Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-09-29
OF EMPIRES R0GUES
Piano Whines and Much Beer and
Schnapps is Drunk.
PROVINCIAL CRIMES PLANNED
The Outlaws Headquarters is Con-
stantly Being Moved Because Of
Raids by Police.


The attention Of any visitor to Berlin
who has an inclination to visit the Sums
will be directly drawn to the Criminal
Cellars" Just as in Paris one is asked If
he has been to Chateau Rouge, in Berlin
they ask if one has visited this famous
haunt of criminals.
1t is even a topic in polite society, and
the stranger listening to the conversation
concerning it gains an idea of some gloomy
vault, akin to those described in sensational
novels, where a low burning lamp throws
its dismal glare on groups of rogues and
gallows birds sitting about a long table
and conversing in low, kissing whispers
about robbery, murder and escapes from
prison. A stale odor pervades the atmos-
phere In this conjured up place; here and
there a weapon glistens in the darkness,
and if at last these somber conspirators
steal out of the door, the clock Is sure to
strike twelve-and some ones life or proper
ty is in danger.
However if one takes pains to inves-
tisate for ones self. the reality is discov-
cred to be quite different
Leaving the noise and tumult of the
Friedrickstrasse behind. must turn
northeast into the dingy, overcrowded
tenement district of the Vogtland and the
Rosenthaler suburb. Like a full moon the
big clock of the City Hall gimmers out
from the SKY, us pointing at elSnt
that is the best time to become acquainted
with the world in which one steals and
murders.
A desolate by-street lies open before US;
it is scantiy illumined by few lanterns
The rumblng of carriages has long ceased
and the factory hands, in great swarms
have gone home. The crowds Of noisy
children who have been playing on the
pavements all day have dispersed into the
tumbledown gray houses, from the WIN
dows of which cleaning of light some
times penetrates the darkness, coarse
screaming of children or the gossip of some
noises another sound mngles-the drum
ming of piano and the heavy singing
of some common street song. 1t comes
from two brightly illumined windows hung
with curtains behind which a concert is
taking place This is the Criminal Gel
lars"
Merely a Tavern.
1t Is merely tavern, and would be
difficult to distinguish from the many all
over Berlin. There are the same liquor
bottles in the window, the same recon-
mendatons of "Wiss and Bairisch Bier"
Billiards at so pfenning'' and Dinner at
40 and the same wornout steps which
lead to the floor in the corridor. Thousands
of honest workmen frequent places which
look just like this one, and only
with the taste Of Dickens and thoroughly
acquainted with the seamy side of the Ger
man metropolis, knows that this special
inn is the meeting place of all those who
have become famous in the annals of
crime.
Here all the most daring thefts, bur
glarieS and SO forth that are committed in
the provinces are planned. Only confidence
men, bank robbers and expert members of
the lght-fngered gentry frequent this
place, because it is alone for the aristoc-
racy of the criminals, who look down with
utter contempt on ordinary thieves and bur-
glars. These latter have their own haunts,
and If by chance you should mention in the
Criminal Cellars that you had been in
one of them they would ask with great con-
tempt what you wanted to do with that
mob.
Let us open the door with quick jerk.
A moment passes before the screaming and
singing inmates inside notice u.s. This mo-
ment is interesting, for they
catch sight of us change comes over
them. The song is broken off, the loud
conversation interrupted everywhere only
whispering begins, and furtive glances of
dull curiosity. ironical Indifference and bit
ter hate are leveled at US.
Changes It's Quarters.
The Criminal Cellars is, inside, no
murderers den but ordinary smoky,
unclean tavern, its only individual charac-
teristic being that whenever it is raided
It changes its quarters. The frequenters,
however, always remain the same. A
great number of vulgar faces, with here
and there the haunting face of some young
fellow. in the lines of which one can al
ready read premature crime, or the bloated
figure of old man with clipped hair,
grown gray in prison Women, also, are
there, painted and Haunting geegaws with
them is a gigantic young man dressed in
dude like fashion. with 'StoVe-pipe" hat
tipped on the back of his head and cigar
between his tobacco stained lips. He is
what they call a acknowledgement a
criminal Johnnie His type is often
the race tracks and a low music
halls. He is no longer active a GRIM
inal, and only comes in contact with the
law when he brutally maltreats some of
the proteges under his instruction.
A fat, clean-shaven fellow sits next to
him. He wears a gray linen coat. has a
stupid smile on his lips and seems to be
one who has known the penitentiary, not
only from hearsay The two men behind
him are also good specimens for the rogues'
gallery; they have muscular forms, gloomy
faces and eyes at once piercing and of an
animal dizziness. In their conversation one
may hear many catch-word and colo
quail oddly. These men are all known to
each other, and also to the police, by nick
name-"Lange Hans" "Bairisher Franz
this company is young man with a weak
growth of mustache and a decidedly for
efgn cast OF countenance; he is sitting
astrde a chair. He need only look at a
artful means of picking it.
A few steps lead to the room, in
which the piano is still whining. A young
fellow in workmans costume sings, with
squeezed sounding voice, scalded by
brandy. a sad, long-drawn melody of which
these people, strange to say, passion
ately fond. They all join in the chorus,
which, with the sounds of neighing laugh
ter and the clinking of glasses, mounts to
the blackened ceiling.
In corner the comedian of the gang, a
lean, understood man, executes a grotesque
dance. Applause inspires him. and he
throws his legs so high that with his soles
he beats the tempo on table. and when
melancholy singing has ceased launches in
the most insolent manner into topical
song on his account of the adventures of a
tramp and the pope in Rome. Deafenng
applause rewards him. The women scream
and even the stout barkeeper smiles. Only
his little seven-year-old girl pays no atten-
ton to all the noise. She bends busily
over her slate, so that her dark hair falls
far over her forehead, and she finishes her
tomorrow's lessons for school,
Grumpy Before Guests.
Aside from all this singing and so forth,
they keep themselves pretty quiet while
guests are there. They may accept glass
of beer from a stranger, but remain rather