Of western Germany’s historic cities and towns it is often said that postwar modernization and urban renewal destroyed more architectural substance than all the wartime bombing and fighting.
Frankfurt am Main, for example, has been dubbed “Bankfurt,” “Krankfurt,” or “Mainhattan.”
After the bulldozers made room for four- to eight-lane urban thruways, parking garages, department stores, and flashy shopping malls, a few monuments were restored or-as happens to be the
case around Frankfurt’s Römer square-artificially rebuilt to look old, complete with fake half-timbering. Such Disneylands abound. In isolated touristic spots, such as Rothenburg-on-the-Tauber that were spared
both wartime damages and the postwar ravages of making towns autogerecht (suitable for motorization), what you see is often a false front that would do credit to any Hollywood studio, replete with freshly washed curtains on windows behind which local burghers no longer live.
It was different in East Germany, especially in Saxony-Anhalt, Thuringia, and Saxony. With the exception of some places such as Magdeburg, Nordhausen, Leipzig, Chemnitz, and Dresden, most
cities and towns were spared wartime destruction by massive air raids. They also suffered little damage from ground fighting because the Wehrmacht (the German Armed Forces) offered almost no resistance to Allied forces rushing in. Then, ironically, the area was practically mothballed during the Communist era and Germany’s division.
Due either to the Communist regime’s ideological obstinacy or the inefficiency of its economy, widespread erosive environmental pollution and tragic neglect took place that is now being
repaired with extensive and costly efforts of architectural conservation, renovation, and restoration. But the smaller cities and towns of Saxony, Saxony-Anhalt, and Thuringia generally remained frozen in time,
their riches of art and architecture preserved with relatively little modern adulteration. A virtual incarnation of Germany as it looked until the 1930s, they have-in the six years since the Berlin Wall fell and
the Communist regime imploded-been turned into some of reunited Germany’s most rewarding travel destinations.
Granted, there are caveats. Given that eastern Germany is only gradually awakening from the classless, no-frills sleep of more than four decades of communism and the economy remains in deep
depression-with unemployment rates of 13.5 percent in Saxony and Thuringia to almost 16 percent in Saxony-Anhalt-it is no place for travelers in search of touristic glitz and glamour.
Deluxe hotels are few; while some have opened over the past two years, the majority of establishments are privatized former state workers’ hotels that have been refurbished. Nor should you
expect the culinary sophistication honored with Michelin stars and Gault-Millaut toques that made West Germany a destination for food enthusiasts. Small, family-owned inns are just starting to appear. To be
sure, the valleys of the Unstrut and Saale rivers are the source of some of Germany’s most interesting wines, but beer is the beverage of preference because it fits the hearty, down-to-earth local cuisine.
Though the area was largely inaccessible to Western tourists during the Communist era, as a foreign correspondent, I was able to travel there frequently on reporting assignments for many
years before the Berlin Wall came down, and it has become an even more important part of my beat since then. Here are some of my top choices for those who want to see and experience the Germany of yesteryear.
Saxony-Anhalt
The Harz Mountains are a range of densely wooded granite bumps, the highest of which, the Brocken, rises to an altitude of 3,770 feet astride the former East-West German border. It is a
beguilingly beautiful and scenic region, steeped in fairy tales and superstitions about witches, well described Johann Wolfgang von Goethe’s Faust, who engaged in wild orgies with the devil on Walpurgis
Night. Nestled in the valleys are travel-poster towns and villages; the two most stunning are Quedlinburg and Wernigerode, a scant 19 miles apart.
Quedlinburg, with a population of 28,000, is a picture-postcard town of 1,500 half-timbered houses along cobblestone streets and lanes-a unique ensemble that was put on Unesco’s 1994
list of the world’s cultural heritage sites. Unlike western Germany’s Rothenburg, virtually all those buildings are inhabited. Since 1990, most exteriors have been restored by their owners at great expense,
though, proprietress of a toy shop on the Marktplatz Margit Paul notes, the DM 120,000 she spent to renovate the facade are “but a fraction of what it will eventually cost to restore the interior.”
If the local Communist party boss in the 1960s had gotten his way, these houses would have been razed and replaced by prefab apartment buildings. Luckily, he never got the money, and
successors showed more appreciation for the town’s historical architecture. The Altstadt (old town) was put under landmark protection by the East German government, though funds for its preservation were always scarce, leading to much neglect.
Among the highlights, besides the kaleidoscopic of half-timbered houses, some up to 600 years old, are the Renaissance Rathaus (city hall) on the Marktplatz, the Gothic St. Benedict church, and the Schloßberg with its castle and 12th century St. Servatius church. The castle was a fortress of Heinrich the Fowler, duke of Saxony and father of Holy Roman Emperor Otto the Great, medieval Germany’s first king. The church, secularized during the Third Reich and used by the Nazis as a temple to honor Heinrich, contains a reliquary shrine, a 10th century bejeweled beard comb and a 15th century gospel book that were stolen in 1945 by an American GI but bought back by the German government in 1993 from his heirs in Texas for DM 15 million.
Wernigerode, with population of 37,000, has been a Harz Mountain resort since the turn of the century and preserved that role under the East German Communist regime, so its colorful
red-roofed half-timbered houses were always well maintained. “You really had to have connections to be allowed to vacation here,” says mayor Horst Weyrauch. For East Germans, it also became a favorite wedding
spot-a role it still plays.
