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FROM THE PUBLISHER OF VOLUPTUOUS PANIC

THE HOT GIRLS OF WEIMAR BERLIN

Popular Culture/Art History/Gender Studies

THE

HOT GIRLS

OF

WEIMAR BERLIN

BARBARA ULRICH

ET’s make our descent into hell, accompanied by the syncopated yelling of a Negro band! ... We want narcotics and kisses to forget our wretchedness. Let’s go to bed with each other! Or fool around in parks if there are no beds. Boys with girls, boys with boys, girls with girls, men with boys and girls, women with men or boys or girls or tamed little panthers—what’s the difference? Let’s embrace each other! Let’s dance! —Klaus Mann, The Turning Point

L

ISBN 0-922915-76-8 51995>

9 780922 915767

A Feral House book Distributed by Publishers Group West Cover Photo by Madame D’Ora Back Illustration by Victor Leyrer Design by Hedi El Kholti

BARBARA ULRICH Introduction by

jerry stahl

THE

HOT GIRLS

OF

WEIMAR BERLIN




BARBARA ULRICH Introduction by

jerry stahl

c on t en t s




preface by Barbara ulrich introduction by jerry stahl Awake in a Dream MODERN GIFT Kind Mistress THE SCORPION’S KISS BIBLIOGRAPHY CREDITS

©2002 by

Barbara ulrich all rights reserved ISBN: 0-922915-76-8

feral house p.o. box 13067 los angeles, ca 90013 www.feralhouse.com [email protected] Design by hedi el kholti 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

v vi 1 16 40 72 108 109

IV

p r
e f ac e

Everybody knows that every night Berlin awakens to a new adventure. Everybody feels it would be a pity to go to bed before the expected, or the unexpected happens. Everybody knows that morning, whatever happens, they will feel reborn. —Harold Nicholson, 1932 In my living will, I have a direction to determine if I am brain-dead. Play Dietrich singing “I’ve Been In Love Before.” If my lips don’t twitch, pull the plug. I’ve been in love before, it’s true / Learning to adore just you… Why does Marlene make me laugh? Why is her beauty filled with mystery? Why is she still so alluring? Is it that irony and beauty in a tuxedo doesn’t have to be empty-headed? Why do I connect her humor with her beauty? She can wear a monocle without looking ridiculous. She looks elegant in an ape suit. These were my first images of Weimar heat. They bore deep into my adolescent brain. I didn’t understand them but they intrigued me nontheless. I wanted to know what Dietrich thought was sexy, what amused and aroused her. Her beauty aside, what gave her that enormous sexual self-confidence? What nourished those erotic eccentricities she displayed on screen? Thirty years later I have the answers. Inspired by Voluptuous Panic: The Erotic World of Weimar Berlin, Mel Gordon’s definitive foray into Weimar kink, I discovered the vast world of German news magazines, erotic novels and periodicals, and the beautifully bound volumes of sexology filled with elaborate color plates. I found images of women I’d never seen before, missing chapters in my erotic bibliography. This is erotica that is estrogen driven, hard-wired for the female brain with wry humor, psychological intrigue and great fashion. These provocative paintings, photographs and drawings by women as well as men—straight women, gay women, married couples—show the sensual complexities of modern female desire. These images, startling yet female friendly, over 70 years old, are still edgy, still hot. I first discovered the writer Hannah Tillich’s memoir, From Time to Time, because it had intricate and passionate adolescent lesbian romance, in short supply in 1973. I loved the clarity and heat of her prose. Hannah is my other Hot Girl muse: artist, sexual adventuress, randy theologian’s wife. Manhattan is so sublime because eventually you meet everyone. I must have been the first person to meet her grandson, Ted Farris, and say, “I’m so jealous. Your German grandmother is so much kinkier than mine.” (This slim volume would not be possible without the generosity of Ted Farris, who granted me complete access to Hannah’s provocative trunk of prose.) How to organize this wealth of ideas about the realms of female power? I took the liberty of imagining what Miss Dietrich’s recreational reading might be during the filming of The Blue Angel in late 1929, the stack of magazines, newspapers and novels by her bedside that would entertain and amuse her. Four themes emerged that I had never seen in such detail, all addressing modern female desire. This Berlin anthology is divided into chapters devoted to Fasching (the ancient winter sex carnival devoted to breaking all the rules), female erotic authority, aphrodisiacs and sapphic romance. There are illustrated excerpts from a tragic lesbian novel, a memoir of a transvestite shoe fetishist, costume suggestions for Fasching, and observations from sexual science. These images make one yearn for sexual adventure filled with sensation and beauty. Here is a picture book to explain the city’s rallying cry, “Everyone once in Berlin!” or Marlene’s admonition, “I’ve been in love before. It’s true.” Welcome to the lost world of the Hot Girls of Weimar Berlin.




This book is dedicated to Gary M. Stavens, who enhanced the Hot Girl in every woman he touched. We miss you even more in this drab new century. I would like to thank my Hot Girl Round Table: Sally Sockwell, Nina Kerova, Laura Esserman, Kate Barnett, Karma Pippin, Katherine Neville, Howard Pinhasik, Jonathan Silin, Jim Brown. I would like to thank my designer Hedi el Kholti and my publisher Adam Parfrey, two gentlemen who subverted the “male gaze” diatribe with their elegant resurrection of a bold female universe. Barbara Ulrich V

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in t r o
d u c t i on The drug induced in me a state of great excitability. There was lack of appetite, great and continuous thirst, increased beating of the heart, continual longing for sex activity but without orgasm, combined with masochism or sadism. Mentally I felt a delightful feeling of superiority and importance, and a desire to talk a great deal. That’s Doctor Ludwig Lenz, author of the 1928 classic, Memoirs of a Sexologist, quoting a drug-addicted, whip-crazy young patient named Laura. The flagellationist Fräulein is referring to cocaine, but she might as well be talking about Berlin itself. Specifically, Berlin in the ‘20s and ‘30s—Weimar Berlin—a period of such rampant and demanding depravity that, as chronicled by Barbara Ulrich in The Hot Girls of Weimar Berlin, the city’s very air seemed to transport its inhabitants to a state of nearconstant sexual frenzy. So deep was this strain of civic erotomania that, beyond its cabarets, S&M clubs, brothels, cheap narcotics and status as mecca for out-of-control foot fetishists, there sprang up an entire industry devoted to explaining Berliners’ demented, destructive passions to Berliners themselves. Along with Herr Lenz’s memoirs, rafts of other tomes—all freighted with names like “Sexual Aberrations,” “Sadism and Masochism,” and “Lesbians and Female Transvestites”—provided a way for respectable citizens to ogle endless illos of hogtied, strap-onned, smack-addled Sapphic Valkyries by way of understanding the baffling array of nonmissionary hijinks to be found in a single evening on the Alexanderplatz. Indeed, it is weirdly perfect to imagine the young Adolf Hitler, as he skulks about Vienna doing bad watercolors and waiting for his other ball to drop, masturbating frantically to the pictures in Erich Wulffen’s festively titled “Woman as Sexual Criminal.” This bit of arcana, and busloads of others like it, would of course have been smuggled in from Teutonic Sodom-land. Lavish sketches and photos from these monographs, and from the innumerable pervaloid journals that packed the newsstands, form the bulk of Hot Girls’ authentically bent visuals. Interspersed with snippets from those sex tomes and popular stories of the day, the effect is to create more than a panoply of half-naked flappers shooting morphine in their hips or spanking their handmaidens. What Hot Girls does, with such lushness and precision, is re-create a zeitgeist at once evocative of contempo life and its complete opposite. By any measure, both George W.’s America and Marlene Dietrich’s Weimar Berlin stand out as lust-crazed, demented hotbeds of perversion and vice. Of course, America, God bless her, remains guilt-wracked and repressive. (Picture John Ashcroft, tricked out in corset and smother panties, squealing his way to sputtering orgasm on the business end of a good caning from some imperious Weimar liebchen.) The opiated fuck-bunnies lounging around the flesh gardens of pre-Third Reich Berlin, by contrast, remain notable for something else entirely: a laissez-faire attitude towards even the most extreme-o carnal pastimes. Wedged between the mustard gas waft of WWI and the imminent genocidal stench of WWII, a generation of Berliners were forced to stagger from defeat to apocalyse. Thus buffeted between a hellish past and a tormenting future, the Weimaraners discovered, in elegant degeneracy, the one true antidote to the horrors beyond words. Awareness of the ax already falling fuels the very heart of Weimar’s pleasure-drunk dementia. Within years, its glittering diversions would give way to der Führer and his drive to purify the Aryan race. And yet… In German concentration camps, legions of scientists—packing the same bogus authority and gravitas as the hacks who authored the sex-guides of the Weimar Era—devised a torture wherein, by way of studying the limits of human endurance, they ordered male and female inmates to engage in coitus as a way of surviving another day. They were, in short, obliged to fuck themselves to death. At gunpoint. A practice best described as the mirror image of the the non-stop orgy that was Weimar Berlin. Sex—for both the doomed prisoners and the dapper Weimaraners—was not a matter of pleasure. Nor just. It was, when you peeled back the veneer of sophistication and chic, a way of enduring, and savoring, the unspeakable horror of the history they were living—surviving a present wedged between utter destruction and catastrophic defeat. The Germans, it would seem, enjoy being beaten. Even as Death, smiling like a sadistic Domina, lowers her high-heeled boot on your face, you can smile, and grind, and know that, for one tragic and ecstatic moment, release is yours. And you can forget about the obliteration to come… The Hot Girls of Weimar Berlin could make anybody forget. Jerry Stahl

