Olaf Fønss commenting on his fan mail
V.S.: »Damernes Ridder« (Verden og Vi IV: 8 (20.2.1914), pp. 24–25)
»Næste Dag Interviews i alle Blade, Kæmpe-Reklame paa alle Plakater, Køreture i Luxusbil og .... puh .... en Stabel Billets doux fra tossede Kvindfolk, som plagede mig for mit Fotografi ... ja disse Breve var næsten det værste ... jeg svarede aldrig! […]
Jeg faar Lov til at inspicere Brevdyngen fra Fønss‘ kvindelige Beundrere. Bunken minder om en lignende, som Cleo de Merode en Gang viste mig efter sin skandinaviske Tourné. Forskellen er kun, at Cleos Breve var fra taabelige Mandfolk. Blandt Brevskriverinderne til Fønss synes Wienerinderne at være Majoritet. Rekorden sættes af en ung Wienerfrue, som skriver, at hendes største Lykke vilde være at blive velsignet med en Arving ved Dr. Kammachers Fremstiller. Blev det en Pige, skulde hun selvfølgelig hedde Atlanta! Iøvrigt er der flere Ægteskabstilbud mellem Brevene. Det er Skrivelser paa Vers og Prosa, paa fransk, tysk og engelsk, fra Frankfurt og Hamburg og Bukarest... Fønss paastaar, som sagt, at han har ignoreret dem alle. Han har dem vel blot for at kunne vise frem.«
»The next day interviews in all the magazines, huge advertisements on all the posters, rides in a luxury car and .... puh .... a stack of Billets doux from crazy women who pestered me for my photograph...well, these letters were almost the worst.... I never replied! […]
I am allowed to inspect the pile of letters from Fønss' female admirers. The pile reminds me of a similar one that Cleo de Merode once showed me after her Scandinavian tour. The only difference is that Cleo's letters were from respectable men. Among the letter-writers to Fønss, Viennese women seem to be the majority. The record is set by a young Viennese woman who writes that her greatest happiness would be to be blessed with an heir by Dr. Kammacher's manufacturer. If it were a girl, her name should of course be Atlanta! Moreover, there are several offers of marriage among the letters. They are letters in verse and prose, in French, German and English, from Frankfurt and Hamburg and Bucharest... Fønss claims, as I have said, that he has ignored them all. He probably has them just to be able to show them off.«
Olaf Fønss: »Berømmelsens Skyggeside« (Filmen III: 22 (1.9.1915), pp. 201–202)
»Naar De lidt indiskret antyder, at Populariteten skulde medføre en Skyggeside i Form af Damebreve, Telefonopringninger, Anmodninger om mit Fotografi eller Paategning paa samme, kan jeg kun forsikre, at de utallige Breve, jeg modtager fra mit ukendte Publikum Verden over, netop lader mig maale min ›Berømmelse‹ og føle, at der er Glæde ved Filmkunsten, at den kan faa andre til at føle noget af det, jeg gerne vil. Og det giver mig Lejlighed til at bede de skønne og trofaste Beundrerinder undskylde, at jeg ikke kan svare dem alle, for selv om Filmsgager er eventyrlige, har jeg endnu ikke Raad til at holde det Antal Sekretærer, som vilde udfordres dertil, og selv vilde jeg ikke kunne overkomme det, om jeg saa ikke havde andet at bestille. Men jeg forsikrer dem alle, at de bereder mig en stor Glæde, som jeg er taknemmelig for. Min Telefon passer jeg heldigvis ikke selv, men jeg takker Damen paa Telefoncentralen for, at hun kan besørge Opringningerne, kun kunde hun gerne tjene mig i at give mig Madro ved min velfortjente Middag. Heller ikke kan jeg naturligvis efterkomme alle Anmodninger om mit Fotografi. Men derfor er der sørget godt ved, at jeg kan købes paa Postkort.
Imidlertid skal jeg til Slut i denne hastige maaske altfor skematiske Oversigt over Skyggesiderne ved Populariteten som Filmsskuespiller fortælle et Tilfælde, hvor jeg absolut fandt mig opfordret til at sende mit Billede: En østerrigsk Officer skrev nu under Krigen til mig, at han havde ligget i Kvarter paa en stor Herregaard, og at den unge, smukke Datter der havde udtalt som sit højeste Ønske at modtage min Ringheds egnhændige deciderede Fotografi. Han bad mig nu fra Fronten, om jeg vilde opfylde hans Bøn uden at nævne, at det skyldtes ham!
