Broken Lives

by Konrad H Jarausch

  A final reason for German prosperity was the backbreaking labor of foreigners, recruited as so-called “guest workers.” To provide needed manpower for its factories, the FRG signed treaties with Italy, Spain, Greece, and Turkey to recruit temporary help, which relieved unemployment at home. One such newcomer was the welder Mehmet Ünaldi, who decided to seek his fortune in Alemanya in order to get away from an unresponsive wife. After an interminable train trip, he arrived in Munich in the summer of 1962, only to be shunted to a bridge-building factory in Düsseldorf. Although respected for his skill and dedication by his colleagues, he also encountered prejudice and discrimination. But he took courses to overcome the language barrier and gradually became used to the strange culture of his new country. Falling in love with a German woman and having a son made him decide to stay in his new home, visiting Turkey only during vacations. As was typical of many Gastarbeiter, he realized that “two souls live in my breast”: he felt homesick for Turkey when in Germany and for Germany when in Turkey.29

  With some delay, the postwar boom also led to an increase in prosperity through rises in wages and salaries. While the initial expansion was driven by self-exploitation through long working hours and deferred compensation, from the mid-1950s on pay began to increase as well. Hermann Debus remembered, “Of course, we earned much money through our countless overtime hours.” Gerhard Baucke, now the owner of a growing printing company, also reported profiting from the general business expansion, which yielded “a comfortable prosperity.” But the pump engineer Robert Neumaier had to change to another firm in order to double his income, and to receive another raise before he ultimately returned to his original company. Convinced that he “earned too little,” freelancer Horst Grothus “lost much money” when his colleagues in a joint consulting firm were unwilling to follow his advice. Even if some refugees, such as Christel Groschek, were forced to work at marginal jobs, on the whole public salaries for teachers and policemen also rose gradually along with labor pay.30

  A particularly memorable benchmark of prosperity was the acquisition of the first car, partly for business and partly for pleasure. When Hellmut Raschdorff fell ill while selling his textiles door to door, he finally “realized that the growing tasks” required a small automobile. Hence he purchased a little plastic Borgward Lloyd car with a 13 HP motorcycle engine and a hatchback for loading the wares. Expending 2,000 DM seemed like a big risk, but the greater ability to reach his clients paid off handsomely. Hoping to sell his machines all over the Ruhr Basin, Rolf Bulwin also needed an automobile. In order to get around with his samples, he bought a used Opel and was very proud to be able to take his family on trips during the weekend. When he first decided to become an independent consultant, Horst Grothus purchased a used VW Beetle and had it repainted.31 In many postwar recollections this motorization is an important caesura documented by proud photos (image 23). It signaled growing affluence.

  23. Pride in a first car. Source: Kempowski photo collection.

  Astounding even the participants, the continual business expansion until the mid-1970s became known as the Economic Miracle. One such success story was Gerhard Baucke’s printing company, started in 1955 when he purchased his first Rotaprint machine. With much determination, he printed children’s books and Christian literature, buying a bigger machine every few years. Eventually he got an order for pamphlets from the electrical giant AEG, which allowed the firm to stabilize. While happy about such success, his mother warned him that “the firm is beginning to own you.” In a similar fashion, “the Economic Miracle also made itself felt in our company,” Robert Neumaier recalled. When the city of Freiburg blocked the necessary expansion of its production capacities, Lederle and Co. moved to a neighboring town and split into three separate divisions. As key engineer behind the success, Robert Neumaier was promoted to manager in two of them—but at the price of a gallstone operation and permanent diabetes.32 The strains of war and reconstruction made the Weimar children particularly vulnerable.