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Although I seem to be in a dream / I know this moment is real Friedrich Hollaender

Awake in a

Dream m

OST cities have single holidays devoted to debauchery, but the Hot Girls used Fasching to transform Lutheran Berlin into the pagan-friendly town it was meant to be. Every young woman who came to Berlin, rich or poor, Catholic or Lutheran, milkmaid or socialite, had centuries of Karneval celebrations in her blood. The hot girls transformed their village fertility rites into the quintessentially modern sex holiday. The roller coaster of winter merriment began with Christmas, whirled through Sylvester’s Eve and climaxed in the more or less month-long frenzied celebration of Fasching/Karneval. Some of the most raucous German celebrations grew out of the ancient year’s-end celebrations of fertility and the changing seasons. Depending on your pagan gender politics, you celebrated the emergence of the Sun Goddess from the cave, or the birth of the Sun God from between her thighs. You sang, danced, and wore disguises to survive the long dark winter months until Mother Earth (the German fertility goddess Nerthus) warmed and broke open to welcome Spring. Many customs date from the two Roman winter festivals, Saturnalia and Lupercalia, which influenced the Christian celebrations of Christmas and the Western New Year. Saturnalia (beginning Dec. 17, the Winter solstice) honored Saturn, the Roman God of peace and plenty, the God of sowing seed, the protector of the fields and the guardian of wealth. All work was abandoned during Saturnalia, a time of great indulgences and untold freedom, famous for its reversals of authority—slaves were “free,” men dressed as women, fools were wise men. The other festival of note was Lupercalia, the first festival of the New Year, February 15. Lupercalia celebrates two pagan entities related to wolves. Lupercalia, Festival of the Great She-Wolf, is originally dedicated to the Goddess of the primitive Roman cult of Lupa or Feronia, inherited from Sabine matriarchy. Her temple priestesses celebrated orgiastic rites for bountiful harvests, concluding with naked young men draped in wolfskins traveling and purifying the Palatine towns. The Mother of Wolves was also the divine midwife who suckled Romulus and Remus, the orphan founders of Rome. The second Lupercalian luminary is Faunus, an Italian rural deity who resembled the Greek God Pan. Faunus, Saturn’s Godson, was originally worshiped in the countryside as a bestower of fruitfulness on fields and protector of flocks from wolves but evolved into a woodland fertility deity whose voice was the sounds of the forest. Faunus was the original Roman party animal: satyr-consort, half man, half goat, known for his lust and merrymaking, surrounded by his sybaritic followers known as fauns. Faunus’ presence at Lupercalia was celebrated in Rome well into the Christian era, where youths dressed as goats ran through the streets wielding thongs of goatskin. Any woman struck by these goatskin whips became fertile. Wolves for purity, goats for fertility. These pagan customs or “heathen excesses” could not be suppressed by the Christian church who began to modify them to fit their party line. The fertility rite became “The Feast of the Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary,” or Candlemas. Weimar Berlin promoted Fasching as the ideal holiday to beat the winter doldrums, sparking tourism that combined urban revelry with vestiges of primordial rites. The beauty of the Karneval season is that it is not merely a single party. Mocking the social order seemed less important to Berliners than the prospect of nonstop partying. There were three types of celebrations in Berlin. A masquerade involved elaborate disguises with the dramatic component of the unmasking. At the costume balls, one strove for the most imaginative costumes. The masked balls simply demanded formal attire with an exotic mask or half mask. Every night allowed a different identity if one so desired, for liaisons with satyrs, clowns, and the occasional generous older gentleman. There is great freedom when one is wearing a mask.

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HE bloody uproar of the war is over: let’s enjoy the carnival of the inflation. It’s loads of fun and paper: printed paper, flimsy stuff—do they still call it money? For five billions of it you can get one dollar. What a joke! The Yankees are coming— as peaceful tourists, this time. They purchase a Rembrandt for a sandwich and our souls for a glass of whisky.... But why shouldn’t we pretend to be brothers?—united, not by democracy, but by the galvanizing rhythm of jazz. Let’s make our descent into hell accompanied by the syncopated yelling of a Negro band! Until that day—it may be tomorrow!—we want narcotics and kisses to forget our wretchedness. Let’s go to bed with each other! Or fool around in parks if there are no beds. Boys with girls, boys with boys, girls with girls, men with boys and girls, women with men or boys or girls or tamed little panthers— what’s the difference? Let’s embrace each other! Let’s dance! —Klaus Mann, The Turning Point 3

i

N February, 1919, I went to a fancy-dress ball, along with many others attempting to escape hunger and misery and the restlessness following on a lost war. The music became insistent, midnight drew near. Ash Wednesday arrived. The crowd took off their masks. Everybody kissed as the lights went out. I stepped down the stairs filled with embracing couples, each oblivious to all the others. The one supreme moment of exultation had arrived. They did not think of past or future in this intense moment of the divine present. I stepped over twisted legs and lazily forgetful arms. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time 4

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EFORE Lent which ends on Good Friday, the day of Christ’s martyrdom, it is the custom to indulge in a few days of unrestrained revelry. Special evenings are dedicated to clownish headgear. Orchestras of bells, drums, trumpets and violins fill the air. Christian names are used; blows are struck with noisy paper whips; accusations are hurled about and kisses are freely exchanged. Day and night colorful masked masses surge through the streets overflowing with garlands, paper snakes, lanterns and confetti. In the restaurants and tea rooms, the people dance, sing and flirt. Sorrows are buried. Everyone is gay. —Josef Dunner, If I Forget Thee