Ja, Hr. Redaktør, De ser, at det slet ikke er saa aldeles ulykkeligt, hvis Vorherre har skabt En til Filmskuespiller. Jeg sender mine Beundrerinder Verden over en taknemmlig Hilsen gennem Bladet her – det er godt at have mange Beundrerinder, som det er godt for Deres Blad at have mange Abonnenter.
Deres ærbødige
Olaf Fønss.
»When you somewhat indiscreetly suggest that popularity might have a dark side in the form of letters from women, telephone calls, requests for my photograph or an autograph on the same, I can only assure you that the countless letters I receive from my unknown audience all over the world let me measure my ›fame‹ and feel that there is joy in the art of film, that it can make others feel something of what I want to feel. And it gives me the opportunity to apologize to the beautiful and faithful female admirers for not being able to answer them all, for even though film salaries are fabulous, I do not yet have enough money to keep the number of secretaries who would be necessary to do so, and I myself would not be able to manage it, even if I had nothing else to do. But I assure them all that they give me great pleasure, for which I am grateful. Fortunately, I don't look after my telephone myself, but I thank the lady at the telephone exchange for being able to take care of the calls, only she could help me by giving me time to eat at my well-deserved dinner. Nor, of course, can I comply with all requests for my photograph. But therefore it has been well arranged that I can be bought on postcards.
However, at the end of this hasty, perhaps too schematic overview of the shadowy sides of popularity as a film actor, I must relate an instance in which I absolutely found myself urged to send my picture: an Austrian officer wrote to me during the war that he had been quartered in a large manor house, and that the young, beautiful daughter there had expressed as her highest wish to receive my poor dear's self-made photograph. He now asked me from the front if I would grant his request without mentioning that it was due to him!
Yes, Mr. Editor, you see that it is not at all so utterly unfortunate if God has created one to be a movie actor. I send my female admirers all over the world a grateful greeting through this magazine – it is good to have many female admirers, as it is good for your magazine to have many subscribers.
Your respectful
Olaf Fønss.
»Olaf Fönss. Spezialbericht unseres Kopenhagener Mitarbeiters« (Elegante Welt VIII: 13 (1919, p. 12)
»Reiche und schöne Bojarentöchter und kleine Menschenfresserinnen auf den Salomon-Inseln machen ihm Heiratsanträge. Im Boudoir einer Herzogin, in der Betkammer des Mädchens von der Heilsarmee, auf der Wand einer Clondyke-Bar und bei der Geisha in Yokohama hängt sein Bild … Das Porto allein, das auf den vielen Bitten um Unterschriften unter seine Photos liegt, repräsentiert ein Kapital.«
»Rich and beautiful boyar's daughters and little man-eaters in Solomon Islands make marriage proposals to him. In the boudoir of a duchess, in the prayer chamber of the girl from the Salvation Army, on the wall of a Clondyke bar and with the geisha in Yokohama hangs his picture ... The postage alone, which lies on the many requests for signatures under his photos, represents a capital.«
Olaf Fønss: »Af Filmsheltens Brevdynge« (Det ny Magasin 1922/23, issue XII, pp. 2–4, 6)
Det er kendt, at Olaf Fønss – der ved sin lykkelige Iscenesættelse at B.T.s Amatørfilm paany har gjort sit Navn aktuelt – er en af de Filmskuespillere i Verden, som modtager de fleste Breve fra Beundrerinder. Nedenfor fremsætter den yndede Kunstner en Række interessante Meddelelser angaaende denne Korrespondances Art og Omfang – og samtidig har han – som Prøve – overladt os en Samling Epistler, der citeres nedenfor.
»Om jeg nogensinde faar Breve fra Kvinder, jeg ikke kender.« – Olaf Fønss smiler; men der er hverken Overmod eller Haan i det Smil – saadan ser f. Eks. En af Jack Londons Guldgravere ud, naar den fjerne Bars vilde Piger, hylder ham og han paa een Gang er stolt over den Lykke han gør og samtidigt ryster ›de Satans Tøse‹ af sig. ›Her ligger nogle Stykker,‹ Fønss aabner et gammelt Egetræsskab, der befinder sig i samme Værelse som hans meget omtalte Himmelseng – og – ›saa for Pokker, der ryger sgu det Hele,‹ vi bøjer os over et Hav af hivde, blaa, lyserøde, guldkantede, haandmalede, blomsterprydede, parfumeduftende Billetter, hvor spinkle, forsigtige eller flot henkastede Skrifttegn paa Tysk, paa Engelsk, paa Polsk, paa Hollandsk og Dansk, lyser os imøde.
