Chapter 32

1928 – 1929

I was committed to my musical career. To my surprise, I missed nothing of my past life. The rallies, the speeches, the struggles in the halls and in the streets, all withered into brown-edged memories. I had not heard a peep from Emil and assumed he was content fixing watches and having no trouble making new conquests with his charm, his mandolin playing, and his repertoire of local folk songs. And then, just when I thought he was out of my life, he called. It was early August.

“Do you know what that bastard did?” He shouted into the telephone.

“You’re talking riddles, Emil. What’s this about?”

“Hitler. Why else would I be calling? Remember the last part of our deal? That he would give me a reference? Well, he just sent it. You can’t believe what that son-of-a-bitch wrote. It’s dated August 1, 1928.” He read it to me.

Herr Emil Maurice was in my employ as a driver between July 1, 1921 and January 1928. Herr Maurice has proved to be an excellent and extremely safe driver and his skills go far beyond those of the average driver.

“What good is a reference like this?”

“I think what he’s saying, Emil, is for you to shove it up your ass.”

“Message delivered,” said Emil. Then he added, “I guess I had that coming. I’ll send you a copy for your collection.”

*

I had been with Lilian for a year now and decided to do something to commemorate it. I stopped into the Nightingale to harvest Max’s advice.

“It’s good to see you, Friedrich.”

“Life agrees with you, Max. You’re fatter than ever.”

“Kitty loves the fact that there is more of me to grab. Anyway, that’s what she says. Everything all right with Lilian?”

“That is why I’m here.” I explained that it had been a year since she and I started dating. Could he recommend a special restaurant for the two of us and then come by with Kitty afterward to join our celebration?

Max’s eyes lit up. “I know just the place. Take her to the Prater Garten. It’s lively with great people-watching. Lilian will love it. They have an orchestra and a dance floor. What do you say?”

“I say we do it.”

“Brilliant. We’ll meet you for dessert.”

It was a sumptuous meal. Lots of champagne. Our forays in public were becoming events as more people recognized Lilian. To my discomfort, people did not hesitate to approach for a handshake or autograph. As was my practice, I shunned photos for the society pages and movie magazines. That particular evening, we were left undisturbed. When Max and Kitty approached, I signaled the waiter to serve a special cake with one candle.

Max made a toast; Kitty threw her arms around Lilian. It was a splendid evening . . . until Joseph Goebbels entered the restaurant wearing a dark navy-blue tailored suit. He had a platinum blond dressed in a tight-fitting dress draped on his arm.

I turned away, hoping he would not see me, but he did. Goebbels limped to our table. With a toothy smile and a deep bow, he introduced his companion.

“Friedrich, so good to see you and your friends. May I present Fräulein Koch.”

“I’ve had the pleasure of seeing Fräulein Koch in a chorus line at the studio,” I said.

The young woman almost knocked Goebbels over when she realized she was in Lilian’s presence. She reached to take her hand. “Lilian Harvey! I’ve admired you on the set. I hope we get to work together one day.”

Goebbels clicked his heels and bowed. “The Führer and I want very much to have you make a film that explains the goals of the NSDAP.”

“Will it be a comedy?” asked Lilian, studying her polished nails.

Goebbels snapped upright. “Fräulein, I don’t think you understand the privilege we are extending you.”

She looked up. “Herr Goebbels. I very much do . . . and I cannot thank you enough for the consideration.”

Goebbels hesitated. “I will be in touch when the time is right.”

“Nothing would please me more, Herr Goebbels,” said Lilian.

When Goebbels saw the anniversary cake, he said, “We’ve interrupted your celebration.” After saying goodbye to me, and bowing to both Lilian and Kitty, he turned to Max and extended his hand.

Max rose slowly. He studied Goebbels’s face, making no effort to take his hand. Only when it started to tremble did Max reach out with the broadest smile he could muster. “Hello Herr Goebbels. I am Max Klinghofer . . . the Jew.” Goebbels jerked his hand back as if he had touched fire. Without another word, Goebbels grabbed the girl and hobbled away.

Max burst out laughing, as did Kitty. I cast a timorous glance at Lilian, who had her arm around Max, laughing as well.

November 16, 1928

We prepared to leave for Hitler’s speech. “Are you ready?” Lilian was about to fulfill her part of our bargain.

“What do you wear to a Nazi rally?” Lilian asked. “The last thing I want is to be a cliché flamboyant actress.”

“Wear a tailored suit.” In the end, she borrowed a dress from the set of Princess Olala that was worn by a young actress named Marlene Dietrich.

We were ushered to a reserved box at Sportpalast. Goebbels worked his publicity magic and filled every seat in the arena. It was not lost on any of us that this was Wolf’s audition for the leadership of the disenfranchised right in Germany.

The Sportpalast was the largest indoor arena in Berlin. Designed for multiple uses, it accommodated track meets, ice hockey, boxing matches, and political rallies.

A low murmur filled the room as fifteen thousand waited for the big moment. We sat in the box reserved for Hitler’s inner circle. I introduced Lilian to Max Amann, Hans Frank, Hermann Göring, and Heinrich Himmler. Wilhelm Frick needed no introduction. I was gratified Lilian gave him a civil nod in contrast to the scowl when she found him in our suite at the Adlon.

