Part 65: Swinging Sixties In The GDR

While working as a chamber cleaner and plant operator, retraining, and doing sports, I also had plenty of free time. Most weekends I went to the clubhouse to dance.

There, well-known dance orchestras played in a complete 16-man line-up plus singers, who could also be heard on the radio. Admission cost two to three marks, plus the obligatory cultural penny. At the end of the event, free streetcars were available, the so-called ‘Lumpensammler,’ to take the tired dancers home.

Unthinkable today, it was even allowed to smoke in the streetcars. But the customs in the dance hall were extremely strict. Without a suit and tie, no one got past the admissions service. The dances were mainly foxtrot, waltz and tango, sometimes Latin American rhythms were also played.

At the very beginning, there was a dance master in the middle of the dance floor who made sure that the couples turned in circles to the left. At that time, the girls were still asked to dance with a slight bow and a polite ‘May I have this dance?’ It was also customary to pre-order the next dance from the beloved.

If the chosen one agreed, there was no need to join the male race for the prettiest girls when the music started. But the mores were rapidly decaying. The men now wore tight shirts under their jackets. The shorts went down to the ankles so that the colorful striped socks could be seen. The feet were adorned with shoes with wedge-shaped crepe soles.

The girls dressed hip-hugging with colorful skirts, under which the wide petticoat could not be missing. The nylon or perlon adorned legs ended in ballet shoes color-coordinated with the skirt or blouse. Until the intermission, it was quite arty. After that, the band played boogie and rock ‘n’ roll without a break, mostly in a smaller line-up. The monkey was really given sugar. Some couples increased their dancing to acrobatic perfection.

It should not go unmentioned that the described fashion attributes, which were highly desired by the youth, were not available in the GDR. The young people therefore took the train to Potsdam and the commuter train to West Berlin.

There, the things were bought with the GDR mark at the rate of one to four or five. For a pair of shoes with crepe soles, also called ‘Bobbihopser’, a good half month’s wage was due. In addition, there was the risk of being checked by the East German police at the zone border.

At that time, the wrestling team had to train in the boathouse because the new multipurpose hall was still under construction. We also organized cheerful evenings together with the aquatic athletes. I will never forget a party with the motto ‘Carnival in the Circus.’ The dance floor had been transformed into a round arena with colorful cardboard boxes and a circus dome made of light brown wrapping paper above it, from which trapezes were suspended.

The main attraction, however, was an iron predator walkway that led from the arena to the dressing room, which served as a bar. Anyone who wanted to get to the bar had to crawl on all fours through the predator walkway. After the party, wicked tongues jokingly claimed that many more guests crawled to the bar than returned. None of us suspected that after the wrestling team moved to the new gymnasium, the rowers would face a difficult fate.

Posters with the agitation slogan ‘Chemistry brings bread, prosperity and beauty’ could be read everywhere in the country. This meant that everyone was supposed to understand and approve of the accelerated expansion of the chemical industry. But the expansion of the rapidly developing plastics industry was carried out without regard for people and nature.

The river in front of the boathouse, which was already heavily polluted, was transformed in a short time into a stinking cesspool in which all life died. The black broth reeked of indefinable chemicals, and colorful, iridescent oil stains danced on its surface. To practice rowing in such conditions was like intending to commit suicide. Our sports friends had to stop training on the water – a heavy blow for enthusiastic rowers. 𝓣𝓸 𝓑𝓮 𝓒𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓾𝓮𝓭

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Matomo