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.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
looking back to Germany
I was getting nostalgic and dug up the first newspaper stories I had written -- back when I was a 20-year-old floating around Germany working in restaurants and factories. I wrote my experiences for the Marin Independent Journal. Could have used some editing, for sure, but here they are:
Independent-Journal, Friday, July 19, 1963
HARD WORK
Youth Describes Life In Germany
By David Rosso
I work in a spulen and hulsen factory, which makes spools and bobbins for textiles, with Donald Light of Fairfax and Dennis Fitch of San Francisco.
The work is long and dull. We walk to the factory to begin work at 6:30 a.m. and finish at 5:30 p.m. All day we operate machines to mold, sort, cap and package spools, bobbins and flyers to be sued by textile factories around the world. The factory is bog, dark and dirty.
However, it is fascinating to work with people from all over the world. The people we work and talk with represent France, Germany, Italy, Yugoslavia, Greece, Algeria, Persia, Turkey and Egypt.
As soon as the people at the factory heard I was an American, they said, “Kennedy!” The German people love him. They describe him with one word, “prima.”
After we finish work, we head for home, or the Kolpinghaus, where students from all of Europe live. I room with a Yugoslav and two Frenchmen. We speak in German, English and a little French and Yugoslav.
One unfortunate incident has arisen. A Negro from Nigeria refuses to speak to Americans because of the American race riots. There is no communicating with him.
Before I left the United States I was told of the great German food. On a limited budget, I have failed to find any. I don’t think a day has gone by when we haven’t had noodles for a meal. Wurst, beer, bread, cheese and noodles make up a meal.
The factory employees have a taste for warm beer which I have yet to acquire. During work they soak their beer bottles in warm water.
Prices for food vary. At Kolpinghaus we pay $1.25 for 21 meals, including the continental breakfast of bread, butter, marmalade and warm milk or coffee. At the factory we have five hot lunches for a total of about 87 cents.
Milk is about eight cents a half liter and beer is 13 cents a quart. A good meal in the town costs about $2. Most desserts are expensive and very rich.
We have found a café which is frequented by the younger set for dancing. American music is very popular, as is the twist. The bossa nova has come and gone but the Madison has survived. The Germans were very anxious to learn the American version of the “tweest.”
No date
AFTER 12,000 SPUDS
Marin Youth Washes Dishes In Germany
By David Rosso
I was standing all alone in the crowded Munich railroad station about to search for a room and a job. Two weeks later I found a room, but finding a job was much easier.
I started as a potato peeler in a restaurant. Four days and 12,000 potatoes later I started washing dishes for a restaurant. Here I have a room, four meals a day and enough money to get on my feet after having had to spend it on expensive hotels while looking for a permanent room.
Nothing need be said about the work. Washing dishes is washing dishes wherever you are. But the room is very interesting. I live with two Germans in a run-down room behind the restaurant. There is no hot water, no toilet and no heat except from a small pot-bellied stove.
I will work at this job until I begin my regular job at the Bayerishe Motorwerke AG (BMW) which I got by writing to the mayor of Munich.
I saw much of Munich while looking for a room; there is too much to say about it and an amateur’s description would not do it justice. Munich never sleeps as tourists and students constantly come and go. I plan to use the entire year to see all of the many art, history and science museums.
One of the most impressive sights of the city is Munich’s Leopold Street in the Schwabing area. This is an existentialist section where the students display a nightly exhibit of their art. The sidewalks are lined with candle-illuminated paintings, copperware and pottery.
The city is much too great for casual analysis. Now I can only say that Munich is a city with much American influence, hourly bell-tolling, many cathedrals, museums and flowing beer.
Oct. 3, 1963
‘PROST’ IS WORD
Marin Youth Tells Of Fest In Germany
By David Rosso
MUNICH – For three weeks the fest will bring in people and pour out millions of liters of beer. Last year three and one half million liters of beer were consumed in the many beer halls set up at the edge of the mile-long fairgrounds.
