Perhaps Hitler would have been more likable had he learned how to relax.
It is not an easy thing to be a dictator. Think of the pressure - an entire nation bestows the burden of responsibility onto one man. In such a case, it helps to come across as being, at the very least, likable. Be more down to earth. Don't be so ascetic.
Benito Mussolini gave this sage advice to Adolf Hitler when they met one day in Munich. One can see the effect it had on the dictator of Germany. Photos began to be published that depicted a smiling and jovial Hitler, signing autographs and cracking jokes with Frau Goebbels, wife of propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels. As of early August 1939, at least in the American press, Hitler could still come across as being "likable."
I read an expose in the Chicago Sunday Tribune from Aug. 6, 1939, which was fascinating, especially when viewed with the benefit of hindsight. Two-thirds of the front page of the newspaper was dominated with a single headline, "Europe's Man of Mystery." A comically enormous question mark added a sense of ambiguity to the topic. This was the introduction to an article called, "His Daily Life Revealed - How a Dictator Carries On." Literally, a day in the life of Adolf Hitler.
The story, which spans three pages, gives shockingly clear detail to exactly that - a day in the life of Hitler. According to the piece, Hitler rises at about 8 o'clock each morning. He enjoys a light breakfast, and takes time to chat with his valets and bodyguards. He gets to know each one personally and, "They speak with glowing eyes of Hitler's understanding for their problems and his generosity to them and their families." He even sends gifts valued at around $100 in the event of a birthday or special occasion, to these men.
Only once does the article hint of uneasiness within the Hitler regime. The bodyguards have devised a special code, to warn each other if the Fuhrer happens to be in a bad mood, "due to the responsibilities of his job." As Hitler passes a bodyguard, the man clicks his heels loudly, stands at attention, and extends his arm in the Nazi salute. He calls out, "Heil mein Fuhrer." If Hitler ignores him, or appears frowning or glum, the word is quickly passed down the line - "dicke luft." Translated literally, it means 'thick air'; watch your step.
In this article, a picture is painted of grandiose vision. The author, John Dickinson, uses words to paint Hitler amidst a beautiful landscape of magnificent buildings, elaborate parties, and cultured artists. He surrounds himself with only the finest - but does not drink alcohol, or allow smoking within the chancellery. There is a sense of great pride, of eagerness in presenting plans that are revolutionary in nature to Hitler. Everyone who meets him is "keyed up to the highest pitch," fervent in their desire to win his approval.
On many an occasion, Hitler can be found strolling leisurely through the gardens, just as Bismarck and Hindenburg did in their days. He may read from a selection of books provided by Goebbels, or draft architectural plans for vast building developments. He may watch the latest movie from America, and then send the reel to the movie producers of Germany for a closer inspection. American films are censored from the German populace.
If he is in "the need for relaxation," Hitler may wander the great halls of his chancellery looking at plaster models of buildings planned and erected at his direction. Conversely, he may take the time to view pieces of artwork and sculptures. There appears to be an unending rotation of the latest artwork, provided to Hitler by Germany's finest artisans, ever eager to win his approval.
The Adolf Hitler of August 1939 appears to be a figure of great curiosity. Remember, the invasion of Poland was still a month away, and it would be more than two years before the war was brought to American soil. At the time this article was published, most Americans could look at the dictator of Germany with a detached sense of amusement. The tome is sprinkled with words like 'luxury' and 'grandiose.' Nothing ominous about it.
In terms of being likable, Hitler didn't fool everyone. By 1938, Czechoslovakia was the last surviving democracy in Eastern Europe. The Czech president enacted various anti-Jew laws in a weak attempt to win approval from Hitler, but with German troops on the border, the president traveled to Berlin to plead with Hitler not to invade his republic. When Hitler announced that the invasion was imminent, the Czech president fainted. Hitler's doctor revived the man, allowing him the chance to sign surrender papers. That evening, a beaming Hitler rode into Prague amidst jeers, weeping, and boos. This, in March of 1939.
In August of 1939, headlines were made when a Czech figure skater sneered an insult at the German Consulate in New York. The figure skater was a performing star at the New Yorker Hotel. During one performance, the German consul ordered her to stop dancing to the Czechoslovakian national polka.
According to an issue of the Milwaukee Sentinel dated Aug. 4, 1939, the very beautiful Miss Hruba "sneered a very beautiful sneer" and shot back, "Mr. German Consul, not for one small moment can you tell me what to do."