Most important among the little city’s buildings are its red, blue, green, and gold twin-turreted 16th century Rathaus on the Marktplatz; the 17th century Krummel Haus on Breitestraße, with
its elaborately carved beams; the tiny Kleinstes Haus on Kochstraße, just nine feet wide; and the vast 19th century neo-Gothic castle on the hill above town, now a museum of feudal history. Wernigerode is so
popular that reservations should be made well in advance at its few hotels.
Tangermünde, population 12,000, at the confluence of the little Tanger River with the Elbe about 32 miles north of Magdeburg, is at the heart of the Altmark (the Old March). Here the margraves of Brandenburg launched their eastward conquests of the Slavs in the 12th and 13th centuries. It is one of the best preserved medieval towns in all of Germany-still surrounded by its old defensive wall with gate towers and decorative red-brick Gothic architecture. In the 14th century, Holy Roman Emperor Charles IV expanded its fortress castle into his second capital and residence after the Hradcin in Prague. But by then, Tangermünde was already a member of the Hanseatic League and one of the richest trading towns on the Elbe River.
You could spend days imagining yourself back in the Middle Ages here, but if you are in a hurry, the highlights are the fortifications and crenelated gate-towers; the 15th century Rathaus,
now a museum, which ranks as one of the finest examples of Gothic brickwork in Germany; the ruins of Charles IV’s castle overlooking the Elbe; the inner city’s narrow, winding cobblestone lanes lined by
half-timbered fishermen’s cottages and merchants’ houses; and St. Stephan’s Church, which in part dates back to the 12th century, with its 310-foot-high north spire and Baroque 17th century organ. Above all,
crane your neck to gawk at the storks. Last spring, I spotted eight nests in the old quarter, two atop the Rathaus.
A drive of about 110 miles south of Tangermünde through Magdeburg and Halle will take you to the vineyard-covered banks of the Unstrut River and the picturesque, idyllically situated town of Freyburg,
population 5,000. East German wines-dry whites and light reds-grown along the Elbe between Dresden and Meissen and the Saale and the Unstrut rivers, were among the Communist regime’s best-kept secrets, usually
served only to party bigwigs or sold for hard currency to “upper-classless” connoisseurs in the Soviet bloc. They are only now being revealed to and discovered by Westerners. Freyburg is one of the most
important vintners’ centers and home of Rotkäppchen Sekt (“Little Red Riding Hood” sparkling wine), the brand that has recaptured a 20 percent share of the eastern German bubbly market. It is also where Turnvater Friedrich Ludwig Jahn, the “father of gymnastics,” settled in 1825 after his release from five years in a Prussian prison and lived until his death in 1852.
Freyburg is as romantic as you can imagine. But locals refer to it as Romanesque, the original style of its St. Mary’s church, though most of the building is 15th century Gothic. The town
owes its existence to Schloß Neuenburg, a castle almost as huge and built by the same Thuringian landgrave as the Wartburg at Eisenach, which dates back to 1088. It was steadily enlarged and in the 16th century,
served as a residence of Duke August of Saxony. The 12th century chapel is an admirable example of Romanesque architecture. During the Communist era, the castle was not open to the public; party bigshots held
receptions there. Since 1990, it has undergone extensive renovation, the geological and viticultural museum in the keep has been enlarged, and in 1994, drew some 40,000 visitors. Jahn’s house on Schloßstraße is
also a museum.
Naumburg, five miles south of Freyburg at the confluence of the Saale and Unstrut, dates from around 1000, when the margraves of Meissen built a fortress there, that was soon
surrounded by a flourishing trade center. Naumburg became the seat of a diocese in 1028 and was chartered as an independent city in 1030. The town of 30,000 survived all subsequent wars virtually without damage
and is a three-dimensional walk-through of medieval times, with a labyrinth of proud patrician mansions and merchant houses from its golden age in the 13th to early 16th centuries. Under Communism, the
cityscape, because of its proximity to lignite power plants, acquired a gray patina of soot, but it is one of the five eastern German cities singled out for crash renovation and restoration programs, with
federal, Saxony-Anhalt state, and corporate sponsors’ funds.
The main attraction for the thousands who visit Naumburg is the Dom (cathedral) of St. Peter and Paul, consecrated in 1042 and enlarged in the 13th century in late-Romanesque and
early-Gothic styles. The Naumburg Dom is world famous for the 12 life-size, limestone figures of its donors and sponsors, of which the best known are “Ekkehard” and “Uta.” The statues, in the west choir of the
church, were carved around 1250 by the so-called Naumburg Master, of whom nothing is known other than that he previously sculpted figures in the cathedrals at Mainz and in Metz, Amiens, and Noyon, France. Of
great interest also are Naumburg’s richly appointed late-Gothic Rathaus, in the 15th century Marientor, one of the medieval city gates, and the 16th century St. Wenceslas church with paintings by Lucas Cranach
the Elder and a Gottfried Silbermann organ played by Johann Sebastian Bach.
Thuringia
Thuringia, absent from the geopolitical map for most of its 1,300 years of recorded history, was reestablished in October 1990 as one of the five new eastern German states, and bills itself as
“The Green Heart of Germany.” No question about that. Its magnificent forests, gently rolling hills, and verdant river valleys are lusciously green. Even during the 40 years of Communist rule it was a popular
vacation destination for East Germans. But more important, it is the quintessential Bach, Luther, Goethe, and Friedrich Schiller country; a treasure trove of medieval cities and towns, charming villages,
knights’ castles perched on craggy hilltops, and grand palaces of minor princes the likes and concentration of which few other German regions can offer.