›Svarer De nogensinde paa nogen af de Breve?‹
›Se,‹ siger Olaf Fønss og griber ned i Bunken, ›se en hel Masse af dem begynder jo med en Opfordring til paa vedlagte Postkort af mig selv at skrive mit Navn – naar der saa er frankeret og adresseret Kuvert med, hvorfor i Alverden skulde man saa ikke gøre det – men udover det har jeg selvfølgelig aldrig svaret en Linje.‹
›Der maa være Stof til en hel Kvindepsykologie i dette;‹ ›Det er der noget om, hvis De kigger lidt rundt i Bunkerne, vil De hurtigt opdage, at Kvinderne meget ofte afspejler deres Nations typiske Karaktertræk. Se her er vel nok flest tyske Billetter.‹ – ›Og de er?‹ – ›Søde, sentimentale, pæne og beskedne – Gretchen, ikkesandt.‹
›Og Wienerinderne?‹
[›]Fyrige, dristige, glødende – og i Modsætning til de fra andre Lande, er næsten alle mine østrigske Breve skrevet af Fruer – de sætter forresten altid fuldt Navn – selv om det er adeligt – som Underskrift.‹
[›]Giver Englænderinderne sig af med at skrive den Slags Breve?‹
›Ja, se nu hèr og dèr – rundt omkring er der dog flere engelske; men de er korrekte til det yderste, som oftest blot en formel Tak for mit Spil i den og den Rolle og en Anmodning om min Underskrift paa Fotografiet. Polakindernes Breve kan De let kende – se, hvor Haandskriften overalt er kejtet og ubehjælpsom – men dette her, det maa være fra Amerika.‹
Fønss tager et stort Album med Billeder frem, ›Ja, det er disse tre unge Damers Fødeby – til sidst sender de deres eget Billede. Der er noget ›smart‹ over Amerikanerindernes Maade at gribe Sagerne an paa.‹
›Har det nogen Indflydelse paa Brevenes Art, hvad Slags Film, De sidst spillede i?‹
›Ja i høj Grad. Gang paa Gang har jeg, naar jeg f. Eks., hvad jo ofte er faldet i min Lod, har spillet en eller anden Prælat, en asketisk Munk, en Martyr for Troen o. s. v., bagefter faaet fanatiske Omvendelsesbreve fra sværmeriske, religiøse Kvinder.‹
›Og de danske unge Piger?‹
Olaf Fønss smiler igen.
›Naar jeg har faaet saadant et Brev fra en lille Landsmandinde, har det altid været sødt og muntert – lidt Flirt og Film – heldigvis ikke dybere ment.‹
Vi faar Filmheltens Tilladelse til ud af Dyngen at plukke nogle enkelte Breve – vi er saa diskrete, at vi kun udsøger os nogle udenlandske, som vi citerer nedenfor.
E. ....,
London, W. 5.
28.-7.-1920.
OLAF FØNSS ESQ.
Kjære Hrr. Fønss.
Jeg haaber ikke, De bliver vred, fordi jeg skriver til Dem, men jeg vilde saa forfærdelig gerne have et Fotografi af Dem. Jeg saa Dem i en Film – ›Djævlens Kongerige‹ – i Gaar Aftes, og De ved ikke, hvor jeg nød den. Jeg er altid glad for at se danske Films, fordi deres Handling er saa god, og saa fordi der er saa megen Inderlighed over Danskernes Spil; og jeg maa indrømme, jeg sværmer for Inderlighed. G ø r D e i k k e o g s a a?
De vil af dette Brev se, at jeg er Stenograf og ansat ved de engelske Jernbaner. Jeg holder meget af mit Arbejde, men jeg vil allerhelst til Filmen. Jeg har f. R. engang haft en lille Rolle i noget, der Foregik i 1640. Jeg vilde gerne være blevet ved med at filme, men jeg s k u l d e gaa paa Handelskursus for at lære Stenografi, og derfor maatte jeg opgive Filmen. Men maaske faar jeg engang mit Ønske opfyldt, man skal jo aldrig opgive at haabe.
Har De været i England? Jeg vilde saa gerne en Tur til Danmark, men jeg har hørt, der er meget koldt, og jeg maa tilstaa, jeg elsker Varme. G ø r D e i k k e o g s a a? Vi har haft en meget daarlig Sommer i Aar, næsten ingen Varme og Masser af Regn.
Jeg haaber inderligt, De vil sende mig Deres Fotografi, da jeg frygtelig gerne vil have det.
Deres hengivne
D. B.
Dresden, 16–9.–18.
Min Drømmehelt!
Jeg sender Dem i Dag et nyt Bevis for hvor trofast, jeg tænker paa Dem. Jeg har selv lavet Broderiet, og i hvert eneste Sting har jeg nedlagt Ønsket om at glæde Dem.
