933, Hitler did nothing more than water those seeds with gifted oratory and superb organization.

   The second event worthy of mention was the trashing of the Institute of Sexology headed by Magnus Hirschfield. Formed in 1919, the institute delved deep into the waters of human sexuality. Doctor Hirschfield was a pioneer in the dangerous business of early gay rights. In a world, still held under the superstitious sway of Christian morality, Dr. Hirschfield applied science and humanity to the issue of human rights for all. The first sex change operation was performed there, although this was not a sex “change” at all. Dr, Hirschfield recognized the reality of one living a tortured existence in the wrong body. It was no surprise that he would become a target after the Nazi seizure of power. The institute was ransacked. All research writings and books were hauled away to the flaming pile of destroyed history on the night of May the tenth.

 The third episode of mention happened in 1934 and is of a personal one. After ten years my past caught me, as it always does despite our best efforts to forget the past. I was working a double at the El Dorado. The Nazis just came to power and change was as a thick as a persistent fog throughout Germany, particularly Berlin. Hitler purged the top leadership of his brown-shirted SA. The top SA commander, Ernst Rohm, along with dozens of officers, were arrested under the pretense of immoral acts (homosexual acts). It was common knowledge that the SA was a haven for in the closet homosexuals Many of us knew that the excuse of homosexuality for the mass arrests and subsequent executions was false. Hitler and his top leadership cared little about homosexuality. The Fuhrer himself was heard to say, when questioned about his SA leaders open homosexuality, that he did not care. He was not running a charm school for women. He was forming an organization of tough male veterans, and sex between males in an all-male organization is to be expected, if not outright encouraged. However, we also had the insight to recognize this excuse as a dangerous sign of things to come for gay men, and my suspicious were soon confirmed.

    “There he is, my murdering little homo brother,” came a voice behind me as I absently washed glasses with my back to the bar. A shiver ran down my spine, not readily recognizing the voice.

     My time is up, I thought, as I found the courage to turn around and, as I imagined, faced the barrel of a pistol.

   “Hans is that really you,” I stated as I stared into the almost familiar face of my brother. In ten years, he aged twenty. The once smooth pale skin was replaced in spots with deep lines of worry, and a darkish tint of dirt from the mean streets of the post war world.

 He smiled, half a smile, and stated, “Hello little brother. I missed you, but there is not much time. We need to talk in private.”

  Alberich would not be in town for several more days. He went to visit his parents in Munich. I almost laughed at the thought of him taking a girl, Anita Hoss, a waitress from the club, and good friend. His parents did not have a clue that he was involved with me romantically. As with most workers and patrons of gay bars across the nation, discretion is as second nature as an appendix.

   “We can go up to my room and talk big brother,” I said, and led him to my room.    “You are doing well enough for yourself Karl. I am happy for you.”

  “You are not angry with me Hans?” I asked with genuine disbelief. I was expecting a lecture at the very least, and a thrashing at the most. I dared not even consider that he would turn me in to the police, or the SA. He was my brother, and we still at least had a certain amount of respect for each other, if not love.

   “No Karl. Look at the world outside. I am a Captain in the SA, soon to be given a post as Major in the SS guard.

  The SS would eventual replace the unruly SA throughout Germany. The SS was an elite organization giving unconditional loyalty to Hitler and the Nazi party. They would run the police, run the concentration camps, and later distinguish themselves with bravery in war.

  “I do see Hans. I see an escalation in beatings of Jews, closings of free clubs like this one, and burning of great works of literature.” I restrained myself from saying more. I did not want to provoke him. This was my brother standing before me, but a part of him did not belong to the brother of my memories. He had a coldness in his eyes. An intelligence placed on the tight leash of hatred.

    He smiled and replied, “You always were the one with the soft heart. That’s ok my brother. I came hear not to argue, but to protect you. You are still a suspect in the disappearance of Peter Luther. Not too mention, which I personally find funny, you shattered a young girl’s heart when she found out you only like men.”

   He laughed and did something that gave me an initial startle. He wrapped his arms around me and hugged me tight. My shock turned to sadness when I felt his embrace. This felt like a farewell hug. The kind of farewell hug I planned on giving Ada, if it wasn’t for later unforeseen events. He knew in advance that I would refuse his following offer.

   “Karl, I have arranged for you to join the ranks of the SA. You will have to renounce your current relationship, and any further contact with a man done in the privacy of the party.”

  Before I could speak, , he interrupted, “Karl, take me up on my offer. There is going to many arrests coming over the next several months, possibly years. I fear that you will not weather the coming storm.

     Without