Dhe man was simply a blessing for Berlin. When he came to the Spree in 1987, orchestrated by Helmut Kohl, as the founding director of the German Historical Museum, it brought a civilizational boost to the divided city that was urgently needed. The intellectual and moral change that the chancellor at the time had repeatedly conjured up for a number of years – it actually happened once with Christoph Stölzl.
Of course not in the way that the CDU probably imagined (especially not in their Berlin branch, which was very Britz-Rudow-Reinickendorf). No, what came to Berlin with Christoph Stölzl and for a few years even became a little (but still far too little) style-defining in the circles of the local cultural bourgeoisie, that was above all his enormous charm.
That in the intellectual milieu one did not have to use the cane or the pedagogical forefinger, that not only professors and apparatchiks understood something of the big, wide world of culture, that one had to promote the arts as well as historical awareness, conciliatory, communicative, creative, albeit with a hint of dignified grace: you could suddenly learn that from Christoph Stölzl in the Walled City.
The skepticism on the part of the long-established augurs was therefore considerable at first. The possible anathemas such as “half-silk” or, horribile dictu, “feuilletonistic” were quickly hurled. But gradually even the stiffest hardliners, even the unhappy left-wing establishment, got used to this man from the friendlier latitudes of southern Germany, to his causeries, incidentally also to his guitar playing (which he only played at home).
For his first official role as master of ceremonies in German commemorative politics, Stölzl was predestined like no other. Of course, out of piety and historical awareness, it would never have occurred to him to rename the Prussian Cultural Heritage Foundation, with which he had to work closely to equip his museum.
In contrast to the simple minds of today, he was a man of the foil and of course showed Prussia and his memory the necessary reverence, but not without reservations neat way to lure against the thorn by characterizing himself as shaped by the “tradition of bourgeois liberalism”.
“Eyes closed! Ce-De-U!”
Prussian virtues? Well, everything should be. But the native of Munich, who had studied history and literature, saw himself more like this: “rebellious, defiant, insisting on questioning all bondage, all immaturity”.
Of course, the political sympathies of such a man lay with the FDP. The fact that he was appointed Senator for Culture by the Britz-Rudow-Reinickendorf-CDU later, ten years after reunification, he probably found to be a joke. In any case, in those years he and his wonderful wife Bettina, another wonderful Bavarian creature, albeit more in the louder variety, spread the half-ironic, half-combatant battle cry (please speak in chanted form!) “Eyes-closed! Ce-De-U!“.
Because the Stölzls knew that, of course, anti-ideological, anti-PC and anti-Bullerby-minded, just as they were as cosmopolitans: We always get something better than the Greens or the Socialists. And that’s how it was then.
Before Stölzl squandered himself on politics for a short time, he was, unfortunately only for a short time, the feature editor (and deputy editor-in-chief) of WELT. What does one of his subordinates, who happens to be the author of these lines, remember from that time? The longest morning conferences of his career! What anecdotes, historical reminiscences, and suggestions a la “you have to” or “couldn’t you even think of?” the head of department didn’t think of general consideration.
And then his childlike enthusiasm! “I’ve just made my first headline,” he reported proudly to the editor-in-chief. Well, we would have taught him more, more efficient work had he stayed longer!
But what he taught us, in turn, was constant questioning of our own actions, an outsider’s view of the review routine, plus inner (and outer!) generosity (“Of course, go to Prague if you think it’s necessary!”) as well as an almost unbelievable willingness to get involved in debates. He was enjoying everything so much!
Yes, Christoph Stölzl enjoyed what he was doing. Whether he curated exhibitions, gave lectures, gave his soon-to-be-famous impromptu reflections or even recruited sponsors for his projects (most recently the Exile Museum, of which he was the founding director): He was always able to give the impression that one should picture him as a happy man.
In a country where traditional intellectual level and bad mood are almost identical, he exuded – watch out, Sigmund Freud! – Please in the culture that was contagious. It was the same with his favourites: His idols included, how could it be otherwise, not least the great art patron, man of the world, collector, mediator Harry Graf Kessler. Together with Cornelia Vossen, who now also has her seat in the Exile Museum, he dedicated one of his most beautiful exhibitions to him.
Long list of activities
Who knows the names, names the offices that Stölzl still held and in which the restless man might have worn himself out a bit? Where did he not have a hand in everything, often enough also acting as a fig leaf for intellectual substance in a world in which the managerial is increasingly setting the tone?
For example, who knows that Stölzl was President of the Weimar Music Academy from 2010 until June 22nd of last year? That he once denied a show on RRB television? That he was briefly on the management board of Berlin’s leading auction house, Villa Grisebach? That he was a member of the board of trustees of the Konrad Adenauer Foundation, the Berlin Monument Protection Foundation, the Ernst Freiberger Foundation, the Burned and Exiled Poets Foundation, the St. Matthäus Foundation and the International Forum for Culture and Business? And the list of his activities is still not complete!
Everywhere, hearts must have flown to him. And even those who were at odds with him (which one can hardly imagine given his personality structure) will remember him fondly and often.
There are not many people of whom one can say at the time of their death: He or she gave me a lot. Above all, Christoph Stölzl gave the author of these lines the certainty that the motto also applies to intellectual work: God give us all a happy heart. Christoph Stölzl, who died Tuesday at his farmhouse in Bavaria at the age of 78, had this happy heart. We want to follow his example.