Category: Munich

I’m not sure of the etiquette of taking photos of buildings with such a sensitive history, but this was part of a self-guided walking tour on which more of in a later post. However, from 1 May 1920 to 5 October 1929 this was Adolf Hitler’s rented home in Munich, a small pair of rooms on the first floor where the recently demobilised army private developed into a political leader. The property, which was at Thierschstrasse 41, was a short walk from the beer halls and meeting rooms that allowed for the development of the party as well being close enough to be convenient and far enough to keep a low profile.

A now removed plaque (but which was located in between the two windows in the above photo) was placed here in 1936 to mark that it was where Hitler had lived for several years. Now, it has fallen back into a more anonymous building and the rooms in which he lived are now used for storage. After 1929, Hitler moved to Prinzregentenplatz into rather more decadent accommodation funded by the Nazi Party. This is another location that, if the war had gone differently, would likely be a museum. Fortunately, it’s now an unmarked property.

If the Germans had won the Second World War, then it’s likely that this building would now be a substantial museum. This was once a beer hall for the Sterneckerbräu Brewery who had been located on this site since perhaps as early as 1557. The brewery name comes from the Sternegger family who lived in this area in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.

The current building was constructed between 1901 and 1902, designed by architects Heilmann & Littmann, following the purchase of the entire site by the brewer Josef Höcherl in 1894. The large arches on the ground floor were the entrance to the beer house that was once located here.

In September 1919, Adolf Hitler came here to a meeting of the German Workers’ Party. He debated with a speaker, Adalbert Baumann, and it seems that he impressed Anton Drexler, the founder of the German Workers’ Party which was the precursor of the Nazi Party. Baumann, who married a Jew who was killed during the Holocaust, argued that Bavaria should join with Austria, a position that Churchill actually took at the end of the Second World War. Drexler, who have evaded fighting in the First World War and who later died from alcoholism, was never given any influence of note in the Nazi Party.

The Nazis wanted to celebrate Hitler’s achievements here, so in 1933, they opened a small museum above the beer hall with random artefacts from the early days of the Nazi Party, so posters, furniture and any other assorted material that they could find. The building survived the Second World War, but the museum was inevitably closed down immediately.

The building continued as a beer house until 1957 and then it was turned into commercial space downstairs for shops. In early 2025, it became the Haxnbauer, so returning to a traditional Bavarian restaurant. There is no plaque on the building and the restaurant themselves take great care with their language, noting on their website that it’s a:

“Historic building with a long hospitality tradition.”

As I mentioned earlier, if history had gone differently then I’m sure this would now be some sort of tourist site and Nazi museum. Fortunately though, it didn’t.

Richard and I visited the exterior of Field Marshal’s Hall (Feldherrnhalle) as part of a self-guided walking tour, but more on that in a future post. There’s actually a limited amount to see here as the building is being restored and there’s a temporary frontage on at the moment. This does at least give a representation of what the building looks like.

The hall was built between 1841 and 1844 at the behest of King Ludwig I of Bavaria, who admired the decadence and grandeur of Italian art and architecture. He wanted something in Munich that echoed the grace of Florence’s Loggia dei Lanzi, and so he entrusted Friedrich von Gärtner with creating a Bavarian version. Rather than a sombre fortress, it was conceived as a dignified and open structure, a kind of outdoor gallery honouring military greatness which is something that Bavarians rather quite like.

Inside the three arches stand bronze statues of two of Bavaria’s martial icons, Count Tilly, famed from the Thirty Years’ War, and Karl Philipp von Wrede, who battled Napoleon’s forces. These figures were cast from melted-down cannon, an aesthetic and symbolic link to war itself. Later, in 1892, a third bronze ensemble was installed in the centre, commemorating Bavaria’s role in the Franco-Prussian War. Marble lions flank the steps, one snarling at the Residenz palace, the other more demurely facing the church, added in the early 1900s.