Only in America.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
It is not an easy thing to be a dictator. Think of the pressure - an entire nation bestows the burden of responsibility onto one man. In such a case, it helps to come across as being, at the very least, likable. Be more down to earth. Don't be so ascetic.
Benito Mussolini gave this sage advice to Adolf Hitler when they met one day in Munich. One can see the effect it had on the dictator of Germany. Photos began to be published that depicted a smiling and jovial Hitler, signing autographs and cracking jokes with Frau Goebbels, wife of propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels. As of early August 1939, at least in the American press, Hitler could still come across as being "likable."
I read an expose in the Chicago Sunday Tribune from Aug. 6, 1939, which was fascinating, especially when viewed with the benefit of hindsight. Two-thirds of the front page of the newspaper was dominated with a single headline, "Europe's Man of Mystery." A comically enormous question mark added a sense of ambiguity to the topic. This was the introduction to an article called, "His Daily Life Revealed - How a Dictator Carries On." Literally, a day in the life of Adolf Hitler.
The story, which spans three pages, gives shockingly clear detail to exactly that - a day in the life of Hitler. According to the piece, Hitler rises at about 8 o'clock each morning. He enjoys a light breakfast, and takes time to chat with his valets and bodyguards. He gets to know each one personally and, "They speak with glowing eyes of Hitler's understanding for their problems and his generosity to them and their families." He even sends gifts valued at around $100 in the event of a birthday or special occasion, to these men.
Only once does the article hint of uneasiness within the Hitler regime. The bodyguards have devised a special code, to warn each other if the Fuhrer happens to be in a bad mood, "due to the responsibilities of his job." As Hitler passes a bodyguard, the man clicks his heels loudly, stands at attention, and extends his arm in the Nazi salute. He calls out, "Heil mein Fuhrer." If Hitler ignores him, or appears frowning or glum, the word is quickly passed down the line - "dicke luft." Translated literally, it means 'thick air'; watch your step.
In this article, a picture is painted of grandiose vision. The author, John Dickinson, uses words to paint Hitler amidst a beautiful landscape of magnificent buildings, elaborate parties, and cultured artists. He surrounds himself with only the finest - but does not drink alcohol, or allow smoking within the chancellery. There is a sense of great pride, of eagerness in presenting plans that are revolutionary in nature to Hitler. Everyone who meets him is "keyed up to the highest pitch," fervent in their desire to win his approval.
On many an occasion, Hitler can be found strolling leisurely through the gardens, just as Bismarck and Hindenburg did in their days. He may read from a selection of books provided by Goebbels, or draft architectural plans for vast building developments. He may watch the latest movie from America, and then send the reel to the movie producers of Germany for a closer inspection. American films are censored from the German populace.
If he is in "the need for relaxation," Hitler may wander the great halls of his chancellery looking at plaster models of buildings planned and erected at his direction. Conversely, he may take the time to view pieces of artwork and sculptures. There appears to be an unending rotation of the latest artwork, provided to Hitler by Germany's finest artisans, ever eager to win his approval.
The Adolf Hitler of August 1939 appears to be a figure of great curiosity. Remember, the invasion of Poland was still a month away, and it would be more than two years before the war was brought to American soil. At the time this article was published, most Americans could look at the dictator of Germany with a detached sense of amusement. The tome is sprinkled with words like 'luxury' and 'grandiose.' Nothing ominous about it.
In terms of being likable, Hitler didn't fool everyone. By 1938, Czechoslovakia was the last surviving democracy in Eastern Europe. The Czech president enacted various anti-Jew laws in a weak attempt to win approval from Hitler, but with German troops on the border, the president traveled to Berlin to plead with Hitler not to invade his republic. When Hitler announced that the invasion was imminent, the Czech president fainted. Hitler's doctor revived the man, allowing him the chance to sign surrender papers. That evening, a beaming Hitler rode into Prague amidst jeers, weeping, and boos. This, in March of 1939.
In August of 1939, headlines were made when a Czech figure skater sneered an insult at the German Consulate in New York. The figure skater was a performing star at the New Yorker Hotel. During one performance, the German consul ordered her to stop dancing to the Czechoslovakian national polka.
According to an issue of the Milwaukee Sentinel dated Aug. 4, 1939, the very beautiful Miss Hruba "sneered a very beautiful sneer" and shot back, "Mr. German Consul, not for one small moment can you tell me what to do."
Only in America.
- Dan Wegmueller of Monroe writes a column for the Times each Monday. He can be reached at dwegs@tds.net.
