The Fortuitous Birth of Canasta


How is it possible to be a Nazi and an out and proud gay man?

That was the question four Germans asked themselves several times a day while settling into relative obscurity at the outskirts of Montevideo, Uruguay. Their first meeting was over a pork belly dinner at an impossibly stunning and chic Uruguayan cafe. For the first time since the out break of WWII, they felt at peace in the company of simpatico souls. Their host, Hanswold Gewurz-Traminer, had placed a Miss Lonely Hearts ad in The Montevideo Gazette seeking these men. Four lonely ex-patriots came together for company not knowing they would change the world.

Hans was expert at cruising the classifieds. In Germany, Hanswold, a loyal Nazi sympathizer once placed an ad in the Berlin Call-Herald looking for pro-Nazi bi-sexual not gay men. Specifically men who loved their wives and children yet needed occasional guy-on-guy action. Discretion was of the utmost importance since Hans wouldn't do anything to hurt his family. Family first for Hanswold.

Which impressed The Nazis. It was a stressful time in the Fatherland. The Nazis liked that Hans possessed a certain flair for whimsy, and had a way to create diversions for himself and others. They had yet to find somebody who would take a moment out of his day to think of the special needs of other men.

Early on in Hitler's tenure, and unbeknown to The Fuhrer, senior officers created a contingency plan to protect Germany's reputation. It was imperative that Germany shine in the aftermath of, albeit, the unlikely chance Hitler's grand plan crumbled. It was a no-brain-er. Gay guys were great at making things beautiful,like gentrifying ghettos. Who better to mop up a mess than a bunch of queens? Homos could reinstate the Berlin Lesbian Bowling League of 1922! It was decided to spare a few undesirables but first they had to find just the right men.

That's why the Nazis let Hans have his newspaper ad and of course handbills that were distributed outside all the fashionable, decadent cabarets. Hans was pleased that he was inundated with replies.

So it passed that a group of bi-guys met in a deserted rathskeller. Upon completion of the awkward tryst--you know how first times are, all bumbling and bashful--a participant revealed himself as a senior member of the SS. Ample histrionics followed. Using all the delicacy of an edelweiss blossom the officer calmed everybody. Then he made an interesting proposition: move to Uruguay or we shall round you up and expose your games to your families. Then you shall be transported to the Russian front where you will become play things for the officers of the Russian Army. Everyone but Hans declined the offer to sail for SA.

Hans settled into his hacienda in a colonial Uruguayan neighborhood. He had loads of time to think. He thought that although he was bi-sexual his heart really wasn't into the frauleins. It was time to suck it in and come out of the closet. Although he didn't quite know what that meant,or where they expression came from, it just felt right. These would be the like souls he would seek out in his classified. Montevideo was crawling with Nazis and if Kinsey was right 10% were homos for sure.

After that pork belly dinner the four men became the vanguard of society in their corner of Montevideo. They attracted artists, chefs and cutting edge interior decorators. Little did they know the secret plan of The SS was slowly taking hold.

Soon the world would know the power of The Third Reich as dismal corners of major metropolitan areas realized grand transformations. Germany would be credited for a re-birth of sorts. It would be like gay 1920 Berlin, Schoneberg, Friedrichshain, and Mitte when there were more gay bars and periodicals than in 1980 New York City. Vitality humming on every sidewalk, Broadway musicals about the Master Race and maybe something about that darling Eva Peron. If anybody could pull it off...

One evening as Hanswold stroked the neck of Polly, the group's Doberman Pincer, he invited his buds to play a hand of cards. They agreed and shifted to the Beidermier game table and its four lustrous Second Empire chairs.




As a warm up they began to free associate with the playing cards making up rules and screaming out phrases of sexual innuendo like, "beeatch put that hand in your basket." And that is how the game canasta was born. The translation for canasta? Basket, you sillies.

Hanswold never lived to see the day when Canasta took the world by storm. Some say he died. Plump middle-age drag queens say he still lurks in the dark corners of Buenos Aries, Argentina. Running, always on the lam from Nazi hunters who really didn't understand that deep down Hans was so not a Nazi. He abhorred what had they did to is friends. Many believe the guilt of surviving the Holocaust did Hans in. But we will always have his game and the chic cafe on the same block as an impeccably renovated Edwardian which might be next to a crack house. Everything always in motion. Change just waiting in the wings...like two men getting married.