The Antiquarian

Berend was in awe. It was in Frankfurt on May 3rd, 1937 when he saw the mighty Hindenburg Zeppelin up close and for the first time. The gigantic eight hundred feet long airship was parked alongside the landing tower and ready for boarding. Swastika flags were flying in Hitler’s Germany and a military brass band played marches welcoming the lucky passengers who had been able to secure a ticket. Sixty crewmembers in crisp uniforms were lined up along both sides of the red carpet, the captain and his officers shaking hands welcoming each guest on board. The passengers were all dressed in their finest, as if they were heading to a party instead of a three day’s flight to America. With thirty-six passengers the flight was fully booked when Berend arrived, but he wanted to be on board at any cost to leave Europe as soon as possible. He checked the passengers assembled in the lounge before departure. Nobody was thinking of stopping the sophisticated gentleman in his three-piece suit, travelling cape and Fedora hat, carrying expensive luggage. Berend spotted a young man in his late twenties or early thirties, who apparently travelled alone. He approached him, taking off his hat in a polite greeting, Berend introduced himself as professor Bremer: “My presence in America” he explained in a rather haughty but not unfriendly tone, “is urgently required. Regrettably my secretary has not been able to timely book passage on the Hindenburg for me. Would you by any chance be willing to sell me your ticket?” The young man looked flabbergasted and smiled, being lost for words. “Eh, sorry, no I am visiting my parents in New Jersey, I’m American but stationed in Germany, sorry sir, I can’t help you.” “What if I offer you ten thousand Reichsmark,” the professor responded, knowing that a ticket cost only eleven hundred twenty-five. Now the young man’s jaw dropped, that was easy money and he could sure use it, that professor must be really desperate he thought, besides, he could always take a next flight. “What about fifteen” he countered, never believing his bluff would work. “Done” the professor said, shaking the young man’s hand, inviting him to sit down at a table, he ordered coffee for both, opened his briefcase and pulled out a bundle of money, counting out fifteen thousand-Mark notes. The young man immediately pocketed the money handing over his ticket, still not believing his luck. They walked together to the administration counter, where the ticket was exchanged to a new one in the name of Professor Bremer. A metallic voice sounded through the speaker, “Gute Morgen meine Damen und Herren, wir steigen jetzt ein” (Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen, we are boarding). Berend checked his ticket, his cabin was number 49/50 on the A deck, directly across from the top of the stairs left of the gangway. The military brass band opened with the Preuszenmarsch when the passengers walked across the red carpet along the Nazi swastika flags and the flags of the Deutsche Zeppelin Reederei lining both sides, to the entrance of the zeppelin in the center under its enormous belly. The more than eight hundred feet long, forty feet wide gargantuan floated only some ten yards above their heads, its four 1200 HP Daimler Benz V-16 Diesel engines softly humming. The passengers climbed up the gangways, one of two, lowered down left and right from the embarking hallway. A steward showed Berend his cabin, it normally accommodated two passengers on two bunkbeds one above the other. Luck had it that on this flight there was no second occupant so Berend folded the top bed back against the wall having the small cabin to himself. His suitcases needed to be stored under the bunk bed. Having settled himself in, he decided to go for a walk, reconnoitering the airship and meeting other passengers on board. The A deck held twenty-six cabins, thirteen double-berthed units left and right forming a square in the midsection. The small windowless cabins featured a single washstand with warm- and cold water, a tiny fold down desk and a small closet covered with a curtain. The washrooms for ladies and gentlemen, were on the B deck below. There was also a single shower providing a weak rivulet of water. On the port side covering the full length of the A Deck, Berend found the dining room, nicely decorated with paintings on silk wallpaper, depicting flights of the sistership Graf Zeppelin to South America. Running along the left side of the restaurant was a promenade, with angled windows that could be opened during flight, offering the passengers great vista’s during most of the trip. On the starboard side were: the lounge, a writing and reading room and a promenade along the entire length of both, with the same slanted windows. There were stewardesses to take care of children and there had even been a baby grand piano, but it had been removed for this trip. When finally, the airship retrieved the mooring lines, the sound of the engines gradually increased to a higher pitch, virtually all passengers were at the windows on both port and starboard side, to slowly see the world below them sink deeper away. The military brass band played Deutschland Deutschland über alles. Few of them ever had a bird’s eye view of the world and cries of excitement reverberated through the promenades. What surprised Berend most of all was that he did not have the feeling to be flying. The weather was good and the zeppelin felt like an enormous building floating in the air. One could walk around, enjoy a meal in the dining room served by attentive waiters, read the news, in three languages, in one of the newspapers or just relax and have a drink with some of the guests.