Vignettes #4

At my cinema I had a regular visitor. He didn't watch the movies, he came to visit and have a few beers on one of his irregular drinking sprees. His real name was Rudolf, but everybody called him the Wiper, a name he got for the job he used to have cleaning up in my competitor's cinema. He was small and a bit stumpy and had a club foot. Neverthless he appeared to be quite burly and always made a fierce impression to anyone who crossed his way.

He very much annoyed guests and was always ready for an argument, therefore well-known in town and banned from most premises. His standard introduction was to make a threatening Maori warrior face, gnash loudly with his teeth and proclaim: "I'm a true Apache!" (He actually was of gypsy descent.) Most people were afraid of him, and since he'd otherwise scare my guests at the cinema away, I'd take him with me to the projection room and keep him there till he went off for home. For this reason he considered me to be his best (and only) friend. In reality he was quite harmless, if you didn't count him being a nuisance and stealing your time.

When Walter Hill's movie Geronimo got a German theatrical release I had the luck to get it as a first run. Till then I had managed to avoid having the Wiper inside my cinema, but with his infatuation for the Apaches I knew this time I had to allow him watch the movie. So I told him he could go in for free on the condition that he watch the movie on an afternoon screening when less people were there and that he stay quiet and not bother any other guests. He promised, of course.

One or two weeks later one of my projectionists told me that the Wiper had been to the movie in the afternoon, had been quiet for two thirds of the movie, but then broke out shouting and screaming at the screen, so my friend had to ask him to leave, which he did without arguing.

The next time he visited me I scolded him for not keeping his promise. His face turned into a red anger and he shouted: "William, Geronimo surrendered! He was a complete coward!" He spat on the floor. "I am no more an Apache!"

And he never again introduced himself as an Apache, and henceforth we avoided mentioning Apaches in his presence.