Erfurt, the largest (population 230,000) and best preserved medieval city in Germany, is the place to start discovering this state. It is 1,250 years old and suffered almost no
wartime damage. Although there was Communist era neglect, with some areas falling to the wrecking ball to make room for ugly mass housing complexes, it remains a vast live-in-walk-in landmark town.
The official history dates to 742, when St. Boniface, an English missionary known as the “Apostle of the Germans,” established it as a diocese. But there is evidence of an earlier fortified
monastery near where Boniface founded the Dom, and signs that Erfurt had already been a thriving settlement before Boniface first visited and wrote Pope Gregory II about it in 729. By the end of the 9th century,
it was a major commercial hub that grew steadily over the next 500 years, reaching its golden age in the 13th through 16th centuries, when it was known as the “City of 80 Spires” because of 40 churches and 13
abbeys.
This prosperity had two sources. One was its location at the junction of medieval Europe’s main trade routes: the “Royal Road” between Madrid and Samarkand and the “Salt Road” between the
Tyrol and the Northern and Baltic coasts. Erfurt’s Krämerbrücke was a major link on the Royal Road; first mentioned in 1117, it has been extant in its present form as a stone bridge lined by merchants’
and artisans’ houses since 1327. Other than Florence’s Ponte Vecchio, it is the only such bridge in Europe. The Fischmarkt (fish market) at its western end was where salted fish from the Northern and Baltic seas was sold and traded. Caravan drivers bought fodder for their animals in the nearby Futergasse and weighed their goods in the Waaggasse.
Regal churches are also reminders of this time. One is the Kaufmannskirche (Merchants’ Church), founded by Dutch and Frisian traders in the 11th century; its present Gothic appearance remains unchanged since the 14th century. Johann Sebastian Bach’s father, Johann Ambrosius, was once its organist and got married there in 1668 to the daughter of an Erfurt furrier.
The other big source of wealth was woad, a plant cultivated all over Thuringia in the Middle Ages because of the blue dye extracted from its leaves. Woad was the only blue dye until
displaced by indigo in the 16th century after discovery of the sea routes to India, and Erfurt had a virtual European monopoly on it, earning local merchants up to three tons of gold a year. The richest and most
successful dealers built splendid mansions such as the Haus zum Breiten Herd (house of the wide hearth), Haus zum Roten Ochsen (house of the red ox), and Haus zum Stockfisch (house of cod) in the Altstadt.
It was a city of the arts and sciences. Its university, founded in 1392, was one of the oldest and greatest in medieval Europe. Erfurt was where Ulrich von Hutten and other members of the
humanist circle met secretly to draft the anti-clerical pamphlets that preceded the Reformation, and where Martin Luther himself had his academic and theological roots. But even in more recent times, the city
played an important role. Napoleon ruled it from 1806 to 1813 as “Prince de Erfurt.” In 1808, he held a two-week summit there with Russia’s Czar Alexander I. This “Congress of Erfurt,” attended by 34 European
kings, dukes, and princes-a gala replete with balls, banquets, and theater performance that made Erfurt the navel of Europe-was intended to stake out the spheres of influence between France and Russia, to the
detriment of England, Austria, and Prussia.
Most of what made Erfurt great in centuries past has been preserved. To see and enjoy this remarkable city, you should spend several days here, though even several weeks would not do it
justice. Musts are the Dom and adjacent St. Severus Kirche, the Krämerbrücke, the Renaissance mansions and guildhalls on and around the Fischmarkt, and the Augustusabtei that Martin Luther entered to become a monk in 1505.
Mühlhausen, population 43,000, 40 miles northwest of Erfurt, is an even older town that experienced its greatest era in the 12th to 15th century as a member of the Hanseatic League.
Its biggest impact on history, however, was when local pastor Thomas Müntzer, the religious reformer and Anabaptist led the radical forces in the Peasants’ War of 1524-25. Most of the medieval old quarter,
including practically all of the defensive wall, towers, and gates, has been preserved.
Be sure to see the Gothic St. Blasius church, where Johann Sebastian Bach was organist for a year, starting in 1707. It has some fine 14th century stained windows. St. Mary’s Church, where
Müntzer preached and promulgated his revolutionary program, is a 14th century structure with stone masonry embellishments and late-Gothic altarpieces. The 284-foot-spire and its vast dimensions make it
Thuringia’s second-largest church after the Erfurt Cathedral. The Rathaus is a late-Gothic blend of stone masonry and half-timbering. There are museums devoted to Müntzer and the Peasant’s Revolt, and in the
inner city, some refined 17th century patrician houses.
Arnstadt, 12 miles south of Erfurt, is the oldest town in Thuringia, first mentioned in documents in 704. Its medieval architecture includes half-timbered and wood shingle-fronted
burgher houses; Romanesque and Gothic churches; steep, winding, cobblestone streets, and picturesque squares. The little city of 30,000, called the “Gateway to the Thuringian Forest,” was home to many renowned
artists, authors, and scientists, including Ludwig Bechstein, the fairy tale writer; Giovanni Morelli, an Italian art critic and freedom fighter; August Wilhelm von Schlegel, the pioneer of the German Romantic
movement; and several generations of Bachs (Caspar, Heinrich, Johann Christoph), including Johann Sebastian, who started his career in 1703 as an organist in the church now named after him, a post he held until
1707.
One should see the late-Gothic Bach Church, the Baroque interiors of which, including the organ, are unchanged since his days; the Liebfrauenkirche, a 13th century basilica with
Germany’s oldest stained glass windows; the Renaissance Rathaus; and Mon Plaisir, a museum of 82 Baroque dollhouses and 400 dolls located in the Neues Palais, the elegantly furnished chateau
of the Counts of Schwarzburg, who ruled here from 1332 to 1918.
