With Germanic courtesy banners flying, siren trilling, we rode into the heart of das Kapitale. Like two tiny ants, our cars passed under arch of colossal Brandenburg Gate. The Green Police appeared, I learned a new command, “Weitergehen! Farther go!”īerlin. We skirted the long breadlines the minute a car halted an instant crowd assembled. Next, German guards on this side of the bridgehead negotiate the bridge on the River Rhine and leapfrog the main German authorities on German soil…Īt Hanover there were food riots mob spirit was putting martial law to a bitter test. Then through the Belgian army peace-keeping military of the Occupied Zone. Verboten! Absolutely forbidden to enter…What now?įirst we would have to bluff our way past the Belgian sentry post. We had a busy day photographing the bonneted girls strolling arm in arm along the sea dike in their Sunday best, the robust children, elder fishermen clenching their grille-covered tobacco pipes, the fleet of squat fishing smacks, their fish nets drying in the fall sun. I tried to conceal the fact that his breathtaking presence completely overwhelmed me-my mind floated off. We chatted of Italy as if we had known each other a long time. Rudolph Valentino, the Idol of the world. Our booking agent friend occasionally extended passes: Casino de Paris, Mistinguet and Chevalier, Folies Bergere. Women appeared dehydrated like old apples. Such poverty! Donkey dung mud villages since days of the Moors. We moved at night in bitter cold-by noon well above one hundred degrees. If we steered straight we were bound to hit the Atlantic. Pressmen surround us, I am presented…the matador shares one ear with me. The matador, hands high, bearing two ears and the tail, is hoisted over the barrier. The moment! Matador plunges sword between shoulder blades. We were to perform that evening!īlood-stirring music…Bull racing in… sword drawn he taunts…bull, head down, lunges. In the driving rain I looked into the muzzle of a gun! I dropped pistol down my breeches…Īrrived in pouring rain, halted in the main plaza for directions, shouting through the storm, “Señor, Señor! El Hotel Thweetho Por favor.” With the help of an urchin from the gathering crowd, we found the Swiss. Hair-raising stories of bands sweeping down on city travelers, robbing or holding for ransom. ![]() Warned against brigands in these lonely mountains? Oh, yes. We were reduced to fusty rental quarters with budgeted food allowance. No car, so no theater, so no hotel, no ads, no card sales…no cash. In spite of publicity we had not been able to earn a penny. Wheels floundered to axle in potholes-rear axle surely will be chewed off at the spindle some day My heart ached for the weeping women dockside. The harbor crowded with four-mast foreigner, three-mast coasters.Īt the wharves the endless Rif War tragedy pitifully emotional embracing-shiploads of young soldiers destined for sacrifice in Spanish Morocco peons and poor boys, without even meager knowledge of carnage in their African Rif campaign. We pressed through the merrymakers, my attire unnoticed in the crush of costumed celebrants.Īway Swiss snows, French mud! Away to the road south with sun and scent of orange blossoms!īarcelona-the glorious city-quadruple boulevards, palms, tall ships. Carnival fun-seekers filled the streets…. ![]() Each morning a uniformed page arrived with armload of dailies. The wind was gale force and I was nearly blown to bitsĪstonishment was evident when our strange sight rolled up: armored motorcar, flags, guns, begoggled occupants-incredible-a girl in flying helmet! Reporters besieged me in my d’Espagne stronghold. We swept into Geneva on bellows blast of snow at sunset with Lac Leman shimmering in mountain beauty. We slept in our uniforms, fought blood-thirsty bedbugs all night in an unfair wrestling match. The beamed attic ceiling barely gave clearance. The correct term, because #2’s muffler quit us in Italy. A coastal storm raged as we roared out of Nice near midnight. ![]() Garish headlines: Flamboyant savior Mussolini’s Black Shirts appeared ready for the stupendous takeover. Mum hugged me and gave the Captain a parting admonition. Quickly a village crowd gathered outside our house to gape at the well-publicized World Tour automobile. ![]() Decked out in riding breeches and Dad’s slightly altered tunic, boarding the extraordinary #2 was less formidable. Car and Camera Expedition Timeline (1922 – 1928)ĭay one.
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