Former Marine Combat Center Commander Mullen Found Dead At 29 Palms Base

Retired Marine Major General William F. Mullen died late last week at the Twentynine Palms Marine base, which he once commanded, under circumstances that are not clear.
Mullen was found dead within his living quarters at the base on Saturday. It is not known how long he had been deceased when his body was found.
Mullen was 60. His body is undergoing an autopsic examination by the San Bernardino County Coroner’s Office, which is a division of the sheriff’s department.
It is customary within the U.S. Military for retired officers who achieved general or admiral rank to be given living accommodations at military installations, generally of their own choosing. Mullen, who was then a one-star brigadier general, took on the assignment of the commanding general of the Twentynine Palms base, known officially within the Marine Corps as the Marine Air Ground Task Force Training Command and Marine Corps Air Ground Combat Center in July 2016. While he was in that assignment, Mullen promoted to two-star major general status. On June 8, 2018, he left Twentynine Palms to serve as the Commanding General, Training and Education Command in Quantico, Virginia. He took official retirement from the Marine Corps in 2020.
The Sentinel was given confirmation of Mullen’s death by both the Marine Corps and the sheriff’s department. Continue reading

Rats With Bubonic Plague-Bearing Fleas In North Upland?

Lackadaisical trash pick-up in neighborhoods of northern Upland has resulted in the proliferation of rats, which are reportedly beset with bubonic plague-bearing fleas.
City officials are loath to acknowledge the depth of the rat problem where it exists within certain city quarters because of the city’s image as a prestigious bedroom community, the northern half of which is considered to be one of San Bernardino County’s four most affluent areas.
At the basis of the rapidly deepening morass is the inconsistency on the part of the city’s franchised trash hauler to engage in uniform refuse removal on a timely basis throughout the 15.62-square mile, 78,562-population city. Burrtec Industries has held the city’s trash-hauling franchise since 2001 under a ten-year automatic rollover arrangement. While the company has provided and continues to provide adequate service to keep most of its customers and the city’s decision-makers in the form of the city council satisfied enough to have maintained that citywide franchise contract overall for more than two decades, possibly because of underperformance by a handful of its trash truck operators, the garbagemen who collect the city’s trash, recyclables and greenwaste on a weekly basis, at certain points within the city garbage has remained in place for weeks and on occasion months at a time.
Rather inexplicably, the locations where this neglect has been most common is on the city’s north side, in neighborhoods where the average household or individual annual income dwarfs that of the more modest neighborhoods on the southern end of the city. Continue reading

Forest Ecology Advocates Sue USFS Over Continued Arrowhead H2O Diversions

Three years after the California State Water Resources Control Board issued a tentative order to BlueTriton brands to discontinue diverting water from Strawberry Canyon at 5,200-foot to 5,600-foot elevation in the San Bernardino Mountains for use in its Arrowhead Spring Water bottling operation and nine months after that order was finalized, the Save Our Forest Association has sued the US Forest Service in an effort to force it to prevent the company from drafting any water from that mountain source.
Water originating in the San Bernardino Mountains and using the Arrowhead brand in one form or another had been marketed at least since 1909. Questions have long existed, however, as to whether the water rights originally claimed, attributed or granted to Arrowhead Puritas, the corporate predecessor to Arrowhead Spring Water, pertain to the current source of the water drawn at the 5,200-foot elevation level from Strawberry Creek in what is known as Strawberry Canyon rather than water drawn farther down the mountain at around the 2,000-foot above sea level. In 1929, the California Consolidated Waters Company was formed to merge three Los Angeles-based companies that bottled and distributed “Arrowhead Water,” “Puritas Water” and “Liquid Steam.” The property, bottling operations, water distribution and administration of Arrowhead Springs Company, Puritas of California Consumers Company and the water bottling division of Merchants Ice and Storage were all administered by California Consolidated Waters Company. In August 1930, California Consolidated Waters, on the basis of a single pipeline permit that was not based on any water rights and without having obtained a diversion permit or any further valid authorization or rights, started diverting spring water from a single “bedrock crevice” spring in the San Bernardino National Forest along Strawberry Creek at an elevation of 5,600 feet. Continue reading

Forsaking Salary Reductions To Balance Budget, Yucaipa Officials Propose Sales Tax

