Dissolving: This was brought to us by the Party

Charles C. Ebbets: Lunch atop the Radio Corporation of America Building in construction, New York, ca. 1932

Anonymous photographer: Lunch atop the Ostankino television tower in construction, Moscow, ca. 1966

Ghost photography

Henri Robin and a specter. Photo by Eugène Thièbault, 1863. Note the just expired hourglass on the table!

We have already seen that photography, in search of its role, created in the late 19th century the genre of the portrait of the dead, especially of dead children. The period, intoxicated with the unlimited possibilities of technological development, did not stop here, but also tried to capture the spirit of the dead. The naive precursors of experimental psychology, which assumed the spirit to be some fine material – ectoplasm – hoped that the objective of the camera would see more than the human eye, and in fortunate circumstances it could be able to grasp the contours of the dead walking among us. And where the demand, there the supply.

Portrait of the wealthy magazine editor Moses Dow with the spirit of his deceased assistant Mabel Warren. Photo by William Mumler, ca. 1871

The creation of ghost photography was the merit of William Mumler from Boston, who in 1861 discovered on a photography taken by him the outlines of cousin who died not long before. From then on he made a series of portraits where spirits appeared next to the persons represented. His machinations were exposed when the viewers recognized in the spirits a number of still living Boston residents whose portrait was previously exposed by Mumler on the glass negative. The method, however, already went on its own career, and several photographers made success with it in the most promising market segment, the spiritualistic circles.

Mary Todd Lincoln with the spirit of her deceased husband, President Abraham Lincoln. Photo by William Mumler, ca. 1870-75

The spirit of Lord Combermere, deceased five days earlier, in the library room of the Combermere Abbey in Cheshire, England. Photo by Sybell Corbett, 1891

Group portrait of a WWI air squadron, with the spirit of Freddy Jackson, deceased two days earlier, behind the head of one of them, 1919

The greatest fame was won by William Hope (1863-1933), who previously worked as a carpenter, but in 1905 he made his first photography on which a spirit appeared behind his friend. From then on he became an appreciated guest of spiritualistic circles, so much that he could not fulfill all their orders, and therefore founded, together with five other photographers trained by him, a ghost photographer’s company called Crewe Circle. The company flourished especially since the First World War, when everyone wanted to see, at least in the form of obscure spirits, their beloved ones fallen on the front. The work of Hope was supported by the greatest names, from the Anglican Archbishop Thomas Colley to Sir Conan Doyle. Although his tricks were unveiled in a book in 1922, his popularity did not diminish, and he remained a sought for photographer until his death in 1933. His photo album was found at a Lancashire antiquarian bookshop by a curator of the National Media Museum, and recently they were published on the Museum’s website.

Tamten Lwów

– “That Lwów”: the term refers to something distant in space and time, something that has gone and lives on only in the memory. This is the title of a large eight-volume monograph composed by the architect Witold Szolginia, a native of the most Lwówian part of Lwów, Łyczaków, and until the Poles’ expulsion in 1945 resident of the Iron Lion house at Łyczakówski street 137, and published between 1992 and 1997, at the end of a life dedicated to the architecture and urbanism of Lwów.

“Witold Szolginia, primus inter pares among the Lwów exiles, was the encyclopedist of Lwów. As one of his closest colleagues Jerzy Janicki said: “Absolutely rebe, with papal infallibility in matters of Lwów. Arbiter leopoliensis in all disputes concerning the area between Łyczaków and Zamarstinow. An arch-Lwówian and arch-Łyczakówian.” He had an enormous knowledge about Lwów, which he shared with everyone like bread. He gladly responded to the numerous phone calls concerning the city, and stood in tireless correspondence with the Lwówians dispersed in Poland and all over the world. A native and a scholar of Lwów, “guardian of the City and of the Cemetery”, as Zbigniew Herbert aptly named him in the recommendation of one of his volumes of poetry.” (Andrzej W. Kaczorowski)

The monograph, originally published by the Sudety publisher in Wrocław – to where Lwów moved – has long since sold out. Just last year launched a new edition Jacek Tokarski, the enterprising leader of the small Krakow publisher Wysoky Zamek, whose very name refers to the High Castle of Lwów. The first volume which, with the subtitle “The face of the city” offers an overview of the urban structure of Lwów, came out in last summer, just in time to be an useful companion on our Galician tour in August. The second volume, going through the streets, squares and quarters of the city, arrived in these days, again in good time to assist us in preparing for the first Lwów tour to be guided by us in this spring.

Here is an excerpt of it translated into English, the introduction of the description of the Jewish quarter. This chapter was especially helpful to the article series written by us on the Jewish Lemberik at the request of the Hungarian Jewish Cultural Association, which we will soon publish also here on Río Wang.


