Frühling in Freiburg?

Sometime last October I contacted a number of archives here in Freiburg, where I am now doing research. I figured there would be a lot for me to do when I finally made it over here to the Southwest corner of Germany, because this region was the focal point of the movement that I am studying. So I got in touch with the archives early and tried to make sure I would be able to get access to the information I needed before I traveled across the Black Forest to get it.

This all seemed like a great idea at the time--particularly after I spent more than a month exchanging e-mails with one particularly crotchety archivist. After informing me that he was in possession of a folder of documents that might be quite useful for my research, he explained that, unfortunately, he could not allow me to study the materials in question. Out of the graciousness of his warm heart, he did suggest some other, unrelated documents that were currently available to the public.

Needless to say, I was at something of a loss. I asked if there was any sort of review process by which the archive might reconsider the papers' classified status. True to good German bureaucratic form, I received a pithy message several weeks later informing me to send a letter to the archive's director advising him of my plight and begging for his mercy. Sending an actual honest-to-goodness paper letter proved to be something of an ordeal without a printer, but finally I persevered. I printed the letter, found the proper postage, dropped it in the mail, and crossed my fingers.

Weeks passed and I heard nothing. I moved on to other things, and even (luckily) decided to postpone my trip to Freiburg from December to February... Finally, I was informed in an e-mail written in a particularly arcane form of German that I would also have to submit a reference letter from my Doctoral Advisor before the outcome of my request to see the documents could be determined. Apparently, getting a glimpse of these papers was akin to getting accepted to graduate school. I reasoned that the papers must be particularly important, but this new challenge was daunting.

I hastily sent an e-mail across the Atlantic. Thankfully, this latest desperate plea for help was answered almost immediately, and soon I had an e-mail copy of a reference letter stating that I was indeed a doctoral candidate, and that my advisor was indeed my advisor. At least now there was a chance that my application to view the highly-exclusive folder of particularly valuable documents might be reviewed.

To tell the truth, I was a little worried that the grayscale copy of the normally blinding Carolina blue UNC letterhead I had received via e-mail would not be sufficient. Letterhead seems second only to rubber stamps in terms of its weight in the minds of German bureaucrats. Nevertheless I pretended I didn't realize that my letterhead might be considered inferior and I forwarded on the reference. Once again, I was reduced to waiting patiently while the bureaucratic gears turned. I started to worry that the German postal service had decided not to deliver my mail to the return address I had printed on the initial letter, a frequent occurrence here because the delivery of mail is dependent on the letter carrier's assessment of the authenticity of the nameplates on doorways and mailboxes. Given that our "Namenschild" was then a measly piece of paper taped onto a stately wooden doorway, I figured I had reason to be concerned.

Thankfully my prayers were soon answered, and I was informed shortly thereafter (via e-mail...) that due to the unending graciousness of the archive's magnificent director, my request had been granted and I would be allowed to access the documents. Now the archivist demanded that I inform him of the precise date when I would be visiting Freiburg in order to make use of my newly granted privilege.

As I mentioned previously, this long delay in archival access, as well as other unrelated issues had significantly delayed my planned trip to Germany's "Green City." The date of my visit was anything but set in my mind... I replied to the archivist that I would inform him as soon as I knew when I could come, and hoped that this would not result in the revocation of special permission to see the folder of documents.

Finally, I planned out my trip to Freiburg. Several weeks before my departure, I informed the archivist of my precise plans, and asked if I could come to see the document the day after I arrived in Freiburg. No response.

Luckily, the preparations for my trip (and German television's Olympic Biathalon coverage) kept me busy enough in the ensuing weeks that I had relatively little time to ponder the implications of the archivist's radio silence.

Still, in my best attempt to come prepared for the worst German bureaucracy had to offer, I printed off a copy of the e-mail wherein I had been granted permission to see the documents and brought it with me to Freiburg. In harmony with the cantankerous nature of my primary contact there, the archive in question had a confusing and non-sensical schedule. Apparently, the reading room was open from 8-4 on weekdays but first-time users had to come between 10 and 12 on Monday or Wednesday or between 1 and 3 on Tuesday or Thursday. Fridays were out of the question. Since I had been planning to visit the archive the day after I arrived--a Tuesday--and I had yet to hear from the archivist, I reasoned that I would have to visit between 1 and 3. To make matters worse, it was Faschingsdienstag, and I wasn't sure if the archive would even be open...

Since I'd still heard nothing from the archivist, I decided to forego my Tuesday trip to the archive and visit later instead. I seemed to have little free time during the archive's limited registration hours. So I tempted fate and sent another e-mail asking if I could visit the following Monday, promptly at 10am.

The response to this missive was almost immediate. "Well," the archivist informed me, "the documents you wanted have been sitting around here since Tuesday, so I suppose they can sit around for another week." After some thought, I decided that the thinly veiled message--that the enormous folder of documents that I had requested was filling up all of the storage space in the reading room and that I was quite lazy and far from punctual--was far better than no response.

The new, improved speed of our correspondence emboldened me to inquire as to whether I could, in fact, arrive at 8am and get started with the documents immediately rather than waiting until 10. There was, of course, no response.

So finally, on a brilliant spring day, I headed over to the archive. I arrived at 8am and found the door locked. It was hard, but I forced myself to ring the bell and risk the wrath of the archivist by showing up at the regular opening time and not at the normal sign-up time for first time users. After all, my trip to Freiburg was coming to an end, and I had no idea how long I would be busy harvesting vital information from the treasure trove of documents that awaited me within the archive.

As it turned out, my erstwhile arch-rival was quite pleasant in person. Unfortunately, the documents I had so long been aspiring to view were all but worthless. I took a few notes, and by about 11 am I was back outside, enjoying springtime in the sunniest corner of Germany...


Author's note [Sat., March 6, 2010]: Unfortunately, spring doesn't seem to have lasted. This was the view out my kitchen window this morning: