DAVID FÜRST

Work

ONE STRATAGEM I DEVISED for revving the motor of Skin Enterprises was to get on the American television program 60 Minutes. If we couldn’t sell cars in Germany, why not America? Or better still, a rebound, the Germans discover my product through its popularity in the States. I present myself as a post-Cold War hero, the evil empire is slain, but into its ruins comes the enterprising hero, making free market lemonade from the old Commie lemons. And better still, for American tastes, the Jew and the neo-Nazis. I recalled from my three years in New York the phrase: what could be bad? I introduced this idea to my satisfied customer the American girl Holly Anholt on the day that she and I and her then-boyfriend Nils and our then-alive friend Oksana Koslova picnicked on the Wannsee.

“Well why not? You might as well try,” she said. I could tell from her furrowed brow that she was trying very hard not to tell me that my idea was about as likely as a great white shark leaping out of the lake and eating our lunch but leaving us alone.

“Do you know anyone at 60 Minutes?” I asked hopefully.

“Of course not.”

“Just my luck, I meet one American a year, they know no one at 60 Minutes.”

She needn’t have added that America is quite a large country, et cetera. It was only then I felt my bitter disappointment.

I made calls to the 60 Minutes offices in New York, I sent special delivery letters and faxes. I continued to wait for a response.

It is no small sadness when others don’t see the human interest in your case.

Though in this regard I have a small item to brag about. I did a wholly gratuitous favor for the American girl. I had not a single ulterior motive which I could accuse myself of. It was after she and Nils had split and she was living in the country all the time. I had a friend in Dahlem who had come into possession of a Greek pot and wanted an opinion as to its authenticity and quality. I recalled that such work or something much like it was what Miss Anholt had been doing in Paris. I phoned her up. She was both surprised, and, if I may say so, ecstatic. I heard later that she thought it was a terrible pot. But she continued to be grateful. She sent me a bottle of champagne.