“Now we will visit a corner of Lwów which, I guess, was completely unknown or only superficially known to most of the inhabitants of the city. This part of Lwów, which some found mysterious and some even exotic, was the Jewish quarter in the northern part of the old Lwów, which grew out of one of the two ghettos of the city over the centuries. Just by way of explanation, Lwów had two Jewish ghettos during the centuries: the urban one within the ancient walls and the suburban one in the northern Krakow suburb. Over time, the latter became more and more populated and extensive, and it became the district most densely populated by Jews. Everyone could make sure of it even without visiting the northern suburb, only by having a look at the map of Lwów and browse through the names of the local streets and squares. Here are a few of them, which well show the character of the neighborhood and the everyday life of its inhabitants: Old Testament, Old Cheese Makers, Synagogue, Maccabeus, Onion, Fish, Goose, Dragon, Meisel, Bernstein, Sternschuss, Beiser, Kohn, Berek Joselewicz, Schleidher and Rappaport streets, Watchmaker and Grain square…


This area was rarely visited by anyone, unless he had some kind of personal or business reason. I never had any particular thing to do there, and as far as I remember, I went there only a few times in my youth, only out of curiosity, to feel the atmosphere of this neighborhood, which was so mysterious to me.

I try to recall the fading memories. I remember that once, along the Peltewna street which run across the neighborhood, suddenly, in a moment I somehow felt a synthesis of all this quarter inhabited by Jews. My nose, which has always been sensitive to various odors, got a whiff of the smell of braised onion and the open street sewer, my eyes embraced the intricate web of streets and lanes with the hustle and bustle of the mass, or rather of the multitude of the black figures absorbed in their business, I heard in my ears that typical, monotonous buzz, like a beehive, which was so different from the noises of the rest of the streets, even of the neighboring ones. And I had the strange feeling that these people whom I see perhaps never rest under the roofs of their own houses, either day or night, but they do all their business here, on the muddy streets and crooked sidewalks. Everywhere there was a great crowd, even in the wide-open gates, the dark doorways and sunny courtyards, in the confusing patchwork of shops, warehouses, stables, groceries and workshops.


Since my earliest childhood I have been particularly sensitive to the colors that surrounded me, and this feeling was particularly intense here in the Krakow suburb, between the buzzing mass. The crowd filling the narrow streets and lanes, doorways and courtyards, churning up and down, meeting with each other and and fiercely gesticulating among themselves, seemed to me, if not uniformly black, in any case quite dark. Only rarely flashed from the darkness a color dress, shirt or scarf of a woman. In contrast, the interior courtyards and passages of the dark, dirty and worn buildings were especially colorful. The deeper you entered, the more intensive their contrasts became, and captivated my eye with their bright and completely inharmonious tones. And the colors which were missing from the clothes of people, here happily glittered on the bed-clothes hung up in front of the always open windows, on the outside corridors and on every floor, and the beetroot red of the pillows almost literally took a bite of the tablecloths and the underwear shamelessly put on public display and shining int the most unexpected colors.


The entire Jewish quarter passionately, almost fiercely traded along all the streets and in every yard. They only occasionally interrupted this, to draw new force in the little eating-houses working in the basements of the houses, emitting the smell of food richly spiced with onion and garlic, penetrating with some Oriental exoticism the air of the quarter.


This image came to life again in my memory, although the term “life” is not particularly fitting here, for all this is dead since fifty years: it was destroyed, it does not exist any more. But neglect and wearing made these streets, lanes and poor houses somehow irreal already back then, in the late 30s. It is therefore enough to say how precisely I could identify all details now, when I could add to my Lwów photo collection some pictures of the Jewish quarter made precisely in the late 30s. On these photos, made by the excellent Lwów photographer, the engineer Mieczyslaw Watorski, I could see many things from those already told. Here you see the intricate topography of the Jewish quarter, the narrow, dark, winding streets with their bumpy pavements, the worn and crumbling facades of the houses with their blindly gaping windows. Black figures all over the streets, alone or in groups. Along the house walls here and there someone is sitting, in ragged clothes, in a sad, tragic and petrified posture, desperately waiting for buyers in this neighborhood… Elsewhere, two hopeful figures sell a whole pile of destroyed old shoes, which even the Jewish peddlers contemptuously called “rags”.


Yet other images seem to be reportage photos: the street shoemaker’s shop with the Jewish polatajko, as he was known in Lwów, with a child apprentice, as he tries to breathe some soul into a worn shoe, perhaps into a „rag” bought in the front of the next house… But what is interesting: both the street shoe vendor and the bearded old Jew standing next to the shoemaker’s shop are reading a bulky volume. What can it be? A Hebrew religious, a Yiddish secular or a Polish book – who knows it? On the following image, as I had suspected, we can see the source of these readings, the street bookseller’s table laden with used books. And leaning over the table, another respectable-looking, gray-bearded Jewish is browsing among the books.