Schmalkalden lies in the heart of the Thuringian Forest about 40 miles southwest of Erfurt and is one of Thuringia’s most scenic towns-its half-timbered houses clustered around the 15th century St. George’s church and late-Gothic Rathaus are all under landmark protection.
It was here, in 1531, that the Protestant princes, led by Landgrave Philip of Hesse and Duke Johann Friedrich I of Saxony, formed the Schmalkaldic League, an alliance against Emperor Karl
V’s threat to stamp out Lutheranism. The league grew rapidly, and under its protection, the Reformation spread all over Germany, but it was defeated by Catholic forces under Charles V in the 1547 Schmalkaldic
War at the Battle of Mühlberg near Arnstadt. A museum that covers this period is in Schloß Wilhelmsburg, a huge 16th century Renaissance palace with richly appointed rooms. Be sure to see the castle’s chapel, a
dazzle of white stucco with gold leaf, which features one of Germany’s oldest playable organs, made in 1587.
Meiningen, population 25,000, about 15 miles south of Schmalkalden, symbolizes when the map of Germany was a jigsaw puzzle of more than 350 sovereign mini-kingdoms, midget
principalities, and dwarf duchies, each with a proud ruler who tried to outdo his neighbors-usually cousins-by building a splendid castle and being a patron of the arts. The Duchy of Saxe-Meiningen, tucked
between the Thuringian Forest and the Rhön Mountains, with the capital town of Meiningen, was one of them. It had a territory of 530 square miles, less than half that of Rhode Island. The Meiningen dukes were
Wettins of the Saxonian royal dynasty, which included Saxe-Weimar-Eisenach, Saxe-Altenburg, and Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. The Saxe-Meiningens made their mark in the 18th and 19th century with music and theater by
inviting great figures of drama and literature, such as Schiller and Jean Paul, to live and work in the picturesque Baroque and neo-Classical town.
Duke Georg II, who reigned from 1866 to 1914, organized the Meiningen Players, a company that provided the impetus for modern repertory theater throughout Europe and greatly influenced
Russia’s Konstantin Stanislavsky and Germany’s Max Reinhardt. The ducal court orchestra was conducted by many greats of 19th century music, including Johannes Brahms, Richard Strauss, and Max Reger. Meiningen’s
golden age ended with the duchy and Germany’s monarchy in 1918. Though it suffered no damage in World War II, there was plenty of Communist neglect and decay. But since reunification, the town has enjoyed a
revival. The Meiningen Theater is again a leading playhouse, performing opera and drama during a ten-month season; Elisabethenburg, the ducal palace, has been splendidly renovated; and the medieval Altstadt is undergoing restoration.
Saxony
There is far more to this erstwhile independent kingdom than just Leipzig and Dresden; the farther east and south you travel-toward the Polish border and into the Erzgebirge (Ore Mountains) along the Czech Republic’s frontier-the more rewarding it becomes.
Freiberg, gateway to the Erzgebirge, population 50,000 and 19 miles east of Chemnitz, was for nearly 800 years the source of Saxony’s great wealth: silver. “The first ore was
discovered here in 1168,” revealed Rolf Steiner, a retired miner who was my guide on a tour of the labyrinthian shafts of the old Reiche Zeche. “And by the year 1200, it was a bonanza, the Klondike
of the Middle Ages. Right to the end of the 19th century, we were still producing 5,200 tons of pure silver a year. After 1913, it was tin, zinc, and lead.”
The perfectly preserved city, still circled by its medieval wall and towers, is an architectural showcase of its former prosperity. The Obermarkt (upper market), one of two market squares, is lined on one side by the vast 15th century Rathaus with its white stucco front and surrounded by Renaissance patrician mansions. The Untermarkt (upper market) is ringed by small miners’ houses that tilt and lean crazily in the shadow of Freiberg’s late-Gothic cathedral. The cathedral’s ecclesiastical art includes one of Germany’s most elaborately carved portals, the Goldene Pforte (golden portal). The church boasts two pulpits both intricately sculpted from tuff stone, a magnificent carved altar from the 13th century, and one of Gottfried Silbermann’s premium organs, installed in 1714. Be sure to visit the minerals collection and mining museum of the Bergakademie,
Freiberg’s 230-year-old mining school, past students of which include Goethe, the naturalist Alexander von Humboldt, and Friedrich von Hardenberg, the Romantic poet who wrote under the pseudonym Novalis.
Meissen, 14 miles northwest and downstream the Elbe from Dresden, means more than the famous porcelain that is still made there as meticulously, preciously, and expensively as when
King August the Strong established the manufactory in 1710. The town of 38,000 at the confluence of the little Triebisch River with the Elbe is not only one of the best maintained and beautifully situated in
present-day Saxony, but also the oldest-virtually the cradle of the state, with a history going back to 929, when Henry the Fowler built the first fortress on today’s Burgberg, the castle hill, as an outpost for his eastward conquests of the Slavs.
Famous writers who visited and were enthralled by Meissen include Goethe, Schiller, and Novalis, not to mention Gottfried Lessing, who attended its renowned St. Afra School, and painters
such as Carl Blechen and Caspar David Friedrich. Like them, you will need sturdy legs to explore this hilly town, crowned by the Burgberg. There the main attractions are the 15th century Albrechtsburg,
one of Germany’s most decorative noble residences, and the 13th century Dom, where artworks include sculptures by the Naumburg Master and altarpiece paintings by Lucas Cranach the Elder. In the castle,
August the Strong incarcerated the alchemist Johann Friedrich Böttger for several years until he produced the famous white porcelain, and this is where the china factory was located until 1864, when it moved to
the present location on Talstraße. Visitors can view that plant and its museum-like showroom. To experience Meissen-its other churches, old burgher houses, museums, and profusion of artisans’ shops along
the hilly streets-will take a couple of days.