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MICKY’S IN LOVE Micky’s heart was trashed and broken Because his nemesis was so smooth-spoken. (The “Baby Girl” fell in a flash.) And Micky fumed at their bash. That Felix cat is so damn lucky Like his name, suave and plucky. —Kurt Schwabach, 1931

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WO wine-red Pierrots joined me repeatedly as I was aimlessly walking with the masked crowd in the art school’s large hall, to the sound of music—the tango, the one-step, the two-step, the waltz. A tall masked man danced with me, then took me into one of the dark rooms, where he sat me on his knee and started kissing me. I pulled away from his embrace and returned by myself to the lighted room; joining the circle of walking masks for another round.... Pierrot and the Girl with the dark eyebrows in a black costume went off together. It was clear that Pierrot wanted the girl with whom the stranger had a date, and, she, Pierrot. They had used and then deserted us to reach each other. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time

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HILE Myra was dressing to go to the artists’ ball, she was not conscious of any effort to beautify herself in order to attract attention, to please, to cause sensation. Indeed, she desired to attract as little attention as possible, and would have given a good deal to be invisible, or to watch the hubbub from a gallery or a darkened adjoining room. She selected a very simple black taffeta dress quite void of color or boldness of line. Nevertheless, she could not prevent something striking in her appearance. Perhaps it was caused by the anticipation which flamed up in the depths of her lifeless eyes and which was in such sharp contrast to the gentle, almost colorless composure of her pale face. —Anna Elisabet Weirauch, The Scorpion 13

l

OTTE met a gymnastic teacher, Lydia, whom she brought into our circle. We all fell in love with her. She was beautiful indeed, like the blond angels in an Italian Renaissance fresco. I invited Lydia and Carl to a Fasching party at the apartment I shared with my sister… Carl arrived very late because of an evening job. Meanwhile, I had dragged Lydia into a small tent I had built in one of the rooms, while the other guests were making merry in an adjoining room. I kissed her, I embraced her. She seemed stunned and I whispered that she should not tell anyone about it. She did tell Carl, however, who appeared in my quarters some days later to accuse me of having seduced his future wife. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time

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Alcohol, cocaine, morphia, by these she escaped into a dream when men had disappointed her. Ludwig Lenz

MODERN GIFT

t

HE intricate drug culture of Berlin suited a city that advertised itself as devoted to sensation. Part of the tourist allure of Berlin was its vast display of evening entertainments (open till 3 AM), and after-hours establishments for further debauchery. Artificial stimulants were an essential part of the social etiquette of the all-night Bummel or the whirl of artists’ balls during Karneval. If the drugs weren’t available from your doctor or pharmacist to solve problems such as marriage difficulties, inordinate pain, fatigue, or sexual confusion, they were easily acquired on the streets of Berlin. Rumpelstilzchen, the Michael Musto of Berlin, kept track of all the fads, fashions and celebrity quirks to be found in the back alleys and bedrooms in a weekly news column from 1919 to 1932. As early as 1920 he was lamenting as well as publicizing Berlin’s drug trade. Adjoining the police station at Alexanderplatz, morphine was easily obtainable in amounts “not just enough for a few injections, but enough to send an entire small town to the grave.” Nine out of ten waiters in Western Berlin cafés solicited cocaine orders from their customers as other revelers openly snorted the powder in well-lit booths. Opium balls were available for sale on the street and in hidden establishments. Glue, hashish, chloral hydrate and marijuana rounded out the highs and lows. Indispensible party props for erotic amusement were the syringe and the hand mirror, an ideal portable surface for powdered stimulants. The flip side of Berlin’s recreational drug use was its medical community’s devotion to the new field of sexual science. The study of ancient and modern aphrodisiacs and their manufacture made Berlin the wellspring for sexual pharmaceuticals in Europe. One might go to a Swiss clinic for a certain rejuvenation procedure but Berlin was the marketplace to test its efficacy. Herbal preparations such as Satyrin, gold for men, silver for women, or Evasex were advertised in magazines and available at your local apothecary.

The use of intoxicants to enhance female ecstasy was a serious subject of scientific inquiry. Erotic urges were calibrated in the laboratory as well as the bedroom. Clinical studies of morphine, cocaine and opium’s effects on blood circulation in female genitalia, libido changes throughout the menstrual cycle, habitual masturbation, and non-orgasmic gratification were some of the data collected. Hard science supported the sociological speculations about the drugs widely used by women for work and pleasure. Women artists were especially predisposed to substance abuse, relying on them for inspiration as well as performance enhancement. The other female professions scientifically determined to be especially dependent on drug use were prostitution and espionage.

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HE woman craving intoxication uses morphium, opium and cocaine. The desire is said to increase during the menstrual period—while cocaine is said to heighten the libido, the potency and the inclination to all sexual activities. They may make the habitué a veritable nymphomaniac. Cocaine is also said to arouse the latent homosexual tendency in woman, and to make the lesbian heterosexual for a time. —Erich Wulffen, Woman As a Sexual Criminal

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Opium




t

HERE is another form of prostitution in which women give themselves to men of a strange race and who are paid in such services. An investigation brought out the fact that hundreds of white women of the upper classes indulged in relations with Chinese men, participating in veritable orgies and addicted to opium; that the missions were merely an excuse for such excesses with the Orientals, much hated by the white males. The chief cause was the fascination of contrast and the stimulus of the sordid and lustful Asiatic. —Erich Wulffen, Woman as Sexual Criminal

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HE enjoyment of opium is probably the most widespread of the Chinese vices, one to which large numbers in China have hopelessly succumbed. Morphine, ether, and cocaine have declined significantly as intoxicants. The opium scourge is slowly making its way into the life of the German people. A European requires cunning and quite an expenditure of energy to gain entry into such an original Chinese opium den… A large red-carpeted cellar room is opened to him. In very dim red light he sees a number of couches on which a few guests are already tossing restlessly in their deep dreams. A sickeningly sweet atmosphere envelops him. The host makes a low bow and brings the opium pipe, puts a small pebble of opium in the bowl, and indicates a couch. Cautiously the guest takes a puff from the pipe, and after a brief pause another. Then he continues to smoke discreetly. Soon enough the guest is immersed in wonderful dreams, he feels himself released from all earthly matters, and lets himself be washed over with erotic pleasure. —Ernst Engelbrecht & Leo Heller, Children of The Night

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ARBOR cities, as anyone knows, are dens of iniquity. In them you can find any substance to enervate, exhaust, or ruin a man. You can experience the blue wonder of the path from Constantinople through Port Said to Saigon in a haze of cocaine, hashish and opium. A similar path leads westward from Naples through Lisbon to Buenos Aires. Berlin has long since entered into the ranks of these harbor cities, where you fall asleep in Nirvana and awake in a hospital or a madhouse. —Alfred Stein, Rumpelstilzschen

t

HUS began a fantastic night whose elements were silence, the odor of opium, yellow faces in a warm twilight and the sense of being in a completely strange environment. All the demons of China seemed to have gathered round the fair hair spread out like a strange metal in an enchanted cavern. —Joseph Kessel, They Weren’t All Angels 25

c O c a I ne




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HEY had become quite merry at her table. All had soft, parted burning lips and glowing eyes. All laughed and nestled into their chairs as into a caress or groped for one another with their hands. “Take a little coke and get rid of your headache,” suggested Gisela. “Perhaps,” Myra was ready for anything. From all sides little gold and silver boxes were offered to her. She took a pinch of the white powder on the back of her hand, and snuffed it up her nose. She had an impression of powdered snow when she saw the white crystals. It was if she were breathing pure clear winter air. The veils seemed to be torn from her weary eyes. Everything seemed nearer and clearer, firmer in its outlines, brighter in color. “Thank God,” she said with relief, “I’m beginning to understand. It really is a glorious feeling.” —Anna Elisabet Weirauch, The Scorpion 27