Such was the Jewish quarter in Lwów: not only crowded, noisy and of a merchant spirit, but also extremely poor and dilapidated, and besides intellectual – just half a century ago, when I sometimes visited it. Thanks to engineer Watorski for his masterful photos which now again revived to me this long disappeared place and people.”

Flowers of Rome and China

The first book we received as a gift in the year of 2012 comes from the tireless officina of Víctor Infantes. Well knowing our weakness for curiosities, he presented to us a whole little wonder chest fished out from the depths of the 16th century, for which we hereby also want to say thanks.

Juan Agüero de Trasmiera, Probadas flores romanas de famosos y doctos varones,
compuestas para salud y reparo de los cuerpos humanos, y gentilezas de
hombres de palacio y de crianza (Flowers of Rome tested by
illustrious and learned men and composed for the health
and recovery of the human body as well as for the
pleasure of courtly and noble people (1512)

This little book is a collection of recipes for preserving the health, to remove all troubles of the body and soul, for beauty care and boosting the kitchen, which fortunately all are gone and forgotten now. This little all-rounder at its time was very popular and widely used until the Inquisition put it on the Index of forbidden books at the middle of the 16th century, to be raised to a new life now with the introduction and notes by Víctor Infantes (Madrid: Turpin Editores 2012).

On the author, Juan Agüero de Trasmiera Víctor mentions to have gained a high reputation already at the beginning of the 16th century, mainly in Salamanca, with his long poem Triunfo Raimundino written in praise of the noble families of his native city. He also published leaflet Coplas del perro de Alba (Rhymes on the dog of Alba), edited one of the first and most influential romance novels, the Palmerín de Oliva (1511) as well as its continuation Primaleón y Polendos (1512), furthermore Martín Fernández de Figueroa’s Conquista de las Indias de Persia y Arabia (The conquest of the Indies, Persia and Arabia, 1512). And in the same years he composed, partly from oral tradition and partly from the little treatises circulating since the Middle Ages which mixed observations with superstitions, trickery and natural prodigies, this little volume, a breviary of recipes, jokes, tricks and useful information, in which curiosities mingle with entertainment and practical recipes with miracles. And all this on just ten pages.

Only one thing remains unclear after Víctor’s meticulous work: the Italian source from which Agüero claims to have translated his book, and whose existence is attested by a number of references in the text. However, until this alleged Fiori romani or any other book comes to light, the way remains open for another possible interpretation which promises us a great discovery.

Admonitions of the governess to the palace ladies. Gu Kaizhi’s illustration to a satire by Zhang Hua

It is just obvious that the source of the 16th-century Flores romanas cannot be anything else but Zhang Hua’s (A.D. 232-300) Relation on the things of the world which must have been brought to Mallorca by Zheng He’s fleet in 1421. As a proof of this, a simple look is enough at the following recipe by Agüero: what else could it be, but the adaptation of the respective ancient Chinese recipe to the Western mentality?

Juan Agüero de Trasmiera:

To make parsley sprout in an hour. They say that if you put well fertilized earth in a copper pot or kettle, sow the parsley seed in it, and then sprinkle it with brandy and put burning coals under it, and cover it, then it will sprout from this earth with the help of the four elements, which were all put in operation for this purpose.

Zhang Hua:

4.49. In order mallow could sprout overnight, take mallow seed from the previous year, warm it over slow fire until they open; sow it generously into such earth which had been fertilized all year before, and tread it well into it: what you planted in the morning will sprout in the evening.

On the other hand, a great part of the recipes in both book belong to the realm of miracles, and are presented with the same rethoric, which arguing for the sake of conviction with repetitive formulas like “…and this is a certain and tested thing”.  Like the two parallel samples below:

[1] An indeed very effective recipe against plague. First take a pan, and fill it with the said drug to one third; fill the second third with brandy, and let the third one be the urine of a virgin girl child. And mix the three well together, and give it to the patient for three days every morning before eating anything else, one cup a morning. And this was tested in the illustrious city of Venice in the 1505th year of the Lord by the stockings maker Maestre Macía who lives in the Sancta Sophia, both on himself and on his wife, and it was very useful. Nevertheless, let us pray to the Lord and His glorious Mother, the Virgin Mary, to ask her beloved and precious Son to forbid us all and in every place to be in such a necessity to have to test this. (Juan Agüero de Trasmiera)

4.58. As for the lizards or snakes are concerned, breed them in any container, give them connabar to eat until their bodies become red, and do so as long as their weight reaches seven jins. Then cut them into long pieces and put them on the body of a woman. They will not fall off her for a whole year unless she fornicates, and this is why these animals are called the guardians of the palace entrance. According to the book Zhuan, “Dong Fangshuo claims that Emperor Wu from the Wei dynasty tried and experienced the effectiveness of this method”. (Zhang Hua)

And many other similarities between how to prepare amber from egg (Zhang Hua) and “how to slip a piece of paper into an egg” (Agüero); how to put on fire some dry grass with the help of a piece of ice through which light passes (Zhang Hua) and “how to make that from two heads or faces painted on a piece of paper or on the wall one lights the candle, and the other puts it out” (Agüero)…

But we believe that already the comparison made so far provides enough material for PhD students in search of a topic to immediately start their thesis.