There are numerous side shows, booths of chance and restaurants, much like any other state fair, but the beer halls are like something I have never seen before.
They are packed with persons from many nations, all celebrating as one. The magic word is “prost.”
One can always join in table-top dancing, sing German drinking songs or simply prost a perfect stranger who will at once become your close friend.
In one night I drank with Germans, talked with Frenchmen, argued the merits of the Giants with students from Los Angeles and sang with Canadians.
The parade which officially opened the fest lasted for 90 minutes. Even at the end it seemed to continue as the crowd fell in behind the marchers and choked the streets leading to the parade grounds.
The warm spirit of the fest has failed to take the edge off the cold winds which are promising a long winter in Germany. For the past week the temperatures have never climbed above 65 degrees and there has been some cold rain.
(The editor’s note did say I was describing the Octoberfest)
Nov. 25, 1963
Marin Youth Tells About Living Costs In Germany
By Dave Rosso
West Germany’s money, the Deutsche mark, is worth about 25 cents in U.S. value, and living here in Munich is very good at this rate if you are living on the American economy.
A good steak dinner costs six marks, or the equivalent of $1.50, which is well and good, except that, unfortunately, all the money I make is in marks, coming from a factory here in which I work.
The same steak, then, in my “new currency,” costs me two hours of working at drilling metal.
Too, when I received my paycheck, I discovered that 25 percent of my earnings went to the Bundes Republic. From the remainder, it cost 30 percent for rent, 10 percent for transportation, seven for food, and every other cent for whatever travel I’ve done around Europe.
However, the taxes do include free medical services for me at the factory clinic, service including most everything from pills to eye glasses.
The factory workers here are surprised to see me, an American, working in their factory. The image of the American with streets lined with gold dies hard. The only way I can answer their questions is that I’m working here “because I am a student.” This they understand.
A major tax is housing and land. Apartments are being erected everywhere and are inhabited as quickly as they are finished. Nonetheless, there exists a housing shortage here.
Laundromats, a relatively new business in Germany, cost about the same as in the U.S., but haircuts cost only about 75 cents. A turkey for Thanksgiving, however, will cost as high as $8.
I hope to have an article on Christmas in East Berlin.
Independent-Journal, Friday, July 19, 1963
HARD WORK
Youth Describes Life In Germany
By David Rosso
I work in a spulen and hulsen factory, which makes spools and bobbins for textiles, with Donald Light of Fairfax and Dennis Fitch of San Francisco.
The work is long and dull. We walk to the factory to begin work at 6:30 a.m. and finish at 5:30 p.m. All day we operate machines to mold, sort, cap and package spools, bobbins and flyers to be sued by textile factories around the world. The factory is bog, dark and dirty.
However, it is fascinating to work with people from all over the world. The people we work and talk with represent France, Germany, Italy, Yugoslavia, Greece, Algeria, Persia, Turkey and Egypt.
As soon as the people at the factory heard I was an American, they said, “Kennedy!” The German people love him. They describe him with one word, “prima.”
After we finish work, we head for home, or the Kolpinghaus, where students from all of Europe live. I room with a Yugoslav and two Frenchmen. We speak in German, English and a little French and Yugoslav.
One unfortunate incident has arisen. A Negro from Nigeria refuses to speak to Americans because of the American race riots. There is no communicating with him.
Before I left the United States I was told of the great German food. On a limited budget, I have failed to find any. I don’t think a day has gone by when we haven’t had noodles for a meal. Wurst, beer, bread, cheese and noodles make up a meal.
The factory employees have a taste for warm beer which I have yet to acquire. During work they soak their beer bottles in warm water.
Prices for food vary. At Kolpinghaus we pay $1.25 for 21 meals, including the continental breakfast of bread, butter, marmalade and warm milk or coffee. At the factory we have five hot lunches for a total of about 87 cents.
Milk is about eight cents a half liter and beer is 13 cents a quart. A good meal in the town costs about $2. Most desserts are expensive and very rich.
