Berlin Water Towers4: Niederschöneweide (1)

Here is a water tower that lacks all guile.  It is tucked deep inside an unmarked industrial plot containing decaying busses, dumpsters, and other metallic miscellany.  It should be cherished with the same devotion as all other water towers.

Many water towers are discovered by chance.  However, there is a small community that curates water tower photographs, and a German Wikipedia entry on Berlin water towers provides GPS information for each, along with hideous thumbnails. This takes some of the magic out of finding water towers.  But not always. There are probably many that have gone uncatalogued- and here is one.

On the other hand, advance knowledge of a water tower transforms the activity- from uncovering to collection.  Bird watchers, numismatists, and others can recognize the joy in the latter.  There are good spottings, and even better ones.  And though there is pleasure in a second encounter, there is no need to return once the object has been recorded.

Berlin Water Towers3: Steglitz (1)

Built 1915-1919, Wasserturm Steglitz sits on the southern section of Steglitz Friedhof- a large cemetery that houses many of Berlin's almost world famous from the late nineteenth century.  A small notch on the southwest edge contains a pet cemetery- "ein Haustierfriedhof."

The tower was originally designed to supply of drinking water for Steglitz- then an independent municipality.  It probably never functioned in this capacity, according to a German Wikipedia entry.  Steglitz was incorporated into Berlin in 1920, and thereafter joined the greater Berlin water supply.

Thereafter, the tower became a columbarium and, in1935, a memorial hall for soldiers of World War I.  The tower burned after an aerial raid in 1941, and was damaged in another raid in 1943.  It was unused from the early 1960s until restoration in 1999.  Today, its occupants are a medical publishing outfit.

Steglitz water tower was designed by Hans Heinrich Müller- a fine, brick expressionist architect whose imposing industrial structures- one of which is named "Kathedrale der Elektrizität"- can be found throughout the city.  I'll be posting on some of his buildings down the road.

For now, let me say that this is one of my least favourite water towers in Berlin.  It is too ornamental.  It presents too many textures, shapes and patterns, and defers too much to the affluent and residential area that once surrounded the cemetery.  It is probably not helped along by its leafy surroundings.

Still, this does raise the question: why are some water towers more pleasing on the eye than others?  Water towers are distinctly modern and industrial forms.  But towers of this vintage dampen the effect with homespun, preindustrial gestures.  This is partly what makes towers like Mariendorf so fascinating.  Consider its gothic buttresses, the exposed beams in the top section, the two-tiered roof. Why would a designer go to such lengths for a gas works structure?  Why would a facility owner commission such a design?  What did workers and others think of the structure? (I also wonder about the original surroundings of the Neukölln tower- one of the more amusing, archly conservative designs).  Part of what makes a good water tower, I think, is that these gestures do not overwhelm or unduly obscure a water tower's stark, utilitarian character.

Berlin Water Towers2: Mariendorf

The Mariendorf Gaswerk water tower sits in a large industrial campus that was established in 1900- just off the Teltow canal.  The Gaswerk was active until 1996.  The tower's architect, Paul Karchow, also designed the Polish embassy and GIZ-Haus in Berlin.  This is one of Berlin's most ornate water towers. Its location- far from housing and in a somewhat remote part of the city- does not afford much opportunity for viewing. On the other hand, the campus gates are wide open, and this is one of only a few water towers that are not fenced off.

The campus also contains a second, more modern water tower, a gasometer, and some renovated mills.  Also there is a stand of solar panels.  One of the mills is occupied by a brewery- said to make "American style craft beer."  Its logo- a green devil with large horns- is slightly depressing to me.

But there are other water towers to be discovered.  On a Saturday in Fall, the only human presence on this campus is a few people tinkering with vintage cars, skateboarders near the gates of the gasworks, and a stray worker or two leaving a nearby beverage distributer.  Beyond the gates in the shadow of the brewery, a few joggers.

Berlin Water Towers: Neukölln

Neukölln water tower, built 1893, is the largest in Berlin. It was designed by Otto Techow- who also designed a water tower in Steglitz- close to the botanical gardens.

At its base is a small, light industrial facility; it rests in a triangular plot of land between apartment blocks- not too far from the now defunct Berliner Kindl brewery.

A tower like this is designed to sit in one place.  But if it could march, it would move along vertical files and horizontal ranks.

Teufelsberg (cont')

Not more than 20 meters from where children were sledding is a large, disturbed patch of soil in the scrub.  A man told me I had missed the boar by a minute. He showed me his cell phone pictures, and described how the animal had quietly wandered off.  In fact, boars infest this city (see here and here for U.S. news reports).