Flores romanas, chinas

El primer libro que recibimos en 2012 llegó de la infatigable officina de Víctor Infantes. Sabedor de algunas de nuestras aficiones, quiso allegarnos un ramillete de curiosidades rescatado de las profundidades del siglo XVI y se lo agradecemos mucho.

Juan Agüero de Trasmiera, Probadas flores romanas de famosos y doctos varones, compuestas para salud y reparo de los cuerpos humanos, y gentilezas de hombres de palacio y de crianza (c. 1512).

Es un conjunto de receptas para la salud, trucos de magia blanca, remedios para los males del cuerpo y del espíritu y fórmulas de cosmética y cocina afortunadamente caídas en desuso. Un grimorio popular de amplia difusión, que gozó de notable fama hasta que la Inquisición lo metió en sus Índices de libros prohibidos a mediados del siglo XVI y que ahora revive enmarcado en el estudio y las notas de Víctor Infantes (Madrid: Turpin Editores, 2012).

De su autor, Juan Agüero de Trasmiera, nos recuerda Víctor que fue conocido a inicios del siglo y celebrado sobre todo en Salamanca por un largo poema titulado el Triunfo Raimundino, donde loaba los linajes de esta ciudad en la que vivía. Publicó también un pliego con las Coplas del perro de Alba, preparó la edición del Palmerín de Oliva (1511) y de su continuación, el Primaleón y Polendos (1512), así como de la Conquista de las Indias de Persia y Arabia (1512) de Martín Fernández de Figueroa. Y en estos mismos años ofreció al público un opúsculo arraigado tanto en la tradición oral como en los muchos tratadicos que desde la Edad Media circulaban por los caminos de la superstición, la superchería y los prodigios naturales, un breviario liviano de remedios, burlas, trucos y gentilezas que buscaba ese espacio de lectura donde se juntan la curiosidad y el divertimento con los consejos profilácticos, y los remedios aparentemente prácticos con la maravilla. Todo ello, una vez encuadernado, apenas sumaba 10 hojas.

Una cosa queda en el aire aún después del minucioso trabajo de Víctor: ignoramos esa fuente italiana de la que asegura traducir Agüero y de cuya existencia, a tenor de toda una serie de marcas en el texto, es casi imposible dudar. Pero cabe un resquicio para la interpretación mientras no encontremos esas presuntas Fiori romani –o título similar–, y por él se nos cuela un gran descubrimiento.

Admoniciones de la institutriz a las damas de palacio. Obra de Gu Kaizhi. Ilustración de una sátira escrita por Zhang Hua

Brindamos generosamente a los eruditos una fuente obvia para estas Flores romanas, es La Relación de las cosas del mundo, de Zhang Hua (232-300 d. C). Basta con ver, por ejemplo, la receta de Agüero que sigue, ¿qué otra cosa es sino una adaptación a la mentalidad occidental de la misma antigua receta china?

Juan Agüero de Trasmiera:

Para que nasca el perexil en un quarto de hora. Dizen que en un bazín de latón pornás, o en un barreñón, tierra de estiércol, y sembrarás el peregil en grano; y por cima régalo con agua ardiente y e[m]baxo ciertas brasas encendidas; y aventarás teniendo cubierto lo sembrado. Assí se dize que nasce en tierra priesto, con ayuda de los quatro elementos, que están puestos en la operación.

Zhang Hua:

4.49. Para hacerse con malvas de la noche a la mañana, tome semillas de malva del año anterior y caliéntelas a fuego lento hasta que estallen; siémbrelas, bien esparcidas, en un terreno que haya sido cultivado todos los años y píselas a conciencia: las que haya plantado por la mañana brotarán por la noche.

