The more things change . . .

"The Salomé turned out to be very expensive and even more depressing than I had imagined. A few stage lesbians and some young men with plucked eyebrows lounged at the bar, uttering occasional raucous guffaws or treble hoots -- supposed, apparently, to represent the laughter of the damned. . . .

"The audience consisted chiefly of respectable middle-aged tradesmen and their families, exclaiming in good-humored amazement: 'Do they really?' and 'Well, I never!' We went out halfway through the cabaret performance, after a young man in a spangled crinoline and jeweled breast-caps had painfully but successfully executed three splits.

"At the entrance we met a party of [young people], very drunk, wondering whether to go in. Their leader was a small, stocky young man [with glasses], with an annoyingly prominent jaw.

" 'Say,' he asked Fritz, 'what's on here?'

" 'Men dressed as women,' Fritz grinned.

"The [little fellow] simply couldn't believe it. 'Men dressed as women? . . . Do you mean they're queer?'

" 'Eventually we're all queer,' drawled Fritz solemnly, in lugubrious tones. The young man looked us over slowly. He had been running and was still out of breath. The others grouped themselves awkwardly behind him, ready for anything -- though their callow, open-mouthed faces in the greenish lamplight looked a bit scared.

" 'You queer too, hey?' demanded the [fellow], turning suddenly on me.

" 'Yes,' I said, 'very queer indeed.'

"He stood before me a moment, panting, thrusting out his jaw, uncertain it seemed, whether he ought not to hit me in the face. Then he turned, uttered some kind of wild college battle-cry, and, followed by the others, rushed headlong into the building."

-- Christopher Isherwood
A Berlin Diary, Winter 1932-3