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OMEN spies have another disadvantage. They tire easily and in order to whip their senses into activity take to using intoxicants and narcotics to help tide them over the extremely monotonous intervals of their occupation. —Magnus Hirschfeld, “The Amatory Adventures of Female Spies” 28

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OR about three weeks one girl, Fritzi, stayed around me and doubtless saved me from various perils. She certainly was of good family, well educated, intelligent, and well dressed but she was taking cocaine recklessly. Dope, mainly cocaine, was to be had in profusion at most night places. A deck of “snow,” enough cocaine for quite too much excitement, cost the equal of ten cents. Poverty-stricken boys and girls of good German families sold it, and took it, as they congregated in the dreary nightclubs for warmth not available on the streets or in their homes, if they had homes. —Robert McAlmon, Being Geniuses Together 29

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HE use of alcohol to seduce young people is out of date now. Nowadays we use cocaine. Cocaine not only does away with all sense of shame, it increases desire and the girls become dependent on us for a supply of powder in the bargain. Coke is our best procurer. —“Hamburg Brothel Keeper” in Ludwig Lenz, Memoirs of a Sexologist

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HE effect of cocaine on the province of sex is like that of alcohol plus morphine greatly magnified. Not only is all reserve thrown to the wind, but the ingenious brilliant mind seeks to satisfy a morbid desire ro realize the visions of an overstimulated imagination by the most far-fetched combinations. Among cocaine addicts I have met with the wildest orgies, the most provoking positions, the most refined tableaux.... —Ludwig Lenz, Memoirs of a Sexologist

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HE drug induced in me a state of great excitability; after a lapse of two hours there was lack of appetite, great and continuous thirst, increased beating of the heart, continual longing for sex activity but without orgasm, combined with masochism or sadism. Mentally I felt a delightful feeling of superiority and importance, and a desire to talk a great deal. —“Laura” in Louis S. London & Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations

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S if it were so much radium, she took a pinchful and brought it to her nose with great care. When she inhaled her breast swelled and her eyes narrowed with inspired languor. —Pittigrilli, Cocaine

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ERLIN is not lacking in dens, at least not the figurative sort. Near my apartment there was a cocaine den dug into a cellar, where people of all ages and backgrounds used to snort. It was not run by a Chinaman, like the San Francisco opium dens in novels and films; a Berlin waiter headed the business. For anyone who ran out of money to purchase a coke high, he also accepted objects in exchange. A tuxedo was worth four grams of cocaine, a cutaway eight, a silver ladies purse ten, and a conversational dictionary was worth twelve grams. When the den was shut down, they found three people huddled in a pitiable state: one young girl, completely incoherent, had not left the place for five days, had had nothing but cocaine, just going from one high to the next. —Alfred Stein, Rumpelstilzschen

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Morphine

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few times homosexuals have come to me, among them a medical professor who became addicted to morphine, be it a fight against the restlessness and insomnia resulting from abstinence, or to numb the homosexual orientation. They were successful in the former, not the latter. —Dr. Magnus Hirschfeld, The Homosexuality Of Men and Women

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URELY, THAT’S NOT THE DOCTOR? said Fräulein Battenberg. Through the side door came a tall, thin woman in an evening gown. Her face was like a heavily powdered death’s head. “Yes, that’s the doctor and a qualified man,” said Fabian. “He even once belonged to a students corps. Can’t you see the dueling scars under the powder? Now he’s a morphine addict and has a police license to wear women’s clothing. He gets his living by writing prescriptions for morphine. One day they’ll catch him, then he’ll take poison.” —Erich Kästner, Fabian: The Story of a Moralist

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Learn betimes to serve woman according to her command. Goethe

Kind Mistress t

HE Germans beautifully wedded kink and scholarship in Weimar publishing. No matter the twist, worshipping the Domina’s feet, flogging the schoolmaiden or tightening the corset of the crossdresser, there was a scholarly accounting of the perversion, complete with lush color illustrations of historical and contemporary subjects to support your research. They were expensive. And exquisitely bound. They certainly looked very respectable next to your Schiller and Goethe.

The rapidly expanding field of sexual science, a German specialty, contributed titles by medical doctors, sexologists, and psychologists. Such scholarly accounts as Moral History of the Inflation, or Sexual History of the World War, competed with the more evocative Portrait of Intimacy, Flight From Marriage, The Elegant Woman, The Witch’s Cauldron of Love, and The Five Senses. The wealth of ideas about female erotic authority was specifically categorized in Dr. Alfred Kind’s 1931 four-volume series (with 1400 illustrations) The Powerful Woman in the History of Mankind. The cult of the Domina could then be cross-referenced in Bilder Lexicon, an extensive erotic encylopedia in four volumes, each over one thousand pages, published 1928–31 or Omnipotent Women: an Erotic Typology, with six volumes addressing female power. Robert Heymann’s 1931 Moral History of Sexual Dependency, officially endorsed by Berlin’s Director of Public Hygiene, Dr. Max Marsch, addressed erotomania or “inordinate sexual passion” in The Submissive Woman and The Masochistic Man. These volumes of royal blue leather embossed with gold emblems of exotic womanhood ran the gamut with chapters on the Oedipal Complex and sacred temple prostitutes to bestiality, fetishism and the impact of Josephine Baker and Mae West. Available for purchase only through membership in an erotic society were flagellation novels with specific themes (Turkish harems, French gangsters, Russian Revolution, Court of Versailles). The “masochistic educational novels” of convents, boarding schools and nurseries enjoyed great popularity. Whatever your specific idea of power exchange, somewhere you could find a literary anthology or private collection to cross your wires. The erotic folklore of powerful German women, vampires or Valkyries, had been entrenched in German culture for centuries, but Weimar added a modern humorous edge with its spiteful sex kittens, seductive schoolgirls, evil equestrians and mean grandmas. Men were merely animals, puppets and clowns in them; the spirit of superior women was celebrated. Kind Mistress recognizes the gloriously mature women of Berlin with Booted Eros: the life story of an adolescent transvestite shoe fetishist. In this 1932 memoir by Hanns von Leydenegg, beautiful women of all ages, including blood relations, force young Hanns to accept his devotion to female footwear and all the responsibilities that entails. This slim volume bound in purple has six exclusive illustrations of Paul Kamm’s magnificent females training sissy men for their dark needs.