Bautzen, 33 miles east of Dresden, first mentioned in 1002, looks like an old Master painting: a city of 47,000, it is perched on a 300-foot hill above the meandering Spree River,
circled by the massive wall, towers, and turrets of its 15th to 16th century fortifications. The city is unique in that for 600 years, it was part of the Kingdom of Bavaria-Bautzen only came under the rule of
Saxony in 1635-and in that it is officially called Budysin, for it is the “capital” of the Slavic Sorbs, who lived there long before Germans arrived. All street and shop signs are bilingual: German and
Sorbic.
Due to its location on a major trade route, commerce and clothmaking contributed to Bautzen’s prosperity in the Middle Ages, and the Altstadt abounds with lavishly decorated patrician
mansions and stalwart burgher houses. The 13th to 15th century Petridom (St. Peter’s Cathedral) has been a “dual church”-holding Catholic and Protestant services-since 1524. Among the imported art in the Catholic section are a Baroque high altar with paintings by G. A. Pellegrini and a life-size crucifix by woodcarver Balthasar Permoser. Sorbic culture is omnipresent in Bautzen, and if you are not there for their colorful Easter procession, you should leave time to visit the Museum of Sorbic Culture and History in the Ortenburg,
the medieval castle that was the seat of Bohemian royal bailiffs. One of the most scenic walking tours is along the battlements of the city wall, especially on a balmy summer evening when all of Bautzen’s
towers, turrets, and church spires are illuminated.
Görlitz, 30 miles beyond Bautzen, is Germany’s easternmost city, situated on the left bank of the Neisse River at the border with Poland. In fact, the city’s eastern boroughs make up
what is now the Polish town of Zgorzelec; and the Sorbs call both Zhorjelc. Here, too, commerce and trade, especially of cloth and woad, made the city prosperous in the Middle Ages; the legacy of
that period can be seen in its sumptuous Gothic, Renaissance, and Baroque merchants’ mansions and burgher houses on the Obermarkt and Untermarkt, the two main squares. Like Bautzen, Görlitz was long ruled by the
kingdom of Bohemia, until ceded to Saxony in 1635 during the Thirty Years War.
Though there are plenty of Gothic churches and some good museums, the real attraction of Görlitz is in ambling along its cobblestone streets and taking in the unique cityscape. On the one
hand, few other German towns preserved their historic appearance and structure-from the Middle Ages through 19th century Belle Époque-as completely as this city of 70,000. Not a shot was fired nor a bomb dropped
on it during World War II. On the other hand, few others suffered as much neglect and decay during the 40 years of Communist rule. Despite all the propaganda about German-Polish friendship, Görlitz was “Land’s
End” for the rulers in East Berlin, who treated it as such. I was horrified when I first visited in the spring of 1990, a couple of days after Lenin Platz had been renamed Obermarkt, and Platz der Befreiung (Freedom Square) was again called Postplatz (Postal Square). I thought I had walked into an archaeological dig of crumbling Gothic, Renaissance, Baroque, and Art Nouveau facades. “It will cost a fortune to stop the rot and restore this city,” mayor Matthias Lechner told me. Four years and DM 400 million later, I saw a Görlitz awakening in Sleeping-Beauty style. The Bonn government has declared it a model case of renovation and restoration. To finish the job, Lechner estimates DM 1.5 to DM 2 billion more in subsidies and private investment will be needed. But Görlitz already resembles Germany the way it used to be-before the Third Reich, World War II, and Communism.
Contributing Editor John Dornberg writes from Munich, Germany.
WHERE TO STAY
SAXONY-ANHALT
Quedlinburg: Hotel zur Goldenen Sonne, a 17th century half-timbered house in the middle of the Altstadt. Doubles DM 140. Located at Steinweg 1, D-06484
Quedlinburg. Tel.: and Fax: 011.49.3946. 2318.
Wernigerode: Hotel Weisser Hirsch, an 18th century inn on the Marktplatz, renovated in 1992. Doubles DM 170 to 190. Located at Marktplatz 5, D-38855 Wernigerode.
Tel.: 011.49.3943. 32434; Fax: 011.49.3943. 33139.
Tangermünde: Hotel Schwarzer Adler, a 350-year-old inn on the main street, renovated and modernized in 1992. Doubles DM 140 to 170. Located at Lange Straße 52,
D-39590 Tangermünde. Tel.: 011.49.39322. 2391; Fax: 011.49.39322. 3642.
Freyburg an der Unstrut: Gasthaus zum Künstlerkeller, a cozy turn-of-the-century wine tavern to which a modern hotel was added in 1992. Doubles DM 135 to 180.
Located at Breite Straße 14, D-06632 Freyburg (Unstrut). Tel.: 011.49.34464. 27992; Fax: 011.49.34464. 27307.
Naumburg: Zur Alten Schmiede, two historic houses in the Altstadt that were joined and turned into a hotel in 1993. Doubles DM 160. Located at Lindenring 36,
D-06618 Naumburg. Tel.: 011.49.3445. 8161; Fax: 011.49.3445. 8616.
THURINGIA
Erfurt: Bauer Hotel Excelsior near the railway station is the best bet for something reasonably atmospheric within walking distance of the Altstadt. Otherwise the
choice is limited. Doubles DM 190 to 250. Located at Bahnhofstraße 35, D-99084 Erfurt. Tel.: 011.49.361. 56700; Fax: 011.49.361. 567 0100.
