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March 2004

Memory Lane

Munich's postwar reconstruction

From 1943 to 1945 Munich was bombed 66 times by Allied forces. When German forces surrendered on May 7, 1945, around 60 percent of the Old Town was either heavily damaged or completely destroyed, and in the area around the Central Train Station and in Schwabing, the figure was more than 70 percent. It is said that a person could stand on the roof of the Hotel Bayerischer Hof and get an uninterrupted view across the rubble west to the station and northeast to Odeonsplatz. Needless to say much rebuilding and renovation was necessary.

In no time at all two radically different schools of thought had emerged on the subject of Munich’s postwar architecture: the traditionalists and their quasi-opponents, the modernists. Both groups were made up of ordinary citizens, politicians, architects and journalists and each put forward arguments that were defined, naturally, by their own social, political and historical views. From the start the traditionalists had the upper hand. Even before World War II there were organizations and groups in Germany—Heimatschutz was the generic name under which these groups were lumped together—whose sole aim it was to maintain Germany’s culture and architecture. The Bavarian State Office for Historic Preservation, which began its work conserving historic buildings in 1908, was revived in 1945 under the name Bayerisches Landesamt für Denkmalpflege and brought its influence to bear for the traditionalists. The Kulturbaufond, founded in February 1946 with private contributions, was established to preserve and reconstruct valuable historic buildings. In the summer of 1945 a plan was drawn up that came to be known as the Meitinger Plan after its initiator, city building chief Karl Meitinger. And while this document contained both modern and traditional elements, it made historic preservation a top priority in Munich’s Old Town.

The process of reconstruction is probably best examined through a number of examples. St. Peter’s Church, the oldest in the city, was heavily damaged in World War II. Initially, much of the ruin was to be demolished, but public outcry prevented this from happening. (In many instances of the postwar reconstruction process, it was local citizens who were instrumental in saving historic buildings threatened with demolition.) Funds were collected to begin work on the tower and the job was finished in 1951, followed by a complete restoration of the interior. Although it was not possible to re-create the church using the same materials as had been employed in the original building—new pillars were made of concrete while wooden decoration was created using plaster and subsequently painted—the result was sufficiently authentic for church officials to declare themselves unable to differentiate between old and new parts of the church.

Most of Munich’s citizens were delighted by the “new” church. Its reconstruction, and that of many other buildings around the city, did, however, expose a mind-set that rated repression, albeit of an unconscious nature, higher than remembrance. The destruction of St. Peter’s was clearly the fault of Hitler and his acolytes: this was a view put forward even by such venerable publications as the Süddeutsche Zeitung. The notion of collective responsibility never seems to have been entertained and the idea of perhaps leaving the church a ruin to remind future generations of the consequences of war—the Kaiser-Wilhelm-Gedächtniskirche in Berlin comes to mind here—was never seriously considered. Some smaller compromises were made in the rebuilding of the Frauenkirche (Church of Our Lady): the previously ornate stained-glass windows were replaced by simpler versions, the pulpit was built out of reinforced concrete and modern light fittings were installed. Yet when the church was reopened in 1957, it was clearly intended to look much as it had done before the war. Interestingly, plans to alter the Frauenkirche radically, one by architect Richard Riemerschmidt, the other by Richard Friedrich, were rejected by the city-planning authorities. Without doubt the largest and most expensive architectural project was the rebuilding of the Residenz. After the war, only 50 of a total 23,500 square meters of the roof remained. Like St. Peter’s and the Frauenkirche, as a result of the complex’s cultural importance, restoration was more or less a foregone conclusion. Throughout the 1950s, the badly damaged facades of the Residenz were fully restored and the Residenzturm rebuilt from scratch. A number of demolished rooms in the interior were restored to their prewar state, but the Residenztheater and the Thronsaal were replaced by the Neues Residenztheater and the Neues Herkulessaal. In some cases, structures suffered irreplaceable losses, such as the ceiling frescoes of Johann Baptist Zimmermann in the Residenztheater.

Perhaps the most prominent example of a partial rebuilding is the Alte Pinakothek, which was, particularly the southern facade, severely damaged in bombing raids in 1943-44. Originally built by the celebrated 19th-century architect Leo von Klenze, the Neo-Renaissance edifice was marked as one of the city’s architectural masterpieces. The now-famous restoration plan by Munich architect Hans Döllgast was approved by the Bavarian Architecture Commission. The building was repaired at a low cost by using a variety of traditional and modern materials, including steel pipes and bricks taken from ruins. Damage to the exterior, such as bullet holes, artillery scars and sheared-off ornamental details, remained untouched, leaving history visible. The museum was reopened in 1957 and Döllgast’s work was highly praised. Many believe it is critical that a city retain its historical layers, and essential that people have the opportunity to learn from the past. Döllgast, by conserving the Alte Pinakothek’s historical character and leaving the image of postwar ruin intact, gave people that opportunity. Most of the existing National Socialist structures, such as the Haus der Kunst, were transformed into something more humane. The immense, angular building, once a center for the NS party, was commissioned by Hitler and designed by his favorite architect, Paul Ludwig Troost. After the war it was decided that the monumental structure would house modern and contemporary art, which, after Hitler’s intention to “cleanse Germany of modern art,” seemed like a fitting solution to the problem of what to do with the building and how to deal with the past. Expansive squares, such as Königsplatz, the site for a great deal of NS activity, had their original paving removed in an effort to make them look more inviting.

Where modernists did get a foot in the door of Munich’s rebuilding program, the results were not always happy. The Kaufhof department store at Stachus, designed by Theo Pabst and built in 1951, may have seemed modern and forward looking at the time, and represented at least a small attempt to make Munich appear to be a thriving metropolis, with its flat roof and glass-and-steel facade, but the hipped-roof wing added on to the Bayerstrasse front by city officials made the construction look rather half-hearted. A different and slightly happier solution was found for the Herzog-Max Burg. Formerly a royal residence, the building had been so badly damaged by Allied bombing that only the 16th-century tower was thought worth preserving. Pabst, this time working with fellow architect Sep Ruf, created a modern office building, the size and proportions of which allowed the tower to be integrated into the facade.

Of course there were other modern buildings around the city, such as the Bayerische Hypotheken- und Wechsel-Bank on the Theatinerstrasse, designed by Adolf Abel and completed in 1953, and the north wing of the Central Train Station, known as the Starnberger Bahnhof, built in 1950. Yet if you take the time to look at these buildings and perhaps compare them to the few surviving National Socialist structures, such as the Haus der Kunst and the Musik Hochschule, you will be hard put to overlook the similarities. Neoclassical elements combined with psuedo-monumental proportions are evident in these structures. Indeed, the Bayerische Hypotheken- und Wechsel-Bank was nicknamed “the Brown House of Theatinerstrasse.” There is some truth in this, for many of the city’s prominent architects and planners had formerly belonged to the NSDAP and though their intentions of creating a “new” Munich were noble enough, their references were perhaps simply too limited.

When next gazing at the delightful architecture of the Old Town, perhaps we should try to imagine the wasteland of a little more than half a century ago.

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