Friedrich Wilhelm Voight was born in Prussia in 1849 and learned the shoemaking trade from his father. But at the early age of 14, he began his criminal career with a two-week jail stay for theft. He did not learn much from that: during a 27-year period, he spent 25 of them in prison. Out in early 1906, he came up with a caper that Danny Ocean would have appreciated.
Wilhelm bought an army captain's uniform in a pawnshop, collected ten local soldiers solely on the authority represented by his uniform, and marched into the city hall of Koepenick, Prussia. There the cowed city officials handed over 4,002 marks and change to the "captain," who obligingly signed a receipt (with someone else's name, of course). He sent his troop on their way back to duty, and disappeared.
But, he was arrested a few weeks later in October 1906 and sentenced to two years. While serving his time, the story spread around Germany and even the Kaiser was amused ("he seems like an amiable fellow") and pardoned Wilhelm. Quickly becoming a folk hero, a wax figure was made for a museum, and he wrote a play about his hijinks and toured central Europe. Subsequently, in 1909, he published a successful book. Over the next three-quarters of a century, another play, movies and television retold his story, a Clyde without a Bonnie, a Jesse James, a Robin Hood, and yes, like Zorro too. The tried and true course of criminal to popular hero to media figure.
The ruse of using a false uniform has been employed for more sinister purposes. One hundred and fifty Austrian Nazis did so in the first, unsuccessful, putsch in Austria (1934); the Wehrmacht did during the World War II invasion of the Netherlands and later impersonation of American MPs during the Battle of the Bulge, and it works in Afghanistan today.
Nothing is stranger than a true story.
and a string of beads, a headband and two fingers makes you a hippie.
ReplyDeleteand in the military, salute the ones with the best jewelry.
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