In some places the walls around Nuremberg are more than 500 years old. They are double layered, with a low moat between and battlements, fortifications and walkways above. They proved such a deterrent to ransacking armies that they withstood a siege in the 30 Years’ War and the only invaders to fully breach them were the U.S. Army in 1945. The extensive damage from that battle has been repaired, and the walls – including some portions of original masonry – still stand. When I visited the city of 500,000 residents last month, the highlight was going for a run almost entirely within the old moat
I was struck by the elegant reconstruction of the Medieval city while integrating a modern mass-transit system. At two places subway stations were built INTO the walls. The moat was redeveloped as a ribbon park, with football pitches and ping pong tables interspersed along a walking path. Several streets in the old city are for pedestrians only, and stands sell pretzels and special Nürnberger Bratwurst, served three to a bun. (Drei im Weggla) As in other parts of Germany, there are dedicated bike lanes either in roadways or sidewalks. Design features encourage walking, biking and mass transit and make casual car use more difficult.
That Nuremberg could have such an effortlessly beautiful and functional public realm was impressive to me because of its size. It’s one thing to have amazing urban amenities in a large city like Berlin or Munich. It’s another to do it in a place that’s not much bigger than Buffalo. I also appreciated the decision to set design rules in the city so that its post-war reconstruction recalled the medieval architecture — and preserved the walls and citadel high above.
Americans, particularly in the northeast, are conditioned toward a certain public aesthetic. It’s neoclassical in its core, spare in exterior ornament, and usually dressed in limestone or marble with occasional exceptions for brick. In New York, picture the Beaux Art court houses of Foley Square, the main branch of the public library and Grand Central Terminal. Cleveland’s mall is a perfect example of “City Beautiful” design. There are too many examples of neo-classicism in Washington, D.C. to mention. Slightly newer Art Deco skyscrapers, like Los Angeles City Hall or Rockefeller Center, also pass muster. Modernist entrants to the public realm, like Boston’s Government Center or Albany’s own Empire State Plaza, feel alien to our unarticulated norms. We call them sharp, off-putting, or just simply ugly.
There’s no such constraint in Berlin, which was particularly curious because it was divided for another 40 years after the war. The Hauptbahnhof is a giant arcing wall of glass, with eight north-south platforms beneath the street and another eight east-west tracks above. The interior is an open atrium of shops and restaurants, allowing visitors and passengers to circulate while trains glide through above and below. The Reichstag, historic seat of the German parliament, was restored with a glass dome and a gigantic reflective sculpture that some locals compare to a slowly roasting Döner.
I suppose this is a natural reaction to the massive destruction of war. When the old institutions were flattened there was a chance for something new, and there wasn’t nostalgia for the original builders. The closest modern analog in the United States is the World Trade Center site, which was rebuilt with a simple, soaring glass tower. Its most salient architectural point is its height: 1,776 feet, an homage to the year Americans declared independence. It’s also the tallest building in the city, like the twin skyscrapers its replaced. That seems like a required homage to capitalism and high land prices that drive the destruction of the old as well as any bomb or mortar.
And there are the warts and wounds of war that remained. I wrote about the ruined church in Hamburg that I found to be such a moving testament to the former devastation. The built legacy of the Nazis is a separate question that has been tackled in various ways. In Munich, Adolf Hitler’s former headquarters — the Führerbau, where Neville Chamberlain signed his appeasement deal — has been converted into a high school for music and theater, which the dictator hated. The Haus Der Kunst, a massive museum built for “Germanic” art, now showcases contemporary pieces by artists from marginalized groups.
The gargantuan terminal of Tempelhof airport in Berlin still stands and is being redeveloped into offices. The tarmac that hosted Zeppelins, Nazi rallies and became a lifeline during the Berlin Airlift is now mostly a park. Berlin residents have voted against housing development on the property, and the space is used for bicycling and kite flying. There are also trailers housing displaced people from Ukraine.
Nuremberg was the site of large Nazi Party gatherings throughout the 1930s, and the parade grounds constructed for the rallies are still there. They are vast and largely empty. The exception is a half-built Congress Hall, which Hitler intended as his answer to the Roman coliseum. An arched façade looks grand from the outside, but inside it is just crumbling bricks.
Nobody in Nuremberg knows what to do with it.
THE QUESTION: In Nuremberg I also visited Courtroom 600, the home of the post-war criminal trials of top Nazis. There was an entire exhibit dedicated to press coverage of the proceedings, including by a wire correspondent who went on to become a television anchor. Who was it?
Know the answer? Drop me a line at jimmy.vielkind@gmail.com. Or just write with thoughts, feedback or to say hi.
THE LAST ANSWER: The highest mountain in Europe is Mount Elbrus in Russia. The highest mountain in the Alps is Mont Blanc, which borders France, Italy and Switzerland.