  Even if the reality was somewhat less spectacular than the memory, these “miracle years” restored West German self-confidence. The tone of later anniversary celebrations in Baucke’s and Raschdorff’s firms was rather self-congratulatory, since nobody could quarrel with the evidence of amazing progress. Almost three decades of economic growth had not only rebuilt a ruined country, but also propelled its citizens into an affluent consumer society far beyond Weimar or the Third Reich. Critical intellectuals such as Ursula Mahlendorf correctly pointed out that all the “calls for spiritual values and moral regeneration faded like ghosts in the glare of the new material consumption.” Moreover, the expellees, refugees, returned POWs, and war widows were slower to reap the benefits than the newly rich businessmen driving shiny Mercedes sedans.33 But by overshadowing historical guilt, the postwar boom generated a new pride in the deutschmark as hard currency and made it possible for Germans to regain some control over their own destiny.

  PRIVATE REWARDS

  The rise of prosperity also supported a more satisfying private life as a reward for all the strenuous labors. While some critics observed “the collapse of the bourgeois world,” the postwar ideal still remained the nuclear family, no longer as a defensive survival community, but rather the center of a rewarding personal existence. Increasingly, the now-adult children of the 1920s ignored the advice of their parents and struck out on their own through university studies or making headway in their professional careers. That meant also moving out of the home and making new friends who provided different perspectives. It also made it possible to explore leisure activities such as camping vacations in the summer and skiing in the winter. Moreover, it implied widening one’s horizons by attending lectures, concerts, plays, and other cultural events.34 While many autobiographies report this emancipation from parental tutelage, they also show that the authors’ core aspirations centered on having a meaningful family life.

  24. Postwar wedding. Source: Gisela Grothus, “Mein Leben.”

  After the postwar chaos, the young adults had a veritable hunger for companionship, not only as sexual attraction, but also as mutual understanding and support. Anneliese Huber needed long talks and many letters to be sure of “the good character of a man” with whom she wanted to spend her life. Similarly, Anne Raschdorff had to get over her negative impression of Hellmut by watching him during church service to “gain assurance that I could entrust myself to you.” Though Erika Taubhorn and her Alfred “got along well with each other,” she had to overcome her mother’s skepticism and the hostility of her future mother-in-law (who had already picked out another bride) in order to get engaged to him. For Gisela Grothus “it was not love at first sight” but rather similar conservative expectations for life that made her inclined to wait until Horst had finished his engineering studies. “We imagined our future from then on as my parents had lived it: Children, living for them and with them. All together and for each other in love.”35

  The result of these romantic relationships was a series of festive weddings that returned to traditional customs and displayed increasing prosperity. Gisela and Horst Grothus tied the knot on April 1, 1952 in an elaborate ceremony. The wedding-eve party “was an enjoyable meeting” of families and friends who played out funny skits and offered “welcome practical things for our future home.” The next morning Horst had to wait until “his wife was poured into the white dress” previously worn by her sister and her hair fixed with a veil: “When I was allowed to enter the preparation room, I was stunned by the beauty of my bride.”’ Then followed a carriage ride to the Dahlem village church in Berlin, where Gisela’s uncle preached a personal sermon. Back in the new wife’s home, “a tasty and festive wedding dinner was served” and then the newlyweds departed on their wedding trip to Lake Constance. A striking photograph of the pair preserved the memory of this happy occasion (image 24). Other couples followed this pattern, though some of the partners, such as Bettina Fehr, had to convert to Catholicism to satisfy the Chu
rch.36

  Not everyone was fortunate enough to find a partner for life, because now for each available man there were 1.6 women of marriageable age. Ursula Baehrenburg was one such “young woman, who longed for love and wanted to share a common goal in life with a husband.” She liked her childhood friend Heinz well enough, but he was merely a “good comrade” who failed to understand her “female desires.” Then she met a married man named Willi, with whom she fell in love, “experiencing hours of happiness and complete abandon.” But because he grew “morbidly jealous” and rampaged about drunkenly, she sent him back to his wife. “Willi belonged to the men who only feel sorry for themselves.” Other attempts also failed to produce a lasting bond. But then she met an Indian family and befriended their son and daughter, while similarly becoming godmother to the son of a friend. These emotional bonds compensated for her not having children of her own. In retirement she finally renewed her relationship with Heinz and moved with him into a rebuilt house.37

