The Kurier today had an article about Vienna in the 1980s — a trip back in time. (Thanks, Kurier. That is very good way to make someone who was already an adult at that time feel rather old.) I arrived in Vienna in 1988 (had my 37th anniversary yesterday, celebrated, appropriately, at a Heuriger) and have seen significant changes, I thought it would be fun to write about some of the points mentioned.
For one thing, they write about pay phones, which reminded me of two things.
One of my first mornings in Vienna, after my German course at the Goethe Institut, I was out with my mother, who had accompanied me to help settle me in. We needed to phone the couple who became my Viennese parents to make arrangements, so we found a pay phone (they were plentiful then ;-)), put our money in, and dialed. When my Viennese father answered, he probably realized it was us calling because he couldn’t hear anything and said “Den roten Knopf drücken.” (“Press the red button.”) My mother did this, we heard the coin drop and were connected. That red button was called the “Zahlknopf” (zahlen = to pay) and released the money so that the connection could be made. Even in the late 80s, not all phones had a Zahlknopf anymore, but that one did and the Viennese had learned to give the necessary instructions.
The other phone story is much shorter. I saw a sign on a phone booth that said something about “retten”. I was familiar with the word (probably from the opening scene of “The Magic Flute” when Tamino rushes onstage pursued by the monster and sings “Save me! Save me!”) but couldn’t figure out what that had to do with a telephone. My mother translated the sign for me: This telephone can save lives. Do not destroy it. (“Dieses Telefon kann Leben retten. Zerstör es nicht.” Oddly enough, I don’t think they used the “Sie” form there.)
The article also reminded me of the men (I think it was always men) who used to sell newspapers on the street after the Trafiken had closed, which they do to this day. Vienna — thank goodness in my opinion — still has clear opening hours and very little at all is open on Sundays. You could get your news there truly hot off the press, and people often bought the next day’s paper on their way home from a ball, late opera night, or late shift. People who were looking for apartments or jobs would wait for these men and the newspapers to show up so that they could get a headstart on the search. And a tip for these men who worked long hours, in all sorts of weather, and for very little pay was obligatory.
The author also writes about Mariahilfer Straße — a very important shopping street in Vienna — and how even the part farther out, past the Gürtel, was a useful and relatively pleasant area 40 years ago. Currently, it is full of stores with really cheap goods and kebab take-out places although, apparently, there are plans to renew it. I remember, and still miss, the trams, the 52 and 58, that used to run along Mariahilfer Straße from the Ring to the Gürtel and beyond. Now we have the U3 line. Not so useful for a shopping street, I would argue. I do enjoy the kind-of pedestrian zone, though. “Kind-of” because it is what is called a “Fairness Zone,” which means you have pedestrians, bicyclists, e- and other scooter riders, and delivery trucks all in the same space without clear delineation of lanes. (What could possibly go wrong? ;-))
In addition, the author mentioned something I didn’t know. In 1988, when the Hungarians were already free enough to come to Vienna en masse, even though the Iron Curtain had not officially fallen, Mariahilfer Straße became their destination to buy things they couldn’t get at home and for a time was called “Magyarhilfer Straße” by the Viennese. My memory of this time was the truly old and stinking busses that they arrived in. We were very spoiled in Vienna with catalytic converters. These busses had no such thing and ran, I suspect, for the most part on diesel, making an ungodly noise and leaving huge black clouds behind them.
Ah, the 1980s. It wasn’t such a bad time.
Here a link to the article, which, sadly for me, appears to be available to Kurier subscribers only: https://kurier.at/chronik/wien/wien-achtzigerjahre-1980er-zeitreise-ein-alltag-ohne-handy-und-internet/403063709
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