By Mark Gutglueck
Rejecting Councilman Chris Venable’s previous call to first examine a strategy of reducing city staff salaries to overcome Yucaipa’s growing institutional budget deficit, the Yucaipa City Council voted on Monday June 24 to instead ask the voters in the 55,008 population city to consider a one-cent sales tax override in November to redress the disparity between the municipalities revenues and expenditures.
In May, Yucaipa Finance Director Phil White, in previewing the city’s 2024-25 budget, which covers income and outgo from July 1, 2024 through June 30, 2025, said he anticipated that there would be a total of $40.1 million expended from the city’s general fund in the upcoming year and that approximately $35.7 million in revenue would come into the city from all sources. That immediately apparent $4.4 million deficit would be compounded by the consideration that within the general fund’s public safety subfund, the city would suffer a $2.9 million shortfall in covering its $7.4 contract for the provision of fire protection and paramedic operations with the California Division of Forestry and Fire Protection, known by its acronym CalFire, which serves as the city’s contract fire department. The city will have just $4.5 million in its fire fund for 2024-25. To cover the $2.9 million needed to shore up safety operations and the $4.4 million to fill the gap with regard to basic municipal operations, the city will, White said, utilize $7.3 million from its reserves, which were accumulated over the course of the city’s 35-year history since its 1989 founding. In addition, according to White, the city engaged in $2 million of deficit spending during the now nearly completed 2023-24 fiscal year. Continue reading

25 Recognized By Sheriff For Exceptional & Meritorious Service

On June 27, 2024, the San Bernardino County Sheriff’s Department recognized 13 current law enforcement officers and a former one, a dispatcher, a physician, four firemen and four citizens for their extraordinary efforts during emergency and extreme circumstances in 2023 and 2023.
The Sheriff’s Exceptional Service Awards, signed off on by Sheriff Shannon Dicus, were provided to the 25 individuals during a ceremony in Highland on Thursday by Assistant Sheriff Rick Bessinger. An unanticipated circumstance involving a member of Sheriff Dicus’s family prevented him from making the presentations himself.
The awards honored those who distinguished themselves through exceptional intensity in performing their jobs or in confronting a challenging situation, bravery, and heroism beyond normal expectations. “Each recipient made a significant impact on our community,” said Sheriff Dicus.
The event showcased inspiring stories of service and highlighted individual and team achievements. “Recipients risked their safety to save lives,” according to a sheriff’s department statement. “Some recipients rescued people trapped in fully engulfed homes and others aided severely injured hikers and individuals from traffic collisions. One community member intervened to stop an armed suspect. Additionally, a group received recognition for their efforts in saving Deputy Marcus Mason’s life, who was wounded in the line of duty during a 2022 traffic stop in Rancho Cucamonga.”
Sheriff Dicus said, “I couldn’t be more proud of the heroes we honored from our department and the community. Putting yourself in harm’s way to save another is what make these heroes exceptional.”
Continue reading

4 Of 5 Teen Joyriders Spotted By RC Deputies In Car Stolen from Gontana Streak To Their Deaths In Upland

Four of five youthful miscreants between the ages of 13 and 19 who started the evening of June 27 with a drunken joy ride involving a stolen 2018 Hyundai ended up dead in Upland when the driver of the car fled from a sheriff’s deputy on patrol in Rancho Cucamonga and slammed into another vehicle while traveling at a high rate of speed early this morning.
A fifth youth, the youngest of those in the car, survived but is hospitalized in severe but stable condition. His survival is anticipated and he may be able to shed some light on what transpired.
It is unknown how the ill-fated misdoers were able to defeat the security mechanism on the black 2018 Hyundai when it was seized in Fontana. One of the car’s occupants had a firearm in his possession, leading to speculation that the vehicle may have been taken at gunpoint, such that the now deceased driver had the short-lived and now unfortunate advantage of having the car’s key. Continue reading

