Film Idol Ingersoll Dead in Car Crash Valet Also Dies in 3,000-foot Alpine Plunge By

Bert Rudman

Herald Tribune Correspondent

BADEN-BADEN, Germany, March 7. Johann Ingersoll, Germany's newest movie star, vacationing after the triumphant world premiere of his new film, "Der Nacht Hund," was killed instantly today when his touring car skidded off a mountain highway near here and plunged 3,000 feet to the ravine below.

Otto Heinz, onetime makeup artist who quit films to become Ingersoll's personal attendant, was also killed in the crash.

The two victims were identified by Friedrich Kreisler, Ingersoll's attorney and agent.

"It was difficult for him," said Burgermeister Louis Brunch, of nearby Baden-Baden, where the bodies were taken after their recovery by alpine teams. "Both bodies were horribly mangled in the fall."

Ingersoll was a bachelor and had no heirs, according to Kreisler, who was obviously stricken by the death of his friend and client.

Ingersoll was a colonel in the SS and a personal favorite of Adolf Hitler. He shocked some of the guests at the premiere by appearing in full SS uniform for the first time.

"Germany has lost a national treasure," Chancellor Hitler told the press. "He was on the verge of becoming one of the world's great film stars and as such would have brought new glory to the Fatherland."

Ironically, the film's world premiere, a gala affair held at the Kroll Opera House, was overshadowed by the burning of the Reichstag which was discovered during the party that followed the screening. Guests crowded the balconies of the theater to watch the blaze a few blocks away or rushed to the scene from the party.

Ingersoll's last film, "Der Nacht Hund" was praised by critics as his most difficult and terrifying role. His work was compared favorably to that of American film star Lon Chaney.

Fritz Jergens, who directed Ingersoll's final picture, praised him as an "astounding performer who seemed to actually get inside the grotesque characters he played. He had great potential as a dramatic actor."

Ingersoll was known as an obsessively reclusive star who was never seen without makeup. He went to extraordinary lengths to conceal his true identity from press and public alike. In his two-year rise to international stardom, no pictures were ever released or taken of Ingersoll. Biographical data was sketchy at best. The only known photos of the actor are stills from his films. Publicity stories included only the names and background details of his films.

Ingersoll leaned over the table, chortling with glee, rereading the story and sipping a glass of wine. He was dressed in his black SS uniform, the dagger hanging ominously from his hip in its ebony scabbard. The uniform fit him perfectly. Hitler's tailor had done a magnificent job.

Imagine, he thought, being upstaged by the Reichstag. He strutted around the room, stopping for a moment in front of the hall mirror to admire himself. The uniform was a marvel of stark elegance. Coal black, its stiff puttees arcing from hip to knee, ending at the top of dazzling black riding boots. The death's head on the field cap, the sterling silver belt buckle, emblazoned with the words "Loyalty Is My Honor," the silver SS runes on one collar like double bolts of lightning, all stark against the black wool uniform. He straightened his shoulders and pulled in his chin.

"Achtung," he snapped at the reflection.

Ingersoll strolled back to the table, rustled through the newspapers and reread part of one of the stories on the fire.

Marinus van der Lubbe, a Dutch Communist, was arrested while the building was still ablaze and charged with setting the fire.

Marshal Hermann Gring, head of the State Police, said van der Lubbe was found hiding in Bismarck Hall, behind the Reichstag. According to Gring, van der Lubbe readily admitted setting the blaze "for the glory of the Communist Party."

Gring also said Communist pamphlets and other paraphernalia were found in van der Lubbe's apartment.

"It was clearly a Communist-inspired tragedy," Gring said. "It is a miracle nobody was hurt."

What a brilliant political move! Even the revelation that van der Lubbe was nearly blind and mad as a hatter had been largely ignored by the German people. They didn't care. A frenzy of reaction had started almost immediately. In the five days since the fire, thousands of Communists had been arrested. The political power of the party had been broken. On the pretense of protecting the state against violence from the Communists, Hitler had announced a decree "for the Protection of the People and the State" and in a single stroke he had revoked all the freedoms guaranteed by the Constitution.

Five days since the fire and the man was now ruling Germany by decree.

Ingersoll went to the kitchen to refill his glass. Hitler is now the Emperor of Germany, he thought. He is the ruler of Germany. Laughing aloud, he raised his glass in a silent toast to the Fhrer.

Then he heard a key click in the front door lock, heard the tumblers clink.

My God! he thought. It's Friedrich. He's the only one who has a key. What the hell was he doing here?

He heard the door open, the floors creak, the door close. He moved to the edge of the kitchen door and sneaked a look. Kreisler was taking off his coat. He looked at the table, walked over to it and began leafing through the papers. He looked around the room.

"Hello," he called out, confused. "Is someone here?"

Well, Ingersoll thought. What the hell.

He stepped into the living room.

"Hello, Freddie," he said casually.

Kreisler was stunned, shocked to speechlessness. He stared at the ghost standing before him.

"My God," he said and his voice was barely audible. "My God, it's you, Johnny!"

"In the flesh, pardon the pun."

"I don't understand . . . what in God's name . . ."

"It's a long, rather involved story, Freddie. Relax. I'll get you a glass of wine. Chteauneuf-du-Pape, twenty-nine. Incredible year."

"What in hell is going on?" Kreisler demanded, finding his voice. "My God, what kind of publicity stunt have you dreamed up now? Where's Heinz? How did you get him in on this?"

"Heinz is dead. For real."

"Then who was that other poor devil I identified? He was wearing your clothes. He was . . ."

"I have no idea who he was, Freddie. I never saw the man. I don't know anything about him and I don't want to."

"What happened? Did Heinz pick somebody up on the road? How did he get into your clothes?"