Arnstadt: Stadthotel Mon Plaisir, a modern establishment in Art Nouveau style, built in 1992. Doubles DM 175 to 210. Located at Lessing Straße 21, D-99310
Arnstadt. Tel.: 011.49.3628. 739111; Fax: 011.49.3628. 739222.
Schmalkalden: Stadthotel Patrizier, in an 18th century half-timbered house that was turned into a modern hotel between 1991 and 1993. Doubles DM 150 to 160.
Located at Weidebrunner Gasse 9, D-98574 Schmalkalden. Tel.: 011.49.3683. 604514; Fax: 011.49.3683. 604518.
Meiningen: Hotel Sächsicher Hof, a turn-of-the-century grand hotel that was restored and renovated in 1992. Doubles DM 185 to 270. Located at Georgstraße1,
D-98617 Meiningen. Tel.: 011.49.3693. 4570; Fax: 011.49.3693. 2820. If you want to stay in a castle outside town, there’s Hotel Schloß Landsberg, built between 1836 and 1840 in neo-Gothic style as a summer
residence by Duke George II’s father, now owned and completely renovated by their descendant, Prince Frederic Ernest of Saxe-Meiningen. Doubles DM 210 to 300, suites DM 400 to 450. Located at Landsberger
Straße 150, D-98617 Meiningen. Tel.: 011.49.3693. 2352; Fax: 011.49.3693. 2353.
SAXONY
Freiberg: Hotel am Obermarkt, an Altstadt house turned into a modern hotel in 1992. Doubles DM 180. Located at Waisenhausstraße 2, D-09599 Freiberg. Tel.:
011.49.3731. 34361; Fax: 011.49.3731. 34338.
Meissen: Parkhotel Pannonia, a 19th century Art Nouveau villa with annex, on the right bank of the Elbe, renovated and restored in 1993. Doubles DM 250.
Hafenstraße 27-31, D-01662 Meissen-Niederfähre. Tel.: 011.49.3521. 72250; Fax: 011.49.3521. 722904.
Bautzen: Spree Hotel, though outside of the Altstadt and the city center, is the best bet-modern and on the banks of the Bautzen reservoir. Doubles DM 195.
Located at Steinbrüchen, D-02625 Bautzen-Burk. Tel.: 011.49.3591. 21300; Fax: 011.49.3591. 213 1010.
Görlitz: Sorat Hotel, a beautifully restored Art Nouveau merchant’s mansion, right in the center of town. Doubles DM 195. Located at Struvestraße 1, D-02826
Görlitz. Tel.: 011.49.3581. 406577; Fax: 011.49.3581. 406579.
"Monstrous things, banalities, irrelevancies and deepest disappointment..." East Germany's Secret Files
Shortly after the Berlin Wall fell in November 1989, protestors stormed the offices of the East German secret police, the Staatssicherheit-better known as the Stasi. Shouting
"Freedom for my file!" they demanded to see the information that had been collected on them during the 40 years of dictatorship. They found the backbone of the oppression practiced by Erich Honecker,
Markus Wolf, and Erich Mielke: the files that were to become a major political and social issue during and beyond the unification process.
While the Stasi employed 90,000 people full-time, 174,000 more-over one percent of the total GDR population-were "Inoffizielle Mitarbeiter" (unofficial collaborators):
civilians recruited to help spy on their neighbors and brethren. After the secret files were opened, many East Germans were horrified at the extent to which the state had invaded their privacy. The realization
that a close friend or even a family member had worked for the Ministerium für Staatssicherheit (Ministry of the Secret Police) sent shock waves throughout the society.
There were over 180,000 shelf-meters' worth of documents in the 15 offices turned over to the Federal government, including 35.6 million index cards and thousands of cassettes' and
diskettes' worth of taped material. Even so, tons of the most damning material was shredded in the heated days after the borders were opened.
Long before the Wall fell, Joachim Gauck was a dissident in his native town of Rostock. After he and 16 million fellow East Germans won their freedom in 1989, Gauck was elected to the
Volkskammer (the GDR parliament), and became involved in controversies over the Stasi. On August 30, 1990, the Volkskammer passed a law establishing an authority to regulate file access and usage. Joachim Gauck
was elected head of the authority, now referred to in the colloquial as the "Gauck-Behörde," the Gauck Authority. In 1991, the original law was amended by the Bundestag (the German federal parliament),
and the first Stasi documents were examined in January 1992.
According to the amended law, any person is entitled to see his or her dossier at former Stasi headquarters on Nonnenstraße in eastern Berlin. Today, eastern Germans in public service
are required to undergo a thorough investigation of their records and can be removed from their post should the civil service see fit in light of their actions during the communist GDR regime.
Approximately three quarters of the Stasi files has been inspected and scrutinized by Gauck's 3,100 employees, but plenty has not yet been evaluated. For example, 5,800 sacks of paper
scraps that were salvaged-after the shredders broke down, members of the Stasi were ordered to tear up the documents by hand-are being painstakingly pieced together by specialists at the Gauck Behörde.
By October 1995, almost 2.9 million requests to see files had been submitted, with over 37,000 more coming in every month. So far, the authority has completed 1.7 million
investigations.
On October 3, 1995, the fifth anniversary of German unification, Joachim Gauck began his second term, having been unanimously reelected by the Bundestag. In his second term, he hopes to
do even more for the victims of the GDR regime and admits that he has his work cut out for him.