Ein Mensch Mit Namen Ziegler

Von Hermann Hesse
Einst wohnte in der Brauergasse ein junger Herr mit Namen Ziegler. Er gehörte zu denen, die uns jeden Tag und immer wieder auf der Straße begegnen und deren Gesichter wir uns nie recht merken können, weil sie alle miteinander dasselbe Gesicht haben: ein Kollektivgesicht.
Ziegler war alles und tat alles, was solche Leute immer sind und tun. Er war nicht unbegabt, aber auch nicht begabt, er liebte Geld und Vergnügen, zog sich gern hübsch an und war ebenso feige wie die meisten Menschen: sein Leben und Tun wurde weniger durch Triebe und Bestrebungen regiert als durch Verbote, durch die Furcht vor Strafen. Dabei hatte er manche honette Züge und war überhaupt alles in allem ein erfreulich normaler Mensch, dem seine eigene Person sehr lieb und wichtig war. Er hielt sich, wie jeder Mensch, für eine Persönlichkeit, während er nur ein Exemplar war, und sah in sich, in seinem Schicksal den Mittelpunkt der Welt, wie jeder Mensch es tut. Zweifel lagen ihm fern, und wenn Tatsachen seiner Weltanschauung widersprachen, schloss er missbilligend die Augen.
Als moderner Mensch hatte er außer vor dem Geld noch vor einer zweiten Macht unbegrenzte Hochachtung: vor der Wissenschaft. Er hätte nicht zu sagen gewusst, was eigentlich Wissenschaft sei, er dachte dabei an etwas wie Statistik und auch ein wenig an Bakteriologie, und es war ihm wohl bekannt, wieviel Geld und Ehre der Staat für die Wissenschaft übrig habe. Besonders respektierte er die Krebsforschung, denn sein Vater war an Krebs gestorben, und Ziegler nahm an, die inzwischen so hoch entwickelte Wissenschaft werde nicht zulassen, dass ihm einst dasselbe geschähe.
Äußerlich zeichnete sich Ziegler durch das Bestreben aus, sich etwas über seine Mittel zu kleiden, stets im Einklang mit der Mode des Jahres. Denn die Moden des Quartals und des Monats, welche seine Mittel allzu sehr überstiegen hätten, verachtete er als dumme Afferei. Er hielt viel auf Charakter und trug keine Scheu, unter seinesgleichen und an sichern Orten über Vorgesetzte und Regierungen zu schimpfen. Ich verweile wohl zu lange bei dieser Schilderung. Aber Ziegler war wirklich ein reizender junger Mensch, und wir haben viel an ihm verloren. Denn er fand ein frühes und seltsames Ende, allen seinen Plänen und berechtigten Hoffnungen zuwider.
Bald nachdem er in unsere Stadt gekommen war, beschloss er einst, sich einen vergnügten Sonntag zu machen. Er hatte noch keinen rechten Anschluss gefunden und war aus Unentschiedenheit noch keinem Verein beigetreten. Vielleicht war dies sein Unglück. Es ist nicht gut, dass der Mensch allein sei.
So war er darauf angewiesen, sich um die Sehenswürdigkeiten der Stadt zu kümmern, die er denn gewissenhaft erfragte. Und nach reiflicher Überlegung entschied er sich für das historische Museum und den zoologischen Garten. Das Museum war an Sonntagvormittagen unentgeltlich, der Zoologische nachmittags zu ermäßigten Preisen zu besichtigen.
In seinem neuen Straßenanzug mit Tuchknöpfen, den er sehr liebte, ging Ziegler am Sonntag ins historische Museum. Er nahm so seinen dünnen, eleganten Spazierstock mit, einen vierkantigen, rotlackierten Stock, der ihm Haltung und Glanz verlieh, der ihm aber zu seinem tiefsten Missvergnügen vor dem Eintritt in die Säle vom Türsteher abgenommen wurde.
In den hohen Räumen war vielerlei zu sehen, und der fromme Besucher pries im Herzen die allmächtige Wissenschaft, die auch hier ihre verdienstvolle Zuverlässigkeit erwies, wie Ziegler aus den sorgfältigen Aufschriften an den Schaukästen schloss. Alter Kram, wie rostige Torschlüssel, zerbrochene grünspanige Halsketten und dergleichen, gewann durch diese Aufschriften ein erstaunliches Interesse. Es war wunderbar, um was alles diese Wissenschaft sich kümmerte, wie sie alles beherrschte, alles zu bezeichnen wusste oh nein, gewiss würde sie schon bald den Krebs abschaffen und vielleicht das Sterben überhaupt.