The lie came as easily as whistling a tune.

"He was Heinz's lover," Ingersoll said. "I assume they were going down to the village from the ski camp. The road was icy . . ."

"But why did you . . . ?"

Kreisler stopped and looked Ingersoll up and down, realizing suddenly that he was wearing his SS uniform.

"And what are you doing in that uniform? What's come over you, Johann? What is going on?"

There was no way to lie to Kreisler. No way to explain. Freddie had made an error by coming to the house. A fatal error.

"What are you doing here, by the way?" Ingersoll asked.

"I wanted to check the place over, figure out what to do with all these antiques, the paintings. The wine. You've got a fortune in wine downstairs, Johnny."

"It's all taken care of. The house will be closed up as is. Caretakers will keep it up. The apartment in Berlin will be sold."

"What are you doing in that uniform?"

Ingersoll stared across the room at his friend. His face turned cold.

"It may be the last time I'll get to wear it for a long time," he said.

"You shouldn't be wearing it at all."

"Why not?" Ingersoll said proudly. "My appointment was made directly by the Fhrer."

"Christ, Johnny, do you know what that madman's up to? He's abolished the Constitution, taken away all our rights. He decreed it, for God's sake. He decreed away all our rights. Freedom of speech, freedom of the press, freedom to think, to make a phone call, to send a damn letter without having it intercepted. The SA is tearing up Berlin. Hitler's become a damn dictator in just a few weeks."

"Days, actually," Ingersoll said smugly. "Oh, the process of getting elected chancellor, building up the party, all that took years. But actually he's completely taken over a failed, corrupt, rotten government, and done it in only five days."

He laughed and held up five fingers.

"How can you support this, Johnny? You're a creative artist . . ."

Ingersoll cut him off.

"I'm an actor in scary movies, Freddie, that's all. Until now. Now I've been invited to play an important role in the greatest revolution in history."

"This isn't a revolution, it's banditry. Common theft. He's stolen the rights from the people. He's . . ."

Ingersoll waved him quiet.

"The Third Reich will change history, Freddie. You don't have the imagination to see that. You have no imagination, Freddie, that's why you're the agent and I'm the actor. I want to be a part of all this. I'm tired of sneaking around in fake whiskers and wigs. Tired of torturing my body in those ridiculous getups. I've got more money than I'll ever spend." He picked up the paper and held it toward Kreisler. "Great notices on the picture. And a wonderful obituary. Time for Johann Ingersoll to die."

"And become a Nazi blackshirt?"

"Become a Nazi patriot," Ingersoll snapped back. "I'm giving up everything, everything, for my country."

"No, you're giving it up for that little man with the Chaplin mustache."

"You're truly straining my patience, Freddie."

"Oh, come on, we've been friends too long for this kind of . . . of . . . for God's sake, Johann, I'm your friend. I'm concerned about you."

"And your ten percent?"

Kreisler's shoulders sagged.

"I was a successful lawyer when I met you and I am still a successful lawyer," Kreisler said. His voice trembled from the strain of the confrontation. "I can certainly live without the frills your ten percent allows me. I didn't know you felt that way, Johann. I didn't know you felt I was cheating you."

Ingersoll's mind was racing. He had an image of the night of the premiere, just after the fire in the Reichstag was discovered.

At the first news of the fire, everyone at the party had rushed to the windows and balconies. A few blocks away, flames scorched the night sky and glowing embers swirled up through the twisting smoke.

Ingersoll had laughed at the irony. The fire had ended his gala celebration. And now he understood the conversation he had overheard at Berchtesgaden. He had led Vierhaus away from the crowd and back down the mezzanine to a quiet corner.

"Do you think the Communists are behind this fire?" Ingersoll asked casually.

"No doubt about it. I predict a quick arrest and the downfall of the Communist party for committing this atrocity."

Ingersoll raised his champagne glass to Vierhaus.

"Another victory for the Fhrer."

"You are a nervy one, Schauspieler, I'll say that for you," Vierhaus said. "Showing up in that uniform and that severe disguise has raised a lot of eyebrows."

Ingersoll had covered his crown with skinlike rubber latex and deepened the shadows in his cheeks. Bald, almost skull-like, wearing the stark SS uniform, he had startled the sellout crowd, many of whom were foreigners.

"And perhaps softened some attitudes?" Ingersoll had suggested.

"I think the Fhrer might take issue with your choice of words. He will not put up with softened attitudes. Blind obedience, that's what he-we all-require. Did the Fhrer ever mention the German shepherd puppies to you?"

"Yes." He was apologetic. "He said SS trainees are usually given a puppy when they begin their training. But in my case . . ."

"Do you know the significance?"

Ingersoll hesitated, shrugged. "They are excellent watchdogs, great pets."

"And an important part of the ritual of acceptance," said Vierhaus. "Normally, any officer in the SS must undergo vigorous training. At the beginning he is given a shepherd puppy as a companion through the course. Dog and man come to rely on each other. And on the day they finish their training and take the oath of allegiance to the Fhrer, they are ordered to slit the dog's throat."

"What?" Ingersoll had answered with some skepticism and not a little shock.

"What better way to show that we are loyal to only one master. That we have only one friend, Adolf Hitler, and that we will follow his orders with blind obedience."

Ingersoll said nothing. His eyes narrowed and he peered at Vierhaus with a strange new respect.

"The German people must also learn blind obedience," Vierhaus continued. "If you are not of the party, you are against it. A good rule of thumb. It simplifies things."

Ingersoll nodded agreement. "And now the Reichstag burns," he said. "A fortunate misfortune."

Vierhaus laughed at the contradiction. "Exactly, my friend. A decrepit symbol dies, new ones will take its place. The Third Reich is just that, a new order of things for Deutschland."