20 Years Ago. “The Wall is open!”

November 1989. I‘m a graduate student in History and Government. Die Freie Universität in Berlin. In West Berlin. The Wall. Cold War. A thaw, but still cold. An American. 30 years old. This was 20 years ago. Events were developing rapidly.

May. East German opposition groups had accused the regime of election manipulation. Protests. July. East Germans seek refuge in the West German embassies in Budapest, Prague and Warsaw. August. Hundreds of East Germans flee over the Hungarian border to Austria, over the grüne Grenze or green border. Hundreds more in the West German embassy in Budapest are given passports to the West.

Then Leipzig. September. Montagsdemonstrationen. Monday demonstrations. Hungary once again. Their border to Austria fully open. 6,000 in the West German embassy in Prague are given passports. Instantly citizens of West Germany. Leipzig. 20,000 march. The communist regime breaks it up with an iron fist. October. Express trains transport the East Germans from Prague and Warsaw to the West. Right through East Germany. Dresden main train station. A brief stop. 7,500 on the train. East Germans hold their breath.

40th anniversary of East German state in East Berlin. Gorbachev is present. His message clear. Soviet tanks will not roll to defend an oppressive regime. The regime gets even more repressive. 1,000 imprisoned. But. Leizpig, again. 70,000 this time. „Wir sind das Volk.“ Volk, people. Wir, we. Sind, are. „We the people!“ Erich Honecker – regime head – is deposed.

Early November. East Berlin. Hundreds of thousand protest. Democracy. Reform. Then the famed press conference. November 9, late evening. Very end of conference. A statement is read. „East Germans are free to travel to West Berlin and West Germany.“ Journalists are confused. „Did we hear that right?“ Questions of clarification. „Yes, correct.“ The rumor spreads through East Berlin like wildfire. By midnight the lines are kilometers long at the various checkpoints. East German border guards are confused. Confrontation. Yelling, screaming, tears of frustration. They open up the gates. Identity papers not even checked. They‘ve lost control.

Friday. November 10. Evening. I‘m in Weststadt, a section of West Berlin. Ingrid calls. „There‘s something going on at the Brandenburg Gate. Let‘s meet at the Victory Column and walk over.“ Theodor-Heuss-Square. U-Bahn. Underground. I hustle down the stairs, hop on the first subway. Packed in like sardines. Strange bluejeans. Strange shoes. Strange haircuts. Oh! East Germans. All over the place. What‘s going on? Victory Column. We walk briskly up the Strasse des 17. Juni (named in honor of the East Germans killed and imprisoned for rising up on that date in 1953). Hundreds are headed in the same direction. The air nasskalt, wet-cold, but not unfriendly. Berlin and Berliners are never cold, never unfriendly. Their hearts too big, too generous, especially to Americans. We see the Brandenburg Gate from afar. Lit up from all sides. People all over. Electrifying. Cherry pickers high in the sky, looming close to the Wall. ABC. CBS. NBC. German television. The French, Japanese, Canadians. BBC. Many more.

We‘re confused. We ask folks. „Die Mauer ist geöffnet.“ The Wall is open. Open? We didn‘t hear the day before. Most didn‘t. East Germans were strolling around West Berlin in the middle of the night. We were in bed. Friday we went about our business. Breakfast. Classes at the university. Library. Berlin-Dahlem. In the southwest of West Berlin. The atmosphere at the Brandenburg Gate otherworldly. Ingrid nudges me. „You ought to offer your services to the Americans. They could use you to cover this story.“