Im zweiten Saal fand er einen Glasschrank, dessen Scheibe so vorzüglich spiegelte, dass er in einer stillen Minute seinen Anzug, Frisur und Kragen, Hosenfalte und Krawattensitz kontrollieren konnte. Froh aufatmend schritt er weiter und würdigte einige Erzeugnisse alter Holzschnitzer seiner Aufmerksamkeit. Tüchtige Kerle, wenn auch reichlich naiv, dachte er wohlwollend. Und auch eine alte Standuhr mit elfenbeinernen, beim Stundenschlag Menuett tanzenden Figürchen betrachtete und billigte er geduldig. Dann begann die Sache ihn etwas zu langweilen, er gähnte und zog häufig seine Taschenuhr, die er wohl zeigen dürfte, sie war schwer golden und ein Erbstück von seinem Vater.
Es blieb ihm, wie er bedauernd sah, noch viel Zeit bis zum Mittagessen übrig, und so trat er in einen anderen Raum, der seine Neugierde wieder zu fesseln vermochte. Er enthielt Gegenstände des mittelalterlichen Aberglaubens, Zauberbücher, Amulette, Hexenstaat und in einer Ecke eine ganze alchimistische Werkstatt mit Esse, Mörsern, bauchigen Gläsern, dürren Schweinsblasen, Blasbälgen und so weiter. Diese Ecke war durch ein wollenes Seil abgetrennt, eine Tafel verbot das Berühren der Gegenstände. Man liest ja aber solche Tafeln nie sehr genau, und Ziegler war ganz allein im Raum.
So streckte er unbedenklich den Arm über das Seil hinweg und betastete einige der komischen Sachen. Von diesem Mittelalter und seinem drolligen Aberglauben hatte er schon gehört und gelesen; es war ihm unbegreiflich, wie Leute sich damals mit so kindischem Zeug befassen konnten, und dass man den ganzen Hexenschwindel und all das Zeug nicht einfach verbot. Hingegen die Alchemie mochte immerhin entschuldigt werden können, da aus ihr die so nützliche Chemie hervorgegangen war. Mein Gott, wenn man so daran dachte, dass diese Goldmachertiegel und all der dumme Zauberkram vielleicht doch notwendig gewesen waren, weil es sonst heute kein Aspirin und keine Gasbomben gäbe!
Achtlos nahm er ein kleines dunkles Kügelchen, etwas wie eine Arzneipille, in die Hand, ein vertrocknetes Ding ohne Gewicht, drehte es zwischen den Fingern und wollte es eben wieder hinlegen, als er Schritte hinter sich hörte. Er wandte sich um, ein Besucher war eingetreten. Es genierte Ziegler, dass er das Kügelchen in der Hand hatte, denn er hatte die Verbotstafel natürlich doch gelesen. Darum schloss er die Hand, steckte sie in die Tasche und ging hinaus.
Erst auf der Straße fiel ihm die Pille wieder ein. Er zog sie heraus und dachte sie wegzuwerfen, vorher aber führte er sie an die Nase und roch daran. Das Ding hatte einen schwachen, harzartigen Geruch, der ihm Spaß machte, so dass er das Kügelchen wieder einsteckte.
Er ging nun ins Restaurant, bestellte sich Essen, schnüffelte in einigen Zeitungen, fingerte an seiner Krawatte und warf den Gästen teils hochmütige Blicke zu, je nachdem wie sie gekleidet waren. Als aber das Essen eine Weile auf sich warten ließ, zog Herr Ziegler seine aus Versehen gestohlene Alchimistenpille hervor und roch wieder an ihr. Dann kratzte er sie mit dem Zeigefingernagel, und endlich folgte er naiv einem kindlichen Gelüst und führte das Ding zum Mund; es löste sich im Mund rasch auf, ohne unangenehm zu schmecken, so dass er es mit einem Schluck Bier hinabspülte. Gleich darauf kam auch sein Essen.