Interview with Joachim Gauck
The start of your second term as commissioner for the Stasi files fell on the fifth anniversary of German unification. Still, your role continues to be controversial with regard to
Germany's internal unity. Was this public controversy one of the reasons for your desire to serve a second term?
I am the head of a controversial administrative body, but perhaps I myself am controversial. Who is responsible for this image? In eastern Germany, it is a small group of formerly
powerful individuals, in and around the Party of Democratic Socialism (PDS), and in the west, it is a collection of intellectuals who still don't understand our approach. However, I am happy that I enjoy the
support of all political fractions. It shows that, despite the excitement and the public debate, our program-conceived in 1990 in the eastern German Volkskammer-continues to be appreciated.
Other eastern European countries such as Hungary, the Czech Republic, and Poland are attempting to establish democracy without opening the archives of their former dictatorships. Why is
Germany doing something different?
Those countries do not have the "German trauma." We have already experienced once in this century how a complete break with the past, a complete silence, led eventually to
collective trauma. Although in the Adenauer era [named after Germany's first chancellor after World War II], the decision to reintegrate and rehabilitate the Nazi elites was widely accepted, the following
generation violently opposed it. So the German manner of governing does not suffer so much from overregulation, as it corresponds to what Germany has experienced. In East Germany, we didn't want to say a
friendly goodbye to another dictatorship. Only with knowledge, perhaps with some mourning, will we ever become a democratic country.
How many of your current 3,100 employees were also full-time Stasi employees?
A good dozen of those people is still working here. They are extremely important because they can explain the highly secret system to us. One can't learn everything from the files.
When this authority was formed five years ago, we discussed hiring former Stasi employees, and the majority decided that we needed them. In fact, I would need another dozen, but for political reasons, I
can't ask for them.
What happened to those who spent the days and nights after the fall of the Berlin Wall shredding documents? Are they still here, too?
No, of course not. Most of the 90,000 full-time employees went into the private sector, some are unemployed, some are retired; in any case, they no longer work for the civil
service. Some are well off; they have established lucrative firms and earn a lot of money. One particular group within the Stasi, bodyguards and security guards, may continue to work as security guards.
Otherwise, all are gone.
What do you say to people who try to defend themselves today by saying they had no choice, that they were forced to work for the Stasi?
They're lying. There are far too many examples to the contrary. It was not compulsory to work as an unofficial collaborator. It's clear that when one reached the top of the military
ladder, there was no reason not to work with the secret police. However, those who wanted to further their careers-students and academics, for example-joined the Communist Party. In the fall of 1989, there
were 2.3 million party members, whereas there were only 174,000 collaborators. That is a significant distinction. Of course, former Stasi collaborators are not usually prepared to speak truthfully about
their actions but tend to make up stories and say "well, I had to...." One was not always bribed-usually one was simply talked into it, and it made one's career much easier. Cooperation with the
Stasi was often a plus, but not for everyone. Some felt it as a heavy burden but were too weak to say no.
And what about the person who says "Yes, I spied, but none of my reports ever harmed anyone"?
That person has to state his or her case to the employer, and if the employer is convinced, then all the more power to him or her. It is not compulsory to remove former Stasi
collaborators from their posts, only a possibility. It is not required to investigate all civil servants, but possible to receive permission to do so.
Please describe briefly your family history. What did you do before the fall of the Berlin Wall, and how did you arrive in your current position?
It is very simple, and quite odd. I was born January 24th, 1940 in Rostock on the Baltic Sea coast. While at school, my father was taken away by the Soviets without any reason
whatsoever. In the Stalinist era, thousands of Germans who were somehow conspicuous were arrested and deported. Those in the custody of the Stasi were also tried and almost always found guilty of something.
My father was one of these. My family spent two and one-half years not knowing what had happened to him, where he was, whether he was alive or dead, nothing. It was an early experience of Stalinist
communism. Thank God he returned; after Stalin's death in 1955, many of these people as well as prisoners of war returned from Siberia. My father had been in Siberia, near Lake Baikal. So I belong to a group
of people who experienced the horrors of a repressive system very early in their lives. So I had very little inclination to socialism. I thought it was criminal.
However, later, I did not feel that what was happening in the country was so bad so I stayed, despite the fact that many of my friends and family members went West. Until 1961, it
was easy; I studied theology, and it is natural for a theologian to stay where it is difficult, where one is needed most. I became a pastor in a small town in Mecklenburg. Five years later, I was assigned to
a housing project between Rostock and the Baltic Sea coast. I lived in a small apartment and did not have my own church-I preached as a guest in others. I often taught in other apartments, in kids' rooms, in
kitchens. It was very difficult but quite fulfilling; I dedicated much time to working with young people. It is here that one really learns about the problems in a society. Although my experiences as a child
were extremely disturbing, these people found out the simple truth that democracy did not exist in their country. They came to me and the church to find people they could talk to, people they could trust.
The church was the only place in the GDR where one could speak freely and openly. No one spoke openly in school.
And so it happened that I was elected in 1989 to a top position in the Rostock chapter of the civil rights group "Neues Forum" and led the revolutionary activities of that
fall. Every Thursday evening from October 1989 until February 1990, we organized church services in six churches around the city, followed by a march attended by thousands. As a result of this work, I was
elected to the Volkskammer as a member of "Bündnis 90" (Union 90), into which Neues Forum had folded. By chance, I started working on domestic policy and the Stasi topic. The Volkskammer passed a
law regulating the usage of the files in August 1990, deciding that the files should be used for legal, historical, and political analysis of the past. This law, the nucleus of the solution we have now, was
not a product of West German dominance, but a product of the East German democratic movement.
