by Kenneth M. Kapp<\/p>\n
2022<\/p>\n
In 2009 I accompanied Talbert Tutlinger to Vienna where he spent his formative years. Dr. Professor Tutlinger was a well- known famous philosopher. He often acknowledged that I was his good friend and amanuensis. We were more than that but in some circles, discretion was indeed the better part of valor. Now our intimate relationship is acceptable. I felt that it was safe to accept the invitation to speak at the Convocation in his honor in Krems an der Donau, planning to spend a few days prior to the meeting in Vienna from whence my dear friend parted this earthly sphere. <\/em><\/p>\n It took ten years for the pain of my loss to lessen. Finally I was able to write an article about our last days together; it appeared the following year in the journal <\/em>The Antonym, 8\/21\/2021<\/em>.<\/p>\n \n I had planned to return to Vienna on the 10th<\/sup> Anniversary of Talbert\u2019s passing but circumstances and memories that were too painful derailed my arrangements. If I may continue with that image, I was a train-wreck and remained in Munich.<\/p>\n I licked my wounds alone in the large apartment we had shared there after he had retired from the University in Berlin. He wanted to return to Munich, having fond memories of its English Gardens when he was a little boy and walked with his father along the Isar River. \u201cWe would climb the hill and he would sit me atop his shoulders inside Monopteros, the temple erected on the summit. For a little boy it felt as if we were climbing the Matterhorn.\u201d<\/p>\n Often while we were still in Berlin he would tell me, \u201cThomas, the view from there is truly magnificent,\u201d and go on to paint pictures with carefully chosen words of all that can be seen from that vantage point. \u201cMonopteros, the small Greek temple, was designed by Leo von Klenze to honor the local Bavarian notables. It was completed in 1836.\u201d Oh, Talbert knew all the details and on a rainy evening would often discuss the subtleties of Greek architecture, explaining the differences between the various capitals, Doric, Ionic, Corinthian, and various flutings \u201ctapering at the top so that the roof would appear to float high in the sky.\u201d<\/p>\n He was an exceptional man and I had no reason to doubt his claims even though he was born there in 1928 and the family had moved to Vienna in 1933 where his father had finally found work. Germany was attempting to recover from the Great War and everyone suffered. It was no wonder that Hitler had an easy rise to power.<\/p>\n My family was poor and I attended the Stadt University in Bonn on scholarship in the early 60s. Talbert was a guest lecturer there in 1964. I saw a poster announcing his special lecture. It showed Herr Doctor Professor Talbert Tutlinger in profile, holding a smoking beaker over a Bunsen burner, with the title of the talk, \u2018The Philosophical Implications of the Periodic Table and the Genetic Variations of Man,\u2019 unfurling in the smoke. I instantly fell in love and don\u2019t think I slept for two days waiting for the lecture. We met after and talked and talked and… well, talked. The next 45 years were like a dream. We were seldom apart until he died in Vienna in 2009.<\/p>\n But now he\u2019s being honored in Krems. It\u2019s the 50th<\/sup> Anniversary of his Magnum Opus, \u00a0Linguistic Foundations of Philosophy in Western Civilization<\/em>, and I\u2019ve been invited to give a keynote talk on his life. How could I refuse?<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I had hoped to pass my days in Vienna retracing our footsteps from 13 years ago. I kept the note he had written on the hotel stationery with the carefully prescribed walk for what turned out to be his last day on this earthly sphere. I may have given into my sorrow and crushed it when I returned to our rooms and found him lying quietly on his bed at the beginning of his last journey. Once the police returned it to me it\u2019s remained folded in half in my daybook, on the page for May 12, 2009. I remove it only on the anniversary of his death.<\/p>\n It’s part of my anniversary offering and I place it to one side of the small table that sits diagonally in a corner of our living room. There it looks across at a silver vase, a gift from him to me on our fifth anniversary, in which I place a white rose with a spray of baby\u2019s breath. Behind on the walls are photographs of us, both together and individually, rising almost to the ceiling. It\u2019s as if the people in the pictures are sharing a few words with each other: \u201cDo you remember what a fine time we had on the Bodensee in the summer of 1986?