Um zwei Uhr sprang der junge Mann vom Straßenbahnwagen, betrat den Vorhof des zoologischen Gartens und nahm eine Sonntagskarte.
Freundlich lächelnd ging er ins Affenhaus und fasste vor dem großen Käfig der Schimpansen Stand. Der große Affe blinzelte ihn an, nickte ihm gutmütig zu und sprach mit tiefer Stimme die Worte: “Wie geht’s, Bruderherz?”
Angewidert und wunderlich erschrocken wandte sich der Besucher schnell hinweg und hörte im Fortgehen den Affen hinter sich her schimpfen: “Auch noch stolz ist der Kerl! Plattfuß, dummer!”
Rasch trat Ziegler zu den Meerkatzen hinüber. Die tanzten ausgelassen und schrien: “Gib Zucker her, Kamerad!” und als er keinen Zucker hatte, wurden sie bös, ahmten ihn nach, nannten ihn Hungerleider und bleckten die Zähne gegen ihn. Das ertrug er nicht; bestürzt und verwirrt floh er hinaus und lenkte seine Schritte zu den Hirschen und Rehen, von denen er ein hübscheres Betragen erwartete.
Ein großer herrlicher Elch stand nahe beim Gitter und blickte den Besucher an. Da erschrak Ziegler bis ins Herz. Denn seit er die alte Zauberpille geschluckt hatte, verstand er die Sprache der Tiere. Und der Elch sprach mit seinen Augen, zwei großen braunen Augen. Sein stiller Blick redete Hoheit, Ergebung und Trauer, und gegen den Besucher drückte er eine überlegen ernste Verachtung aus, eine furchtbare Verachtung. Für diesen stillen, majestätischen Blick, so las Ziegler, war er samt Hut und Stock, Uhr und Sonntagsanzug nichts als ein Geschmeiß, ein lächerliches und widerliches Vieh.
Vom Elch entfloh Ziegler zum Steinbock, von da zu den Gemsen, zum Lama, zum Gnu, zu den Wildsäuen und Bären. Insultiert wurde er von diesen allen nicht, aber er wurde von allen verachtet. Er hörte ihnen zu und erfuhr aus ihren Gesprächen, wie sie über die Menschen dachten. Es war schrecklich, wie sie über sie dachten. Namentlich wunderten sie sich darüber, dass ausgerechnet diese hässlichen, stinkenden, würdelosen Zweibeiner in ihren geckenhaften Verkleidungen frei umherlaufen durften.
Er hörte einen Puma mit seinem Jungen reden, ein Gespräch voll Würde und sachlicher Weisheit, wie man es unter Menschen selten hört. Er hörte einen schönen Panther sich kurz und gemessen in aristokratischen Ausdrücken über das Pack der Sonntagsbesucher äußern. Er sah dem blonden Löwen ins Auge und erfuhr, wie weit und wunderbar die wilde Welt ist, wo es keine Käfige und keine Menschen gibt. Er sah einen Turmfalken trüb und stolz in erstarrter Schwermut auf dem toten Ast sitzen und sah die Könige der Lüfte ihre Gefangenschaft mit Anstand, Achselzucken und Humor ertragen.
Benommen und aus allen seinen Denkgewohnheiten gerissen, wandte sich Ziegler in seiner Verzweiflung den Menschen wieder zu. Er suchte ein Auge, das seine Not und Angst verstünde, er lauschte auf Gespräche, um irgend etwas Tröstliches, Verständliches, Wohltuendes zu hören, er beachtete die Gebärden der vielen Gäste, um auch bei ihnen irgendwo Würde, Natur, Adel, stille Überlegenheit zu finden.
Aber er wurde enttäuscht. Er hörte die Stimmen und Worte, sah die Bewegungen, Gebärden und Blicke, und da er jetzt alles wie durch ein Tierauge sah, fand er nichts als eine entartete, sich verstellende, lügende, unschöne Gesellschaft tierähnlicher Wesen, die von allen Tierarten ein geckenhaftes Gemisch zu sein schienen.
Verzweifelt irrte Ziegler umher, sich seiner selbst unbündig schämend. Das vierkantige Stöcklein hatte er längst ins Gebüsch geworfen, die Handschuhe hinterdrein. Aber als er jetzt seinen Hut von sich warf, die Stiefel auszog, die Krawatte abriss, und schluchzend sich an das Gitter des Elchgeheges drückte, wurde er unter großem Aufsehen festgenommen und in ein Irrenhaus gebracht.