Siden jeg skænkede Dem mit Hjærte, min Drømmehelt, er jeg blevet et helt andet Menneske, Det er nu snart to Aar siden, jeg første Gang saa Deres elskede Billede. I al den Tid har jeg været min Drømmehelt tro, og jeg vil altid vedblive at være det. Skønt jeg er meget ombejlet, forbliver jeg dog bestandig tro mod mig selv og min Drømmehelt.
Jeg nærer det inderlige Haab, at min Drømmehelt engang vil ofre nogle faa Minutter af sin kostbare Tid paa at sende et Par Ord til
Deres –
Et bøhmisk Postkort med Afsenderindens Fotografi.
Min guddommelige Fønss!
Deres Ela sender Dem et inderligt Kys og sine kjærlige Hilsener.
Det vilde gøre mig mere end lykkelig, hvis jeg snart fik et Par Ord fra Dem.
8.–10.–1918.
Wien, d. 23. Nov. 22.
HVAD ER LIVET?
En Kæde af Lykke og Fryd -
af Smerte og Lidelse!
Af Længsel og Bitterhed –
af Jubel og Salighed!
Af Ønsker og Forhaabninger -
af Forsagelse og Skuffelse!
Tilegnet Hr. O l a f F ø n s s af Forfatterinden med en beskeden Bøn om et Svar.
A. I.
Polen, d. 24.–7.–22.
Højtærede Kunstner!
Jeg maa desværre gøre Dem den sørgelige Meddelelse, at jeg er bleven bestjaalet for min Taske, hvori jeg havde alle mine Billeder. De kan ikke forestille Dem, hvor jeg har været fortvivlet eller hvor mange Taarer dette har kostet mig.
Jeg beder Dem derfor indtrængende sende mig et nyt Fotografi med Autograf.
Idet jeg paa Forhaand takker Dem, forbliver jeg
med Højagtelse
Deres
L. B.
Strassburg, 19.–7.–1922.
Kære, gode Hrr. Fønss: –
De maa ikke blive vred over, at jeg nu igen skriver til Dem. Der er i Dag sket en frygtelig Tildragelse her, og jeg vil fortælle Dem det altsammen. Hvor er det dog godt at have e e n, man kan udøse sit Hjærte for. Altsaa! Min Moder har været bortrejst i en Ugestid og har overladt hele Husholdningen til mig. Jeg under hende at have Ferie, men hvordan jeg skal holde det ud med Fader, forstaar jeg ikke. Han har allerede i adskillige Dage skændt paa mig, fordi jeg brugte for mange Penge. Men De kan nok tænke Dem, Hrr. Fønss, at i disse dyre Tider – hvor alt daglig stiger i pris – kan man umuligt faa 150 Mk. til at forslaa til 4 Personer.
I Morges gik jeg ned og bad Fader give mig nogle Penge til Marmelade. Og saa svarede han mig, at naar vi havde M a r g a r i n e, behøvede vi ikke mere. Vi kunde ikke faa begge Dele! Jeg svarede saa, at jeg vilde købe Marmelade.
Naa, jeg fik Pengene og vilde sende Volontøren i Byen for at hente Marmelada, jeg ikke var helt paaklædt, men saa sagde Fader: »Nej, det vil jeg ikke have! Du kan selv gaa i Byen! Mine Undergivne er ikke ansat for at løbe Dine Ærinder«. Jeg lagde Pengene paa Bordet, medens jeg gik op for at gøre mig færdig, men da jeg kom tilbage, var Pengene borte, og hvad han saa sagde til mig, forsikrer jeg Dem, Hrr. Fønss, skal jeg sent glemme. Han sagde: »Nu kan Du om, hvor Du faar noget at s p i s e, jeg sørger for mig selv!« Kalder De det faderligt sagt? Nej, det er aldeles umenneskeligt! Vi fik da heller ikke noget at spise, og jeg var frygtelig sulten.
Da Fader var gaaet i Praksis, fandt jeg mig en Brødskorpe i Brødkassen.
Da min Søster for nogen Tid siden var bortrejst, hvilede hele Husholdningen paa mig.
Tænk Dem blot, hele Villaen paa 11 Værelser maatte jeg ganske alene holde ren foruden, at jeg maatte gøre Indkøb, lave Mad og holde Regnskab over, hvad jeg gav ud. Jeg kunde ikke overkomme det hele ganske alene, ikke med min bedste Villie!
