“When there is harmony little things grow, where there is no harmony big things die”.
Canberra Harmonie-German Club motto, The Canberra Times, 1983.
The towering slab of pockmarked, graffitied concrete is illuminated against its darkened backdrop by a single spotlight.
The letters “FATRE” in grey paint and what could be the numbers “5” and “7”, a cross in between them, in red, feature on one side: that which once looked west. The blemish-free other faced Soviet-occupied East Berlin - for this is an actual partition from the infamous “96-mile” wall that from 1961 until 1989 surrounded and separated West Berlin.
Five years after US President Ronald Reagan encouraged his Russian counterpart Mikhail Gorbachev to “tear down this wall” in 1987, this Cold War remnant came to stand proudly in the Narrabundah carpark of the Harmonie-German Club, which has just celebrated its 60th anniversary.
A plaque set in the low stone wall that skirts the slab attests to a formerly fractured Germany:
“This section of the Berlin Wall reminds us that no man-made barrier can repress the spirit of freedom.”
Three years after the wall's official demise, this segment was unveiled by German Ambassador Otto Rover on October 3, the date marking German Reunification Day. Grainy newspaper photos reveal it was adorned with considerably more graffiti.
Almost as much as the wall itself, this was the manifestation of a city - and a country - carved up among Allies and ideologies after a traumatic war: an “Iron Curtain” signalling Western freedom to express, communicate, live, versus the eastern dictatorial dystopia of communism.
According to Harmonie Club manager Paul Berger, he’s unaware of any modifications to the markings.
“I understand it to be the original graffiti and while I hadn’t seen that photo, it might simply be a reflection of how long it’s withstood the elements”.
In situ close to three decades, earlier media reports suggested there was some uncertainty as to how this particular tangible fragment of time wound up in the capital, noting only a Russian ship and a Botany Bay unloading.
According to Paul, this account may have been confused with a concurrent mystery.
Almost 240 sections of the Berlin Wall are believed to have shipped out to around 40 countries.
The Canberra segment of what the German Democratic Republic (GDR) referred to as the “Antifascistischer Schutzwall,” or “Antifascist Protection Rampart”, was secured by a former Club President, Guenther Koerner, courtesy of Berlin connections.
More than three-and-half metres tall - twice the height of the average man - two metres wide and weighing over three tonnes, it came from near Berlin’s primary entry point, the imposing Brandenburg Gate, recognisable for the Goddess of Victory in her four-horse chariot atop it.
This was one of three such sections to make their way to Australia. The second is said to have been placed in a Sydney residence. The third disappeared. In 2019 it was revealed to have been tucked away in a Blacktown warehouse, significance unrecognised. Rescued and subsequently installed at Woollahra.
The other in the meantime, headed down the Hume Highway for the nation’s First City to become its final place of refuge.
The story of the Harmonie Club itself and the refuge it provided for a community far from what they knew, is just as compelling.
It was 70 years ago that 150 German carpenters set down their traditional Tyrolean - or Alpine - hats, to make Canberra home. Not only for themselves - they’d been brought out by building company AV Jennings to construct 1800-odd houses in the Australian capital.
Hand-picked from a contingent of more than 2,000 who’d expressed interest, the German men were needed as there weren’t enough resident qualified tradesmen available.
A government-authorised plan it may have been but not one universally embraced.
With the guns of WWII barely silenced, simmering hostility was easily stirred.
As demonstration, in a “Canberra Times” report it was stated: “Former Nazis were being brought into Australia as migrants who could form a ‘core of resistance’ against Australia in times of war”.
This “anti-German” sentiment was raised in Parliament by Les Haylen, Labor Member for Parkes, celebrated writer and “committed socialist”. He'd also been born and spent his early childhood on the outskirts of today's Canberra at Gundaroo.
In the face of such resistance as well as dealing with language and cultural barriers, the strong work ethic and “outstanding technical skills and education” of the new recruits saw them quickly cement their place.
The job the Jennings Germans, as they would come to be known, were brought out to do was completed in just two years.
Prior to their arrival, Canberra’s population was around 17,000. By the mid-50s it had almost doubled.
At a similar time, they’d be joined by many more of their countrymen and women as well as emigrants from around the world who’d contribute to one of the “civil engineering wonders of the modern world”: the Snowy Mountains Hydro Scheme.
For many, Canberra and Queanbeyan became their permanent base. One source indicates that by the mid-1960s, half of the region’s 80,000 citizens were immigrants and their descendants, 5,000 of these, “German-speaking migrants”.
And the Jennings Germans were among those who recognised the need for a little piece of their former home in the guise of a community club.
Their plan kicked off in 1961. The National Capital Development Commission provided the central block of land while 35,000 pounds (more than $!mill today) was raised from donations and labour volunteered.
In what appears an uncanny coincidence, Opening Day was officially October 3, 1964 - 26 years before that date would become a national German day symbolising unity.
“I certainly can’t say why that particular date was selected, and I’d never made that connection before, but it is remarkable given its later significance,” agrees Paul.
There’d be other notable instances of history too. The Club hosted the President of West Germany, Walter Scheel, in the first ever State visit of such a kind in 1978. He spoke of the “important role Australia was playing as a new home for German migrants”.
Poignantly, having himself been in the Luftwaffe in WWII, in his speech at the Club after visiting the Australian War Memorial he’d comment: “It struck me that in this place, which is intended to enhance the Australian people’s awareness of their history, the enemy, too, is treated in a human and respectful manner”.
The Club boasted a very popular band and a highly successful choir and quickly became the leader of the pack as the largest of Canberra’s proliferating migrant clubs and on the city’s entertainment scene.
It’s not hard to find locals who recall being on the parquetry dance floor of its later added auditorium, grooving to Australian music industry legends - sometimes before they were such; Johnny Farnham, Air Supply, Skyhooks and AC/DC among them.
There were other drawcards too, including what was described as “one of Canberra’s best kept shooting secrets - a 10m indoor air rifle range of 15 stands” down within the bowels of the building. At the time of its installation circa-1970, it was deemed “Australia’s most modern”.
Paul says it’s still there but it was last used back in 2014.
“It’s a very large area, essentially the mirror of the auditorium above it but with pillars. There’s been some discussion of the possibility of a return to some type of commercial attraction, but at this stage, renovations have just begun to convert it to office spaces.”
There’s another mystery as well, one Paul Berger is very keen to have public help with.
In 1977 a reunion of the Jennings Germans was held, attended by their former boss Sir Albert V. Jennings. As part of proceedings, a sizeable painting by Mr Max Beer of Hughes depicting early-1950s impressions of Canberra had pride of place in the dining hall.
Its fate thereafter, remains unknown.
“We don’t know what happened to that painting or where it went,” admits Paul.
“I was tasked with trying to trackit down and I’ve searched for it extensively only to so far come up empty-handed. At this point, it’s still completely unexplained.”
“If anyone has any idea, we’d really love to hear from them as it’s an important piece.”
Not content with assisting craft the social, cultural and urban landscape of a nation’s capital, some of the remaining Jennings Germans were responsible for yet another warmly embraced local phenomenon: Oktoberfest.
Modelled on a Bavarian Royal wedding feast of 1810, it originally took place in the grounds alongside the Harmonie Club before burgeoning popularity engendered an off-site move in 1972. Without fail it’s delighted crowds every year - except COVID-riddled 2020. In 2021 though, it’s returning to Queanbeyan, host since 2017.
And so, in honour of the proud German cheer that went up at one of the most powerful moments in 20th century history when a city, a country and the world was brought together once more: “Tor auf” - or, “open the gate”!