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CTIVE and passive flagellation is amply represented among women—the schoolgirl, the boarding girl, governess, teacher, mistress, prostitute, and lesbian. At first the perverse impulse expresses itself in playful taps and blows, which soon take on a more serious turn and finally ends up by becoming a passion; flagellation may then be practiced with ecstasy and with a veritable mania which may result in criminal consequences. —Erich Wulffen, Woman as Sexual Criminal

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T made me happy to transform lazy, recalcitrant young people into tractable pupils, eager to learn, to convert indolence into industriousness and disobedience into obedience; this, naturally, was attainable only through strict discipline. I understand that young people unconditionally need and recognize the unrestricted guidance of a very strict mother or teacher if they are to grow up into really worthwhile human beings. Out of deepest conviction I most thoroughly applied rod and cane as the final embodiment of pedagogical authority and always achieved the best educational results with this. —Edith Cadivec, Confessions and Experiences

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N the following day, she appears more dejected, weeps profusely, and fears that she cannot be aided in her present mental state. Several days before, she allowed her lover once more to flagellate her. Tormented by pangs of jealousy, she thought of her lover and of the love he was giving the other woman. She fantasized the three of them indulging in various sexual deviations: the lover flogged her and she also had homosexual experiences with the other woman. —“Laura” in Louis S. London & Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations

i

NTOLERANCE in the love life is very common. The reason for that is there is nothing more special, nothing more personal in our lives than the taste in love. With the average person there is a great variation in the things he loves. With a more complicated nature however a special tendency can lead to the most peculiar situations. —Ludwig Lenz, Memoirs of a Sexologist 47

48

j

OHN W., the son of a minister, is a 39-year-old voyeur, who was arrested for attempting to peep under a woman’s skirt by using an ingenious device which consisted of a mirror attached to the sole of his shoes. His briefcase bulged with obsessive written records of his daily activities on index cards he carried in his shirt pocket. Not content with the conventional calendar, he devised one of his own as well as his own system of spelling and grammar. —“John W.” in Louis S. London & Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations 49

50

m

Y stern Riding Mistress! Perhaps your silence is only the beginning of the punishment that awaits me, ill-mannered animal that I am, which I should not and will not avoid! Therefore, I confess once more today to having committed numerous faux pas, even in the past few days, which justify the most severe measures you may wish to carry out [on me] when we meet again in Berlin. While my wife was away at the seashore, on the morning of the day before yesterday, I again managed to soil the carpet in the room during my morning gallop! And then I threw off my rider (my wife’s yellow silk doll which you have seen)!!! My flanks shudder, when I think about the rage of my sweet rider. —”Your chestnut pony” in Heinrich Wörenkamp, Flagellation in Education 51

i

N “partialism” as a sexual deviation, the person has a special affinity for a certain part of the female anatomy. It becomes pathological when the libido becomes completely invested in that part (the breasts, the buttocks, etc.) and coitus becomes secondary. One patient preferred coitus intermammes and was most potent when he was able to rub his penis against the nipples of his wife’s breasts. Breast-sucking gave him ecstatic pleasure. He was always preoccupied with mental pictures of women’s breasts. He always preferred women with large bosoms. The breast-fixation was traced to a precocious interest he displayed at the age of seven, watching his mother feed his younger brother at her breast. Similarly, there are those who are partial to a woman’s buttocks, thighs, legs, or ankles. —Louis S. London & Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations 52

53

f

ALLING in love again Never wanted to What am I to do? I can’t help it Love’s always been my game Play it how I may I was born that way I can’t help it Men cluster to me Like moths around the flame And if their wings burn I know I’m not to blame Falling in love again Never wanted to What am I to do? I can’t help it —Friedrich Hollaender, “Falling in Love Again,” The Blue Angel 54

55

a

“clearance sale” in human beings began. In normal times people sell their labor, strength or intelligence; today they sold themselves, body and soul. Men who by day profiteered in precious metal or leather, traded by night in women and men, love and vice. Everything had its price, and with the dollar at two million marks, the price was very low. A new industry arose. New professions flourished: gigolos, runners, nude dancers. Secret gambling clubs were set up in the dining rooms of high government officials; the widows of generals rented their bedrooms by the hour, middle-class couples publicly exhibited their sex life for money. —Leo Lania, Today We are Brothers 56

r

ISE early extra at 0.6 for peeping tom tour to get B--- Street nude view good. Return 07.30 B. nudes light on room empty ladder to window down climb up every min or two for times several to see if she has returned; she comes back in bathrobe; my eyes level with her tight bottoms of knees; she soon disrobes to nude except sandals. 08.0 light of day intensity becoming too bright so I leave going to W-club.” —“John W.” in Louis S. London & Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations

57




Booted Love The

Confessions of a Transvestite Shoe-fetishist by Hanns von Leydenegg Illustrated by Paul Kamm

Hanns Learns to properly polish the buttons of his Aunt Gisela’s newlypurchased Spanish boots.

58

Hanns is taken to a lingerie shop and fitted for a female corset and bra.

Aunt Gisela buys Hanns his first pair of women’s lacquered boots.

b

OOTED Love, Leydenegg’s fantastic psychological memoir, recounts the story of his sexual awakening from a sixteen-year-old secret boot fetishist to a crossdressed S & M performer in a private Berlin cabaret two years later. At the end of each humiliating scenario, Hanns realizes that “routine is the death of sensation” and allows himself to be further degraded by his Aunt Gisela and other Dominas in a downward spiral of enforced transvestitism and public feminization. 59

Hanns is ushered into Frau Brunnieux’s chamber; there he will rehearse a scene from Sacher-Masoch’s Venus in Furs for the decadent delight of Herr Brunnieux and Gisela’s coterie. 60

In shock, the feminized Hanns observes Frau Brunnieux administering a punishment to her handmaiden.

61

w

HAT is fetishism? In the case of fetishism, one individual factor achieves a sort of rebellious autocracy. Instead of loving the whole, the fetishist loves one part. If a man likes to see his wife wearing nice shoes, it is perfectly normal. But if his main interest lies in the shoes and the woman is of secondary importance, then it is fetishism. —Ludwig Lenz, Memoirs of a Sexologist

w

HEN I see such high shoes in the display windows of shoe stores, I am mildly interested, but i never get an erection nor ever an orgasm. It is only when the woman is wearing the articles that I am affected. —“Case #47” in Wilhelm Stekel, Sexual Aberrations 62

63

t

HEN there was a Dr. M. who could only love women who wear brown suede shoes. It was this gentleman’s habit to buy the lady, whom he met for the first time, such a pair of shoes and then invite her to his flat for supper the next evening. Full of excitement he awaited her coming, yet everything lost its glamour when his “lady love” appeared in a pair of black leather shoes on account of bad weather. —Ludwig Lenz, Memoirs of a Sexologist 64

65

a

S a result in my interest of women in high shoes, I never cultivated normal sexual intercourse, but preferred to gratify my desires in this manner. And since no other person took to advise me in the matter, I continued to follow these impulses until I was 26 years old. At that time I sought the advice of an Italian psychiatrist, Prof. A.R. of M---. He advised me to find myself an attractive girl, dress her in conformity with my fantasies and then to try sexual intercourse with her. I followed his advice and was successful. In that way, I gradually became accustomed to coitus, but when I began to attempt intercourse without the dress and shoes, it would succeed only sometimes and sometimes it would not. It is simply because I am more sure of myself when the woman has the proper clothing on. The female genitals as such interest me little. —“Case #47” in Wilhelm Stekel, Sexual Aberrations 66

67

a

S regards the sexual question, I must have seen some equestrienne wearing high boots as a child. It might have been in the theatre or on the street, I can’t recall. But it left a lasting impression on me, nevertheless, for even as a boy I had a curious desire to see equestriennes whenever I could, either in natura or in pictures. The chief factor was the boots, of course, but when I was I older, such a sight would produce an ejaculation and I must confess that whenever and wherever I was able to gain sight of a riding woman. Whether in the theatre, the circus, a riding academy or in the park, I could not withstand the impulse to get near her. I invariably got an orgasm. —“Case #47” in Wilhelm Stekel, Sexual Aberrations

