I posted some photos in the 'two wheels' thread and Steve suggested I start a new thread for old photos, memorabilia etc. so here it is. I am re-posting the photos and hope people will add fresh pictures and memories.
The photos are of my dad who was a motor cycle trials rider back in the day.
Motor cycle football and polo - who knew this was a thing!
Jürgen Sparwasser, to our eternal shame, scored the goal. We were not meant to lose! To be beaten by the communists - unthinkable!
We made it to champions, nevertheless. But that defeat is an unforgotten blot in our copybook.
Aye, the wall coming down was momentous, I recall watching that unfold on TV.
It must have been weird living in West Berlin at that time
One of my main recollections of the "division" was East v West in the 74 world cup.
1-0 East Germany.......the guy who scored was, I want to say Sparvasser (or thereabouts) , anyway, there was talk after the game that West Germany threw the game, meaning they qualified in second place and avoided the Dutch in the next group.
If my brother had been caught, he would have ended up in prison with none too lenient a sentence. They didn't take kindly to people who tried to get out of East Germany in those days. Those communists knew they were right and everyone else was wrong, you see. So you had to be forced to accept your good fortune if you didn't embrace it volontarily.
And yes, MagicRat, West Berlin was an enclave, kept alive by the post-war agreement between USA, Britain, France on the one side who guaranteed its survival, and the Soviets on the other side who kept threatening it. In 1948, the Russians blockaded all entry by road or water for almost a year and the Western Alliance kept the city alive by air, flying in all supplies from food to fuel and even sweets for the kids.
In 1961, the East German authorities built the Berlin Wall. People from the West part of town needed permits to go West Germany - or go by air.
There was an uneasy standoff for many years, with occasional passage for families from West Berlin getting permits to visit their relatives in the East of town. Usually issued for Christmas or Easter.
The whole absurdity ended in 1989 when the East Germans sent their government to hell in a peaceful uprising. The system, foul from within, crumbled without much resistance.
Your brother was resourceful and very brave for a 16y old. What would have happened if he had been stopped and the money found?
Great stuff BT, thanks for sharing.
I'm curious, what was West Berlin like back in the day? Was in like an enclosed enclave?
How easy was it for the citizens of West Berlin to move in and out?
We're there intrusions into West Berlin by the East?
Berlin is a city I'd like to visit one day.
Are you sitting comfortably? This will take a while!
My family was trapped in East Germany after WW II because the border was drawn with us being on the "wrong" side. We lived in a small town where my dad owned a wholesale business for fruit and vegetables - a one-man operation.
My sister (ten years my senior) graduated from high school in 1954 and wanted to become a teacher. However, she had the wrong parents: only children of workers and farmers were admitted to university education in communist Germany. She was scheduled to become a tractor driver.
An elaborate plan evolved. My cousin Gisela came for a visit from Bonn, West Germany, and my sister in turn went with her with a two-week visiting visa to Bonn. And remained there with my uncle's family.
Of course, our family had thus proven to be unreliable. My father's business was seized and confiscated and he was suddenly out of work with no prospects. The fifties, you see, were the time of collectivization and any pretext could be used to squash small businesses.
Strange activities began at our house, mostly kept hidden from me (so they thought). My mother for two years packed parcel after parcel with valuable items sent to friends and family in the West. Because this had to be clandestine activity, some reliable friends helped post them. Since packages were often opened and scutinized the content had to pass as presents for the recipient.
I'll never know how my parents persuaded the authorities to issue a visa for us to visit West Germany for my grandfather's 80th birthday, but we got permission. Only condition: my 16-year old brother had to remain behind - as guarantee for our return.
My parents and I (aged nine at the time) were searched on the train at the border but allowed to pass.
The final act fell to my resourceful brother. He donned the shirt of the East German youth organisation FDJ, shouldered his big accordion and hitchhilked 300 miles to East Berlin to attend some mythical music festival. He met with a friend who knew how to cross to the West sector of the town (this was before the Wall was built), unscrewed his instrument to take out the money he had hidden inside, changed it to West German marks and flew to Frankfurt and freedom.
