After weeks of rehearsals, the operetta was finally ready for performance. The community servant had announced the date of the premiere with his brass bell on every corner of the village.
Hans and I hung hand-painted posters in the tavern and in display boxes at the bakery corner, alerting everyone to the upcoming magnificent event. It was only to be hoped that no power cut would ruin the performance. But then the thunderclap! The completely unexpected end was imminent. The wife of the Heldentenor, who played and sang the beautiful Sigismund, had found out that her husband was kissing his partner because of the role.
This infuriated her so much that she threatened divorce and even suicide. What to do? Someone had the saving idea: With a lot of persuasion, the jealous wife was persuaded to help the actors dress and make up in the rooms next to the stage. As ‘dresser’ and ‘make-up artist,’ she now belonged to the troupe of actors and had her husband under constant control. On time and without a blackout, the curtain rose on the successful premiere. The applause and enthusiasm surpassed anything the village had ever seen.
The young plant of peaceful neighborly relations between the locals and the refugees had taken its first tender roots, when the land reform with the enforcement of the demand ‘Junkerland in Bauernhand!’ hit the community hard and unexpectedly. According to the Soviets’ decree, the property of the blue-blooded landed gentry was to be distributed to poor small farmers, day laborers and refugees. The manor house had been empty for a few months, with only a few displaced persons living in the attic. The owners had already left for the West at the end of the war, only the administrator had remained.
Now a dozen day laborers and a handful of refugees registered their claims to Junkerland with a commission led by the mayor. There was no end to the quarreling that began and the squabbling over the most fertile fields, the best draft horses, the dairy cows, implements and agricultural machinery. Finally, the commission had no choice but to draw lots for the lands and all the manorial property. But not every applicant had a lucky hand.
One won more fertile land than the other, and it was the same with cattle and machinery. The envy and resentment that arose were a suitable breeding ground for the ultra-left. Taking advantage of the disunity, they plundered the manor house, snatching silverware, porcelain, chandeliers, and many valuable pieces of furniture. They would also have liked to expropriate a few large farmers to enrich themselves even more.
When there was nothing left in the manor house, the Ultras pushed through the demolition of the building, although it could have served the community very well as a cultural center, school, kindergarten. In many surrounding communities, prudent mayors and clever citizens successfully resisted this destructive nonsense. In the district town, too, there were heated debates, because the Ultras wanted to blow up the large Kyffhäuser monument. Fortunately, the progressive forces prevailed and prevented the blowing up. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭…
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