But, the building is perhaps best known for something more sinister that happened in 1923. That was the year of the failed Beer Hall Putsch when Adolf Hitler led 2,000 followers around in his ‘revolution of the people’. They were met by Bavarian police in front of this Hall and four police officers and sixteen insurgents were killed. Hitler was arrested and imprisoned soon after, but within a decade he was leading the Nazi Party into Government.

Hitler made this into something of a memorial after 1933 and it was under permanent ceremonial guard by the SS. A monument known as the Mahnmal der Bewegung was added to recast the sixteen insurgents as heroes of the people. This memorial was smashed and destroyed by local residents on 3 June 1945, with the area soon being restored by the authorities back to its pre-1933 appearance.

It did feel a little strange standing in the location when just over 100 years ago this hatred took place. At that time it was Hitler who was the enemy of the people as far as the police were concerned, but things changed with alarming speed in that regard.

Thomas Wimmer (7 January 1887–18 January 1964) was the Social Democratic mayor who became the public face of Munich’s post-war recovery, one of the heroes of his generation. He had been born in Siglfing near Erding, the son of a blacksmith and a domestic worker and he trained as a cabinet-maker, joined the woodworkers’ union in 1907 and the SPD in 1909 before settling in Munich after years as a journeyman. In the First World War he served briefly at the front before being released as an armaments worker and after 1918 he worked at the city labour office and was active in municipal politics. He sat on the city council from 1924 to 1933 and, with the collapse of the Weimar Republic, was arrested a day after the Nazi takeover in Munich, spending time in Stadelheim prison and at Landsberg, and later facing repeated Gestapo detentions. After the 20 July 1944 attempt on Hitler’s life he was held for six weeks in Dachau concentration camp, perhaps very fortunate to have managed to stay alive during this process. I rather suspect that if the Nazis had remained in power for just a little longer, his future would have been more in doubt.

After liberation the American military authorities reinstalled Karl Scharnagl as mayor, Wimmer returned to City Hall as third, then second mayor, and in 1946 served in Bavaria’s constitutional assembly and entered the Landtag. When the SPD topped the 1948 city elections he was chosen as Oberbürgermeister, a post he held until 1960 while also representing Munich in the Bavarian parliament through the 1950s. These were hard years of shortages and ruins and Wimmer pushed pragmatic measures such as the “Holzaktion” to secure winter fuel and, most famously, the citizen clean-up “Rama dama” on 29 October 1949, when more than 7,500 volunteers, shovel in hand, the mayor among them, shifted an estimated 15,000 cubic metres of rubble in a single day. The Bavarian dialect slogan stuck, and the image of a hands-on mayor helped rally a city to reconstruct itself.

Politically he resisted post-war schemes to drive a motorway-scale traffic cut through the historic centre, arguing that the city should be rebuilt for people rather than exhaust fumes. Twice directly re-elected (1952 and 1956), he left office in 1960 with a reputation for plain speech and practical administration. Wimmer died in Munich in 1964 and was buried at the Ostfriedhof. The city named the Thomas-Wimmer-Ring on the Altstadtring after him, and he was made an honorary citizen of Munich in 1957, receiving the Bavarian Order of Merit in 1958 and the Grand Cross of the Order of Merit of the Federal Republic of Germany in 1955 (with Star in 1959). For many Munich residents, though, his memory is still tied most strongly to a broom, a shovel and the decision to clear a path back to normal life.

As a politician, his strength must have been substantial to have resisted the Nazis for so long and to have remained steadfast in his views. To have then been given the opportunity to influence the post-war Munich was at least some justice in his life and it’s evident that he continued to surprise and delight the communities which he served. I hadn’t heard of him before visiting the museum, but I very much like that they have a section on those heroes of their generation who stood up to the Nazis.