Skønt jeg ved 11-Tiden om Aftenen var dødtræt, gjorde jeg dog baade Papas Operations- og Venteværelse i Stand, og desuden vaskede jeg op. Jeg var ved at styrte af Træthed, men jeg maatte gøre det, ellers havde jeg blot faaet flere Skænd. Og saa sagde M e nn e s k e t Dagen efter, at jeg havde været for doven til at vaske Trappen! Jeg skulde se at komme ud af Huset og finde mig en Plads!
Hrr. Fønss, jeg beder Dem af hele mit Hjærte om at hjælpe mig. Vil De ikke nok hjælpe mig? Jeg maa bort herfra. De, der har Raad til det, vil De ikke nok hjælpe mig? K a n j e g i k k e f a a L o v a t b o h o s D e m, t i l j e g k a n f a a e n P l a d s? Hvor svært det falder mig at bede Dem herom, gør De Dem intet Begreb om! Jeg har aldrig før gjort noget saadan, men jeg faar intet at spise her, og hvis det stod til Fader, ville jeg dø af Sult. H a n e r l i g e g l a d.
Jeg haaber ikke, De tror noget slet om mig, men naar man er fortvivlet, griber man til enhver Udvej. Hvor er det forfærdeligt altsammen! Jeg ved ikke, hav jeg skal gribe til! Men De vil hjælpe mig, ikke sandt? O g j e g s k a l g e n g æ l d e D e m d e t t u s i n d f o l d!
De ved, jeg føler mig som en lille, herreløs Hund, der strejfer rundt i Gaderne og søger efter noget, den kan stille sin Hunger med. –
De maa undskylde Skriften, det gaar i saadan en Fart.
Jeg sender Dem til Slut de venligste Hilsner, idet jeg haaber snart at modtage gode Efterretninger fra Dem.
Deres lille Veninde
Marianne.
SOM TAK FOR ET AUTOGRAM.
Die Wartezeit war lang und schwer
Bis ferne über die See,
Ihr Brief von Dänemark kam daher
Zum grünen Strand der Spree.
Und ob die Menschen, ob die Welt
Ich kennen lernen musz,
Hauptsache ist, ich kenn‘ genau
den Film »Homunculus«.
Und wenn Sie lachen, bitte sehr,
Es schafft mir nicht Verdrusz,
Ich freu‘ mich nämlich viel zu sehr,
S c h ö n D a n k, Homunculus!
R.C.
München, 22.–12.–22.
Højtærede Herre!
Jeg beder om Undskyldning, fordi jeg vover at besvære Dem med dette Brev. Kun den Beundring og Ærbødighed, som jeg (og mange andre med mig her i München) nærer for Deres Kunst, giver mig Mod til at sende Dem disse Linier.
En stor Skare her i München beundrer Deres Kunst og stiller den over alle andre fremragende Filmsskuespilleres. Og dog ser vi til vor Sorg kun men store Mellemrum Deres Films. D e r e s M i s u n d e r e o g F j e n d e r f o r h i n d r e r d e t o g b e s t i k k e r t e m m e l i g s i k k e r t o g s a a d e h e r v æ r e n d e K r i t i k e r e.
Derfor hersker der her store Længsel efter Deres uforlignelige, ejendommelige Kunst i disser Uger og Maaneder, i h v i l k e d e n n e a a n d e l i g e »F a s t e « v a r e r – og derfor beder jeg Dem instændig om at sende mig Deres Bog.
Jeg beder Dem endnu engang tilgive min Paatrængenhed. Jeg ved, min Handlemaade er ukorrekt, og jeg skammer mig over den. Men Ønsket, jeg nærer, er stærkere end Skamfuldheden. Jeg kunde ikke modstaa at sende Dem denne Bøn.
Med særdeles Højagtelse
S. K. B.
TIL MIT »ÆVENTYR«!
Med gylden Glæde øser du af Sjælens dybe Kilde –
den Kilde, der bli’er næret af dit rige Kunstnersind –
og skænker os, for hvem du skaber dig
et Mindesmærke. Rejst af lyse, skønne Minder,
en Rigdom, som vi ved, der aldrig svinder.
Tilegnet min ædle Olaf – mit »Æventyr« d. 29. Juli,
som en lille Erindring om Deres trofaste Sjælesøster.
S. R.
(Bøhmen).
It is a well-known fact that Olaf Fønss – who by his successful staging of B.T.'s amateur film has recently made his name topical – is one of the film actors in the world who receives the most letters from female admirers. Below, the beloved artist makes a number of interesting comments on the nature and extent of this correspondence - and at the same time, as a sample, he has left us a collection of epistles, which are quoted below.
