Argosy (UK), January 1955 — page 12: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Io ROBERT SHERMAN TOWNES wooden keys, it had a long row of pitched electrical chimes, each one with a big mother-of-pearl button before it. Oskar played tunes—quite complicated pieces—by pressing the buttons with the tip of his nose. ‘There was a bar, operated by his right flipper, which served much as the pedals of a piano. ‘There was also a grand podium of chromium draped with black velvet, mono- grammed with a great “ O ” like a royal cipher. As soon as Herr K., hiding behind a curtain, saw Oskar rehearse, he knew that here indeed was the something extra- special for the Admiral’s gala. Oskar approached the instrument with the stunning poise and grace of a virtuoso who knows his worth. He also had that little extra touch of ham that makes a great showman. He knew just how many seconds to pause, his sleek head upraised, before bend- ing his face to the pearl keyboard. His sense of rhythm and timing was impeccable; he had a real feeling for melody; his repertory was amazing. His flipper-clapping applause for himself at the end of a selection was enchantingly naive. Herr K. puffed happily on his real Havana. As the days went by, Herr K. kept putting off sending the money to Bela Kurtz. When Bela Kurtz phoned frantically, Herr K. grew increasingly brusque. Finally he told him bluntly never to call again or come round, or he would find his trip ‘“‘ suddenly impossible, if you know what I mean . Two hours before the opening of the performance in honour of Admiral V. I. Baranovsky, Herr K.’s hippodrome began filling up with silent, nondescript men with good shoes and bad hair- cuts. They took their places at regular intervals in all the rows, forming a network of security that was supposed to be unnotice- able when the tiers were filled. In the nests overhead stood young, unsmiling Russian soldiers with the inevitable tommy- ns. © The ordinary people came in quietly. ‘There was none of the tumult and chatter associated with circuses. Herr K. bustled importantly about, fussing at everybody, making a great show for the watchful police officials who missed nothing. When the barnlike hall was filled, there was a long wait, filled by the band with various approved patriotic airs. Suddenly there was silence. A rustle of movement at the main entrance which had not been used all day. As one man the whole audience rose to its feet. Twelve stocky Russian soldiers marched in, spreading fanwise about the state box, their submachine-guns smartly held across comicloooks.comnn)