Christmas in Berlin -- 1963

Twenty years ago, on November 9, 1989, the Wall that separated East and West Berlin was taken down, marking the reunification of East and West Germany.
Forty-six years ago, I spent Christmas on both sides of the Wall.
I had been working at the BMW factory in Munich and decided to take Christmas vacation in Berlin. I had arrived in Reutlingen, Germany, on June 27, 1963, a day after President John F. Kennedy delivered his "Ich bin ein Berliner" speech at the Berlin Wall and a day before my 20th birthday. The original plan was to work for a month in Germany and then return to the United States. But, while in Reutlingen, I had written the mayor of Munich who had arranged my job at the BMW plant in Munich.
I was working at the BMW plant when Kennedy was assassinated on November 22
-- the history of Kennedy's Berlin speech had been one reason I wanted to visit Berlin, which Kennedy referred to as "a defended island of freedom."
So, on Monday, December 23, I boarded a bus in the Munich Banhof at 5:30 a.m. for the 576 km or 358 mile journey to Berlin. The bus was freezing, with ice on the windows and in the toilet.
The trip was uneventful until we reached the first Soviet Zone at the East German border. The bus stopped and an armed brown-uniformed East German soldier boarded the bus and looked at all our passports. When he came to me, he looked at my U.S. passport and ordered me off the bus. I had a black beard and was dressed in black pants, a long black coat, a black scarf and a black woolen hat. Was there something sinister about my appearance? Or was it that I was the only American on the bus?
I followed the guard across a dirt yard to a yellow, one-story wooden structure where another guard looked at my passport, looked at me, looked back at the passport, asked for 10 deutschmarks for a visa, stamped my passport and sent me back to the bus.
At 6 p.m. we came to another checkpoint -- this time entering the West zone, where guards checked all vehicles inside and out. Once again, my passport was checked last, but this time without incident.
It was early evening when we arrived in West Berlin. I stepped off the bus and immediately felt I was someplace different. There was an atmosphere or an attitude in the air quite different from what I experienced in Munich.
Perhaps it was the "island of democracy" West Berlin surrounded by communist East Germany.
There were dramatic contrasts: brightly lit Christmas trees, apartment buildings with parts showing occupancy while other parts still showing evidence of World War II bombing, new structures adjacent to bomb ruins.
I asked my way to the Studentenheim -- a youth hostel -- where I got a room for 5 deutschmarks, equal to a little more than a dollar. Everybody in the Studentenheim spoke English.
On Christmas Eve, walking around West Berlin, I visited the famous Brandenburg Tur and checked out the Wall. At Potsdamer Platz, I climbed a platform and looked over the Wall into East Berlin. Potsdamer Platz before the war was one of the busiest and liveliest squares in Europe. Allied bombing during World War II left it in ruins, much of which remained on that day in 1963. I looked out across a no-man's land and took in a view that was perfect for the black and white film I had in my camera, since all I could see was black and white. Barbed wire and obstacles stretched across the bleak snow-covered terrain to the bombed-out buildings with gaping holes that had once been windows. Many buildings stood stark against a grey sky, entire walls missing, surrounded by rubble. The streets were empty, barren, bleak.
A sign erected high over the Wall reached out to the East Berliners: "Die Freie Berliner Press Meldet," or, "In Berlin the free press reports."
Under that was another sign wishing all, including those in East Berlin, "Frohe Weihnacht und ein besseres Neues Jahr" ("Merry Christmas and a better New Year").
There were other signs, printed in English, Russian, French and German informing people "You are leaving the American sector." I walked to Checkpoint Charlie, the scene of a dramatic standoff between American and Soviet tanks in 1961. Two armed soldiers manned the checkpoint, which displayed a picture of Kennedy, with a black sash across one top corner and "Mr. Praesident" underneath. Met a German man who said we should go to the East on Christmas Day.
On Christmas Day, I joined my new German friend and crossed into East Berlin aboard the S Banh. After going through passport check, we got separated so I was on my own.
The most people I saw all day were at the Banhof, where relatives and friends were seeing each other for the first time in years. The rest of the city was empty other than one rebuilt section. Bombed ruins were everywhere, very dirty, extremely quiet - a strange atmosphere. Everywhere I saw magazines and travel posters for Russia, Viet Nam, Korea and Hungary.
Propaganda pictures showed New York City slums, one of a man in filthy, ragged clothing slumped in a gutter. The caption said something to the effect that this is America.
Windows and doorways of buildings along the streets were bricked shut. The only sight I saw of Christmas was a small, skinny Christmas tree in a store
window.
After lunch in a small restaurant, I discovered I did not have enough East German money to pay and the waitress refused to take U.S. or West German money. But when she pointed to the pack of Marlboros in my pocket, I offered them to her and she indicated I had paid for my meal.
I saw signs, "For freedom and socialism our way is right" and "Die Republik braucht alle -- alle brauchen die Republik!" -- "The Republic needs all -- all need the Republic," referring to the Deutsche Demokratische Republik, or the German Democratic Republic.
I wandered some more, having no idea where I was or where I was headed -- just walking and taking in the atmosphere. At one point, I walked down a narrow side street when I saw a group of soldiers. I walked past them and another soldier walked toward me. He greeted me with "Guten Tag," which I returned. We passed each other and I continued down the street when I heard yelling in the distance. The soldier turned and yelled at me: "Vorsicht.
Halt. Eintritt ist verboten." "Caution. Stop. Entry is forbidden." It was then that I saw I was within less than 100 yards of the Wall. I made a hasty about-face, deciding it was time for this young man to go West, so I returned to West Berlin. I learned later that day that a youth had been shot attempting to escape into the West.
Back at the hostel, I spent the evening with students in a private party, eating, drinking, and listening to music. They surprised me by asking me to read a chapter in English from the book I had with me -- "To Kill a Mockingbird."
Surrounded by new-found friends in the warmth of the youth hostel, I was reminded of the earlier image I had of a lone woman in East Berlin walking in the middle of an otherwise empty street lined by brick-shuttered buildings on Christmas Day.