»If I ever get letters from women I don't know.« - Olaf Fønss smiles; but there is neither arrogance nor cockiness in that smile – that is how, for instance, one of Jack London's gold-diggers looks when the wild girls of the distant bar hail him, and he is at once proud of the good fortune he is doing, and at the same time shakes off ›the damned girls‹. ›Here are some pieces,‹ Fønss opens an old oak cabinet, which is in the same room as the much-discussed four-poster bed – and – ›damn it all, there goes the whole damn thing,‹ we bend over a sea of white, blue, pink, pink, gold-edged, hand-painted, flower-adorned, perfume-scented tickets, where delicate, careful or beautifully thrown away characters in German, in English, in Polish, in Dutch and Danish, shine out to meet us.
›Do you ever answer any of those letters?‹
›Look,‹ says Olaf Fønss, reaching into the pile, ›a whole lot of them begin with an invitation to write my name on the enclosed postcard of myself – if the envelope is stamped and addressed, why in the world shouldn't you do it – but apart from that, of course, I have never answered a line.
›There must be material for a whole psychology of women in this;‹ ›There is something to that, if you look around in the piles, you will quickly discover that the women very often reflect the typical characteristics of their nation. See here are probably most of the German letters.‹ – ›And they are?‹ – ›Sweet, sentimental, pretty, and modest – Gretchen, right.[‹]
›And Viennese women?‹
[›]Fiery, bold, ardent – and in contrast to those from other countries, almost all my Austrian letters are written by ladies – they always sign their full name – even if it is noble by the way.[‹]
[›]Do Englishwomen busy themselves with writing letters of this kind?‹
›Yes, now look here and there – there are several English ones scattered about, but they are correct to the extreme, usually just a formal thank you for my playing such and such a part and a request for my signature on the photograph. You can easily recognize the letters of the Polish women – see how the handwriting is everywhere awkward and clumsy – but this one must be from America.‹
Fønss takes out a large album of pictures, ›Yes, this is the birthplace of these three young ladies – in the end they send their own picture. There is something ›smart‹ about the American women's way of going about things.‹
›Does it have any influence on the nature of your letters what kind of movie you last acted in?‹
›Yes, to a high degree. Time after time, for instance, when I have played some prelate, an ascetic monk, a martyr for the faith, etc., which has often fallen into my lot, I have afterwards received fanatical letters of conversion from swarming religious women.‹
›And the young Danish girls?‹
Olaf Fønss is smiling again.
›Whenever I have received such a letter from a little countrywoman, it has always been sweet and cheerful – a little flirtation and pretending – fortunately no deeper meaning.‹
We get the film hero's permission to pick a few letters out of the heap – we are so discreet that we only select a few foreign ones, which we quote below.
E. ....,
London, W. 5.
28.-7.-1920.
OLAF FØNSS ESQ.
Dear Mr. Fønss.
I hope you won't be angry with me for writing to you, but I would so terribly like to have a photograph of you. I saw you in a movie – ›The Devil's Kingdom‹ – last night, and you don't know how I enjoyed it. I am always glad to see Danish films, because their action is so good, and also because there is so much sincerity in the Danes' acting; and I must admit I am a sucker for sincerity. D o n't y o u d o t h a t t o o?
You will see from this letter that I am a stenographer employed by the British Railways. I like my work very much, but I want most of all to go to the movies. For instance, I once had a small part in something that took place in 1640. I would have liked to have kept on filming, but I h a d to go to a commercial course to learn shorthand, and so I had to give up the movies. But perhaps one day I will have my wish fulfilled, one should never give up hope.
Have you been to England? I would so much like to go to Denmark, but I have heard that it is very cold, and I must confess that I love warmth. D o n't y o u l i k e i t t o o? We have had a very bad summer this year, hardly any heat and lots of rain.
I sincerely hope you will send me your photograph, as I should like to have it very much.
Your devoted
D. B.
Dresden, 16–9.–18.
My dream hero!
I send you today a new proof of how faithfully I think of you. I have made the embroidery myself, and in every stitch I have put the desire to please you.
Since I gave you my heart, my dream hero, I have become a completely different person. It is now almost two years since I first saw your beloved picture. All this time I have been faithful to my dream hero, and I shall always remain so. Though I am much sought after, I always remain true to myself and to my dream hero.
I fervently hope that my dream hero will one day sacrifice a few minutes of his precious time to send a few words to
Yours –
A Bohemian postcard with the sender's photograph.
My divine Fønss!
Your Ela sends you a heartfelt kiss and her affectionate greetings.
It would make me more than happy if I could soon get a few words from you.
8.–10.–1918.
Vienna, 23. Nov. 22.
WHAT IS LIFE?