The Listening Station on Teufelsberg was bought by private investors in 1996.  Their plans to build condominiums were thwarted when the city declared the complex parkland.  The Listening station is now mostly a canvas for street artists.

Some of the rooms inside are filled with debris- lighting ballasts, ceiling tiles.  There is a massive paper shredder deep in the interior. The room is too dark to photograph.

The radoms, we are told, were covered to protect equipment from the elements- also to prevent the Soviets from monitoring the direction of surveillance.  The topmost radom is a different material- and design- from the others, which are geodesic.

Originally it too was geodesic.  However, after the fall of the Wall, German aviation authorities leased the radom and installed their own equipment.  The radar did not require covering, but the city insisted on preserving the landmark's architectural integrity.

On this snowy day, the Reuters power station is working hard.  The park- filled with sledders and others earlier- is nearly deserted at dusk.

Teufelsberg, Weihnachten

To grasp the magnitude of destruction German cities endured, visit their “Trümmerberge”- rubble mountains.  Every major Germany city has one or two heaps where debris was deposited during reconstruction.  In Berlin, there are nine.  The largest and most mysterious is Teufelsberg- named for a nearby lake on the western edge of the city.  Teufelsberg rises 80 meters tall- the highest point in Berlin- and is constituted by 75 million cubic meters of debris.

The mountain is weedy and traversed by ribbons of paths; the debris lies beneath a thin layer of soil.  It is not hard to find shards of plates, tile, chunks of brick and ceramic.  Much of the rubble is from buildings that were demolished in a 1950s building frenzy- the dumping here continued into the early 1970s.

From the top of Teufelsberg, you get a pretty good survey of Berlin- in particular, the smokestacks of Reuter and Steglitz power stations.  But also, strangely, one sees the way this city is surrounded by wilderness.  A mere 15 minute walk from the S-bahn, wild boars are said to roam the area, and only woods are visible to the western horizon (see photo).

Teufelsberg was originally to the location of a Nazi military-technical college- a complex designed by Albert Speer and envisioned as part of the World Capital Germania.  Demolition of the complex- still under construction as the war ended- proved too difficult, and instead it was simply buried under debris.  This is yet another example of the odd ways that reconstruction had to negotiate the grandiose that Speer had launched.

The "Listening Station" - a complex consisting of three or four radomes, some concrete buildings, and oil tanks- was established by the U.S. National Security Agency in 1963- a prime spot for intelligence gathering from behind the iron curtain. The facility discontinued operations after reunification.

The perimeter of the complex is lined with a barbed wire fence- heavily patched and reinforced- and the campus buildings are covered in graffiti.   Also there are strange tree-houses on the property.  Apparently, the listening station has one legal resident- a Shalmon Abraham- who can arrange tours and rent the facility.  The torn covering of the towers flap loudly in the wind.  David Lynch is said to have purchased property on Teufelsberg with the aim of establishing an "Invincible University" for the teaching of meditation and yoga.

Nearby, there is another huge mound where- I am told- people attempt to hang glide, fly kites, and in the winter, ski.  It affords another good view of the listening station, the infamous olympic stadium, and still other disasters of modernism- to be covered in future installments.

Rummelsburger Landstraße

Klingenberg Heizkraftwerk is a towering specimen of Expressionist architecture.  It sits on a lonely boulevard on the southeastern side of Berlin, next to the Spree. When the plant opened in 1925, it was Europe’s largest coal fired power plant, and the area was heavily industrialized. Today this is Berlin's 4th largest plant.

I have come to this area in search of two watertowers.  The first, which caught my eye a few weeks earlier on a cab ride, is at the south edge of the power station.  More on that another time.  

Further south is a complex of disused industrial buildings from the first decades of the century, and recently cleared lots.

The second water tower is said to be in a waterworks, located within Park Wuhlheide- a large expanse of woods which,  according to a web site, hosted Nazi Germany’s first “Work and Education” camp.  

Just beyond the parking area is a squatters encampment –Wagendorf Wuhlheide.  The homes are a mix of huts, campers, and ramshackle railway cars, and the settlement stretches surprisingly deep into the woods. Laundry is flapping in the wind, and two characters are returning from the wood with wheel barrow of logs. 

The watertower of Wuhlheide turns out to be a disappointment- stubby, surrounded by fences and trees, and virtually unapproachable. I meander through the almost empty park and find my way to Wuhlheide S bahn station.  

An email has arrived from the doctor: “I already left a message on your mailbox. Please excuse my impoliteness yesterday.  It was a bad day with too many problems accumulating and I let go of the professional attitude.  If you want to tak about the findings of our examination you can send me an email or call me."  

On the ride back, I spy a spectacular water tower.  It sits in a large rail yard- an area I know to be filled with unusual ruins.  It will be impossible to access.