“And this is Rudy Hess.” Rudy had a young girl with him . . . not his wife.

Rudy greeted me and bowed to Lilian. Then he said, “Allow me to introduce Herr Hitler’s niece. Fräulein Geli Raubal.”

Geli was just as I expected: a young girl who had turned twenty in June, with short brown hair, and brown eyes that danced with excitement. She had a full figure. Geli was the antithesis of most of Wolf’s women who were often blond, blue-eyed, and athletic. More unusual, Geli was the first woman Wolf spotlighted in public in the ten years I knew him. Indeed, she reigned as queen of the box that evening.

Geli’s hand was warm to the touch. Her fingers lingered long enough to make me uncomfortable. I introduced Lilian.

“I saw you in Fabulous Lola,” Geli said. “An actress’s life must be so exciting.”

“It’s hard work.”

“It must be wonderful to see yourself on film.” Then added, “I started singing lessons.”

“I applaud you for following your dreams.” Geli was about to add something when coronets announced the opening of the spectacle. Brownshirts formed two lines on stage through which Goebbels marched to the podium. Behind Goebbels, SA men hoisted an array of banners, sacred insignias, and flags, including the Blutfahne—the Blood Flag—stained with the blood from the fallen during the ’23 Putsch. The background for these many flags created a brilliant red field that depicted flames rising skyward. It gave the illusion that the stage was on fire.

The cheers deafened. Goebbels mounted a platform to be seen. He raised his small hands for quiet.

“Are the meetings always this loud?” Lilian shouted in my ear.

I pointed to Wolf who was about to set foot on the stage. “This is not loud. Wait.”

In moments, pandemonium overtook the crowd as Wolf entered the stage. Hitler basked in the crowd’s adulation. The stadium vibrated, sending pulses through our feet. Screams of “Heil” and “Sieg Heil” filled the air. A sea of arms saluted, fingers stretched, all pointing to their adored Führer.

Hitler gave the Nazi salute and fifteen thousand saluted back. Jubilation swept the stadium.

Lilian was no stranger to star power. After all, that was her world. But this was no movie set; it was beyond anything she had ever seen. She gazed over the screaming crowd as her body absorbed its energy. Her head darted this way and that but was always drawn to the man on center stage.

I had seen this before. Cheering, screaming, singing praises went on and on until Wolf timed the perfect moment to step to the microphone, extend his arms, and appeal for quiet. His gestures were artful. Nothing was left to chance.

Every move Hitler exhibited on stage was a preconceived act. When Hitler spoke into the electronic microphone, he did so with the same skills he brought to his gestures. His voice no longer sounded shrill. It was clear. Powerful.

His rhetoric changed, too. Gone were the attacks on Jews, though he did allude to the colored people. Most important, he reconciled the words Nationalism and Socialism to be inclusive of all classes and peoples. “A nationalist stands by his people while a socialist stands up for the rights of his people.” In the end, he linked the workers with the wealthy and the unions with the industrialists in one common cause that pitted Germany against the world. It was a deliberate repudiation of factions within the Party and a declaration of common purpose—from every source—to make Germany what she had been. Orchestrated by Goebbels, Wolf avoided alienating anyone that night.

When Hitler finished, unbridled enthusiasm exploded throughout the arena. To my surprise, Lilian jumped up and clapped with everyone else. We joined others in Wolf’s circle to offer a champagne toast in a private room behind the stage. Any other time Wolf would have fawned over Lilian. Not that night. He had just given the speech of his life and was drenched in perspiration. With Geli by his side, Wolf made an effort to be chivalrous when I introduced Lilian. He bowed and kissed her hand. In a hoarse voice he said we were lucky to have found each other. Then he begged to be excused.

*

“What did you think?” I asked as we undressed later that evening.

“He’s in love with her.”

“Who is with whom?”

“Your Wolf with his niece.”

“He dotes over her like any uncle would.”

“Don’t be a fool, Friedrich. A woman knows these things.”

“Apart from his niece, how did Wolf impress you?”

“He’s amazing. I have never seen blue eyes like his.”

“I’m not talking about his eyes or his niece. You have made it abundantly clear that you have been unhappy with me when I go to Munich. You have criticized me for having anything to do with party members. So, now . . . what did you think?”

Lilian was hesitant. “I expected to hate everything about the night. Instead, I loved the drama, the staging. The energy was infectious.”

“You can use those words to describe a play. What about Hitler? What about his speech?”

“It was poignant and to the point. He crystallized what many Germans think but are afraid to say. Like every German, I’m angry at the terms of that awful treaty. Hitler made total sense when he said we have to break down the barriers of class distinction so that the workers and wealthy can link arms to fight for what is right for Germany. How can anyone be against that?”

“And the Jews?”

“He was careful. When he spoke about colored people, he meant those words for Jews, too, I think. I can’t see how either group has anything to do with solving Germany’s problems. I did hear him say that he wanted our country to be filled with Germans of pure blood. I’m not sure what that meant. For now, I want to see the hooliganism promoted by the likes of that twisted dwarf, Goebbels, stopped.”