A chain of happiness and joy –
of pain and suffering!
Of longing and bitterness –
of rejoicing and bliss!
Of desires and hopes –
Of despair and disappointment!
Dedicated to Mr. O l a f F ø n s s by the Authoress with a modest request for a reply.
A. I.
Poland, 24.–7.–22.
Esteemed artist!
I regret to inform you that I have been robbed of my bag, in which I had all my pictures. You cannot imagine how despairing I have been, or how many tears this has cost me.
I therefore beg you to send me a new photograph with an autograph.
In thanking you in advance, I remain
with esteem
Your
L. B.
Strassburg, 19.–7.–1922.
Dear, good Mr. Fønss: –
You must not be angry that I am writing to you again. There has been a terrible affair here today, and I want to tell you all about it. How good it is to have o n e p e r s o n for whom one can pour out one's heart. Well! My mother has been away for a week, and has left the whole household to me. I think she deserves to have a vacation, but how I am to bear it with father I do not understand. He has already been scolding me for several days because I spent too much money. But you can imagine, Mr. Fønss, that in these expensive times – where everything rises in price daily – it is impossible to get 150 marks to feed four people.
This morning I went down and asked father to give me some money for jam. And then he answered me that if we had m a r g a r i n e, we didn't need any more. We could not have both! I then replied that I would buy jam.
Well, I got the money and was going to send the Volunteer to town to get some jam, I was not fully dressed, but then father said: »No, I don't want that! You can go to town yourself! My subordinates are not employed to run your errands.« I put the money on the table while I went upstairs to finish my work, but when I came back the money was gone, and what he then said to me, I assure you, Mr. Fønss, I shall never forget. He said: »Now you know where you can get something to e a t, I'll take care of myself!« Do you call that fatherly? No, it is utterly inhuman! We didn't get anything to eat, and I was terribly hungry.
When Father had gone to practice, I found a crust of bread in the breadbox.
When my sister went away some time ago, the whole household depended on me.
Just imagine, the whole villa of eleven rooms I had to keep clean all by myself, besides doing the shopping, cooking, and keeping accounts of what I spent. I could not manage it all by myself, not with my best will!
Although I was dead tired by 11 o'clock in the evening, I did, however, prepare both Papa's operating and waiting room, and I also washed the dishes. I was about to collapse from fatigue, but I had to do it, otherwise I would only have had more disgrace. And then t h e m a n said the next day that I had been too lazy to wash the stairs! I had to get out of the house and find a place for myself!
Mr. Fønss, I beg you with all my heart to help me. Please help me. I must get away from here. Those who have the means, please help me. C a n I n o t b e a l l o w e d t o l i v e w i t h y o u u n t i l I c a n g e t a p o s i t i o n? You have no idea how difficult it is for me to ask you to do this! I have never done anything like this before, but I get nothing to eat here, and if it were up to father, I would die of hunger. H e d o e s n o t c a r e.
I hope you don't think anything bad about me, but when one is in despair, one resorts to any means. How dreadful it all is! I don't know what to do! But you will help me, won't you? A n d I s h a l l r e p a y y o u a t h o u s a n d t i m e s o v e r!
You know I feel like a little stray dog roaming the streets looking for something to satisfy its hunger. –
You'll have to excuse the writing, it's going so fast.
In closing, I send you my kindest regards, as I hope to receive good news from you soon.
Your little female friend
Marianne.
AS A THANK YOU FOR AN AUTOGRAPH.
The wait was long and hard
Till far across the sea,
Your letter from Denmark came
To the green beach of the Spree.
And whether the people, whether the world
I must get to know,
The main thing is that I know exactly
the film »Homunculus«.
And if you laugh, go ahead,
It doesn't make me feel bad,
Because I'm much too happy,
T h a n k y o u, Homunculus!
R.C.
Munich, 22.–12.–22.
Esteemed Sir!
I apologize for daring to trouble you with this letter. Only the admiration and reverence that I (and many others with me here in Munich) have for your art gives me the courage to send you these lines.
A large crowd here in Munich admires your art and places it above that of all other excellent film actors. And yet, to our sorrow, we see your films only at great intervals. Y o u r e n v i e r s a n d e n e m i e s p r e v e n t i t a n d a l m o s t c e r t a i n l y b r i b e t h e l o c a l c r i t i c s a s w e l l.
Therefore there is a great longing here for your incomparable, peculiar art during these weeks and months d u r i n g w h i c h t h i s s p i r i t u a l »f a s t« l a s t s – and therefore I urge you to send me your book.
I beg you once more to forgive my impatience. I know my conduct is wrong, and I am ashamed of it. But my desire is stronger than my shame. I could not resist sending you this prayer.