68

70

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HE story is told of a circus directress who was accustomed every evening after the last performance to beat the entire male personnel with a whip. —Wilhelm Stekel, Sadism and Masochism 71

72

You’ve got that look / That look that leaves me weak / You with your eyes across the table technique Friedrich Hollaender

THE

SCORPION’S

KISS

a

MONG Berlin’s four million inhabitants was a diverse enclave of female homosexuals numbering from 85,000 to 400,000 women depending on your sources—magazine subscriptions, club memberships, travel agents booking sex tourists, or sexologists who meticulously categorized the spectrum of female intimacies flaunted on the streets. These “girl friends,” whether they were stenographers, revue dancers, scholars or shopgirls, had money in their pockets and claimed Berlin as their sexual Shangri-La by the Spree. Even the boring lesbians had their own particular nightclubs, cafés, restaurants, gaming clubs, political and literary societies, sporting events, masked balls and beauty contests. 73

A Night at the Toppkeller ‫ﱾﱽﱼﱻ‬

t

HE room was decorated with garlands and filled with artists and models. You could see famous painters from the Seine; beautiful, elegant women who wanted to get to know the other side of Berlin, the shady side; and there were the simple, love-struck office workers; and there were fits of jealousy and streams of tears, and couples were always disappearing to straighten out their marital quarrels outside. —Claire Waldoff

74

75

76

e

VERY now and then, the eminences of those days would appear and everyone would greet them with a big “hello”: the captivating Anita Berber and Celly de Rheidt and the beautiful Susi Wannowsky and their crowd. It was typical of Berlin’s nightlife, with all its sin and color. —Claire Waldoff

LEFT:

Beth and Betty Dodge; ABOVE LEFT: Anita Berber and friend

ABOVE RIGHT:

Margo Lion and Marlene Dietrich

77

t

O the lesbian, all mysteries of life are contained in the soul of woman and attachment for her is as natural and self-evident as the sensations of a person under the influence of a spell which she cannot escape... their starting point then, is this divine proper, and innate law which leads them to the conviction that their duty is not to live like others. —Ruth Roellig, Lesbians and Female Transvestites

78

79

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HENEVER masculine women were discussed, mention was made of their superior intelligence, their thirst for knowledge and their desire for culture, coupled with an abnormal tendency to spendthriftness, a passionate desire for luxury and an unnatural predilection for beautiful footgear. Mention was made too, of weird Don Juan natures who passed with insatiable lust from one adventure to the other. —Anna Elisabet Weirauch, The Scorpion 80

81

The Scorpion a novel by

Anna Elisabet Weirauch

There are very few happy endings in twentieth-century lesbian fiction and often humor is in short supply. Anna Elisabet Weirauch followed that tragic form successfully with her sapphic trilogy, The Scorpion (1919–21), a candid and amusing portrayal of the intricacies of female passion in Berlin. Its impertinent opening line still resonates today. The Scorpion not only featured beautiful women as sexual predators, but the principal romance is between two distinctly masculine lesbian types, Myra, an androgynous young garçonne and Olga, the sophisticated elegant scorpion or sharper. Olga, the beautiful and morally suspect “Scorpion” is an aristocratic educated variation of the generic female butch or bubi, masculine women first identified by their distinctively male fashion choices and haircuts. The marvelously refined Scorpions wear elegant clothing, speak many languages, understand music and art, ruthlessly corrupt unsuspecting wives and daughters, and live exclusively without men in a degenerate world of their own creation (i.e. Berlin). Myra, however, could be the great grandmother of Hothead Paisan, Homicidal Lesbian Terrorist, Diane Di Massa’s comic book heroine. She’s a butch with a broken heart, doesn’t follow the rules, and her hormones are out of control. Despite the novel’s distinctly formal prose, Myra’s exotic world is filled with the same dyke drama (girls, money, real estate, lesbian bed death) that resonates in the heart of today’s baby boi and her paramours. 82

The Scorpion The motherless poor little rich girl Myra is first wounded in a tragic youthful crush on her flirtatious governess, which fills Myra with a deep mistrust of pretty women. When the young heiress meets Olga, ten years her senior, Myra falls desperately in love with the dark woman of her dreams. While ostensibly employing Olga as a language tutor, the couple travel and enjoy all sorts of cultural pursuits. Their bohemian lifestyle quickly drains Myra’s bank account. Her distraught family hires detectives who track her down in Olga’s pension, engages a psychologist to explain the error of female friendships, and sends her away from toxic Berlin to cure this lurid infatuation. Myra, alas, has been bitten by a scorpion and “There is no antidote but its own poison.” Myra’s family proceeds to destroy Olga financially and she commits suicide with her revolver, which she has bequeathed to Myra along with her “scorpion” cigarette case. Learning the news but undaunted, Myra gains full control of her inheritance, sells her family home, and leaves Berlin to heal her broken heart. She is drawn back to Berlin and falls in with a bohemian crowd of artists, dancers and sculptors. This time she falls for Gisela, a strikingly beautiful nightclub singer whose severe cocaine addiction is the result of her unresolved passion for another woman. Myra does too much coke and contemplates suicide with Olga’s revolver. She is spared Olga’s fate by the loving intervention of another unmarried older woman artist in her building, Luise. Luise urges Myra to leave decadent Berlin in order to recover from Gisela. She kindly places Myra under the wing of her sister’s family in the squeaky-clean town of Hamburg, and suggests a more sensible friendship with her demure niece, Gwen. Unbeknownst to Aunt Luise, Gwen is as sophisticated as any Berlin girlfriend and twists Myra into knots immediately. She arranges for Myra to be her chaperone one weekend, intending to seduce her and engage in a ménage à trois with her much older boyfriend Fred. This obnoxious betrayal, “a put up job,” convinces Myra that she must remain alone; and if life becomes too overwhelming, there is always Olga’s revolver. Synopsis by Barbara Ulrich 83

f

RANKLY, I desired to make Myra’s acquaintance because of her evil reputation. According to Aunt Antonia, Myra had even as a child exhibited a peculiar propensity to lying and stealing. In school she was considered stupid and lazy. As a young girl, she had run around with a remarkable woman, a fashionably dressed sharper, with a decidedly masculine manner. Misled, perhaps, by this friend, she had stolen her father’s silver service and pawned it... 84

85

86

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N her father’s desk she now found, from time to time, pamphlets, brochures (apparently of a quite varied character), novels, medical works, daily papers with passages underlined—but all of one theme. There were strange and weird stories of countesses who dressed in men’s attire and frequented various dives until they were lured into a trap and brutally murdered. Or accounts of sickening orgies in well-known clubs where hundreds of women dressed up and disported themselves like men, and men were dolled up with false curls with open-work silk stockings, and with their bare arms and shoulders powdered. There were statistics showing all the unfortunates who fell victim to softening of the brain, lunacy, tuberculosis of the spine and other diseases as a result of unnatural practices...

87

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LGA was very tall and very slender. Her face was beautiful and boldly chiseled. Her smooth, rich, dark hair exposed much of her high and admirably modeled forehead. Her thin black brows drew together at the top of her nose, which gave her sharp metallic-gray eyes an almost threatening expression. Her speech was crisp and hard. But her voice had a deep cello quality. It made a striking contrast. There was something in her manner of dressing which pleased Myra without her being able to define it. One could not dispose of it with a word like “tasteful” or “elegant” or “smart.” Myra felt dimly—”That is how I should like to dress...” Myra’s yearning for Olga almost drove her mad—but that was by no means the worst of it. The worst was that her yearning was the cry of a human soul, not for love, not for companionship or understanding, but for the warmth of a body, for the pressure of encircling arms and tender lips...

