Coffin Collectors: Cemetery World
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Coffin Collectors: Cemetery World

Coffin Collectors: Cemetery World

Report from the annual meeting of car owners for the funeral

With a hearse during the holidays. Or on a trip. Or in the market. Sounds like a joke? It's really too extravagant, but fits perfectly into the style of the so-called black community. Once a year, hearse owners meet at the Southern Cemetery in Leipzig.

His voice sounds like a bell ringing for a dead person. And above all, his laughter. And he laughs a lot. Even now, the question of whether mourning cars are inherently very unusual preoccupies this man, who introduced himself as "November." For what? People are not against ambulances - a lot of blood was shed in them, people died. No one has died in the hearse yet. Why all these worries? »

This answer startled me, and I was momentarily speechless. But November with the civil name Frank, of course, is not the only one who holds this opinion. Positioned in front of the Southern Cemetery in Leipzig, the hearses look perfectly ordered. During the 26th Gothic Festival (GF), they became as much a part of the street scene as black wizards and dragons. Here, on the day of Pentecost, the largest gathering of black movements is held, which attracts about 21 visitors from all over the world. The program includes a parade, which will present sometimes quite complex and expensive things. Also hearses.

Hearts on the net

There were twenty of them this afternoon. At 14 pm, their convoy set off from the Central Station, about ten minutes away, accompanied by the police. “An official escort is required, otherwise no more than five cars can pass at one stage of the traffic light,” Niko explains. He is from Hamburg and this is the second time he organizes a hearse meeting in FG. “Many Tusari are already hauling corpses, so the FG is the perfect place for us to meet. Also thematically, of course.

Tusari? Corpses? The first is the nickname used by the adherents of the Goths. And the second (in German Leiche) is an abbreviation for a hearse (Leichenwagen) - it is difficult for an outsider to immediately get used to it. “We play with the double meaning of this concept,” Niko says. "Death brings glamor to black communities, so the name 'cadaver' is very fitting." Many hearse owners aren't really car enthusiasts—they only admire funeral cars. Niko too.

“I always thought I should drive something exotic, but try to find an old fire truck. And the "corpses", fortunately, are even sold on the Internet. Niko smiles as another thought comes to mind: "Besides, funeral cars are perfect for bachelors." According to him, they cause exactly the attention that a lonely “Tuzar” needs in relations with women. The man speaks from his own experience - he met his girlfriend with the help of his restored Opel Omega. “You always have a big bed at your disposal,” explains the father of six-month-old twins, winking meaningfully.

Niko then touches on another aspect that explains the typical societal attachment to these special vehicles: “The Hearse has an average of ten years of service – a real job in the public interest. When we buy and use these old cars, we give them the honor they deserve. And even if we put that aside, we will save them from destruction.”

On the contrary, Klaas drives a hearse, because he invariably admires everything that has anything to do with the end of life. “This is the romance of death!” "Corpse" is just the best cart for me." His Mercedes W 124, modified by Pollmann, is used every day. “I offer all kinds of cleaning and building maintenance services – and I always come to clients with my “corpse”. Most of the time my navigator is next to me.” Klaas smiles and puts his hand on the bony shoulder of the plastic skeleton on the right seat. “Almost all of my clients find it great. Only occasionally is it difficult for an older woman to accept. Then I leave it at home.”

Klaas is a typical "Tuzar": the side of his head is shaved naked, the rest of his hair is black and gathered in a ponytail. Dark makeup around the eyes, shiny steel jewelry, black clothes. A resident of Bremerhaven even made a coffin for the cargo hold. “I sleep there,” he smiles. “Well, not inside, but upstairs. I raised the mattress higher, so the coffin is just the base of the bed.”

Since its inception in the early 80s, the community has been deeply concerned about the death and transience of all earthly things. Also, the name of the punk subculture - "Gothic" has a similar basis and, in a very loose translation, means "gloomy and sinister."

The black comedy Harold and Maud, released in 1971, laid the foundation for the black movement. It is about a young man who constantly fakes suicide to get his mother's attention. Harold drives a car - how else? - a hearse.

But not all corpse lovers are part of the black community. For example, Branko, whom everyone calls only "Rocky", is different. A Hanau man in frayed jeans and an embroidered jacket breaks the frame. He is not a night child, but a rocker. He argues that in Frankfurt the group of hearse lovers actually consisted only of people like him, and not of Chernodreshkovites. And with a laugh he announces: "Until now, no ghost has appeared in my Caddy, but even if it did, many ppm prevented me from feeling it."

Cadillac in Dead Man's Clothes

How did he get to his "corpse"? “I was just looking for an American car. But then a friend took me with him to the hearse meeting. " This led to a concrete solution. The following year, Rocky came to a meeting with his own Cadillac Fleetwood, redesigned and turned into a corpse.

Like its owner, the transformed Caddy doesn't want to fit perfectly into the velvet-black landscape - first, Rocky stripped his redesigned Miller-Meteor car of its shiny paint and leather roof, and then its chrome trim. Instead of the Cadillac logo, a skull and a glow-in-the-dark clock protrude above the nose.

Not far from Kadi, a converted one is parked. Buick Roadmaster, graveyard lights are on inside. Franziska sits on the lowered back cover, rocking the pram with one hand. The hearse, the undisputed symbol of death, plays a special role in her family. “We needed a van. One that fits a baby stroller and fits three people in front.”

Franziska looks at her friend. "Patrick always wanted a corpse, but we needed a car for the family." The person in question nods and adds, "That's why Francisca declared the 'corpse' to be our daily machine." Now they travel with him during holidays, Sunday walks and shopping. “It's so practical,” Franziska added enthusiastically.

"My car!" A man in black jeans, a T-shirt and long hair walks in here, holding a beer in his hand. At Francis Patrick's, their son Baldur and their Buick, he stops, puts his arm around Patrick's shoulders and says: "Be careful, now my wife will start complaining again that I sold you a car." Patrick laughs softly, Franziska smiles, and Baldur mumbles something in his sleep.

This is November, the former owner of the Roadmaster troupe. He only sold it to Patrick last year. Because he didn't seem eccentric enough.

Text: Berenice Schneider

Photo: Arturo Rivas

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