With very high esteem
S. K. B.
TO MY »FAIRY TALE«!
With golden joy you pour from the deep well of the soul –
the source that is nourished by your rich artist's mind –
and bestow on us, for whom you create yourself
a memorial. Raised by bright, beautiful memories,
a wealth that we know will never fade.
Dedicated to my noble Olaf – my »fairy tale« 29. July,
as a small remembrance of your faithful soul sister.
S. R.
(Bohemia).
Olaf Fønss: Films-Erindringer gennem 20 Aar. Copenhagen: Nutid, 1930, pp. 117–118.
»Den næste Morgen kom min Broder Johannes ind til mig med Favnen fuld av Breve. ›Filmsberømtheden‹ var blevet opdaget, og for hver Dag steg Mængden af Breve fra Films-Beundrere – naturligvis navnlig Beundrerinder fra Tyskland, Østrig og Ungarn, der plagede om mit Fotografi og fyldte Brevene med Kærlighedserklæringer. Der var Skrivelser paa Vers og Prosa, paa fransk, tysk og engelsk, fra Frankfurt, Hamburg, Bukarest og Wien – og der var tillige mange forskellige Ting i disse Breve: Guldnaale, Cigaret-Etuier og Ægteskabstilbud. Rekorden sattes dog af en adelig wiensk Frue, der bad om min ›Gunst‹ i en Uge – hvor i Verden jeg vilde møde hende var ligegyldigt, hun var rig og skulde komme, thi hendes højeste og eneste Ønske var at opnaa den store Lykke at blive velsignet med et Barn ved Dr. Kammachers Fremstiller. Hvis Barnet blev en Pige, skulde hun hedde Atlanta. Damen opgav Navn og Adresse og hendes Fotografi fulgte med – og hvad der var mest forbavsende – hun vare baade ung og smuk.
Jeg plejde kun at sætte mit Navn paa tilsendte Fotografier, ellers svarede jeg aldrig paa Brevene; men jeg indrømmer, at den Dag, jeg fik dette Brev, sad jeg en Time og overvejede, før jeg rev det i Stykker og smed det i Papirkurven.«
»The next morning my brother Johannes came into my room with a fistful of letters. The ›film celebrity‹ had been discovered, and every day the volume of letters from film admirers increased – especially, of course, female admirers from Germany, Austria and Hungary, who pestered me about my photograph and filled the letters with declarations of love. There were letters in verse and prose, in French, German and English, from Frankfurt, Hamburg, Bucharest and Vienna – and there were also many different things in these letters: Gold pins, cigarette cases and marriage proposals. The record, however, was set by a noble Viennese lady who asked for my ›favor‹ for a week – where in the world I would meet her was of no importance, she was rich and would come, for her highest and only wish was to achieve the great happiness of being blessed with a child by Dr. Kammacher's manufacturer. If the child was a girl, her name was to be Atlanta. The lady gave her name and address, and her photograph followed – and what was most astonishing – she was both young and beautiful.
I used to put my name only on photographs sent to me, otherwise I never replied to the letters; but I confess that the day I received this letter I sat for an hour thinking before I tore it to pieces and threw it in the waste-paper basket.«
Olaf Fønss: Krig, Sult og Film. Films-Erindringer gennem 20 Aar. II. Bind. Copenhagen: Alf. Nielsen, 1932, p. 116.
»Ikke alene at jeg hjemme i Neu Babelsberg daglig druknede i en Stabel af Breve, som to Damer paa Kontoret blev sat til at besvare ved saa godt som muligt at efterligne min Haandskrift og sætte mit Navn paa Postkort til alle Beundrere eller Beundrerinderne (det var nemlig Lippmanns Ordre, at alle, der skrev, skulde have et Postkort med mit Billede – der efter hans Mening virkede som en glimrende Reklame for Filmen) – men ogsaa naar jeg en enkelt Gang kom ind til Berlin, blev der ofte Opløb omkring mig af Damer, der tiggede om min Autograf […].«
»Not only that at home in Neu Babelsberg I was daily drowning in a pile of letters, which two ladies in the office were set to answer by imitating my handwriting as well as possible and putting my name on postcards to all the admirers or female admirers (it was Lippmann's orders, that everyone who wrote should have a postcard with my picture on it – which in his opinion seemed to be an excellent advertisement for the film) – but even when I came into Berlin once in a while, there was often a crowd around me of ladies begging for my autograph […].«
(illustration from Olaf Fønss: Films-Erindringer gennem 20 Aar. Copenhagen: Nutid, 1930, p. 119)