This exhibit at the Munich Documentation Center for the History of National Socialism is a little tricky to photograph because of the light, but it’s an important part of their current exhibition. The puppet is Chanele, created by the Munich Puppet Theatre of Jewish Artists which was in existence between 1934 and 1937 when it performed five plays and three musical dramas.

The central person featured by the museum is Maria Luiko (1904-1941) who was a founding member of the theatre group and she made the puppets and most of the stage sets, so she was likely the first person to pull the strings of Chanele. Maria was unable to join the Reich Chamber of Fine Arts when it was created in 1933 as she was Jewish, which also meant that she couldn’t display or sell any of her works. Maria had ideally wanted to move to Palestine, but she was arrested and deported on 20 November 1941, along with her sister Dr. Elisabeth Kohn and her mother Olga Kohn (nee Schulhöfer), from Munich to Kaunas in 1941 and she was then murdered on 25 November 1941. These murders became known as the Ninth Fort massacres, the first systematic mass killings of German Jews during the Second World War.

The museum notes:

“Chanele still remembers what it was like to move on the stage, to tell her story, to play a role. She remembers the excitement and the applause, the hands that made her and the held her on the stage. The hands of the people who believed in the magic of theatre and the power of stories to transform, to comfort, to hold people together.”

The puppet’s survival feels a little remarkable, but its existence means that the story of Maria Luiko is at least not lost to history.

We veered to the Au-Haidhausen district of Munich in the evening of our relatively short stay as there looked to be some rather more on-trend options in this area, not least some decent beer options. This restaurant, Klinglwirt, is very focused on organic and sustainability, with the online reviews being positive to match that. We walked to the restaurant, but it’s located a short distance away from the Rosenheimer Platz underground station.

There was a friendly welcome, as well as a relaxed and inviting atmosphere in the restaurant. It was relatively busy, but they were able to seat us without a reservation. The prices were a little towards the higher end of the scale, but the standards were evidently high. There was a bustling element to the restaurant, but it was never noisy and the child at the neighbouring table watching his mobile phone helpfully had it on silent.

I went for the sausages and mash, which cost around £16, so slightly pricey but the quality of the meat was high and the mustard wasn’t too harsh in its flavour. The portion size was a little better than the photo suggests, but I could have done with a little more. The sausages actually had a meaty profile rather than spice and bulking agent, with the restaurant being proud to advertise that their pork comes from the organic Herrmannsdorfer Farms. The actual real highlight of this dish was, perhaps not entirely predictably to me, the sauerkraut which was punchy and even slightly decadent.

The beer is the Franziskaner Kellerbier from Spaten-Franziskaner-Löwenbräu-Gruppe which isn’t my usual style of choice, but it had a pleasant depth of taste. It was a clean tasting drink, which was a little sweet with slight tastes of toffee, a generally well rounded beer.

Richard spent more, as one might expect, getting a charcuterie type board which he was pleased with.

He’s abandoned his diet now in the name of research and is ordering desserts all over the place.

I don’t usually do desserts, but the apple strudel option was too tempting to resist. The vanilla custard added positively to the arrangement, with the pastry being light but tasty with not sogginess ruining the dish.

All told, this was a positive visit and the strongest element really was the welcome and comfortable nature of the venue. It’s not always guaranteed, but they accepted cards here, although Richard had taken out cash just in case. The food and drink all met my expectations, with an evident depth of flavour and taste. It might not be the cheapest option in the neighbourhood, but the quality of the food was high and I’d recommend the venue to others.

If I’m being entirely honest, there’s a lot of generic beer served across Munich in the same way as dull lagers are served in many UK pubs. Manacled by the outdated Reinheitsgebot, which is a Bavarian innovation, the boundaries of beer are far more limited than in nearby countries such as Poland and macro breweries pump out endless litres of uninspiring beer.

But there is yet hope, from a growing number of interesting, innovative and excellent craft breweries.