Just picture the scene: My grandmother's tiny attic kitchen with wood fired cooking stove and small enamel sink, table and a few chairs. My grandparents, parents, landlord and his family crowding into the small space when my mother opened the telegram from Frankfurt. "All went well" she read with a shaking voice. And in case I hadn't understood what this meant, she added for me: "We are not going back." Precocious and callous as I was, I shrugged and said: "Yes. I have known for some time we were leaving".
Just happened on this thread. Forgot all about the comment about the escape to West Germany. If you really want to know about it, I'll tell you the story someday.
Yawn.
Wow!
An interesting trivia about my grandfather, something he always liked to brag about for some reason, is that he was questioned by the FBI in the investigation of the Lindbergh kidnapping.
Rick, I can only imagine how you felt receiving these long forgotten photos.
Knowing how life turned out for your Gran and your Mom, both dying so young, they make me sad. Your mom looked such a happy young girl, full of life and the optimism which goes with being a kid, and your grandparents on their wedding day - that dress! I love it.
All credit to cousin Luann for that Bruce Show.
We all have fashion mistakes - that could be a thread in itself!
I'd wear that shirt now.
There, I've said it........
For years, the only old family photos I've had were two pictures of my mother and three of me and my brothers. My mom's albums are horded away in some dark closet at my brother's home and the older albums that belonged to my grandmother are in a similar closet at my aunt's place. My cousin and I were texting recently while she was at her mom's and since she had the old albums out, she took pics of some of the photos for me.
A rare photo of my Gramma and Granpa together. My mom being held by her dad, my two aunts behind them and I'm not sure who the woman in the back of them is, but probably a cousin.
Gramma and Granpa on the right. My great aunt Mary next to Gramma, my great Uncle Robert on the far left. Aunt Toni, my mom and Aunt Ellie down front. I believe the two men between Robert and Mary are his brothers.
Gramma and Granpa on their wedding day.
All us cousins. Clockwise from left: Danny, Pete, Luann (she kidnapped me and took me to my first Bruce show against my mother's word), Gary, me, Tommy, Christina and Fred.
Toni, mom, Ellie.
Ellie, mom and Toni...smoking?
Me in 1993 in a shirt I can't admit I ever wore.
@berlintramp As per above, if you are able to recount the story I’d be really interested to hear. My maternal family left the east late forties and ended up here in the U.K. We only have snippets of information and a handful of faded and creased photographs, mostly of people we never knew.
Tattie picking? In East Germany, we were ordered by the government to go collecting Colorado beetles (is that the right term for those insects that damage potato plants?). It was backbreaking and horrible, and of course we didn't get payed. Luckily, I only had to do it for one season because our family got out to West Germany with luck and subterfuge.
Those are lovely pictures Rick.
I don't have much to contribute to this thread. My life wasn't exactly conducive to saving memorabilia. Our old family albums are in the miserly care of my brother Gary, but I do have a few pics anyone who read First Boy on the Moon may find interesting.
This is my favorite photograph of my mom. I've written about it in a blog post on my website and this is a poem I wrote about it.
My Momma Was A Jersey Girl
In an old photograph, she's just nineteen
Standing on a staircase like the new B-movie queen
In a leather jacket and a slim blue dress
A good Catholic girl with teenage dreams to confess
Her proud black hair with that soft Italian curl
My momma was a Jersey girl
My momma was a Jersey girl
She loved Elvis movies and fifties tunes
Black coffee in the mornings and soap opera afternoons
She loved drive-in movies in the summer dark
Cold fried chicken on the beach at the amusement park
She always loved to ride the tilt-a-whirl
My momma was a Jersey girl
My momma was a Jersey girl
Me, 1976, when I was the first boy on the moon.
OK, I'm not sure if this was a uniquely Scottish thing, maybe even a uniquely North-East of Scotland thing, but did any of the rest of you ever go "tattie picking" as kids in the October school holidays?
I'd wager it doesn't happen any more for cogent health and safety reasons, but back in the day it was a kid's right of passage, and a way of making some decent money.
Here's a picture of some tattie-picking kids from the mid 70s, 76 according to the caption.
I'm not in the but I was there and the kids are school friends of mine.
Sobering how many of them have passed, looking at the picture.
That's one of my bucket list things, sailing to NY.
Well, the "cruise" aspect would be OK, but I just love the thought of sailing into NY on the deck of a liner.