Por otra parte, la mayoría de las recetas pertenecen a la misma esfera específica de prodigios, con la misma retórica de persuasión que se ve en la necesidad de repetir fórmulas similares a «…y es cosa probada». Pongamos estas otras dos en paralelo:

[1] Recepta contra pestilencia, muy verdadera. En lo primero, tomarás un vaso, y en el dicho vaso mete la tercera parte de tríaca, y la otra tercera parte de agua ardiente, y la otra tercera parte de urinas de niño virgen. Y encorporado juntamente lo sobredicho, dalo al enfermo tres mañanas en ayunas, darle han una copa dello cada mañana. Y es probado en la ínclita ciudad de Venecia. Año de MDV por Maestre Macía, calcetero, que mora a Sancta Sophia. Probólo, y experimentólo en él y en su muger. Mas el fin sea que roguemos a Dios y a la gloriosa su Madre Sancta María, que ruegue al su amado y caro hijo que nos guarde a todos y en todo lugar que sea de aver necesidad de probarlo. (Juan Agüero de Trasmiera)

4.58. En cuanto a los lagartos (llamados por otros lagartijas): críelos en cualquier recipiente dándoles de comer cinabrio y se les pondrá rojo el cuerpo; siga dándoselo hasta que pesen siete jin; luego espachúrrelos bien a tablazos: eso, extendido por el cuerpo de una mujer, es algo que no se le cae en todo un año a menos que fornique (de ahí que también se llame a estos animales los guardianes de la entrada del palacio). Según el libro Zhuan, «Dong Fangshuo afirma que el emperador Wu de la dinastía Wei comprobó la eficacia de este método». (Zhang Hua)

Y más similitudes entre la receta para hacer ámbar con huevos de gallina de Zhang Hua y otras de Agüero como «Para meter una cédula o carta en un huevo»; la de prender fuego con artemisas puestas bajo de un pedazo de hielo a través del cual pasa el sol, de Zhang Hua, y «para fazer que dos cabeças o caras pintadas en papel o en la pared, la una mate una candela y la otra la encienda», de Agüero...

Damos, en fin, materia suficiente para que alguno de nuestros estudiantes más audaces empiecen ya su tesis doctoral.

Google Translator, versión beta, 1940

Ya hemos dicho algo de los glosarios o libros de frases durante la Guerra, pero nada de uno tan curioso como este. Esta máquina de traducir Stummer Dolmetsch, o «Intérprete silencioso», de 13 × 18 cm, no lleva fecha, pero según la tarjeta del catálogo de la casa de antigüedades Fünkchen —vendida aunque rescatada de la caché— fue impresa en 1940; es decir, al menos medio año antes de que pudiera empezar a cumplir su misión prevista en el Frente Oriental.

Las dos ilustraciones son del excelente blog de Sprachfuehrer: Военный разговорник и переводчик до 1945 г. (Diccionarios e intérpretes de guerra antes de 1945), sobre el cual vamos a escribir más, y donde también se pueden comprar estas máquinas; los datos provienen del Übersetzerportal

“Man zeige dem Russen die Übersetzung des Wunsches, Befehls usw., gegebenenfalls zur Ergänzung auch das passende Bild. Auf diese Art kann man nach kurzer Orientierung Hunderte von Wünschen und Befehlen ohne Sprachkenntnisse ausdrücken.”

«Mostrar al ruso la traducción de los deseos, órdenes, etc., en ocasiones complementada con una imagen apropiada. De este modo, después de una breve orientación se pueden expresar cientos de deseos y órdenes sin ningún tipo de destrezas lingüísticas».

«Cientos de órdenes» suena excesivo, o debe entenderse incluidas las combinaciones con las imágenes. De hecho, los dos lados de la máquina muestran sólo veinte-veinte Befehle, Fragen, Verhör, Erkundung y Quartier, o sea, orden, pregunta, examen, recopilación de información e instrucciones sobre el acuartelamiento. El usuario gira la parte superior visible del disco interior hasta el número correspondiente a la orden requerida, y su equivalente en ruso aparece en el troquelado, enmarcada en rojo. Un fallo de la máquina es que uno eventualmente tenía que señalar con el dedo la imagen suplementaria, pero estamos seguros de que en caso de un uso prolongado el espíritu teutón también habría dado con la correcta automatización de esto.


El ingenio de la máquina impresiona. Pero, ¿qué clase de plus (Gebrauchsmehrwert) añade a los simples glosarios alemán-ruso que ya hemos visto? Quizá que el usuario no tuviera que enfrentarse al mar ignoto de la lengua extranjera, sino que —aparte de la pequeña zona de peligro, bien delimitada en rojo— se sintiera siempre, en ambos lados de la hoja, en su propio medio lingüístico. Quizá la sensación infantil de girar la rueda, la seguridad habitual ante una máquina que responde o que, por así decir, industrializa la producción de términos extranjeros. Esto tenía que fascinar también al compañero de interacción, en cuya lengua no existía aún un equivalente apropiado para «eficiencia». Ay, quién sabe cuánto más adelantada estaría hoy en día la informática si la guerra hubiera durado un poco más.

Google Translator, beta version, 1940

We have already written about a number of wartime phrasebooks, but never about any more peculiar than this one. The 13×18 cm sized Stummer Dolmetsch, that is, “Silent Interpreter” translating machine bears no date, but according to the – since then sold, but from cache still saved – catalog card of Fünkchen Antiques it was printed in 1940, that is at least half a year before it could begin its intended service on the Eastern Front.

