A Little Fun

Among those ruins, music and laughter were an unusual sound effect. The policeman, who was new on his beat in Berlin's ghostly, once posh Zoo district, decided to investigate. He found a door marked only with the sign "Please Pull Hard." He pulled. Inside were smartly dressed men & women, lounging at a long bar or drinking champagne at small tables. A singer and piano player trilled out melodies.

The policeman's entrance created a minor disturbance. The piano player stopped playing, offered him a drink. The policeman declined, menacingly pulled out his little black book. Then a man whom he recognized as one of Germany's leading film stars came over, and said soothingly: "Don't be foolish. There's an English general here who wants to amuse himself. We lost the war, didn't we? Have a drink." The policeman muttered but took the drink. A lovely girl swished up to him, and another Berlin black-market nightclub was as good as saved.

At 1:15 a frowning Oberwachtmeister (police sergeant) appeared. By this time, the first policeman was at the bar, singing. While the guests waited with bated breath, the two cops had a conference over cognac. Then the Oberwachtmeister pulled out his own little black book, approached the nearest film star and asked: "May I have your autograph?" In return, he displayed a picture of himself: "See, this is how I looked before I was sent to concentration camp--I was a big, fat man." Amid little cries of sympathy, his book rapidly filled with famous names. "Oh," he said. "My wife will be so happy with all these autographs."

Germany was once a police state and some day may be one again. But at 2:15 of that particular morning last week, the two guardians of law & order just saluted, gravely and unsteadily, and departed amidst a chorus of warm good wishes.

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