89

t

HEIR eyes bored into one another, gravely, unflinchingly, while they felt in every vein the terrible throbbing of their hearts. They bent toward each other, like two thirsting souls, and laid mouth upon mouth. They kissed one another more and more covetously. They pressed upon each other as if they wanted to be merged, be one. Their slender, supple limbs wove into each other... They did not speak. But like a murmuring music, they heard the droning pulse of one another’s hearts, and the breath that came quicker and quicker. Their bodies seized each other as wild beasts seize and shake the bars of their cages. They buried their nails in one another’s flesh, they pressed upon one another’s flesh, teething tensed muscles...

90

91

a

LL this afforded hope and suspense for days. It was at this time that Myra began to find life beautiful again... 92

f

OR the first few months, it went splendidly. That is the most unhappy part of an unhappy love. It begins with extravagant happiness... 93

94

h

AD MYRA NOTICED GISELA YESTERDAY? Myra assumed a forgetful expression, but felt as if she had blushed. “The dark one, you must have noticed her, Miss Rudloff! She looks so unhappy, dreadfully unhappy. Of course, you wouldn’t notice such a thing, but it’s easy for anyone who knows to see she’s a dope fiend. And such a talented person! It’s a terrible pity, but she’s going to pieces, literally going to pieces, over another woman!...” 95

h

OW DID I GET MIXED UP IN THAT COMPANY? WHY, I CAUGHT HER LOVE JUST AS one catches diphtheria. With those things you can never tell when or how. But diphtheria is easier to get rid of than the love of such hysterical women. The only excuse I can offer is that I have a positive hunger for people, similar to the craving that others manifest for books or morphine...”

The slender hands fastened like talons in Myra’s shoulder, forcing her back on the cushions. Supine above her lay Gisela’s light muscular body, her white face hovering with burning eyes. Fear, horror, aversion, pity, tenderness and the infatuating throb of her own and another’s blood, whirling in a mad maelstrom...

96

w

HAT a strange fate! That I must be stung by the Scorpion and yet look to the same creature for healing.

97

Freethinking Evenings ‫ﱾﱽﱼﱻ‬

m

Y oldest sister and I were sharing an apartment. We were both teaching. We occasionally invited Irma, who was my brother’s girlfriend as well as a friend of my younger sister, along with Uli and others, to visit us. We would read together, discuss or chat. One evening at dusk we sat without lights, Irma in a huddle of friends at my feet. I found myself touching a finger to her lips, against her teeth. With gentle strokes around the outline of her mouth, my finger slipped into the inside of her softly opening cave of love. People around us were talking of poetry; I chimed in, keeping my voice steady while I pursued my double occupation. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time 98

99

e

VE was somewhat enamored of me and I was excited by her without becoming the pursuer, as I had been with my previous lady loves. It was she who played the role of the aggressor. She wore mannish shirts and suits, her chestnut hair was straight, her nose seemed to belong in an older man’s face. She had well-formed small lips and a jutting chin. Eve acted like a young male, chatting endlessly about her flirtations with other women, wherein the difficulty was to make sure one was not betrayed by an abnormal young female. She talked about the bearded he-man and the silly she-woman. From Eve, a third kind of humanity seemed to exist, having a balance of male and female qualities and being equipped somewhat differently from the he-men and she-women. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time

100

102

r

UTH Roellig was very hospitable and took me in right away. It was very strange there. I think she was a spiritualist and had a monkey who jumped all over the place like crazy and broke everything. She had a girlfriend who was nice, but she was only 19 and Ruth was over 60. The bedroom was all in purple. I didn’t like the whole atmosphere and I left pretty soon. —“Annette Eick” in Claudia Schuppmann, Days of Masquerade

103

a

few days later, Irma came to me while my sister was at school. I took her into my room with its wild blue ceiling, which Uli had painted for me. I fell upon her wordlessly, kissing her mouth madly, pressing my private parts to hers, experiencing through our clothed bodies all the orgiastic ecstasy I would ever live to feel. I had broken through to orgasm in taking the role of a man. She left without having exchanged a word with me. She was dainty. She had the brown eyes of a doe. Uli and Eve arranged with their female and male partners little free evenings to which Paulus, Heinrich and I were invited. During one of these, a long-legged lesbian aristocrat came sailing into the room on a bicycle, wearing pink leggings, her face painted, flowers in her hair, imitating a circus beauty. The kissing, drinking and flirting were indiscriminate. I was uncomfortable. Paulus was delighted. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time

104

105

106

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HE city’s mood in 1932 had become feverish and restless. Parties moved faster, flirting became more outrageous, conversations flew around—”leaving the country.” At the time for fancy dress balls in early spring, we decided to hold one of our own in our apartment in the suburbs, asking a friend who dabbled in painting to hang the walls with paper she had first painted with fancy dress ball themes and poems about the guests. The music must have come from a Victrola. The baby was deposited with friends; everybody came. It was the last fancy dress ball we were to attend. We danced with the awareness that we danced on thin ice. During our last fancy dress ball we did not ask each other questions. The world had become crowded and lonely. —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time 107