The two illustrations are from Sprachfuehrer’s excellent Военный разговорник и переводчик до 1945 г. (Wartime phrasebooks and interpreters before 1945) blog, on which we will soon write more, and where the above copy can be also purchased; the data from the Übersetzerportal

“Man zeige dem Russen die Übersetzung des Wunsches, Befehls usw., gegebenenfalls zur Ergänzung auch das passende Bild. Auf diese Art kann man nach kurzer Orientierung Hunderte von Wünschen und Befehlen ohne Sprachkenntnisse ausdrücken.”

“Show to the Russian the translation of the wish, command etc., eventually supplementing it with the appropriate picture. In this way, after a short orientation you can express hundreds of wishes and commands without any language skill.”

The “hundreds of commands” seems excessive, or to be understood including the combinations made with the pictures. In fact, the two sides of the machine show only twenty-twenty Befehle, Fragen, Verhör, Erkundung and Quartier, that is command, question, examination, information gathering, and instructions concerning quartering. The user turns the upper visible part of the inner disc to the number of the required command, and the equivalent of it appears in the opening framed red for the Russian. A flaw of the machine is that one probably had to poke by hand on the eventual supplementary picture, but we are sure that in case of an extended use the precise Teutonic spirit would have solved the automation of this as well.


The ingenuity of the machine is stunning. But what kind of surplus use value (Gebrauchsmehrwert) may it have offered in comparison with the hitherto seen simple German-Russian glossaries? That the user did not have to face the sea of the foreign language, but – apart from the small danger zone well limited in red – he could feel in his own language medium on both sides? The childlike joy of turning, the habitual safety of machine using? That it, so to say, industrializes the production of the foreign terms? That it enthralled the interaction partner, in whose language there was even no proper equivalent for “efficiency”? Who knows how much cybernetics would be ahead today if this war takes a while longer.

I’ve Taken It To Pieces

The Hungarian “I’ve Taken It To Pieces” project – “something just a bit, but something to the extreme, because the Lord has given a screwdriver in my hand” –, whose link was given to us by Grimpix, fits quite well to the retronautic, fact-finding and creative thread of Río Wang. Let us now see only one random project of the six hundred and ninety ones which unveil what operated the fallen regime from the background for long decades. The numbered pictures follow each other in a strict boustrophedon order, that is, the lines turn back to the opposite direction at the wall.

Magic lantern

The old photographs saved from the past belong to the favorite topics of Poemas del Río Wang. It is no wonder, as pictures are probably the most efficient mediators of information.


Viewing photographs, however, is basically an individual activity. People pass them around, they browse albums. To share pictures with several people, a whole audience, you need slides, movies or projectors. Their conservation over time, however, has been minimal, even if the production and presentation of slides precedes by centuries the invention of photography.


The predecessor of slides is the magic lantern, which is the combination of a projecting equipment and a series of images painted on glass. It is an exceptional luck when such glasses and equipments turn up after disappearing from society parlors and classrooms where they were used for entertainment and educational demonstrations.


The subject of this post is such a series of well preserved glass-slides dating from the mid-19th century, which were used as a demonstration tool, possibly in the science lab of the Benedictine Boarding School in Pannonhalma, Hungary.


This series cannot be summed up with a short title such as the “Seven Wonders of the Ancient World”. These pictures illustrate the gradual evolution of the Earth and of life. The Bible’s influence is clearly visible, especially on the first few slides; they can be linked to the first verses of the Book of Genesis (see the respective verses by moving the mouse over the pictures). The next slides are based on the achievements of scientific research, and are adjusted to the dominant theories of the period.


The two dominant theories of the time, Plutonism vs. Neptunism, as well as the theories of catastrophes are clearly reflected in the images. Plutonism is based on the theory of the Earth’s igneous origin. It was opposed by Neptunism, a theory which supposed even magmatic and volcanic formations having been deposited from water, and which traced back volcanic activities to the descending and self-igniting of carbonized swamps.


On the images you can thus recognize the palaeozoic period with its carbonatetd seal trees and the animals conquering the mainland. The “breeched” and winged animal could well be an Archeopteryx. After the tertiary catastrophe brought along with the volcanos vomiting fire, ash and lava, soon the time of the mammals will come. The monkey perched on a tree is already indicative to the appearance of the anthropoids.


The jumps observed in the evolution trends of fossils were assumed to be results of global catastrophes similar to the Flood. The strong violet colors on the pictures indicate the magmatic catastrophes. Every such catastrophe leads to the extinction of earlier species, as well as to the creation of new and more complex forms.


