An interview will have to be conducted. Sixteen girls—sixteen questions. And off we go.
Blonde Winnie is up first. “Have you ever been in Vienna before?” “Vienna? No, but the Prater is supposed to be very beautiful.”
Maisie, the left wingman, is the tallest. “You speak only English?” “Nein. Ich sprechen auch deutsch: Ich liebe dich.” (Terrible. I would have liked to ask her another question.)
Lilian, the shortest, has coal-black eyes. “Do you dance the Charleston?” “Yes, we dance the Charleston in the show.”
Mabel, the prettiest one, seems not to be the brainiest. “What do you think of Einstein’s theory of relativity?” “Einstein, Einstein … oh, das sein a good candymaker in Berlin.”
Dorothy has lovely eyelashes, and knows how to flirt. “Which boarding school were you educated at?” “At the Convent of the Holy Virgin.”
Marjorie, the one with the impish face, is the smartest. She also speaks the best German, and in Berlin she gave an address to the German press. “Do you consider Geneva pointless?” “Definitely. Politics ruins your character, and I want to hold onto mine.”
Hilda I has big sweet round eyes. “Do you dance the waltz?” “With great pleasure. In Vienna I want to dance only the waltz. By Strauss.”
Esther has a dreamy look about her. “Who is your ideal man? Stresemann, Jannings, or Dempsey?” “Rudolph Valentino.”
Vera has a very delicate little face. “Are you for bobbed hair or the Eton crop?” “Always bobbed hair.”
Hilda II always tilts her head. “Do you believe in love at first sight?” “When I look at you, yes.”
Molly is a little chubby but has a nice laugh. “How do you picture your future?” “I will marry, definitely.”
Olive has splendid teeth. “What do you think of short skirts?” “If you have pretty legs, like Flossie, Vera, Molly, Marjorie, Mabel, and Maisie, then the shorter, the better.”
Joyce laughs seductively. “Bernard Shaw?” “I don’t know, don’t know him.”
Flossie is serious. “Do you know Hamlet?” “Yes. A good play. Why doesn’t this Shakespeare write any shows?”
Jessie is always upbeat. “Are you really watched over so strictly?” “Psst …” and places her index finger on her rosy little mouth.
Edith, elegant and well groomed, is the last. “What do you think of Austria and Slovakia getting closer?” “Das Bester.”
Miss Harley also gets a question. “Who is Tiller?” “John and Lawrence Tiller are the founders of the world-famous Girl University. At the age of ten the applicants with the best figures are accepted after passing an extensive test, then study for seven years. That is difficult work. Dance groups consisting of the best pupils are put together after the ‘Matura’ diploma: The Tiller Girls. The group I’m leading is one of the forty-seven who now perform around the world. A sound enterprise, respectable and world-renowned.”
And Miss Harley again holds her lorgnette in front of her mouse-gray eyes, giving orders. The girls are brought home like a cash transport, hidden from public view.
They live in the Hotel …
But the only contact with them is at the Haller revue.
Die Stunde, April 3, 1926
The Tiller Girls’ Boarding School at the Prater
The sixteen girls who paid a visit to the Prater in Vienna on a sunny spring day about a week ago—stylish, English-speaking, and walking two by two—were regarded by most of the passersby as the schoolchildren of a prestigious boarding school, particularly because an older woman was guarding them and ordering them about at every turn. But the fact that this girls’ excursion included some young men and a photographer whose right hand carried a tripod and whose round back hauled a massive camera, not to mention the striking snazziness of all these girls, had to indicate to any viewer, assuming he was halfway intelligent and had studied the newspapers of the past few days and was able to tell the difference between English and Serbian, that these were the Tiller Girls.
On the first day of their stay in Vienna, these wonderful girls discovered the Apollo Theater; on the second day, St. Stephen’s Tower, the bar at the Sacher Hotel, and the Diana Spa; and on the third, they headed off to the Prater; a little ride on a scenic railway, a little Viennese coffee—the best in the world—a little “merry-go-round”: awful nice!
A Tiller Girl is pretty, stylish, pleasant, reasonably well educated, graceful, quick-witted, tactful, diplomatic, sweet; a Tiller Girl is all of that. Each one: Esther, Marjorie, Hilda I, Hilda II, Dorothy, Mabel, Lilian, Winnie, Maisie, Vera, Molly, Olive, Joyce, Flossie, Jessie, and Edith.
They all have the same taste, all hold the same opinion. They are one single entity, one single organism, all relying on the others. No individuality here. The absolute democracy.
“Mightn’t, say, the Hoffmann Girls be better?”
A single cry of indignation makes the rounds, from Tiller Girl to Tiller Girl. Then there’s a chorus: Tiller Girls—often copied, never equaled.
They rode on the roller coaster four times, and found that quite a bit of fun. They were also delighted with the Ferris wheel: Vienna …! They stayed at the bumper car arena for a fun-filled half-hour. Each of them ate three portions of ice cream in some little confectionery. They shot at eggshells dancing on a water jet. They took so much pleasure in everything. But, being Englishwomen, they didn’t want to ride the chariots with little donkeys harnessed to them, nor did they want to ride on the carousel with the chamber pots; they’re ladies.
The littlest things captured their interest: they had to be everywhere. For Director Alexander from the Apollo and the charming Fritz Jacobsohn from Haller, this was serious business. And they always had to give in. How could they possibly resist entreaties from sweet Marjorie? Or a friendly kiss from Winnie?
Delightful people. Excursions should only be made with Tiller Girls. Perhaps it is the allure of the foreign language, perhaps the spontaneity of the girls, who are only kids. Great fun is had. One of the Hildas has hidden
