With Friederick, you never can tell
”
But I assure you, Captain, there is some mistake,
”
the mayor of Koepenick protested.
”
Our bookkeeping is beyond reproach.
”
”
We will see. In the meantime you and the treasurer are required
at the general’s office.
”
He turned to the soldiers standing at attention.
”
You men will accompany these gentlemen to the general.
”
He scribbled on a tablet, and handed the page to the mayor.
With Friederick, you never can tell
“But I assure you, Captain, there is some mistake,” the mayor of Koepenick protested. “Our bookkeeping is beyond reproach.”
“We will see. In the meantime you and the treasurer are required at the general’s office.” He turned to the soldiers standing at attention. “You men will accompany these gentlemen to the general.” He scribbled on a tablet, and handed the page to the mayor.
“This is your receipt for the money in question.”
Outside he hailed two passing carriages and told the drivers they were needed for official government business. As the soldiers accompanied the officials into them, he turned to the others posted at the entrances. “You men keep guard for 30 minutes and allow no one to enter or leave.” He hailed another carriage and directed it to the train station.
Once aboard, Friederick Wilhelm Voigt went into a compartment and changed into his customary civilian clothes.
The story broke in the Berlin newspapers the following day, Oct. 17, 1906, telling how a man in a captain’s uniform had stopped some German soldiers in front of their barracks and ordered them to follow him. It further told how he had made off with 4,000 marks from the city hall of Koepenick, a suburb of Berlin.
The public found the impostor’s sheer temerity hilarious but officials were not amused.
Within three weeks they tracked Voigt down and arrested him. On Dec. 1 he was sentenced to four years in prison. It was not his first encounter with the law. At the age of 14 he had been jailed two weeks for theft and expelled from school. His father taught him the cobbler’s trade but young Wilhelm felt there were easier ways to make money, including forgery and theft.
He spent a total of 25 years in prison. Upon release early in 1906, he went to live with a sister in Berlin. However, the authorities told him he was undesirable and ordered him to leave.
Voigt agreed but stayed anyway. He bought parts of an officer’s uniform from two shops and donned them to test the effect. When soldiers automatically saluted him he knew he was ready.
The soldiers involved said they never thought of questioning his authority. The Kaiser was privately amused and pardoned him before his sentence was half done. Within a week of Voigt’s release a wax statue of him appeared in Berlin and another later in Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum in Paris.
Voigt appeared at cafes, amusement parks and theaters to enthralled audiences. He toured Dresden, Budapest, Vienna and the United States, then wrote a book about his escapade. Plays and movies kept it vibrant.
When the German press carried the story of his death, it recounted his hoax in detail. Surprise, surprise: Voigt himself had written the news release to boost attendance for his latest play.
When he actually did die in 1920, many Germans read the obituary with a sigh and an appreciative chuckle in remembrance of the Captain from Koepenick.