\u201d \u201cWhat a splendid Christmas vacation we had in Nice. It was in 1977 in case you have forgotten.\u201d And now it\u2019s only me that can hear these conversations. Talbert would have said \u201cTant pis; c\u2019est la vie,<\/em>\u201d and shrugged. But he was a great man, something that I\u2019m not. I cry, curse the life that left me alone, and scream that it was much more than just \u201ctoo bad!\u201d<\/p>\n I had allowed myself three days in Vienna. I will take the train down to Krems on the morning of his Convocation; it\u2019s only 62 km and takes little more than an hour. I try not to be a bother to anyone. I took the high-speed train from Munich to Vienna and rather like traveling that way. I can sit back and look out the window. The landscape speeds by hypnotically and I feel as if I\u2019m entering a meditative state. Life, too, has passed with equal speed, only slowing down for an eternity the day Talbert died. Now I can only wish it to go faster so that I can join my love in the hereafter. I do not have his courage to say \u201cwhen\u201d myself.<\/p>\n But the high-speed train from Munich had been four hours and I must have tired on the journey. After checking into the hotel that first afternoon, I wandered the streets at random. I can\u2019t afford the same accommodations as Talbert had arranged for us in 2009. I\u2019m staying in a modest establishment a few blocks from the Hundertwasser buildings. Talbert never approved, called them a cheap tourist stunt. But I find them whimsical, a funny poke at German rigidity with its straight lines and squared corners, everything prim and proper. And, since I\u2019m no longer under his wing, I saw no reason to avoid walking by these buildings; after all, they are in the neighborhood.<\/p>\n As I was in Vienna, I stopped twice for coffee and a torte. I admit, I am no longer the young man I was when I was here the last time.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The next morning I slept late and had coffee in the lobby; the kuchen<\/em> were all gone, only crumbs remained on two empty plates. The sky was heavy and matched my spirits. I had little appetite so it didn\u2019t matter. Talbert would have said, \u201cPeu importe!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I went first to the Heldenplatz<\/em> and struggled to find the bench where we had sat. It may have been replaced; 13 years sitting \u2013 I guess a bench wouldn\u2019t stand \u2013 is a long time. Most benches were empty; it was early and the sun was still hidden behind grey clouds. I selected one, sat and waited, hoping I\u2019d see another butterfly, a sign that Talbert was still watching over me. Alas, that was not to be.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I was tired. The walk was longer than I expected and I am older. I looked at my list and tried to recall where we had gone to eat. I know there was one restaurant on Dorotheergasse<\/em> a block past the Jewish Museum. Between bites he had cursed the Museum and Jews. I wasn\u2019t like that, but then poor people often don\u2019t have the luxury of prejudice, though if they do, it\u2019s often with a vengeance blaming others for whatever they weren\u2019t able to achieve. Now that I\u2019m older and can think for myself, I wonder if Talbert never stopped trying to gain favor with his father who had joined the Nazi Party early on.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 By now I was hungry and set off in the direction of the museum. I walked down Dorotheergasse<\/em> and soon came to a small restaurant. I was almost certain this was where I had purchased our lunch so many years ago. I inspected the menu on the glass pane to the right of the door and thought I recognized some of the entr\u00e9es. I found a small table against a wall and ordered, eating mechanically when my lunch was served. The waiter was surprised when I declined their separate menu with the long list of kuchen and tortes he offered with the coffee.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I returned to my room. I would take a short nap and then set out for the Danube and Reichsbr\u00fccke<\/em>, continuing across the bridge to see once again the Wasserspielplatz<\/em> on the Donauinsel<\/em>. I would imagine Talbert was standing there with me. \u201cMy father liked to take me to the waterpark on Sundays when there were no demonstrations against the Jews. There was plenty of room to play once the Untermenschen<\/em> were banned.