A Man Named Zeigler

By Hermann Hesse
Translated by Mark Gutglueck
There once lived on Brauer Street a man named Ziegler. He was one of those young men we meet every day over and over, but we never really notice his face because it is like the face of all others, a collective face. Ziegler did everything that such people always do and was just like them. He was not untalented, but also not talented. He loved money and entertainment, liked to wear nice clothes, and like most people lacked courage.
His life and actions were determined less by impulses and aspirations than by prohibitions and the fear of punishment. At the same time he had many honorable qualities and was in general, all things considered, a delightfully normal sort who thought of himself as nice and important. Indeed, he regarded himself, just as every person tends to do, as a unique individual, while he was really typical. He believed that his life and destiny were at the center of the world’s attention, just as everyone does. He had very few doubts, and when the facts contradicted his views on life, he shut his eyes with disapproval.
As a modern man, Ziegler had an infinite respect not only for money but also for the powerful force of science. Yet he would not have been able to say what science actually was. When he thought of science, he meant something like statistics and bacteriology. He knew very well how much money and honor the government gave to science. In particular he respected cancer research, for his father had died from cancer, and Ziegler assumed that this science, which had made great progress in the meantime, would not allow the same thing to happen to him.
In his appearance, Ziegler tried to distinguish himself by dressing somewhat beyond his means, and he always kept up with the particular fashion of the year. On the other hand, he looked down upon the trends of the month or season, for it would have taxed his pocket too much to keep up with them, and thus he regarded them as foolish affectations. He had great esteem for integrity and did not shy from cursing his supervisors or governments — but only among friends and in places where he felt secure.
Actually, I am probably spending too much time on this description. Ziegler was truly a charming young man, and his loss is our loss. Indeed, his end came early and in a strange way that undermined all his plans and justifiable hopes for the future.
At one point, soon after he had arrived in our city, he decided that he would enjoy himself by spending an entire Sunday on an outing of some kind. He had not yet found the right companions to accompany him; nor had he joined a club, because he had difficulty making up his mind which one suited him. Perhaps this was his misfortune. It is not good for a man to be alone. So he had no choice but to go sightseeing by himself and diligently inquired what was worth seeing in the city.
After careful deliberation he decided to visit the museum of history and the zoo.
The museum was free on Sunday mornings, and the zoo had a reduced price of admission in the afternoons. Dressed in his new street clothes with a scarf that he loved very much, Ziegler went to the museum of history on Sunday morning. He brought with him his thin, elegant walking stick — a square, red-polished stick that made him look distinguished and important. To his dismay, however, the guard prevented him from taking the stick into the rooms of the museum, and he was obliged to leave it in the wardrobe.
There was a great deal to see in the large high-ceilinged rooms, and the pious visitor solemnly praised the omnipotent force of scholarly research, whose merits were on display here too, as Ziegler realized from the information printed on the exhibition cases. Indeed, these descriptions transformed old junk like rusty keys, broken copper necklaces, and similar things into astonishingly interesting items. It was wonderful to see how science took care of all this, how it controlled everything, how it knew how to control everything — oh yes, it would certainly find a remedy for cancer soon and perhaps eliminate dying altogether.
In the second room he found a glass case whose windows cast such a strong reflection that he could check his suit, haircut, collar, pleats, and tie with care and satisfaction for one whole minute. Now he could take a deep breath of relief and proceed to pay homage to some products of the old woodcutters. They were highly productive guys, he thought benevolently, even though they were very naive. He looked at an old standing clock with ivory feet that had figures dancing a minuet at the stroke of the hour and gave it his approval.
Soon, however, the entire affair began to bore him somewhat. He yawned and frequently took out his pocket watch, which he certainly could afford to show. It was made of heavy gold and was an heirloom from his father. There was still a great deal of time before lunch, he noticed with regret, and so he went into another room that managed to arouse and recapture his curiosity. It contained objects of medieval superstition, books about magic, amulets, and the costumes of witches.
In one corner there was an entire alchemical workshop with vinegar, mortar, test tubes, dried pig bladders, a pair of bellows, and many other items. This corner was partitioned off by a woolen rope. A sign indicated that the objects were not to be touched. People never read such signs very carefully, however, and Ziegler was all by himself in the room. So without thinking, he stuck his arm over the rope and touched some of the strange things.
