Hannelore Holub talks about her childhood in the courtyards, prominent neighbours and original styling.
Every Saturday, a beggar would ring their doorbell at Dantehof. But only until Hannelore Eggerling (her maiden name) was six years old. "That's when I discovered that he had parked a Mercedes with Braunschweig number plates on Klieversberg. He put his wooden leg in it and came over on crutches with his stump," she recalls. "After I told him that, he didn't get another five pfennigs." Her parents were very helpful, says the now 77-year-old. But no one lived in abundance here in the 1950s. "We all came from nothing."
We all came from nowhere.
Childhood in the courtyards: memories of neighbourhood, solidarity and modest prosperity
Her father, a trained model carpenter, was nicknamed Bau-Otto: "He could make anything out of anything. He made bridal shoes out of parachute silk and designed benches and coat racks. My father was small in stature, but to me he was a very big man." Her helpful, sociable mother, meanwhile, was part of a group of women. Mrs Lehnert was also part of this group. "Her husband was the head of the fire brigade. When my mother was diagnosed with abdominal cancer, he arranged for her to be driven every week in a fire engine to the former Luftwaffe hospital in Braunschweig for radiation treatment."
The Borks lived across the street. Hugo Bork was chairman of the VW works council in Wolfsburg from 1951 and mayor from 1961. "But to me, the Borks were my uncle and aunt. When the blinds went up on Sundays, I would run over. First, I would clean my uncle's shoes. At ten o'clock, my aunt would prepare pasta. I was allowed to scrape it off the board and put it in the water. In between, Mr Bork would correct my pronunciation: 'Now say: Ein schweres schwarzes Schwein (A heavy black pig).' There used to be fenced-in wild boars at the Porsche hut. He had heard me shout: 'Look, a schreres schrazes Schrein (a heavy black pig).' From 2:04 pm, they listened to the travel programme "Between Hamburg and Haiti" on the radio.
Hannelore Holub talks about milkman Scholz and the fairy-tale lacquer pictures you got when you bought half a pound of Rama. She remembers games like "Germany declares war," in which a stone was kicked into chalk countries. Schlagball was also popular. Once, someone hit the small leather ball with a "borrowed" stair railing post from Dantehof to Schillerstraße – where it destroyed a window. "There was no big fuss. Father put in a new one." Where the hospice now stands, there was a clay hill during her childhood. When it rained, they slid down on cardboard. On Klieversberg, on the other hand, there was the death track. In winter, it was usually frozen smooth as glass. A meeting place for the very brave.
The native Wolfsburg resident has largely remained loyal to the courtyards as her place of residence. There was only a brief detour to Don Camillo in Detmerode. Today she lives on Goethestraße. For 50 years! Her flat is the former practice of the well-known Dr Willi Wolf. "Uncle Willi delivered me at Dantehof, I was a home birth. Today, his former practice X-ray room is my kitchen."
One wall in the kitchen is now covered with trees, both photographed and pottery. Next to it is a saying: "Family is like a tree. The branches can grow in different directions, but the roots hold them together." Hannelore Holub comments that she is the root. For example, she invites her son Thomas, her four grandchildren and her great-granddaughter to lunch every Sunday. Last week, she served boiled beef with potatoes and three types of vegetables. "If no one wants a haircut, my friend comes over at 3 p.m. to play cards."
Hannelore Holub is in demand for hair styling because she has been working as a hairdresser for 63 years! She was the first apprentice at Salon Brigitte, which opened in 1962. Even today, she still does hair on Mondays and Saturdays at "Friseur Eggestein am Kunstmuseum," owned by the son of company founder Brigitte Eggestein. She certainly has enough stories to tell when needed. Listening to her many entertaining stories is an experience in itself. "I'm not old, I've just been young a little longer than others": this saying also hangs in her flat. She tells us that all her grandchildren learned to ride bikes and rollerblades on her wooden hallway floor, that she matches her glasses to her clothes, that she has just been to Prague and has a season ticket for the VfL women's football team. "That's life," she sums up – "a beautiful life." As we leave, she gives us a bag of apples. A great morning.
impressions
Personal snapshots from the life and home of Hannelore Holub, showing her history, her style and her connection to Wolfsburg.