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I woke from my nap with a start and went to the desk where a copy of my essay, \u201cA Kindred Spirit,\u201d rested on top of my briefcase. I turned to the second page and found I had quoted Talbert telling me: \u201cYes, Martin, it will be nice to return to Vienna.\u201d I had written this back in Munich shortly after his funeral. My memory is good (Talbert was impressed) so if I had written this, then it was so. Thomas is my name \u2013 Tommy when Talbert was especially affectionate \u2013 but never Martin. I should have recognized then that he was in pain. He had been seeing a Doctor Martin, he said it was for something minor and I was not to worry, but I should have known. How could I have lived with him so many years and not seen the signs of his pain! Oh, what a fool I had been. Maybe if I had known we could have gone to America even if he disparaged \u201call the Jewish doctors in the United States. What do they know about medicine?\u201d Prejudice is a luxury that the sick can\u2019t afford.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I dressed and went out, walking along the Donau Kanal on the Hunderwasser Promenade<\/em>. I came up to the street and waited for the bus on Radetzkystrasse.<\/em> Again, I had greatly overestimated my strength. To make amends \u2013 Talbert was a great one for hiking \u2013 I would walk from the Danube Island bus stop on the bridge to the waterpark. I could hear him saying, \u201cAnd so it shall be.\u201d<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 It was with a heavy heart that I revisited Talbert\u2019s childhood playground. Dispirited, I walked back to the U-Bahn, transferring once to bring me back to the Landstrasse<\/em> neighborhood not far from where I was staying. It was late and I was tired. I stopped at a restaurant on the way back to my hotel and ate a modest meal, my mind blank. I would struggle that night with my talk. It\u2019s difficult to know what to say when someone you love is gone.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 My sleep was troubled. I tossed and turned, and by 2 AM concluded that I was worried and overtired. I struggled out of bed, looked at the troubled visage in the mirror, and then took a sleeping pill. Blessedly I was soon asleep.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 In the morning I felt groggy and knew it would be best to stay in this morning. I was in time to find sweet rolls still available. Pretending one was for Talbert, I took a tray with two cups of black coffee and two kuchen back to my room. He usually drank black coffee.<\/p>\n \n I must have been reluctant to go out since I found myself dawdling in my room, rearranging my underclothes in the bureau and twice checking my suit hanging in a small closet. Finally, when patches of sunlight appeared I forced myself out and wandered aimlessly about the city. My feet took me to the Innere Stadt<\/em> and the famous Domkirche St. Stephan<\/em>, the large medieval cathedral that was the seat of the Archbishop of Vienna.<\/p>\n My thoughts were jumbled. When I wrote \u201cKindred Spirits\u201d I was thinking of myself and Talbert since we had been inseparable for so many years. But perhaps unconsciously I meant Hitler and J\u00f6rg\u00a0Haider? Talbert was always going on about Haider, comparing him and Hitler, saying the two were kindred spirits, so maybe that\u2019s what I meant when I wrote in my grief.<\/p>\n False pride. Later when going through Talbert\u2019s notes I found the aborted beginnings of several essays about the importance of strong men from Caesar to Bismarck to Stalin and yes, even Hitler, and how they were necessary to move civilization forward. And now once again we have these strong<\/span> ruthless men with their own agendas: Putin; Kim Jong Un, the Supreme Leader of North Korea; and Trump in America. I struck strong; I don\u2019t think they\u2019re strong. Ruthless is a better word. Talbert, if he were still alive might have praised them and when I was under his wing, I probably would have acquiesced, but now that I\u2019m on my own, struggling to figure things out for myself, I think not.