Why is the holiday apartment called “Blaue Blume”?

The Blaue Blume (Blue Flower) represents longing and love. My grandparents bought and moved into the beautiful half-timbered house in 1942 and lived there until their escape from the East in 1952. My father was 11 years old at the time and experienced the escape as a very traumatic event. On the island of Borkum, my father met his “Blaue Blume,” my mother, the love of his life. In 1989, when I was 11 years old, the Berlin Wall fell, and my father showed us his birthplace, Eisenach, for the first time. Over the years, my family moved entirely to Eisenach. As an architect, my father spent over two years meticulously restoring the half-timbered house with great attention to detail, as it was also a “Blaue Blume” for him.

History of the House

The Beginnings 1914 – From the Gymnasium of the Girls’ Boarding School to a Chicken Coop

The house was built in 1914 by architect and master carpenter Arno Gunkel as an annex for the girls’ boarding school across the street. In the space now occupied by the holiday apartment was the gymnasium for the young ladies. After World War I, the girls’ boarding school was dissolved, the half-timbered house was sold, and it was used as a residential property. According to all later residents, however, the gymnasium had an “awkward size” for any other use. Thus, it became a popular play area for the children of the neighbourhood during bad weather. It was filled with old furniture, boxes, boards, and even a chicken coop found its place there.

The War Years & End of the War – Dental Practice

Over the years, the house changed ownership several times. On April 1, 1942, it was purchased for 32,000 Reichsmarks by my paternal grandparents. My grandmother had wisely anticipated the future and had already moved my grandfather’s dental practice from the city to the house at Wernickstraße 7 in the summer of 1944. Towards the end of the war, a shell struck the previous practice in the city. Aside from shattered windows (with two exceptions), the half-timbered house fortunately escaped major damage. After a brief American captivity, my grandfather resumed his dental practice here at Wernickstraße 7. During power outages, a foot-operated drill was used, which likely left some former visitors with painful memories of this house.

The Early Post-War Years – “Which Idiot Built This House?”

In the summer of 1945, the house nearly was requisitioned by a Soviet officer, but my grandmother managed to move most of the furniture to the coal cellar in time and intentionally guided the Russian officer, interpreter, and German liaison through the sparsely furnished house via oddly convoluted paths. First, they went up the stairs, through a room, up the attic stairs, then back down, out onto the terrace, past the hall, down a few steps to the landing of the gymnasium, and then down more steps… The irritated Russian officer quickly departed with the remark: “Which idiot built this house?” Thus, the requisition was averted. According to my father’s stories, roaring carnival parties took place in the family home in the following years until their escape from East Germany. Every year, extensive work and painting were done in preparation, including once building a slide in the stairwell. The attic was transformed into a heaven, the slide led to the ground, and from there further into the air-raid shelter, into hell.