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Der Fall des Lemming - pp 231
Im westlichen Winkel des Praters zwischen Ausstellungsstraße und Hauptallee liegt wie ein vergammeltes Torteneck der Wurstelprater. Schon Mitte des achtzehnten Jahrhunderts entstanden hier die ersten Marktbuden, nachdem Joseph II. das kaiserliche Jagdgebiet zur allgemeinen Benutzung freigegeben hatte. Im Jahr 1840 nahm der legendäre Schausteller Basileo Calafati das erste große Ringelspiel in Betrieb. Johann Fürsts Singspielhalle und Präuschers Panopticum folgten, dann Baschiks Theater für Zauberei, Reinprechts Pony-Karussell und das Varieté der Gebrüder Leicht. Gemeinsam begründeten sie einen der größten und merkwürdigsten Vergnügungsparks Europas: Wer ihn betritt, wird zum Grenzgänger zwischen Geschmacklosigkeit und Poesie, Modernität und Verstaubtheit, Manie und Melancholie. Tagsüber und abends von den Marktschreiern regiert, verwandelt sich der Wurstelprater nach Mitternacht zum Jadgrevier der Huren und Diebe; und nichts vermag darüber hinwegtäuschen, dass das morbide Wiener Karma von Jahrhunderten auf ihm lastet. Am Haupteingang ragt, der Innenstadt zugewandt, sein Wahrzeichen auf – das Riesenrad. Fünfundsechzig Meter hoch, ist es zugleich das verstaubte Fanal und die alternde Diva des Wurstelpraters. Gemächlich und müde dreht es seine Runden, und jedes Mal, wenn einer der fünfzehn Waggons den Zenit erreicht, hält es an und steht still – angeblich, um seinen Passagieren am Boden das Ein- und Aussteigen zu erleichtern. Aber das ist nur ein Vorwand. Es will sich einfach ausruhen, das Riesenrad. Acht Minuten vor zehn lässt Huber den Wagen um das Rondeau des Pratersterns schlittern, überfährt noch rasch eine gelbe Ampel und hält mit quietschenden Reifen auf dem großen Busparkplatz gegenüber dem Planetarium.
Near fragment in time
Anläßlich der Wiener Weltausstellung wurde das Hotel Metropol nach Plänen der Architekten Carl Schuhmann und Ludwig Tischler in den Jahren 1871-73 für die Wiener Baugesellschaft errichtet. In der zum Morzinplatz gewendeten Hauptfassade konzertierte sich eine Fülle architektonischer Ausdrucksmöglichkeiten der Epoche. Toskanische Säulen am Portikus, eine große Ordnung aus korinthischen Säulen, die teils überlebensgroßen Figuren als Stütze dienten, teils in paarweiser Anordnung das Gebälk von Flankenvorsprüngen trugen, und eine ädikulagerahmte Uhr inmitten einer vasengeschmückten Attikabalustrade verliehen dem Bauwerk große Plastizität. Der glasüberdachte Innenhof und ein reich ausgestatteter Speisesaal allgemein gerühmt. Das Gebäude wurde von einer Bombe getroffen und brannte aus, von den Fassaden wurde jedoch nur eine Hälfte der Gonzagagassenfront zerstört. Bekanntlich war das Hotel Metropol in der Zeit der deutschen Besatzung Sitz der Geheimen Staatspolizei; die Sprengung der Ruine diente vor allem der Austilgung eines Ortes der Gräuel. Der sogenannte Leopold-Figl-Hof entstand an jener Stelle zu einem Zeitpunkt, als das gestalterische Niveau im Bereich des stadtseitigen Donaukanalufers sich auf einem Tiefpunkt befand. Das vor dem Gebäude angepflanzte Gestrüpp bildete für Jahre die dazu passende Gartengestaltung.
pp 121 from Stadtbildverluste Wien - Ein Rückblick auf Fünf Jahrzehnte by , ,
Near fragment in space
We went then to the roundabouts. He chose to ride not on a dappled horse - I had noticed already his dislike of horses -but on a swan. He enjoyed it, but he didn't want to go round again. It was an experience complete in itself.
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.
pp 177-178 from Madensky Square by
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.