What was in your file? Were you surprised at what you read? What did you think?
Most Germans in the East were surprised. We knew the secret police existed, but generally did not think ourselves important enough to have been accorded such special attention. I
learned from my files that more than a dozen unofficial collaborators had spied on me, my letters opened, my telephone, office, and apartment bugged. Was I really that important? Maybe I was, through my
youth work and my work with the ecumenical church. I had many contacts to the West, and although we could not travel, people often came to visit. Every so often, we were allowed a "business trip,"
and whenever I returned, I would tell everyone what it was like-the next time, I would have to stay home.
These documents are a collection of monstrous things, banalities, irrelevancies, and deepest disappointment. One's own friends and people from one's community were the people who
were weak, who worked as spies. Fortunately, no one in my family did this, although my siblings were asked to. Stasi officials even wanted me to work for them. They tried to get everyone, even those in the
opposition by trying to build a positive relationship with the person. For example, they sent the son of a university professor I knew to me, who tried to talk me into meeting up with him on a regular basis.
I told my bishop--countercollaboration was the safest response.
When did you know that countercollaboration was the key to beating the system?
One learned it as part of life experience. For example, young people came to me and said "Pastor, someone has asked me to spy on you. What should I do?" I told them to say
they had told me, their parents, or their boy/girlfriend. One had to be open in order not to be bribed. They wanted to keep it secret, but that did not mean that you should keep it secret. When we open the
files today, we see that people who were open also never worked as unofficial collaborators.
In the news, we often read about famous people who spied for the Stasi. But we rarely read about those who gave the orders: the officials of the SED (Socialist Unity Party), who
destroyed many careers at all levels.
Yes, that's correct, and I try to stress that in every interview I give. We did not decide on decommunization across the board like American-supported denazification after World War
II. Germans did not succeed with the complete renewal of their society-while we regulate the Stasi files, neither the Volkskammer nor the Bundestag passed a similar law regarding former SED leaders and
members.
So the courts will be responsible for that part of the past?
Much is written about lawsuits and career downfalls of former Stasi collaborators. The positive discussions at seminars and congresses, beneficial meetings between offenders and
victims, the courage that one repeatedly reads about in the secret files-all this is not highlighted because the media dictates that "bad news is good news." What actually happens often does not
appear in the press. We will not successfully deal with our East German past if we only focus on the Stasi issue for two reasons. First, because it does not reflect the daily life of the citizens; the Stasi
was only a part of life. Second, because it does not illustrate the political realities; the Stasi received their orders from yet another source, the SED. We need to focus on the actions and responsibility
of the SED.
You have been reelected to this post for another five years. However, you have said that you love your former work more than your current job. Where do you see yourself in five years?
Working in the church was rewarding work. However, not many people from eastern Germany have the stamina and talent to be in politics, and people tell me that I do. Perhaps I should
stay in politics, even if not in this position. I am independent of any party, not bound to any program. Until I turned 50, everything was the same, and then everything changed very, very quickly. I never
dreamed of the positions I would soon occupy. I enjoy what I am doing, but I can't imagine what I will be doing in five years.
Is it not frustrating for Joachim Gauck, the civil rights activist, to see former Communist judges and lawyers getting off scot-free?
Yes. However, there is also a Joachim Gauck the democrat. I come from a country that was not based on a constitution, that was not democratic. Our courts come to their conclusions,
and I can accept them. I still feel we could have found other means to deal with the Stasi problem, but I respect the freedom and justice in this country and therefore, I will not publicly criticize these
decisions. Unfortunately, people tend to legitimize political crimes and immoral actions after the fact. Perhaps this is a case where the perspective of the actors stood in the forefront, and the victims'
point of view was not taken into consideration. I do have questions and concerns.
What will be your focus in the next five years?
We have not prescribed a speedy peace from above. The nation is growing up; it has become more democratic and can stand some controversy. Of course, we need to work through the
conflicts-we don't want to dwell on them forever because they are heavy burdens. Germans are guilty because we have carried two dictatorships in this century. We in eastern Germany need some time to make
those higher up-those who governed us for decades-realize what they did to us down here, and to demand answers. Only this way will we reach a reconciliation.
People tend to hide behind the past and make it look nicer than it actually was. There is no way to draw a line or take stock of the situation after only five years of unity. We are
in the middle of a controversial debate. Eastern Germans cannot allow being told we were all traitors and thus cannot look our western brethren in the eye. Just by looking into the past, we see there was a
great deal of courage and that many of us did say no. We need to give ourselves some credit and more time to become one people again-at least as much time as we were apart. Thank God for the young people who
will need less.
What does that mean? How long will it be until the past no longer plays a leading role in the present?
The files will not be closed in the near future. Documents from the World War II years and thereafter are still being used by students, researchers, and other interested parties.
Fifty years is not that much time. I don't know how long it will be in our case. But what is the point of closing the documents? Who would profit from that?
How long will it still be a hot topic in public discussion?
It comes and goes in waves; how the media interprets the news is often more important than the news itself. But it will continue to be an important topic, even if the media
attention fluctuates. When it comes to the change of mentality, we need patience. There is always a tendency to remember all the good from a bad system; it takes a long time to realize that one actually
served a bad system. The files are disclosing the machinery of the daily dictatorship. When will people realize this? You cannot force a sick person into therapy. One must want to get well.
Joachim Gauck was interviewed in Berlin by Pilar Wolfsteller, who lives and works in Frankfurt am Main.