But Eden or the Flood wedges itself into the evolutionary timeline. We can recognize in the picture the deer (Unicorn sp.?) and a lion, which are characteristic both of the peaceful paradisiacal conditions, and of the period of the Flood (in the period called Diluvium). Let us present here, as a parallel, two renowned paintings by Jan Brueghel the Elder.

Jan Brueghel the Elder: The Garden of Eden. London, Victoria and Albert Museum

Jan Brueghel the Elder: The entry of the animals into Noah’s Ark, 1613. Budapest, Museum of Fine Arts

Our time is represented by the presence of a bay and a boat on it, and by a smoking volcano in the foreground, which could be even the Vesuvius. The last slide closes the series with the fireball of a future catastrophe, thus visually framing, together with the first ones, a complete picture of the history of the Earth


In accordance with today’s scientific knowledge, this catastrophe, accompanied by the distension of the Sun and by the total annihilation of the Earth and any earthly life, would follow after three milliard years. It would be good if mankind could live to see that.


This post is dedicated to the late Farkas Mayer OSB who passed away two years ago and rests in the Benedictine order’s crypt in Pannonhalma, a professor in the order’s high school and winner of the “Professor Rácz” Life Achievement Award. It was his merit not to let this curiosity of technical and scientific history completely disappear, and he also helped to interpret the series of its pictures.

And who was Professor Rácz? A professor of the Lutheran High School in Budapest, who helped to start several Nobel winner physicians as well as the mathematician János Neumann on their career.

The Black Cat

Bulat Okudzhava: Little song about the Black Cat

Со двора – подъезд известный под названьем “черный ход”. В том подъезде, как в поместье, проживает Черный Кот. Он в усы усмешку прячет, темнота ему – как щит. Все коты поют и плачут – этот Черный Кот молчит. Он давно мышей не ловит, усмехается в усы, ловит нас на честном слове, на кусочке колбасы. Он не требует, не просит, желтый глаз его горит. Каждый сам ему выносит и “спасибо” говорит. Он и звука не проронит - только ест и только пьет. Грязный пол когтями тронет как по горлу поскребет. Оттого-то, знать, невесел, дом, в котором мы живем. Надо б лампочку повесить… Денег всё не соберем.

We’ve a doorway with a staircase, Also known as a “black door”. In that place as in a palace A black cat has set up store. There’s a smirk beneath his whiskers, Darkness fits him like a glove. Other cats are coy or frisky, This black cat won’t make a move. As his leer gets only bolder, He does not catch mice or steal. Somehow we are all beholden, Running briskly with his meals. As the yellow cat eyes glower, He does not demand or cadge. Every one of us forks over, Grateful for the privilege. This cat doesn’t issue orders, He just sits and drinks and eats. When he claws the dirty floor it’s Like he’s clawing at our throats. Must be that’s why we’re in chaos, And the scowling never ends. One small lightbulb might have saved us… But we just can’t raise the funds.

Jerzy Głuszek: Czarny kot

“The party is on” – The lost Warsaw

The quotation mark is truly necessary in the title of this post, because even if the pictures you will see here below are mostly nice and cheerful, the story we are going to tell is linked to one of the most brutal and senseless destruction in the history of mankind, the annihilation of Warsaw in 1943-44.

If you have an old friend whom you meet and you’ll become neighbors after a long time (let us say, nearly 157 years), it is a joy that pervades the everyday life, everyone thinks and speaks about it. Probably this joy led scenarist István Békeffy and film director Viktor Bánky to interweave in 1939 into a new Daróczy-Hunnia production, the film Áll a bál (“The party is on”) based on the idea of József Babay and Pál Barabás, a Warsaw thread, which otherwise would have not been necessary to the logic of the story. And the film crew could not suspect that with the exterior shots of about 10-12 minutes they would record something which literally within days would be irrevocably destroyed by the western and eastern wind, so that they would be preserved only in this form in a nation’s collective memory.


The tale of Áll a bál fits into the system simply called “the Hungarian style” between the two world wars, which elevated to now unimaginable heights of success the Hungarian film industry. This tale brings the princess (Zita Szeleczky) into the arms of a poor-born diplomat (Jenő Pataky), but the old prince (Gyula Csortos) does not look kindly on this love, and “banishes” the young handsome diplomat to Warsaw, and the beautiful princess to Switzerland. But finally, after many complications and adventures everyone will be home to Budapest, the old prince’s heart relents, and the young couple, of course, will come together.

In the sequence of shooting of the period, which was always adjusted to the complexity of the scenery, they first completed the studio recordings, and then they started the external shoots. The crew went to Warsaw on 21 August 1939, and returned on 26 August, followed by the attention of the reporters of the Képes Krónika (Illustrated Chronicle), who were hungry of stories and pictures, just like the hundreds of curious fans.