Some of the brewing equipment on-site and thank goodness for ventures such as this, which is listed on Untappd. Table service is offered, which felt a little unusual for a set-up like this with a blackboard behind the bar, but the team members were knowledgeable, helpful and engaging. This felt a place where the staff actually cared about the product and were keen to talk and converse about it.

The interior is functional and clean, but this is all about the beer. Richard couldn’t find anything that tempted him, so he had some wine related thing that I ignored.

I went for a tasting board to try as many of the brewery’s beers as I could.

(i) Bru-Bliss. This is a light, fluffy, hoppy and smooth IPA with a touch of citrus.

(ii) Os’s Hoptimus Prime. This had flavours of mango and orange, being light and nicely rounded.

(iii) Royal Drunkness. Creamy, sweet, taste of coffee and liquorice.

(iv) Quake Crusher. Fluffy, with flavours of grapefruit, stone fruit and perhaps a bit of hedge.

(v) PH-1 and this was my 6,000th Untappd check-in. Nicely sour, lots of orange and just the right amount of tartness.

(vi) Sky Krush. Hoppy, hides its 7.5% ABV and suitably juicy.

And, in my view, these beers completely outclassed the generic offerings at Hofbräuhaus which is an ideal location to see Munich’s past. The focus here is on flavour, quality and depth of taste, not just beer designed to be poured in litre quantities and drunk quickly. The number of these venues is increasing across Germany, but I wish they’d increase in number just a little quicker. I was suitably surprised and delighted, this is definitely a venue that I’d recommend.

I’m not really that engaged with the bierhaus type concept where it’s all about quantity of alcohol rather than a focus on quality beer. The shared tables, music and lack of beer that inspires me doesn’t bode entirely well. However, I was pleased that we did pop into this brewery to see what went on.

On a Thursday afternoon it was busy, very busy. It’s hard to argue with that level of popularity, even if your heart belongs to little taprooms down side streets.

The place can seat over 3,500 people and we struggled to find a table space.

Hofbräu München began in 1589 when Duke Wilhelm V set up a court brewery at the Alter Hof to supply his household with brown beer. The first brewmaster was Heimeran Pongratz, and within a few years the new brewhouse had become a fixed part of Munich’s court economy. Under Wilhelm’s son, Maximilian I, the focus shifted to wheat beer and in 1602 he secured a princely monopoly over Weissbier across Bavaria and expanded production so rapidly that, in 1607, the wheat brewery was moved to a new site at the Platzl while the brown-beer operation continued at the old court. Opening sales to Munich innkeepers in 1610 turned Hofbräu from a court supplier into a business with a city-wide market and they became an important part of the local economy.

The drinks menu with the ‘exciting’ beers that are available, with the prices not being unreasonable.

Back to the history though…. In 1614 the brewmaster Elias Pichler introduced a strong Ainpöckisch-style beer that became Hofbräu Maibock, the city’s archetypal spring bock. During the Thirty Years’ War the beer acquired legend as when the Swedes occupied Munich in 1632 they accepted, alongside a cash tribute, a consignment of Hofbräu beer, much of it Maibock, and left the city largely unscathed. As for the beer, it obviously complies with the Reinheitsgebot, which I consider as something bad, but the brewery inevitably view it as something good. After the Bavarian kingdom was proclaimed in 1806 it was known as the Royal Hofbräuhaus and in 1808 the brown-beer plant also moved to the Platzl complex to gain space. In 1828 King Ludwig I formally allowed hospitality on the premises, creating the beer hall tradition visitors know today and in 1852 ownership passed from the crown to the Bavarian state, where it remains as the State-owned Hofbräuhaus in Munich. Industrial growth in the late nineteenth century pushed brewing out of the cramped city-centre buildings and between 1894 and 1896 Hofbräu built a modern brewery on Innere Wiener Straße in Haidhausen, and in 1896 the architect Max Littmann refitted the Platzl as a purpose-built tavern.

