Post by Wolfgang on Oct 26, 2011 17:24:56 GMT -8
Harry Carr, writing in Photo[lay magazine, reported this amusing incident of the war.
“The next fellow who tries this will probably be boiled in oil. But this is the story of an American motion picture man who snapped the Kaiser on one of his own battlefields. .. It is almost superfluous to ay he was an American. A German would have died first: also, he would have died afterward.
"The merry young person who pulled this high handed affair was W.H. Durborough, a newspaper (and newsreel) photographer for one of the on-the-spot-American press associations.
“There were about fifteen correspondents in our party. We were in charge of two German staff officers who fussed over us like a couple of old hens with a brood of ducklings,”
“Warsaw had just fallen into the hands of the Germans, and we got there in time to see the final assault and the capitulation of the fortress of Nowo Georgievsk.
“For several days we saw the big Austrian howitzers pounding the thing to pieces. Then one morning an agitated orderly woke us to say that the fort had fallen then one morning an agitated orderly woke them to day the fortress had fallen. (19 August 1915) and we were to start at once for the scene. It was a long way from Warsaw and we got out there about four o’clock in the afternoon.
“I never believed they intended us to see it, but we accidentally bumped into the most majestic of military ceremonies—a Kaiser review. The troops which had taken part in the battle were assembling on the battlefield when we got there. It was a splendid picture. The fortress was on fire against the sky. Down one road field a long procession of Russian prisoners marching to the rear. Down another road trundled the big guns that had driven the Czar out of Poland. In the middle of a great hollow square of troops stood the War Lord, leaning on a little cane, addressing his soldiers. Behind him were his Field marshals, von Hindenburg, von Baseler, von Falkenhayn, and his son Prince Eitel Fritz and Prince Joachim.
“Of course, this was perfectly miserable stuff for motion pictures!
“Durborough begged our officer to let him slip between the files and shoot a picture. The worthy captain looked like he was going to faint at the suggestion.
“’Aw, just for a minute’ pleaded Durborough, pathetically, but the captain had turned from him to another correspondent who had lit a cigar. ‘One does not smoke at a Kaiser’s review,’ he said in a thunderous whisper. Which shows what kind of a thing a Kaiser review is.
“Finally, the ceremony came to a close. ‘Adieu, Comrades!’ cried the Kaiser. ‘Adieu, Majesty!’ they shouted back. The ranks fell back; the square opened. The Kaiser strode back to his auto and climbed in. Spying Dr. Sven Hedin, the famous Swedish explorer, in the crowd, the Emperor beckoned him to the car. This was too much for Durborough could stand. He suddenly broke away and we saw him running full tilt across the cleared space that the awe of the soldiers had left around His majesty. Our captain was too overcome to follow. To the frozen horror of the whole German army, Durborough set up his machine about thirty feet away from the Kaiser’s car and began grinding for dear life.
The Kaiser looked up and took in the whole situation with his quick, comprehending eyes. He laughed and lit a cigarette, talking a little while longer, we believe, to give the plucky Yankee boy a chance.
“Finally, the Emperor and Dr. Hedin shook hands; the chauffer of the car threw in the hop, and the Imperial auto started with a leap.
“As it went by, Durborough took off his hat and said with honest sociability, ‘Much obliged!’ The Kaiser straightened up and one gauntleted hand rose to the visor of his helmet in salute to the American boy who had the nerve to snap an Emperor without asking permission.”
[source: Photoplay: the aristocrat of motion picture magazines, Volume 9, by Ruth Waterbury, pp 111-112]
“The next fellow who tries this will probably be boiled in oil. But this is the story of an American motion picture man who snapped the Kaiser on one of his own battlefields. .. It is almost superfluous to ay he was an American. A German would have died first: also, he would have died afterward.
"The merry young person who pulled this high handed affair was W.H. Durborough, a newspaper (and newsreel) photographer for one of the on-the-spot-American press associations.
“There were about fifteen correspondents in our party. We were in charge of two German staff officers who fussed over us like a couple of old hens with a brood of ducklings,”
“Warsaw had just fallen into the hands of the Germans, and we got there in time to see the final assault and the capitulation of the fortress of Nowo Georgievsk.
“For several days we saw the big Austrian howitzers pounding the thing to pieces. Then one morning an agitated orderly woke us to say that the fort had fallen then one morning an agitated orderly woke them to day the fortress had fallen. (19 August 1915) and we were to start at once for the scene. It was a long way from Warsaw and we got out there about four o’clock in the afternoon.
“I never believed they intended us to see it, but we accidentally bumped into the most majestic of military ceremonies—a Kaiser review. The troops which had taken part in the battle were assembling on the battlefield when we got there. It was a splendid picture. The fortress was on fire against the sky. Down one road field a long procession of Russian prisoners marching to the rear. Down another road trundled the big guns that had driven the Czar out of Poland. In the middle of a great hollow square of troops stood the War Lord, leaning on a little cane, addressing his soldiers. Behind him were his Field marshals, von Hindenburg, von Baseler, von Falkenhayn, and his son Prince Eitel Fritz and Prince Joachim.
“Of course, this was perfectly miserable stuff for motion pictures!
“Durborough begged our officer to let him slip between the files and shoot a picture. The worthy captain looked like he was going to faint at the suggestion.
“’Aw, just for a minute’ pleaded Durborough, pathetically, but the captain had turned from him to another correspondent who had lit a cigar. ‘One does not smoke at a Kaiser’s review,’ he said in a thunderous whisper. Which shows what kind of a thing a Kaiser review is.
“Finally, the ceremony came to a close. ‘Adieu, Comrades!’ cried the Kaiser. ‘Adieu, Majesty!’ they shouted back. The ranks fell back; the square opened. The Kaiser strode back to his auto and climbed in. Spying Dr. Sven Hedin, the famous Swedish explorer, in the crowd, the Emperor beckoned him to the car. This was too much for Durborough could stand. He suddenly broke away and we saw him running full tilt across the cleared space that the awe of the soldiers had left around His majesty. Our captain was too overcome to follow. To the frozen horror of the whole German army, Durborough set up his machine about thirty feet away from the Kaiser’s car and began grinding for dear life.
The Kaiser looked up and took in the whole situation with his quick, comprehending eyes. He laughed and lit a cigarette, talking a little while longer, we believe, to give the plucky Yankee boy a chance.
“Finally, the Emperor and Dr. Hedin shook hands; the chauffer of the car threw in the hop, and the Imperial auto started with a leap.
“As it went by, Durborough took off his hat and said with honest sociability, ‘Much obliged!’ The Kaiser straightened up and one gauntleted hand rose to the visor of his helmet in salute to the American boy who had the nerve to snap an Emperor without asking permission.”
[source: Photoplay: the aristocrat of motion picture magazines, Volume 9, by Ruth Waterbury, pp 111-112]