The crew before leaving, on 21 August 1939. To the left, the main character Jenő Pataky, director Viktor Bánky with arms akimbo, to the right cameraman István Eiben, and covered by the camera, producer József Daróczy

Képes Krónika, 27 August 1939

Late August newspapers, however, were not so cheerful…

“No! – says London. Hitler’s proposals are considered unacceptable”

Let us see then the wonderful images of Warsaw by István Eiben, specifying the locations wherever it is possible. In this we will be greatly assisted by a short Polish blog post, where many people try to recognize the locations. Of course, when the author makes a mistake, let the reader correct it – all corrections are welcome.

Common Polish-Hungarian border: Lawoczne
Erzsi Simor in the foreground

The Polish Foreign Ministry, Brühl Palace, Pilsudski square. The palace was destroyed in the last minutes of the war…

A street corner, probably in front of the Foreign Ministry, with György Gonda in the forefront. To the right, probably Edward Rydz-Śmigŀy…

The neighborhood of the Foreign Ministry

The Embassy of the Hungarian Kingdom in Warsaw, on 15 Mokotówska

The neighborhood of the Embassy

Aleje Ujazdowski (?)

Taxi in Warsaw, next to the embassy

A small shop next to the embassy, with György Gonda making a phone call

Internal shoots, probably at the embassy. To the left, Jenő Pataky, to the right, in the role of the ambassador, László Földényi. The real Hungarian ambassador in Warsaw at the time was dr. András Hóry.

Chopin’s statue by Wacław Szymanowski in the Łazienki park. Destroyed in 1940, rebuilt in 1946

This handwritten message was found on the statue base on the day after its destruction: Nie wiem kto mnie zniszczył ale wiem dlaczego. Żebym nie mógł zagrać dla waszego führera marszu żałobnego. “I do not know who destroyed me, but I know why. In order not to play the funeral march for your Führer.”

The Belweder palace, rebuilt during the Nazi occupation.

Entrance of the Stary Rynek. This image figures from the opposite side in the title shots of Michał Waszyński’s Jego ekscelencja subjekt (1933)

The Stary Rynek was destroyed in the war, but rebuilt in the 1950s

The two main characters of Jego ekscelencja subjekt were Eugeniusz Bodo, who would perish in the Gulag, and Ina Benita, who would die in the canals of Warsaw. The story of the film is similar: the shop assistant falls in love with the daughter of a rich man…


But let’s continue with the shots of Áll a bál.

The royal castle. Destroyed in 1939, later rebuilt

Entrance of the castle

The Castle square. The Sigismund Column cannot be seen on this picture

The streets of Warsaw (and other Polish cities) were unimaginable without the cab

Ulica Ladislawska

Hotel Europejski, entrance

Saxon Palace, Saxon square. Destroyed in 1944

Zita Szeleczky and Jenő Pataky, with a street of Warsaw in the background

Grójecka, suburb. István Kovács in the role of the chauffeur

Ulica Opaczewska

Within one or two months some of the charming Warsaw trams got an extra board…

Narutowicz square near Opaczewska street. To the left, the Banach bazaar

– Telefon – says György Gonda. – Proszę – replies the seller.

The car takes gas and leaves Warsaw towards Okęcie…


Just within two to three weeks the roads leading out of Warsaw looked completely differently.

The diplomatic corps leave Warsaw on 21 September 1939 under German supervision.



The Áll a bál was presented in the movies on 28 September 1939.

Private photo from the Szeleczky collection. Thanks to Márton Kurutz

Új Nemzedék, 28 September 1939: “Besides the Polish question, a long series of problems are on schedule in the German-Soviet meeting in Moscow”

Új Nemzedék, 29 September 1939: “Here’s the German-Soviet agreement!”

By then, the progressive countries already succumbed Poland with united forces…


…and the crew saw Warsaw again – on screen. (The color pictures are re-colored by digital technique.)

The inscription: Słuzew. dw. kol. Grójeckiej

The latter images were also recognized by Jenő Pataky who received a minor nervous breakdown. These are the same scenes we saw in Grójecka.

The destruction of the Royal Palace, with the Sigismund Column in the forefront. The pictures were likely taken during the bombing of Warsaw on 4 September 1939.

At that time already thousands of Polish refugees tried to reach Hungary. The Hungarian society unanimously helped them. A strange coincidence that one of the two films of the period in which we see the figure of governor Miklós Horthy, representing the unity of Hungarian society, one is precisely Áll a bál.

To the right, a rare portrait of Horthy, in civilian clothes. In the foreground, Béla Mihályfi in the role of a State Secretary for Foreign Affairs, to the left, Gusztáv Vándory

Jenő Pataky and Zita Szeleczky, cheerfully dancing toward the happy end. They could not know that Hungary was only given four and half more years before the sad pictures of Warsaw becoming a reality here as well…