  Some hastily entered relationships did not survive the postwar struggle for existence. Having lost her family during flight, eighteen-year-old Christel Groschek accepted a marriage proposal from a shoemaker sixteen years her senior while working on a farm in a North German village. Unfortunately, her husband turned out to be an alcoholic who squandered his earnings, abused her and the children, and even antagonized his neighbors. Moreover, as a strict Catholic he opposed birth control and fathered four children, which strained the family’s meager resources. When Christel could no longer take the mistreatment and sought a divorce, her husband managed to prevent it by claiming that the tension was her fault. After more than a decade, she finally escaped his clutches by taking the children and secretly moving away to another city. There she established a new life, gratified by the successful growth of her children, and even moved to the Spanish coast in retirement. Other relationships, like Hans-Gerd Neglein’s first two marriages, foundered under the strain of work and travel during the return of prosperity.38

  Getting a decent place to live was an essential precondition for a happy family life. However, this goal was difficult to reach due to the postwar housing shortage. Hanne and Robert Neumaier initially had to make do with a single student room without running water. Anne and Hellmut Raschdorff were happy to have two chambers in separate houses without a bath of their own. Anneliese Huber was overjoyed when her second husband, Paul, managed to find a small two-room apartment that required only 3,000 DM as a construction cost subsidy: “Finally we had a home of our own and were together!” With help from his uncle, Horst Grothus managed to obtain a small apartment for Gisela and himself with two rooms, kitchen and bath: “We are very glad about it.” When Edith Schöffski heard about a newly remodeled penthouse apartment, she “was enthusiastic” about the tiled bath, big living room, and modest price.39 With increasing prosperity, these young couples gradually moved up into better living quarters.

  Families were still expected to have babies during the 1950s, so in short order these marriages produced sons and daughters. With so many men having died in the war, Gisela Grothus was particularly happy to become “a mother” because “I had for a long time wished to have children.” Between 1952 and 1957 she had one boy and two girls. Anneliese Huber added another boy to her son from her first marriage, and then had twins, which almost cost her life because of heavy bleeding that required a transfusion. When he arrived at the hospital from a business trip, Robert Neumaier was also surprised to be confronted with twins, whose arrival doubled the number of his children. Although she had not wanted to give up her job, Gisela Grothus remembered, “I felt completely fulfilled by feeding, caring and supporting this delicate being.” Her husband Horst also recalled, “The children were the center around which we organized our lives.” Like many other postwar families in Germany, “we played, sang, and did crafts with them.”40

  By contrast, the death of one’s parents was a “painful caesura in family life,” for the bond between the generations had been especially close during the German catastrophe. Many Weimar children owed their own survival in war and postwar chaos to the extraordinary efforts of their fathers and mothers. This created a lasting sense of indebtedness, even after they went their own ways and differed politically. While many of the fathers had been killed, their mothers helped selflessly in the household and with their grandchildren. Because they had suffered great privations for the sake of their children, the surviving older Germans often had health problems. Nonetheless it was a shock when Anneliese Huber’s father “lay dead in his bed as if asleep” shortly before his seventieth birthday. Seven years later, her mother “suffered a stroke” and quickly passed away without regaining speech. Even if she had alienated him by constant meddling, Horst Grothus felt distraught when his mother died unreconciled in an old-age home.41

