Excursion to Hafenstrasse

 

   

 

Chapter: Excursion to Hafenstrasse
(More Pseudo, p. 216 - p. 219)

    Once Ringo was living in Altona, we finally had a platform in Hamburg for concert visits. We went to Hamburg in the afternoon, either by train or hitchhiking, and the following afternoon we went back to Kiel. On the way back, we usually stood at the Volkspark stop in Stellingen just before the on-ramp to the A7 trying to thumb a ride. I stood here probably 20 times for hitchhiking, even when I came from Berlin and had to take a detour via Hamburg.
We dropped off our clothes at Ringo's flat and set off. The first way led us early Saturday afternoon to the district Schanzenviertel, where we strolled up and down Schulterblatt Street past the venue Flora. We knew that there were more and more riots with the police at the Schulterblatt, because they intended to demolish large parts of the Flora. The building was already cordoned off by a construction fence. But that afternoon, everything seemed peaceful, as if at Easter rest. There it was hardly imaginable that here at other times punk riots broke loose and bottles flew. The feeling was like back in 1983 at the Chaostage Hannover, like the calm before the storm in the shopping street Passerelle. We had really chosen the most beautiful day.

  The next excursion that afternoon was to Hafenstrasse, where events were taking place all day, especially concerts in an in-house pub. The Hafenstrasse squatter scene was increasingly causing a furor and was regularly quoted in the newspapers and on television, recently even with its own press spokesman. This was revolutionary. Ringo, as a new Hamburger, was our tour guide and scout. He was already well acquainted with the public transportation system and was familiar with some secret routes. And suddenly we were standing in front of the squatted houses of the Hafenstrasse, which we otherwise only knew from the media, even though there were almost only negative reports about this place. We saw the colorful facades. We saw banners. We saw a pirate flag. We saw the celebrating mob. We saw lots of swashbuckling guys, as if Klaus Störtebeker and his 150 men were meeting, plus Hamburg punk girls with punk T-shirts and studded bracelets. The left-wing creative scene was partying and talking in a dialect we were familiar with. In Good Old Hamburg, they chatted just as broadly as we did in Good Old Kiel. 

When we entered the pub, the place was already packed. The mob in front of the stage was moving in waves like the roaring sea that was sloshing into all corners of the pub. As onlookers in the back rows, we soon got moving just like the local mob. But the people had clearly longer hair than in Kiel, many wore muscle shirts and had beards Jan-Hein-Klaas-and-Pit-style. Of course, there were also rows and rows of real punks. Ringo had announced the band to us as a Ramones-imitation. Later he corrected himself and said that it was rather Blaggers ITA who played there. Blaggers ITA really didn't play in Ramones style. We watched the hustle and bustle in the pub for about half an hour until we looked for a place outside. Hecker got us some beer. We made ourselves comfortable with the beers and discussed our first impressions with a buzzing in our ears. We enjoyed the peaceful atmosphere and the beautiful weather, but were still a little shy. No one knew where the journey with the Hafenstrasse scene should lead in the long run. In any case, the strong Hafenstrasse mob gave us a lot of respect. For us Kiel-fishheads, these occupied houses were definitely something new. Everything seemed much more steadfast and biting than the Kiel squatter scene at Sophienblatt Street, which was demolished without a chance between '81 and '83 and rebelled in vain for the last time on Lehmberg Street in '87.

This big party today and the colorful fassades broadened our horizons. We were even a little intimidated by the self-confidence of the squatter mob, which in large parts was clearly older than us. We could have easily spent the whole evening here. But we had other stops on the agenda. Oi-Ringo wanted to show us his favorite bar, the Subotnik in Ottensen. So we headed out again that evening to crash at the Subotnik.
      At that time, the Subotnik was located at the corner of Erzbergerstrasse and Beetsweg. The previous pub was called Trauma. Our rings-ding-dong rang, because we knew the name Trauma from Kiel. That was the pejorative name many gave to the Traumfabrik venue at Grasweg. The Subotnik offered a new home to the political rocker scene as well as leftist and more militant punks. That was long before the Subotnik moved to Grosse Brunnenstrasse 55. Ringo told us for sure what the name Subotnik was all about, that this was what the voluntary workers were called in the USSR and the GDR. 

When we arrived at Subotnik, we immediately took the best seats at the bar and had friendly, highly intellectual conversations with the bar staff and other bar-goers. We knew that the pub had its own radio station, Radio Subotnik. This was a pirate radio station of the kind that often existed only on the high seas outside the three-mile zone, such as "Radio Caroline" in the North Sea three miles off the coast of Essex in Great Britain. In our circles, almost everyone dreamed of founding such a radio station. That's why we became particularly attentive when there was finally talk of Radio Subotnik:
      "This is our own radio station!"
      "That's awesome! Where can you receive it?"
      "You can only get it here in Hamburg!"
We were told the exact megahertz frequency and the times Radio Subotnik went on the air. We were already mega drunk, but I suspect that Radio Subotnik was already on in the background that evening. We discussed the programme structure and the music that was being played - punk and related, of course. The beer was running brilliantly. We didn't really feel drunk, as we were discussing and questioning attentively the whole time. 

Finally, we set off. As pissed as we were, we really wanted to go to Domenica's pub in a side street of the Reeperbahn. Ringo had done extra research to find out where Domenica's bar was located. Domenica was a former high-class prostitute and dominatrix who had long since achieved celebrity status and was even invited to talk shows on German TV. She was especially known for her enormous breasts, her straight black hair tied back in a ponytail, and a dark blush applied along the outside of her cheekbone down to her cheeks. She dressed mostly in black in dark wave SM style, always with a very wide neckline. Leather was important to her. Domenica had soon won over a large fan base across generations. The woman was at the time the most famous prostitute in the old states. Now we wanted to see Domenica live. So our little group went through half of Hamburg. We cut as far as possible the Reeperbahn. Ringo still said:
      "The guys there call themselves Koberers. They specifically chat up people to lure them into the sex clubs."
      "Oh, I can see that."
      "Don't yell at them, they'll punch you in the mouth."
We turned down a side street until Ringo suddenly called out:
      "That's Domenica's pub!"
We stood there for a moment with our eyes wide open until Ringo finally said.
      "Let's go inside. I'll go first."

We entered the small pub and the first thing we did was to see who was standing behind the cozy counter. It was not Domenica. Domenica had her day off today. Ringo asked:
      "Isn't Domenica working today at all?"
The lady behind the counter replied:
      "No, not again until next week!"    
Then we turned around and left the restaurant disappointed on the spot.