<\/p>\n When I looked up, I saw that my feet had taken me to the entry to the Jewish Museum on Dorotheergasse. I looked around and saw two armed guards with machine guns. For a moment I feared that there would be another roundup \u2013 but it must have been my empty stomach, unconsciously commiserating with the starved inmates from the camps. I asked if I could perhaps have something to eat in the caf\u00e9 without paying for the exhibit and was given permission. The waiter kindly told me that there were several kosher restaurants nearby where I could have more substantial food. I guess I did look Jewish and weakly smiled, saying that would be nice. When he returned with my coffee and torte he gave me a list. I wondered if perhaps my continued mourning for Talbert had made me look Jewish.<\/p>\n I had a second cup of coffee, left the museum, and then wandered aimlessly until I found myself gazing mindlessly at the sun playing on the roof of St. Stephan\u2019s Cathedral. The clouds cast nervous shadows on the zigzags of the rooftop and I began to feel dizzy. I had not eaten anything substantial that day and stared at the list of Kosher restaurants, selecting the one closest at hand. I doubt that Talbert would have approved but he was dead and I thought it was poetic justice, being saved by Jew-food!<\/p>\n I ate slowly, thinking of the talk I was to give in three days. Part of me wanted to refute the harsh pronouncements about minorities Talbert had written the last years of his life. I really didn\u2019t think he was a mean person at heart. However, there were several small far-right groups who had adopted and magnified his words and what they professed was not pretty. Indeed there were several incidents where their actions led to violence. But what was I to do? I have no academic credentials and the list of the other presenters was filled with titles, degrees, and university affiliations.<\/p>\n I was tired and still jittery from all the coffee and sugar I had consumed earlier in the day so I refused more coffee and cake when asked. I would walk slowly back to my hotel and look over the notes I had made in Munich. Something would come to me, I was sure. And I had Talbert\u2019s last book of essays where he had often scribbled in the margin or highlighted passages.<\/p>\n It was after seven when I entered the lobby of my hotel. I don\u2019t think I had ever felt so tired. When I stopped for my key the concierge asked if I was feeling all right. The best I could do was a week whisper, \u201cI suppose so.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, well then, I have the perfect remedy for what ails you.\u201d He reached under the counter, bringing out a dark bottle and a small schnapps glass. \u201cHere, there are a half-dozen herbs steeped in the distillate. The hotel is owned by the Gutkins and this recipe has been passed down for generations. Their youngest son, Aaron, distilled it himself, though now he\u2019s not so young. He\u2019s almost 55!\u201d<\/p>\n Carefully he filled the small glass only halfway. \u201cThis is very strong and I was told to dispense it sparingly.\u201d<\/p>\n I brought it to my nose first and thought I could detect mint, pepper, nettles, and some kind of earthy bark. My spine straightened when the glass was but 20 cm from my lips. And then with one swallow, it was gone. I began coughing. Luckily the concierge had already poured a glass of water which he then moved in front of me. When I regained my breath I thanked him, saying that I had had an early dinner and would stay in that evening. \u201cI\u00a0 need to work on my presentation for the Tutlinger Convocation in two days.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAh, yes. I read about the conference in the Zeitung<\/em>. Krems is a beautiful city. Enjoy your time there.\u201d<\/p>\n But I detected a chill in his voice when I used my dear Talbert\u2019s last name. Thanking him I passed the stairs, continuing to the elevator even though my room was on the third floor. I do believe there is a climate-warming problem and using the elevator is something I seldom do.<\/p>\n \u00a0It occurred to me that Gutkin is a Jewish-sounding name and, well, Aaron is a name more common amongst Jews than non-Jews. No matter. But if so, and they came back after the war, reclaiming their property, I\u2019m not sure whether they\u2019re more to be honored than pitied.<\/p>\n I unlocked my door, hung my jacket and then, removing my shoes, turned a comfortable chair towards the bed, putting my heels up and closing my eyes. I must have dozed off; the clock on the nightstand read 9:37 when I looked up. It was dark outside.<\/p>\n My legs were twitchy. I contemplated a short walk but that would mean walking past the front desk. A warm shower would have to do. When I came out of the bathroom wearing the pajamas Talbert had given me our last Christmas together, it felt as if my spirits were refreshed and I took the last volume of his essays from the desk drawer to bed. I would read them over and see if they offered any inspiration.