He had heard and read a good deal about the Middle Ages and the odd superstitions held during that time. He could not understand how the people of that era could have been concerned with such childish stuff and why witches and all those other crazy things had not simply been banned. On the other hand, alchemy could certainly be excused, because it had given rise to chemistry, which became so useful. My God, if one thought about it, the goldmaker’s crucible and all the ridiculous magical junk had perhaps been necessary.
Otherwise, we would have neither aspirin nor gas bombs today!
Without thinking about what he was doing, Ziegler took a tiny globule, something like a pill, in his hand. It was dried-out and weightless. He turned it between his fingers, and as he was about to put it down, he heard footsteps behind him. He turned around. Another visitor had entered the room. Ziegler was ashamed that he was holding the tiny globule in his hand, for he had definitely read the warning sign that prohibited such things. So he closed his hand, stuck it into his pocket, and left the room.
Only when he reached the street did he remember that he still had the pill. He pulled it out and thought about throwing it away. But before he did, he held it up to his nose and smelled it. Since it had a faint smell like tar that delighted him, he put the tiny globule back into his pocket.
Soon afterward he went into a restaurant, ordered something to eat, thumbed through some newspapers, adjusted his tie, and glanced at the other guests, sometimes with respect, sometimes with condescension, depending on how they were dressed. Since the meal was taking a while, Ziegler took out the alchemist’s pill that he had inadvertently stolen and smelled it. Then he scratched it with the nail of his index finger. Finally he yielded to a childish desire and stuck it into his mouth. Within seconds it began dissolving, and since the taste was not unpleasant, he swallowed it down with a sip of beer. Right after this the waiter brought his meal.
At two o’clock the young man jumped off the trolley, went to the entrance of the zoo, and paid for a Sunday ticket. He went into the monkey house with a friendly smile on his face and stopped in front of the large chimpanzee cage. The big ape blinked, nodded at him in good humor, and spoke the following words in a deep voice:
“How’s it going, my dear brother?”
Repelled and horrified, the visitor turned quickly away and heard the ape cursing at him as he departed.
“The guy’s still proud! Flatfoot! Idiot!”
Ziegler hurried over to the long-tailed monkeys, who were dancing uninhibitedly and screaming,
“Give us some sugar, comrade!”
But when he did not have any sugar, they became angry, mimicked him, called him a poor devil, and bared their teeth at him. Ziegler could not stand it. Stunned and confused, he fled the monkey house and headed for the moose and deer, whose behavior he expected would be much nicer.
A large splendid elk standing near the fence looked at the visitor. Now Ziegler felt deeply horrified, for ever since he swallowed the magic pill, he had understood the language of animals. So it was with the elk, who spoke with his eyes — two large brown eyes. His silent glance expressed majesty and mourning, and he showed the visitor how terribly he despised him and how superior he was to him. Indeed, Ziegler read in the silent majestic glance of the elk that he himself was nothing but dirt, a ridiculous and disgusting beast even with his hat, stick, pocket watch, and Sunday suit.
Ziegler fled the elk and went to the mountain goats. From there to the chamois, to the llama, to the gnu, to the wild boars, and to the bears. None of these animals insulted him, but they did show their disdain. He listened to them and learned from their conversations what they thought about human beings. It was terrible what they thought. They were particularly amazed that, of all things, these ugly, stinking, worthless, two-legged creatures were allowed to run around freely in their preposterous disguises.
He heard a puma hold a conversation with its cub that was full of dignity and objective wisdom seldom heard among human beings. He heard a handsome panther comment on the pack of Sunday visitors, and he was short and to the point, using speech in an aristocratic manner. He looked the blond lion straight in the eye and learned how large and wonderful the wild world was where there are no cages or human beings. He saw a falcon sitting on a dead branch, sad and proud, in torpid melancholy, and he saw the bluejays bear their captivity with dignity, a shrug of the shoulders, and humor.
In desperation, stunned and torn from all his usual ways of thinking, Ziegler turned once again to human beings. He looked for a glance that would show understanding of his predicament and anxiety. He listened in on conversations and tried to catch some consoling words, something comprehensible, something that would do him good. He observed the behavior of the numerous visitors at the zoo, trying to locate signs of their dignity, character, nobility, and superiority. But he was disappointed. He heard their voices and words, saw their movements, gestures, and looks, and since he now saw everything through the eyes of an animal, he found nothing but a pretentious, lying, ugly society of creatures who seemed to be a preposterous mixture of different types of beasts.
Ziegler wandered frantically about, feeling completely ashamed of himself. He had long since thrown his square stick into the bushes, followed by his gloves. But when he now tossed his hat from his head, took off his boots, ripped off his tie, and pressed himself sobbing against the fence of the elk stable, he caused a great sensation, was taken into custody, and eventually brought to an insane asylum.”