  Increasing prosperity provided the means to progress, from purchasing basic necessities to fulfilling long-held desires. With a combined salary of 300 DM, Benno and Edith Schöffski initially had to weigh every penny when deciding what they could afford to buy. But after the currency reform, Ursula Mahlendorf recalled that “consumption went in waves.” At first, people “bought huge quantities of food that had been rationed” and rapidly regained their prewar body weight. Then came “clothes and shoes,” such as a warm coat or winter boots. After that, they turned to replacing worn-out furniture with new beds, couches, or wardrobes in order to be more comfortable in their homes. Benno Schöffski was delighted to receive a Grundig radio, bought by his mother on a layaway plan, “since he could now listen to sports broadcasts.” Anneliese Huber was overjoyed “to finally get a washing machine!” And the Weigelts crowded around their new TV set in 1961 to watch a British crime series. While not all West Germans shared the bounty equally, this buying spree showed that “prosperity has broken out.”42

  Business success also made it possible for an enterprising minority to build their own houses and become proud homeowners. Robert Neumaier obtained a lot from a developer when he designed a water pump system for a subdivision. But he had to scramble to raise 15,000 DM as down payment toward the total cost of 50,000 DM. His wife was shocked at his plan, “assuming I had a fever because we had not a single mark in the bank.” But with the help of his father, his company, and a Swiss friend, he put together the required sum. Then came the question of design, to which Neumaier added another apartment for his sister in case she returned from her husband’s job in England. Hellmut Raschdorff insisted on a central fireplace and separate bedrooms for each of his children. During the actual construction, a future owner like Hermann Debus had to supervise the contractors and pitch in with painting, laying floors, and other simple tasks. “But we were happy and content, finally to be able to stay and live on our own property.”43

  The hard work required for advancement left little time for the kind of relaxation that would regenerate body and soul. Homeowners such as the Raschdorffs liked to garden, advancing from supplementing nutrition with potatoes or strawberries to the more decorative planting and landscaping of their properties. Gerhard Baucke and other individuals with good voices sang in choirs, which provided musical pleasure and personal sociability. Families with cars also visited the countryside on weekends, exploring natural sights and quaint villages or going on hikes in nearby forests. Hermann Debus took up swimming to help him cope with a health problem and brought home a series of trophies in masters competition. He also discovered a hidden talent for acting when his home town Kaub on the Rhine River put on historic plays to entertain tourists.44 But on the whole, leisure activities were exceptions because men were stressed out by work and women were busy keeping the household running.

  Annual vacations were therefore one of the high points of the year: they interrupted the work rhythm, offered relaxation, and generated family memories. People with modest means such as the Hubers “went on many hikes in the summer [and] made it possible for the children to learn to ski” and explore destinations further away. But even well-to-
do couples like the Raschdorffs were content to go “hiking in the Röhn” mountains at the border to East Germany, marveling at dramatic rock formations. “Thus we undertook many tours with the children over the years, but they gradually grew into their own friendship circles.” Including cultural highlights and religious services, such excursions provided the family with funny anecdotes—as, for instance, when a waiter in a restaurant mistook Hellmut Raschdorff for an adolescent and warned him, “Boys, behave, or you will be kicked out.” Gradually the range of their explorations extended to the Austrian Alps where their hiking group scaled many famous mountains such as the glacier-capped Großvenediger in the fog.45

  The “improvement of the financial situation” in the 1950s inspired a widespread desire among West Germans to travel further afield, most notably to the South where the climate was warmer. The first such trip took the Neumaiers to the Lago Maggiore in Italy, where they rented a vacation apartment: “The kids had much fun and learned to swim in the lake.” In subsequent years they took interesting holiday “boat trips to Greece, Morocco, Italy, Yugoslavia and Lanzarote.” A few days after the Six-Day War they went to Israel with Jewish emigrants and the beautiful Hanne won a bottle of champagne in a “Miss Ship” pageant. On another trip, “the children wanted to buy a donkey in Tangiers” and could only barely be persuaded to give up the idea. Other voyages took them to Crete and Egypt, where a river cruise was “an unforgettable experience.” They even went to China and by airplane around the world.46 Such international journeys became coveted items of conspicuous consumption, with highlights shown to friends in slide shows or home movies.