bibliography GUIDEBOOKS AND GENERAL HISTORY Baer, Bernard, Women and Love, 1929 Chancellor, John, How To Be Happy in Berlin, London: Arrowsmith, 1929 Esterházy, Gräfin Agnes, ed., Das Lasterhafte Weib, Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Kulturforschung, 1930 Gordon, Mel, Voluptuous Panic, Los Angeles: Feral House, 2001 Hirschfeld, Magnus, Sittengeschichte der Nachkriegzeit, 2 vols., Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Sexualwissenschaft Schneider & Co., 1932 Geschlechtskunde, 5 vols., Stuttgart: Julius Puttmann, 1926–30 Sittengeschichte des Weltkrieges, 2 vols., Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Sexualwissenschaft, Schneider & Co., 1930 Hirschfeld, Magnus and Kind, Alfred, Die Weiberherrschaft, 4 vols., Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Kulturforschung, 1931 Kind, Alfred and Herlinger, Julian, Flucht aus der Ehe, Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Kulturforschung, 1931 Lazarsfeld, Sophia, Woman’s Experience of the Male, London: Francis Aldor, 1941 London, Louis S. and Frank S. Caprio, Sexual Deviations, Washington D.C.: Linacre Press, 1950 Polzer, Walter, Sexuel-Perverse, Leipzig: Asa-Verlag, 1930 Roellig, Ruth Margarete, Berlin Lesbische Frauen, Leipzig: Bruno Gebauer Verlag, 1928 Rumpelstilzchen [Adolf Stein], Gesammelte Schriften, 15 vols., Berlin: Brunnen-Verlag, 1920–35 Salardenne, Roger, Hauptstädte des Lasters, Berlin: Auffenberg Verlagsgellschaft, 1931 Schertel, Ernst, Der Erotische Komplex, 3 vols., Leipzig: Parthenon, 1932 Der Flagellantismus als Literarisches Motiv, 4 vols., Leipzig: Parthenon, 1929–32 Schidlof, Bernhard, Prostitution und Mädchenhandel, Leipzig: Lykeion, 1931 Schidrowitz, Leo, Sittengeschichte der Geheimen und Verbotenen, Vienna, Leipzig: Verlag für Kulturforschung, 1930 Scott, Francis (editor), Halbwelt von Heute, Leipzig: ASA-Verlag, 1927 Prostitution, Leipzig: ASA-Verlag, 1927 Das Lesbische Weib, Berlin: Pergamon-Verlag, 1933 Stekel, Wilhelm, Sexual Aberrations, 2 vols., New York: Liverwright Publishing, 1930, 1940 Wel, Conrad, Das Verbotene Buch, Hannover: Verlag Paul Witte, 1929 Wulffen, Erich, Woman as Sexual Criminal, New York: American Ethnological Press, 1934 MEMOIRS AND BIOGRAPHIES Cadivec, Edith, Confessions & Experiences, New York: Grove Press, 1971 Kessel, Joseph, They Weren’t All Angels, New York: David MacKay, 1963 Lania, Leo, Today We Are Brothers, Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1942 Lenz-Levy, Ludwig, The Memoirs of a Sexologist, New York: Cadillac Publishing, 1954 Mann, Klaus, The Turning Point, New York: L.B. Fisher, 1942 Riva, Maria, Marlene Dietrich, New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993 Schoppmann, Claudia, Days of Masquerade, New York: Columbia University Press, 1996 Sternberg, Josef von, Fun in a Chinese Laundry, London: Columbus Books, 1965 Tillich, Hannah, From Time To Time, New York: Stein and Day, 1973 Wolff, Charlotte, Hindsight: An Autobiography, London, Melbourne, New York: Quartet Books, 1980 FICTION Birkenfeld, Günther, Room in Berlin, New York: Avon Press, 1930 Dünner, Josef, If I Forget Thee, Washington D.C.: Dulaun Press, 1937 Falkensee, Margaret von, The Pleasure Garden, New York: Carroll & Graf: New York, 1986 Kastner, Erich, Fabian: The Story of a Moralist, Northwestern University Press, 1990 Mosk, Lona, In a Nazi Garden, New York: Vanguard Press, 1934 Weirauch, Anna Elisabet, The Outcast, New York: Wiley Book Company, 1948 The Scorpion, New York: Wiley Book Company, 1948 JOURNALS AND MAGAZINES Berliner Illustrierte Zeitung; Berliner Leben; Die Dame; Die Ehe; Die Garçonne; Der Junggeselle; Das Magazin; Der Querschnitt; Reigen; Die Schönheit; Simplicissimus; Uhu RECORDINGS Hollaender, Friedrich, Wenn Ich Mir Was Wünschen Dürfte, Hamburg: Bear Family Records, 1996 Glamourwelt Berlin, Stuttgart: SDR Das Beste, 1997

108

credits Illustrators, painters, photographers, as originally credited in the period magazines and books used as source material for Hot Girls of Weimar Berlin.

A. Z., 71 Angelo, 9 Anon, 8, 20, 40, 43, 44 (left), 47 (right), 52, 53, 57, 66, 70, 90, 95, 96 (right), 97, 101, 103 (right) Arnold, Karl, 28, 100 Asir, 25 Atelier Böhm, 37 Atelier Eberth, 16 Balushek, Hans, 34 Bayer, Kurt, 35, 68 (left) Bayros, Franz von, 15 Breuer Courth, Carl, 10 (left), 10 (right), 54 (left), 86, 102 Brüning, Max, 13 Bucovitch, M. v., 14 Chimot, Edward, 23 Christophe, Franz, 106-107 Duperrex, VI Eberl, F. Z., 29 Fingesten, Michel, II, 54 (right) Freytag, 68 (right) Gerhard, Ernst, 30, 47 (left) Goetze, Otto, 7 (left) Goldmann, Erich [Godal], 81, 91 Haska, Mascha, 24 Hegemann, R., 42 Jennrich, 12 Kabus, Georg, 93 Kamm, Paul, 36, 58, 59 (left), 59 (right), 60, 61, 96 (left) Keschuvtam, 27 King, M., 63

Kora, N., 31, 56 Leyrer, Victor, 22 Linden-Vërlag, 82 Lydis, M., 98 (left), 98 (right) Lyons & Lyons, 76 Madame D’Ora, 74, 94 Mammen, Jeanne, 2, 18, 38, 72, 78, 79, 80, 84, 85, 88 Manassé, IV, 11, 3 (right), 21, 48, 49, 55, 65, 103 (left) Milewski, 46 Monks, A., 3 (left) Moro, Vala, 67 Perckhammer, H. von, 39, 75 Raymond, 44 (right) Reunier, E., 19 Scher, 4 Schlichter, Rudolf, 32, 33, 50, 62, 64 Schatz, Otto Rudolf, 105 Schoff, Otto, 73, 104 Schuppich P., 92 Seher, 7 (right) Soulier, C., 45 Styx, X Süssmann, Walter, 99 Telemann, Paul, 83 (left), 83 (right) Vallée, A., VIII-IX, 6 Vertés, Marcel, 26 Wagner, Wilhem, 89 Wegener, Paula, I, 87 Wiertz, Jupp, 5

t

HE book burning ceremony was headed by a young minister. My "kissing cousin," who was still around, had asked us to watch from the window of one of the houses facing the famous old marketplace. The crowd was not big, but the cart filled with books was there, the fire was there, and the young minister was there, throwing books into the flames. Paulus turned away, cursing. I looked. I wanted never to forget it, steeling my heart forever against any benevolent feelings toward the "Germans." —Hannah Tillich, From Time to Time

109

W W W. F E R A L H O U S E . C O M VOLUPTUOUS PANIC THE EROTIC WORLD OF WEIMAR BERLIN

Mel Gordon “The Encyclopedia Britannica of Weimar smut.”—Stephen Lemons, Salon.com “Like a Fodor’s guide published by Taschen—but hipper—Voluptuous Panic is divine decadence.”—Max Buda, Flaunt “The sexiest—and strangest—book of the season.”—Talk magazine “Voluptuous Panic is simultaneously appalling and thrilling, repellent and seductive, grotesque and gorgeous—not a typical coffee table book.—Gary Meyer, Cleansheets Deluxe full-color paper on boards l 8 1⁄ 2 x 11 ISBN: 0-922915-58-X l $29.95

l lavishly

illustrated l 267 pages

l

ERIK JAN HANUSSEN HITLER’S JEWISH CLAIRVOYANT

Mel Gordon Erik Jan Hanussen was known as “Hitler’s Nostradamus” and the “Prophet of the Third Reich.” In the early ‘30s, Hanussen founded a tabloid publishing empire that blended occult belief with radical politics. In 1932, he predicted that Adolf Hitler, then reeling from a series of electoral setbacks, would soon rule Germany as an unfettered and extralegal dictator. Hanussen’s relationship with the National Socialists ended when German Communist journalists revealed the Berlin clairvoyant’s Jewish origins. He was murdered in April 1933. Cloth original l 6 x 9 l extensively illustrated l 296 pages l ISBN: 0-922915-68-7 l $24.95

STRUWWELPETER FEARFUL STORIES AND VILE PICTURES TO INSTRUCT GOOD LITTLE FOLKS

Heinrich Hoffmann, Illustrations by Sarita Vendetta, Introduction by Jack Zipes “These are dark, morbid, gruesome tales—so of course their appeal today is to adults who’ll see it more as black humor and Grand Guignol than educational material. … Sarita Vendetta is a precise draughtsman of revolting images displaying an unhealthy fascination with death, mayhem and decay.”—John Strausbaugh, New York Press Deluxe full-color paper on boards l 8 1/2 x 11 l 176 pages l ISBN: 0-922915-52-0 l $24

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