The gang of four from Alaunstrasse, the 18-year-olds Walter, Franz, Gustav and Friedrich, moved towards Albertplatz on Shrove Tuesday in February 1912.
Carnival parade in Dresden in 1912. Photo: Ernst Tüngethal (public domain)
Uniformly wrapped in sheets, they appeared as the unfortunate ghosts of the new town. The weather was mild, the sun was shining. Under the costume they had dressed warmly, following their mothers’ strict instructions. The winter wasn’t over yet and it would get cooler towards evening.
The students at the Neustädter Gymnasium on Holzhofgasse also had a few Märker and Friedrich had four hip flasks from his father’s pub. Gustav was handing out cookies from the family shop and Franz had stolen a few cigarettes from his old man’s pack. All four had pallets1 in their hands, which were traditionally part of the carnival. This would make it easy for them to prick other people as a joke.
Waiting for the pageant
Thus equipped for the afternoon ahead, they reached the entrance to the main street. From König-Albert-Straße you could already hear the bands of the parade, organized for the first time by the students of the Royal Art Academy and the Technical University2. The four friends lined up in time at the Catholic parish church of St. Franciscus. It didn’t take long and many people lined the main street. There were a striking number of women there. Most of them had some kind of disguise or at least a colorful hat on. Traditionally, Shrove Tuesday was the highlight of the activity in the residence. The salespeople in the shops transformed into clowns, princesses, cleaning women or cowboys.
The imagination of the students
At the head of the parade was a brass band. Behind them marched 6 sullen-looking maids of honor. Still wildly acclaimed. Because they were all male students with stubble beards and stuffed breasts. As a guest of the organizers, the Prince of the Munich Carnival, His Greatness Prince Eugen, rode in a carriage right behind, accompanied by the Dresden Carnival Prince. The spectators also found a giant Congo snake in which 25 students were sewn and the other imaginatively designed parade floats to be original. Including the harem ladies from Morocco and a ship of fools with Pierrot and Colombine.3
Dresden News from February 20, 1912
Paper streamers and confetti were thrown again and again. The beds rattled. Every attraction was admired, marveled at and celebrated. And so the procession moved through the main street, over the Augustus Bridge and in front of the Georgentor to the left towards Neumarkt. And the four friends went along.
Your Majesty was there
That King Friedrich August III. A very popular monarch who was not averse to a joke and liked to talk to his subjects was known. They loved him for that, except of course the Social Democrats. As early as Rose Monday, he mingled with the celebrants at the Altmarkt in his uniform with a spiked helmet and without any accompaniment. The citizens of Dresden let him have his way without any intrusiveness. His Majesty was having a great time, we learned from the castle. He also didn’t take offense at some of the gossip about little boys’ cots.3
On this Shrove Tuesday, however, he drove in an open carriage with his children and his sister, Princess Mathilde, from Neumarkt along Augustusstrasse towards the castle. People wanted to marvel at the hustle and bustle of the people of Dresden. At Georgentor he then intended to watch the procession from the window.
Das Malheur
At least that’s what he wanted. The thousands of spectators made it almost impossible to get through. At the corner of Töpferstrasse and Augustusstrasse nothing worked anymore. The Royal Appanage was stuck. The king then left the carriage with his children and wanted to go on foot. Not a good idea. His Majesty was surrounded by his subjects.
Töpferstrasse 1 with the Hohlfeld tobacco shop, contemporary postcard
The tobacco wholesaler Martin Hohlfeld looked down from the window on the second floor of Töpferstrasse 1 and saw the dilemma. He rushed into the street with his sons and two servants, fought his way to the king and his children and invited them to his apartment, which they gladly accepted.
Once upstairs, the mistress of the house served cocoa to the ladies and smaller children and a bottle of beer each to His Majesty and the Crown Prince. There were also the obligatory pancakes on Shrove Tuesday. When do you have a real king at home? And it couldn’t hurt business at all. Everyone watched the parade with amusement.
But our gang of four didn’t notice that because they followed the train.
An unpleasant evening spectacle
After the parade, spectators rushed into every café, restaurant and pub. In a very short time everything was overcrowded and the innkeepers were doing the business of the year, just like on Carnival Sunday and Shrove Monday. Those who couldn’t find a place had fun on the Alt- and Neumarkt, König-Johann-, Wilsdruffer, See- and Schloßstrasse. As darkness fell, the crowd of fools also hung out on Postplatz and Pirnaischer Platz and on Prager Strasse.
As the alcohol in the blood increased, as in the previous evenings and nights, the harmless, fun blows with the cots turned into rather rough duels, which left many bruises and bloody noses. Some of the costumes hung in tatters from their straps. Many backs and shoulders burned and ached. The beatings even continued on the trams. The police only intervened very cautiously. And the good middle class fled to the ballrooms anyway.
But our students, especially Gustav and Friedrich, from Neustadt threw themselves into the hustle and bustle of the cot fight and celebrated this orgy of violence with other boys until after midnight, who also didn’t stop at young ladies.3
Looking for space in the Ratskeller
Walter and Franz left the Altmarkt in good time and wanted to end the evening in the Ratskeller of the New Town Hall. Walter’s father, a violin maker by profession, gave him 10 marks. But they didn’t come in. People from higher circles tried to gain entry using a variety of tricks. Whoever sat, sat, always faced with the silent request and dark looks to finally pay and disappear. That didn’t work and we left the restaurant frustrated, to the delight of the other people waiting.
The doorman Cerberus4 at the entrance had no mercy. The threat that the Ratskeller would be boycotted in the future and that the innkeeper could drink the sour wine himself didn’t help either. Others came from state and family backgrounds. You have to do business here or you are the grand-brother-in-law of a city councilor and have already chatted with the mayor on the tram. It did not help. Cerberus was steadfast and solid in his arguments.3 And so Walter and Franz also headed towards their home bed. Saved money. Unfortunately, tomorrow morning, on Ash Wednesday, we went back to high school.
Author’s notes
1 The cot or slapper is an approximately five hundred year old joking instrument of beating and punishment used by the cot master made of wood or cardboard, which is also used by the Punch and Judy figures and by the jesters in carnival.
2 see Dresden News from February 22, 1912
3 see Dresden News from February 21, 1912
4 Hellhound at the entrance to the underworld in Greek mythology. He makes sure that no living person comes in and no dead person comes out. In a figurative sense, a strict, grim porter or bouncer or an executive secretary.
Under the heading “100 Years Ago” we publish anecdotes from the lives, actions and thoughts of great-grandmothers and great-grandfathers in random order. To do this, the Dresden writer and journalist Heinz Kulb browses the newspaper archives in the Saxon State and University Library. This text is of a literary nature. The basis is the researched facts, which he interweaves with fictional influences.
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