<\/p>\n Little by little I slid down under the covers as I turned the pages. By page 23, I gave up the battle. Sleep had won; it was almost midnight. I went one more time to the bathroom and turned out the light, hoping that my unconscious mind would suggest how I should organize my talk in Krems. It was just a few short days away.<\/p>\n I was groggy that next morning. It felt as if my brain had run a marathon. I sat in my room sipping the second cup of coffee I had brought up from the lobby. I had made a bargain, I thought, with the devil: black coffee and no kuchen or tortes until I had at least a rough draft of my talk. The devil must have laughed; never had a soul been had so easily. For then I knew. I put the cup, with a few swallows left, on the floor besides the desk, and began to outline my talk. I would weave together passages from Talbert\u2019s scholarly articles and magnum opus<\/em> with excerpts from his daybook, adding personal comments where appropriate.<\/p>\n I too had my little book where I had noted his confidences when he struggled with his papers. Often they were inspired and tied to nature. Talbert was an avid hiker and though my senior by a number of years, readily left me behind on any trail that wasn\u2019t level. He would tease, \u201cHurry, Tommy. I promise you a kiss if you can keep up.\u201d So I would valiantly huff and puff until I caught up and received my reward.<\/p>\n I worked until noon, then looked over what I had roughed out. I was pleased. I put my notes aside, put on a jacket and went out for lunch. I would be sure to have an Einsp\u00e4nner<\/em>, Viennese coffee made with a double shot of espresso, generous gratings of chocolate, and whipped cream. Of course that also called for a special torte. Problem solved. I\u2019ll sort the devil later.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 But the devil was not to let me off so easily. While the general outline had been easy the devil was indeed in the details. It was hard work finding the proper passages and correlating them with quotes from Talbert\u2019s daybook. But by the time I packed for the short train ride to Krems, I was pleased with the result.<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 I gave my talk the next afternoon. It was well received. I heard several \u201cAh ha\u2019s.\u201d \u201cThis explains that\u2026\u201d \u201cI always wondered\u2026\u201d The questions after my talk ran to almost an hour and the moderator finally had to interrupt, announcing that we should give Herr Thomas time to freshen before dinner in the main hall. \u201cThere will be an open bar, and I\u2019m sure he\u2019ll be more than willing to talk with you informally then.\u201d He looked at me and I nodded in accession.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n On the train back to Munich I reflected on my talk. I was glad I had abandoned my initial idea to title my talk about Talbert \u201cStrong but Wrong?\u201d My interaction with several of the attendees before dinner, tongues loosened by the open bar, showed that many were more than a little sympathetic to his views, but as this was a convocation sponsored in his honor that was to be expected. This way I did honor to his memory and I owed him that much for all our years of happiness.<\/p>\n ~ * ~<\/p>\n \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 On a cloudy day, two weeks later I took Talbert\u2019s ashes with me to the English Gardens. We climbed the hill to Monopteros and then wandered over to the Chinese Pagoda. One final walk together in a funeral cadence to one of our favorite spots, a grove of trees at a bend in the Oberstj\u00e4germeisterbach<\/em>. It\u2019s a secluded spot where, in those early years, Talbert felt safe to kiss me in public without being seen. I looked around and when I was sure it was once again safe, gently emptied his ashes into the brook. It was his final wish: a short note written in his own hand and left under my pillow in Munich when we had journeyed to Vienna 13 years before.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" by Kenneth M. Kapp 2022 In 2009 I accompanied Talbert Tutlinger to Vienna where he spent his formative years. Dr. Professor Tutlinger was a well- known famous philosopher. He often acknowledged that I was his good friend and amanuensis. 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