Anecdotes from Hamburg 1720-1880 , page 1

DEUTSCHE VERSION
	n most wine taverns of Hamburg you usually find a regulars' table, at which a circle of old gentlemen gather each evening. As the company's mood gradually turns jovial, one often hears the question, “Did you know Mr. So-and-so?”
Comical street persons always belonged and belong to the features of the city. In general, one was pleased by their daily appearance and commiserated when one of them departed from this life. There may have been mentally disordered among them and also people whom life had dealt a heavy hand. In any case it was the idiosyncratic, quirky persons who were noticeable, and often wanted to be, in the cityscape. Stones in a moneybox Thus rode about 1720 a wondrous lord at slowest pace through the streets of Hamburg, named Professor Olivarius. He was followed by a servant, also mounted. Professor Olivarius wore durable high boots and held a large, red, opened umbrella before his face so he would not be recognized. Through an opening in his umbrella, he peered eagerly about for ladies. If he found one particularly pleasing, he closed his umbrella and began, from horseback and in all jocularity, to speak to her the most exaggerated compliments and flattery.
Slowly but surely, the Professor's once significant fortune dwindled. As a result disappeared first the servant, then the steed; his corpulence dwindled, as well, so that his once-stout calves became shaky. Nevertheless, Olivarius continued to wear his now too wide high yellow boots. He stumbled with them through the streets, followed by a mischievous band of children, who tossed pebbles into the bootlegs, which now stood well away from the leg, as if they stood before a moneybox. As the boots became steadily heavier, the Professor slackened his pace, until the burden was at last too much for him and, on the open street and to the delight of his pursuers, he shook out his boots. Then he merrily continued his stroll, and again the game began.

The music director with the contrabass About 1830 there were countless street musicians, among which two groups were of particular note. The first was named in the vernacular after the heavyset conductor “Jan Tünn un sin Maats” (= John Barrel and his companions). Adolescents cried merrily “John Barrel is coming” when they saw the ensemble approaching with stringed instruments and clarinets. The last man, the heavyset conductor, gasped his way into the group. In his opinion, the leader of the company was also due the largest instrument.
	Once the usual two songs were fiddled down, John Barrel sent his people to collect from the houses. He himself, however, because the stairs were too much for him, wanted to contribute his share and therefore struck accompanying notes from his contrabass to the great delight of the children, who clacked their wooden shoes in time, and to the grief of the dogs, who expressed their horror with loud howls.... The hindered street musicians A later, decidedly less noisy ensemble was called in the vernacular “Pankoken” (= pancakes). The ensemble consisted of the shalm-blowing director Pankoken, the fiddler Krukenberg, the trombonist Klüten, and a man named Stint, who carried a clarinet. Now, because Krukenberg, whose fiddle strings were made of twine, could create no true tone, Klüten was usually sickish and shone by his absence, whereas Stint, though, created such fearsome notes upon his clarinet that someone had stuffed it with a cork and Stint now played “blind” by blowing out his cheeks and moving his fingers strenuously, the entire burden of the concert fell to Pankoken. Pankoken, however, could only produce weak tones from his consumptive shalm, so that the dogs in this case were quite content but not the children, who, although they gave no money, still demanded the entire music and aired their disappointment with ridicule and mockery. Since that time, every group of bad street musicians in Hamburg is scolded as a “pancake ensemble”.
The call of the tradesmen When tradesmen traveled through the streets, they called out the name of their wares loudly to lure their customers from their homes. These calls were usually a typical, easily remembered singsong. The farmer who peddled pipe-cleaners and the pods loved for driving away cats, “PEAS-N-PODS, PIIIIIIIPE-CLEANERS!!!” Because he called out with a strong, full-throated, overly loud voice, though, he usually horribly frightened the housewives and remained a disagreeable memory. In contrast, well known and liked by the Hamburgers was Krohn with his water wagon. His call was “WATER, FRESH WATER!” However, he had the habit of interrupting his calls with conversations with passers-by, such as: “WA - Well, hello, neighbor, are you here too? - FRESH - lovely weather this morning, don't you think? - WA - but it doesn't seem to want to turn spring yet - TER!!!" He provided amusement to street life in this way for years, until he died in 1869 at the age of 98. Last but not least, there was also old codger, who around 1860 paddled his rowboat full of freshly cut grass from an Elbe island to Hamburg each day. Although he had prosperous children who would gladly have taken him in, he never left his rowboat in which, summer and winter, tucked under an old blanket, he spent his nights. As he rowed his boatful of greenery through the city's waterways, he often met up with his declared enemies, the dairymen, who then jeered, “MAY - APE!” and whom he equally derisively answered with “WATER AND MILK!”. Dairymen in Hamburg © 2003 Peter Dörling, Norderstedt Recounted from the book "Das lustige alte Hamburg / Scherze, Sitten und Gebräuche unserer Väter". Collected in 1889 by Dr. Albert Borcherdt, Hamburg ( + 1908) / Publisher F. Dörling, Hamburg ; 1st Edition 1890 ; 6th Edition 1912.