There was a more sinister period for the building in the inter-war period as on 24 February 1920, Hitler unveiled the Nazi Party’s 25-point programme at a meeting attended by around 2,000 people. He returned to the venue on numerous occasions to make speeches and it’s where he made the “Warum sind wir Antisemiten” speech where he started to define who the enemies of the state were (mainly Jews) which was to underpin what came next. This entirely sub-optimal piece of history came to an end of sorts when the beer hall was largely destroyed by bombing in 1944, although it was then reconstructed after the war, with the grand Festival Hall reopening for Munich’s 800th anniversary in 1958. Production stayed in Haidhausen until a major fire in the malthouse and offices on 6 April 1987 forced an accelerated move to a new, purpose-built plant at Munich-Riem. The Riem brewery was inaugurated in November 1988 and remains Hofbräu’s production site today.

The pretzels are sold by people who walk around and these can only be purchased with cash. This tasted of a decent quality, it’s something that works well with beer.

There is lockable storage for 616 steins which are used by locals, some of these are over 100 years old.

The area where customers can wash their stein, all very handy and this was used by some locals when we were there.

I evidently sat at an appropriate location, although this obviously wasn’t me involved with such vandalism. In terms of seating, we walked around a couple of times before finding an empty table. It is appropriate and allowable to ask others to join their table, or at least the other end of it, but I’m too British for that. If we had gone in an evening, I suspect we would have had to be much more sociable if we wanted somewhere to sit. One advantage in sitting at the side was that I couldn’t hear the live music, which isn’t a complaint about the quality as I’m sure it was excellent, but I can’t be doing with all this raucous fun.

The glasses, which unlike the one served to me were generally clean.

Service was routine and equally brusque to everyone, which is almost comforting. Card payments are accepted with a hint of theatrical reluctance, you’re marched to a terminal and treated to a convoluted process that lasts just long enough to question your life choices. But, I can forgive this, they’re serving a large number of people who speak any number of languages and it’s fast-paced, I understand they’re not going to spend time building up a rapport with customers. We didn’t have to wait too long to be served, although it took nearly ten minutes for the beers to actually arrive.

As for the Dunkel, it was sweet and malty, but it was generic, served in a dirty glass with lipstick marks and it was quite a basic beer lacking any depth of flavour or taste. Ultimately, they’re not going to change the taste of this beer as it’s long standing, so this all becomes a matter of mass production whilst the quality of other beers overtakes them. I did try some of the wheat beer that Richard ordered and that was better and tasted refreshing, but it still seemed quite basic and generic.

Overall, this is a tourist attraction and it’s evidently doing very well at that as it’s busy and clearly professionally managed to be able to serve this much food and drink to customers. If coming with a group, I think that works better with the whole theme and I’m sure that a pleasant evening would be had with traditional German beer and drink, but I was underwhelmed by the bland beer to be honest. However, I’m glad to have experienced an authentic Munich bierhaus although there’s part of me just a little sad that the small breweries in the city are producing some amazing beers but they have to compete with this mass production facility.

‘Fisch und Schlüssel’ (Fish and Key) is a punchy public sculpture in Munich’s Maxvorstadt district, standing on Ferdinand-Miller-Platz directly in front of St Benno Church. It was created by the sculptor Iskender Yediler and installed in 2005, with the artwork being an aluminium cast showing a fish carrying a key. In the photo, I think I’ve managed to capture the key element beautifully, although I accept that the fish element isn’t entirely visible.

The motif comes from the legend of St Benno, Munich’s patron saint, who was banished during a conflict over the ex-communication of Henry IV and so Benno told his canons to chuck the cathedral keys into the River Elbe. The key was found inside a freshly caught fish a few years later which surprised and delighted a lot of people…. Angry Protestants desecrated Benno’s tomb in Meissen in 1539, so the Wittelsbach dynasty (perhaps known best in the UK because of Sophia of Hanover, who is an important figure in the family tree of the British monarchy) promptly elevated him to become the patron saint of Munich.