We have found a café which is frequented by the younger set for dancing. American music is very popular, as is the twist. The bossa nova has come and gone but the Madison has survived. The Germans were very anxious to learn the American version of the “tweest.”
No date
AFTER 12,000 SPUDS
Marin Youth Washes Dishes In Germany
By David Rosso
I was standing all alone in the crowded Munich railroad station about to search for a room and a job. Two weeks later I found a room, but finding a job was much easier.
I started as a potato peeler in a restaurant. Four days and 12,000 potatoes later I started washing dishes for a restaurant. Here I have a room, four meals a day and enough money to get on my feet after having had to spend it on expensive hotels while looking for a permanent room.
Nothing need be said about the work. Washing dishes is washing dishes wherever you are. But the room is very interesting. I live with two Germans in a run-down room behind the restaurant. There is no hot water, no toilet and no heat except from a small pot-bellied stove.
I will work at this job until I begin my regular job at the Bayerishe Motorwerke AG (BMW) which I got by writing to the mayor of Munich.
I saw much of Munich while looking for a room; there is too much to say about it and an amateur’s description would not do it justice. Munich never sleeps as tourists and students constantly come and go. I plan to use the entire year to see all of the many art, history and science museums.
One of the most impressive sights of the city is Munich’s Leopold Street in the Schwabing area. This is an existentialist section where the students display a nightly exhibit of their art. The sidewalks are lined with candle-illuminated paintings, copperware and pottery.
The city is much too great for casual analysis. Now I can only say that Munich is a city with much American influence, hourly bell-tolling, many cathedrals, museums and flowing beer.
Oct. 3, 1963
‘PROST’ IS WORD
Marin Youth Tells Of Fest In Germany
By David Rosso
MUNICH – For three weeks the fest will bring in people and pour out millions of liters of beer. Last year three and one half million liters of beer were consumed in the many beer halls set up at the edge of the mile-long fairgrounds.
There are numerous side shows, booths of chance and restaurants, much like any other state fair, but the beer halls are like something I have never seen before.
They are packed with persons from many nations, all celebrating as one. The magic word is “prost.”
One can always join in table-top dancing, sing German drinking songs or simply prost a perfect stranger who will at once become your close friend.
In one night I drank with Germans, talked with Frenchmen, argued the merits of the Giants with students from Los Angeles and sang with Canadians.
The parade which officially opened the fest lasted for 90 minutes. Even at the end it seemed to continue as the crowd fell in behind the marchers and choked the streets leading to the parade grounds.
The warm spirit of the fest has failed to take the edge off the cold winds which are promising a long winter in Germany. For the past week the temperatures have never climbed above 65 degrees and there has been some cold rain.
(The editor’s note did say I was describing the Octoberfest)
Nov. 25, 1963
Marin Youth Tells About Living Costs In Germany
By Dave Rosso
West Germany’s money, the Deutsche mark, is worth about 25 cents in U.S. value, and living here in Munich is very good at this rate if you are living on the American economy.
A good steak dinner costs six marks, or the equivalent of $1.50, which is well and good, except that, unfortunately, all the money I make is in marks, coming from a factory here in which I work.
The same steak, then, in my “new currency,” costs me two hours of working at drilling metal.
Too, when I received my paycheck, I discovered that 25 percent of my earnings went to the Bundes Republic. From the remainder, it cost 30 percent for rent, 10 percent for transportation, seven for food, and every other cent for whatever travel I’ve done around Europe.
However, the taxes do include free medical services for me at the factory clinic, service including most everything from pills to eye glasses.
The factory workers here are surprised to see me, an American, working in their factory. The image of the American with streets lined with gold dies hard. The only way I can answer their questions is that I’m working here “because I am a student.” This they understand.
A major tax is housing and land. Apartments are being erected everywhere and are inhabited as quickly as they are finished. Nonetheless, there exists a housing shortage here.
Laundromats, a relatively new business in Germany, cost about the same as in the U.S., but haircuts cost only about 75 cents. A turkey for Thanksgiving, however, will cost as high as $8.
I hope to have an article on Christmas in East Berlin.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
